#and all the ways that being a fairy would NOT be a good thing for Dev

[fortuneforsaken-if]

What is a King to a God, and what is a God to a non-believer?

DEMO ☥ PINTEREST

This game is geared for mature audiences and as such is strictly 18+.

Ancient shackles bind you to the mortal realm, a soul severed from a home lost to the sands of time. A curse on you, a blessing for those who take command; Who wouldn't like to own a God?

You're the highly revered deity of fortune. Or you were, five thousand and eighty-two years ago. Now you're nothing but a glorified plaything to one of the most powerful families in the world. Every demand you must fulfill, no matter how vile or self-serving. The illusion of choice is all but shattered, there's nothing you can do to change it.

Or is there?

It takes a simple thing for something to shift. A fragment from the past, an ageless, flickering hum of power that unfurls the hands of fate and unearths buried sparks of hope. No one would've thought that an ancient sherd would hold the first hint to your freedom, a warm, familiar sensation of your soul locked in a tomb somewhere where no mortal has stepped in well over five thousand years.

Let's hope the decay doesn't take you before you find your way back home.

☥ FEATURES ☥

Two separate sides to customization; The one mortals perceive, and your true form. Choose names, appearances, gender, pronouns, sexuality, romantic orientation, and more.

Shape the personality that starts to re-emerge after being dulled for the better part of history. Reconnect with yourself, and get in touch with memories and feelings you lost so long ago.

Experience a character-driven story full of twists and turns that eventually determine how each of the three endings play out.

Romance one (or two) potential love interests from a cast of characters; A shunned archaeologist, a primordial God, the reincarnation of a priestess, or the mysterious man you can't quite place. Or don't, it's up to you.

And last but not least: Don't let the decay reach your heart. Every change of fortune has consequences, and mindfulness is encouraged. This game does have bad endings.

☥ CAST OF CHARACTERS ☥

Zain/Zaina Tharset ∆ M or F, 28

"You're my birthright, and I'd sooner have you dead than let you make a fool out of me."

Z is your charge. Loud, obnoxious, and entitled; They don't care about your feelings or protests. Every desire that leaves them only serves them alone, and it's on brand for most of the charges you've had before. In simple terms, Z is not a good person, and the more time you serve under them, the less you believe they have any redeeming qualities.

Like everyone in the family, Z has warm brown skin with golden undertones, and eyes in light shades of brown. Their hair is naturally curly and shaved on the sides, leaving a strip of hair on the top and back, like a fashionable mohawk. Zaina's hair reaches the middle of her shoulder blades, while Zain's stops at the nape of his neck.

Being bound to them is painful, but you have no choice. Trying to retrieve your soul will be an ordeal, and it might not be worth the agony.

Rami Tharset ∆ M, 28, RO

"Just because the world has forgotten you, forgotten them, doesn't mean I will."

Rami is the twin brother of your current charge. Kind and humble, it's difficult to imagine him a part of the Tharset family on count of how different he is from that pit of vipers. He keeps to himself, usually holed away in a library or study where he digs into the history of, well, you. Or the ancient world you came from. This has caused the rest of the archeological community to shun him, the name of your old empire nothing more than a myth and a glorified fairy tale.

Rami shares his family's warm brown skin tone, and the black curly hair that's usually a messy mop that sits on top of his head, unstyled and naturally chaotic. It reaches just the stop of his ears, and is shaved in the back. Light brown eyes that are quite blurry without his glasses, but the gold-tinted pilot-framed lenses fit him nicely.

He's one of the few friendly faces you face in the Tharset circle, and you curse your misfortune that you couldn't have him as a charge instead.

Maluset ∆ M, N/A, RO

"For all I am, all I have controlled, still I could not keep you safe. Forgive me, old friend."

The God of the Night, and everything that you have left of an age and life long forgotten. While the rest of your pantheon faded one by one, he remained. You've always known Maluset as a calm presence, a steadfast and unperturbed God that never let himself be shaken, by mortals or his siblings.

While Mal prefers manifesting as his animal motif - a jackal made of black marble and eyes like consolidated galaxies - he does have a human form too. If he must appear mortal, his skin takes the color of what the mortals of your time had; bronzed, medium brown with a golden undertone. His hair would be jet black and curly, medium length, and he likes it naturally tousled by the winds. If necessary, he'll let his eyes appear dark brown in color, but he prefers the starlit skies in them instead.

He's been a constant in your life, at least until he disappeared three centuries ago. You know he's still out there since the realm where you take shelter is his, and it hasn't yet disappeared.

Rory Ewing ∆ F, 23, RO

"I can't remember, but your face, it stirs something in my heart. Why? Who was I to you?"

Rory is a new acquaintance to you, but there's something very familiar about her. She might just be a student now, her curiosity bringing her close to you, but you can feel an old connection whenever she's close by. Her voice reminds you of prayers long ago, even if her modern vernacular is closer to 'damn, that shit's the bomb' than hymns sung in your praise. Then again, reincarnation has a way of changing people.

It doesn't, however, change appearances. Back in your day, Rory's vessel was a traveler from the north; Her skin was light beige, rosy in its undertones. Her hair was thick and a subdued red, woven into an intricate braid that hung over her shoulder, reaching her midriff. Her eyes were also uncommon to you; pale green, vibrant but ghostly.

She doesn't remember you, and maybe that's for the best. Her new self is a stark contrast to who she was, and you don't think she'd enjoy the idea of donning priestess garb over the punk-rockish getup she wears now.

Taz Arian ∆ M, 34, RO

"Funny, isn't it? How some people seem familiar, even when they shouldn't be."

Taz is... Someone. He appears out of nowhere to join your journey, his knowledge of old ruins and tombs handy but somewhat worrying when he shouldn't even be able to see you. There's a strange thrum of power coming from him whenever he speaks, and you swear you've met him before, but where? It might be easier to find out if he didn't deflect and flirt his way out of things, but it does help with mortals that can't see you.

His appearance is nothing extraordinary; Dark brown hair that's held up in a bun, and you could assume it reaches his shoulders when loose, the loose curls pulling it a tad shorter. His eyes are light in color, almost golden in the right light, glinting with mischief. His skin is weathered, and golden bronze in color, with an intricate tattoo of an eagle spanning across his chest. He also sports a short beard, which gives him a rogueish look.

There is something about him that tugs at your memories, but you can't catch that thread of remembrance for long enough to recall him. Still, he doesn't seem to mind and resorts to teasing you instead.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 11 of 12

Synopsis: whodunit? More like who’s not doing the most at the midsummers ball. A look into JJ’s head

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: violence?

masterlist

—

JJ’s loafers clicked softly on the polished floor as he walked into the ballroom, the scent of expensive perfume and overripe fruit hanging heavy in the air. There was something about these events that always made him feel out of place. The Kooks thrived on it—this display of excess, of wealth that didn’t belong to them but was flaunted like some kind of badge. He hated it. And yet here he was, once again, a part of it. 

The Midsummer’s Ball wasn’t just any party. It was the party for the Kooks. Extravagant. Ridiculous. A display of everything they stood for—money, status, and an obnoxious level of entitlement. The country club ballroom glittered with chandeliers, fancy drinks, and a crowd of smug faces that made JJ want to roll his eyes every time someone walked by. If there was a competition for the most extravagant Kook event of the year, this would be the winner. He’d been here before, but it never got easier to stomach.

Tonight, though, there was a sense of something bigger hovering over him. Three things he had to keep in mind, three things that kept him from getting too lost in the sea of perfect hair and oversized smiles.

First, serve drinks. Get the tips. That part was easy enough. He could charm a few of the older women in the crowd, toss out a few sarcastic comments, make them laugh, and pocket a couple extra bills. If he was lucky, he'd avoid the worst of the Kooks' weirdness and maybe even walk out of here with a few hundred bucks. 

Second, keep John B safe. It wasn’t just the Kooks that bothered him. John B was—well, John B. He had no business being here, and everyone knew it. He didn’t belong in this world, no matter how much he tried to act like he did. JJ could already picture the way the Kooks will look at him—especially Topper, who will be practically frothing at the mouth when John B makes his first public appearance with Sarah tonight. Topper wasn’t the only one JJ was keeping an eye on. There were bound to be others, too, people who saw John B as the perfect punching bag. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not tonight. 

And then there was Y/N. The third thing on his mind. Y/N was acting differently tonight. He couldn’t quite explain it—maybe it was the way her eyes were shining a little brighter than usual, or the way she kept smiling at random moments, like she knew some secret that made the whole night seem like a fairy tale. It pissed him off. That wasn’t like Y/N. She was always so... grounded. So real. But tonight? Tonight, she looked like she had everything figured out, like she was actually enjoying herself here. And that confused him. A lot.

He looked at her again as she walked beside him, the soft curve of her lips pulled into a smile. He didn’t return it, of course. Instead, he muttered something about the Kooks and their ridiculous champagne glasses, trying to make light of it, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Something about her.

“You good?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but his tone was sharp. Too sharp. 

Y/N glanced at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was something in the way she looked at him, something that made his heart skip. She was... happy. Too happy. He hated it. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied, her voice steady but a little too light. There it was again—that smile. That confidence. It was like she didn’t need to hide anymore. Like she was finally okay with being here, with all of this.

“Right,” JJ muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked further into the ballroom. “Can’t say I’m feeling the same. This place is a joke.”

She laughed softly, but it wasn’t the same kind of laugh she usually gave. It was lighter, almost... carefree. 

He didn’t get it. What changed? He'd known Y/N for years, had watched her go through every kind of mess, every kind of heartbreak, but she’d always had that edge to her, that guarded, "don’t mess with me" attitude. She didn’t belong here, just like John B. But tonight, she didn’t seem to care about that. And that made JJ feel... unsettled. 

As they reached the catering area, Pope was already elbow-deep in trays of untouched food, and JJ tossed him a lazy salute. Pope just sighed, his frustration clear even from across the room.

“You set up all this mess yourself?” JJ asked, raising an eyebrow at the absurdity of the spread. There was more food here than anyone could possibly eat, but that didn’t stop the Kooks from acting like it was some sort of prize.

“Do you ever stop complaining?” Pope shot back, adjusting a tray with a little more force than necessary. 

“Nope.” JJ grinned back, slipping into his usual easy sarcasm. “The food’s not the problem, Pope. It’s the fact that none of these assholes are even gonna care to finish it. They’ll drink their champagne and pretend to care about all this ‘fancy’ food, and then throw it all away when they’re done, just like everything else in this goddamn world.”

Pope didn’t bother responding. He just continued arranging the food like he didn’t care anymore, which, honestly, he probably didn’t. They both hated being here, surrounded by people who didn’t even see them as human, but the money was good, and the world had a way of forcing them to stay put. 

“Yeah, well, don’t forget that we’re all just here to make money,” Pope muttered, and JJ didn’t argue. Pope had long stopped pretending to like any of this. They all had.

JJ’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, still standing by the drink station, her body language more relaxed than he’d ever seen it. She wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t paying attention to him at all. She was too busy talking to some Kook girl about something—probably some stupid brand of perfume or a new designer bag, knowing them.

That smile, though. He couldn’t shake it. 

He knew he should focus on the job, on keeping John B safe, on avoiding the Kooks as much as possible. But Y/N? She was making it damn hard to do any of that. It wasn’t just the fact that she was so... different tonight. It was the look in her eyes which looks like she has everything figured out, the way she barely looked at him anymore.

That was the thing about Y/N. She had this way of getting under his skin, making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Like jealousy. Or uncertainty. He hated it. But he couldn’t just ignore it. Not with the way she’d been acting, not when she seemed like she was in on some secret he wasn’t part of.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. 

Tonight was about John B. Tonight was about staying one step ahead of the Kooks, about making sure no one touched his best friend. 

But damn if that little voice in his head didn’t keep screaming What’s going on with Y/N?

—

The air in the ballroom was thick, suffocating, with the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation surrounding him. JJ moved through the crowd with his usual swagger, but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the weight of every Kook’s gaze seemed to land a little harder on his shoulders, and it wasn’t just because of the way they looked at him. It was the way they looked at her—Y/N. She was everywhere, serving drinks and refilling trays with that damn smile on her face, like she actually belonged here. 

He’d been trying to keep his head down, serve his drinks, and get through the night without getting caught up in the mess, but every time he glanced in her direction, he found his eyes locked on her. There was something about her tonight that rubbed him the wrong way. She was too damn happy. Too effortless, too easy with the Kooks, laughing at their stupid jokes, making conversation like she wasn’t the same Y/N who used to roll her eyes at every Kook in sight. He couldn’t figure it out. 

It wasn’t like Y/N didn’t deserve a little fun. Hell, she was always the one holding things together, making sure everyone else was alright. But this—this wasn’t her. Not the way she was acting. Not the way she was fitting in with them, letting them talk to her like she was one of them. JJ couldn’t stomach it. She wasn’t a part of their world, and for some reason, it hurt to see her acting like she was. 

As she passed by him, her tray of drinks balanced effortlessly in her hands, JJ’s eyes tracked her every move. He watched as she made her way over to a table of Kooks—glistening with their designer clothes and condescending grins. They were looking at her like they were interested. And that wasn’t something JJ was prepared to handle.

His chest tightened, a hot wave of jealousy gnawing at him. She handed drinks out with that damn smile still on her face, and that was when he saw him. Rafe. Of course. 

Rafe was leaning against the far side of a table, his signature smirk plastered on his face. When Y/N got close, he straightened up, his eyes locking onto hers with a predatory gleam that sent an uneasy shiver down JJ’s spine. As she handed him a drink, a small bracelet glittered on Rafe’s arm. Their fingers brushed as their hands met. But it wasn’t just a casual hand-off. It was too slow, too deliberate. And when their hands lingered for a second too long, JJ felt a surge of irritation. 

There was something in the way Rafe looked at her. It was... familler. JJ knew that look. He’d seen it before. It was the look Rafe reserved for people he was too close to—people he thought he had some kind of claim on. And the worst part? Y/N didn’t seem to register it. She didn’t seem to notice the way Rafe’s gaze followed her like a shadow, tracking her every move. JJ’s gut twisted. There was something off about this. And he needed to find out what.

He couldn’t let it slide. Not tonight.

He slipped through the crowd, his eyes never leaving her as he moved toward the bar area where she was. When he finally caught up with her, he tried to keep his voice light, to make it seem like he was just messing around, but the tension in his chest couldn’t be ignored. 

“Yo, is Rafe bothering you?” He kept his tone casual, but there was a sharp edge to his words.

Y/N barely looked at him when she responded, waving him off like it was nothing. “No, not at all, JJ. He’s fine.”

But there was something in the way she said it, something that didn’t sit right with him. Her voice was too soft, too dismissive. And the way she wasn’t meeting his eyes? That was another red flag. Something was wrong, and JJ didn’t like it. 

His fingers itched to pull her aside, to demand that she tell him what was going on. But he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Before he could press her, the doors of the ballroom swung open, and suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd’s murmur grew louder, more excited. JJ turned to see who had arrived, and his eyes narrowed when he saw them.

Sarah and John B. 

Sarah looked every bit the Kook she was, her smile dazzling, her confidence radiating from her. She had the whole place eating out of her hand, even without trying. But John B? His messy hair, that plain shirt—it was like a neon sign saying, I don’t belong here. JJ watched him shift uncomfortably under the weight of every Kook’s scrutinizing gaze, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for a way out.

The whispers started instantly, loud enough for JJ to catch a few snippets. 

“Is that John B?”

"Why is he here? Who invited the pogues?”

JJ’s jaw clenched as the cruel laughter followed. The Kooks weren’t just gossiping—they were tearing John B apart like he was some kind of freak show. And JJ wasn’t about to stand for it. His blood boiled, and he could feel every bit of their judgment like it was a physical punch. 

“Damn, they’re ruthless,” Pope muttered from behind him. JJ didn’t need to look to know Pope was just as pissed. They both hated the way the Kooks treated people like John B.

“They always are,” JJ growled, scanning the room for any sign of Topper. Sure enough, he spotted the smug bastard weaving through the crowd, zeroing in on John B like he was prey. 

“John B,” JJ muttered under his breath. “I’m coming, man.” 

As he pushed his way through the crowd, JJ’s gaze caught on Kie. She had just entered, and damn, she looked hot. The way her violet dress clung to her, the confident smile she wore, the way she moved—JJ couldn’t help but stare for a second. He quickly shook himself out of it, though. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.

Kie noticed him watching, raising an eyebrow as she approached. “What’s got you all worked up?” 

JJ nodded in John B’s direction. “The usual. Kooks being Kooks.”

“Figures.” She crossed her arms, eyes darting between JJ and the group of Kooks. “You’ve got this under control, right?”

“Yeah,” JJ said, his voice low, still watching Topper’s every move. “Just gotta make sure they don’t escalate things.”

Topper was already making his move, slithering through the crowd with that smug, self-satisfied grin on his face. JJ knew exactly what was coming. Topper always had a way of making things worse. Always knew how to rile up the Kooks, to make them turn on anyone they saw as beneath them. And right now? John B was the perfect target.

“John B,” JJ muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. He started weaving through the crowd, cutting a path toward his best friend. 

He found John B by the punch bowl, looking a little lost, a little out of place, his hands hovering awkwardly by his side as Sarah chatted with some of her friends. 

“Yo, man,” JJ called out, tapping him on the shoulder. “You gotta watch out. Topper and his crew are already talking about you. They’re looking for an excuse to start something.”

John B glanced at him, then at Sarah, his frown deepening. “I can’t leave. I promised Sarah I’d stay with her.”

JJ sighed. He hated this. He hated that John B felt like he had to put himself through this just to be with Sarah. But he knew how much she meant to him. 

“Just keep your head down,” JJ warned, his voice low but firm. “Don’t give them an excuse. And don’t let Sarah get too close to them.”

Pope and Kie appeared behind them, looking just as concerned. “We’ll make sure he’s good,” Pope said, giving JJ a reassuring look. 

JJ gave a tight nod, but as he turned away, his eyes flicked back to the crowd. And there, lurking in the periphery, was Rafe. Again. Always watching Y/N. Never letting her out of his sight.

The night passed in a blur of drinks, whispers, and quiet tension. JJ kept a close eye on John B, moving through the crowd like a shadow. And Rafe—Rafe was everywhere, always within arm’s reach of Y/N, watching her with that same unsettling gaze. It was like the guy had an invisible tether to her, never letting her out of his sight. 

JJ wanted to intervene, wanted to ask what was going on, but something told him that wasn’t his place. It wasn’t the time.

—

The Kooks were loud, the music was booming, and JJ had been doing everything in his power to keep an eye on John B, but it wasn’t easy with the way things were escalating.

Suddenly, he saw John B make a move toward the back hall. JJ’s gut twisted. Don’t go alone, man.

“Pope!” JJ called out, his voice sharp. “Kie!”

Pope was already moving toward him, and Kie was right behind, the two of them looking as restless as he felt.

“John B’s heading to the bathroom,” JJ said urgently. “Topper and his crew are on the prowl. We need to go.”

“Of course, this is exactly what we need right now,” Pope muttered, his eyes scanning the crowd. Kie’s expression darkened as she followed him through the ballroom.

JJ’s eyes flicked back to Y/N for a brief moment, just enough time for him to catch a glimpse of her laughing with the Kooks. She didn’t look like she was in trouble—yet. But Rafe’s presence still gnawed at him. His focus snapped back to John B.

“Go,” JJ ordered. “I’ll keep an eye on things from behind.”

Pope, Kie, and JJ cut through the crowd, weaving between people like shadows. As they hit the back hallways, JJ cursed under his breath. They were too late.

Topper was standing at the bathroom door, the rest of his gang flanking him like a pack of wolves. John B was stuck, looking trapped as Topper smirked at him.

“Well, well, well,” Topper’s voice oozed with malicious satisfaction. “If it isn’t the Pogue who thinks he’s good enough for Sarah.”

JJ’s heart hammered as he pushed forward, Pope and Kie right on his heels.

“John B,” JJ called, voice low, but loud enough to be heard. “You alright?”

John B shot him a quick, almost relieved look. “You know how it goes, man. Topper’s just pissed I’m with Sarah.”

“Yeah, I figured that much,” JJ grumbled. He kept his gaze locked on Topper. “You need to move, man. This isn’t the place for this shit.”

“Not until I’m done,” Topper sneered, stepping forward. “You think you can walk around here like you belong, B? You’re nothing but trash.” He shoved John B, sending him stumbling back into the hallway wall.

JJ’s blood boiled. “Get your hands off him, Topper.”

But Topper wasn’t done. He swung at John B again, his group following in his lead. The hall was tight, but there was enough room for fists to fly. Pope stepped forward to back John B up, while Kie, cool-headed as always, sized up the situation.

Before JJ could get another word in, a punch was thrown, connecting with John B’s jaw. JJ jumped into the fray, grabbing Topper’s arm and twisting it behind his back, slamming him into the wall with a sickening thud. Pope had Topper’s lackeys occupied, keeping them from ganging up on John B.

Kie, standing near the ornate curtains that hung along the hallway, caught a glimpse of the situation escalating. Her eyes darted between the fight and the tension in the room. Without a second thought, she grabbed one of the nearby candle holders, lighting the end of one of the velvet curtains on fire.

The flames caught quickly, sending a wave of heat and light through the hallway. The Kooks’ eyes widened in fear as the fire began to lick the sides of the curtains.

“Shit!” Kie hissed, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall. She quickly sprayed the flames, but not before the fire had spread enough to cause a ruckus. The Kooks were freaking out, scrambling to get away from the heat.

“Let’s go! Now!” JJ shouted.

They didn’t need any more prompting. The Kooks scattered, some tripping over their own feet, others too stunned to do much. The fight had lost its steam as the chaos of the fire consumed the hall. JJ grabbed John B’s arm, pulling him away from the wreckage.

“You good?” JJ panted.

“Yeah, yeah,” John B replied, wiping his face. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

They headed for the back door, but as JJ looked behind them, the sound of the fire alarms blaring and the chaos of the guests flooding into the hallway only added to the madness. JJ scanned the panicked faces in the ballroom but Y/N was nowhere to be found. JJ did another scan and his blood ran cold. Y/N was missing, but so was Rafe. With this realization, JJ turned on his heel and ran towards the parking lot. 

But as soon as JJ stepped outside, the cold night air hit his skin like a slap. The parking lot was eerily quiet compared to the chaos of the country club, the only sounds being the distant blare of fire alarms and the low hum of the streetlights. He was scanning the area, trying to catch his breath after the mess with Topper and his crew, when something—someone—stopped him in his tracks.

His heart skipped a beat.

There, with her back turned to him, was Y/N.

She was farther away than he expected, just past the edge of the parking lot, but there was no mistaking her. Her hair was glowing in the light, illuminated like she was caught in a scene out of a dream. And then, his stomach twisted when he saw him.

Rafe.

His hand was resting low on her back, fingers spread wide as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The scene hit JJ like a punch to the gut. The sight of Rafe, standing so close to Y/N, smiling down at her with that smug, self-assured look—like he owned the damn world—made JJ’s blood boil.

He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the anger flooding through his veins, pushing out everything else. What the hell is going on here? He barely thought it through before his mouth opened.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice thick with something between panic and fury. It wasn’t even the volume of his voice—it was the raw emotion in it, the protective streak he hadn’t been able to shake off for months.

Without a second thought, he took two strides forward, every muscle in his body coiled, ready to pull Rafe off her. He wasn’t going to let this happen—not when he thought something was wrong. He couldn’t explain why he felt so suddenly defensive, but seeing her so close to Rafe like that, it triggered something deep in him, something urgent.

But then—

She turned, her face illuminated by the moonlight.

It was subtle at first—just a soft flicker in her expression, but it was enough to make JJ stop dead in his tracks. His heart stuttered, the air in his lungs freezing.

Y/N’s smile wasn’t just a grin—it was something else. The kind of smile that lit up a whole damn room. But it wasn’t just that—it was the look in her eyes, the joy that was shining there like he’d never seen before. She wasn’t just content, or amused. She was radiating happiness. Pure, unguarded, untainted joy. The kind of joy that no one could fake.

Her laugh, soft and melodic, floated on the air, and it was in that moment, standing frozen in the parking lot, that JJ realized something that knocked the wind out of him.

Y/N was happy.

She wasn’t just smiling out of politeness, or trying to force herself through a conversation. No. She was completely in the moment, the tension in her shoulders gone, her whole body open and light in a way he hadn’t seen in months. 

A sick feeling washed over him, a cold realization that hit deeper than any punch could.

This wasn’t what he thought it was.

Y/N wasn’t in danger. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t... anything he’d imagined. Rafe wasn’t threatening her, wasn’t making her uncomfortable. They were just... talking. Laughing. And it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t the nervous, shaky smile she used to give when she didn’t know where she stood.

Rafe’s hand, still resting on her back, didn’t look threatening anymore. It just looked like... well, it looked like something they’d both been comfortable with for a long time, something that had never been in JJ’s purview.

JJ stood there, watching them for what felt like an eternity. His legs felt heavy, like they were cemented to the ground, his chest tight as he tried to reconcile the image of Y/N—his Y/N—with Rafe standing so close to her, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

His heart hammered, but in the wrong way now. The rage that had flared up in him moments before suddenly deflated, leaving nothing but confusion and guilt. 

Y/N wasn’t in trouble. She wasn’t even thinking about him. She was... happy. Happier than he’d seen her in so long. And he had no right to ruin that.

For a moment, JJ just stood there, paralyzed, as the scene played out before him. Rafe was leaning in, saying something, and Y/N was listening, hanging on his every word. JJ’s heart twisted, but he didn’t move. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t charge in like he had originally planned.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he made his decision. He turned, slowly, and walked away from the scene, his feet heavy as they carried him back toward the club. His mind was racing, filled with questions he didn’t have the answers to.

He wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain—whatever was happening between Y/N and Rafe, it wasn’t his place to interfere. Not tonight.

At least, not yet.

—-

A/n: this was highkey not where the story was going to go…. Shoutout to @immyowndefender for putting the thought of JJ figuring the mystery out before Y/N tells him in my head. 

I might do a bonus in a bit to see the ball from Y/N’s perspective. There is so much potential for cute rafe moments. 

One chapter left!!!

—

Next time: the end of the road

–

Taglist: ​​

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86 , @urbrunettebombshell, @fluffybunnyu , @stars4birdie

[proshippers-against-censorship]

This is long and Idk how to put this, but antis seem to have this strange... obsession with fictional characters they can pretend are kids. They put this idea of innocence on a pedestal because they need to "white knight" them. But if they try that with kids and teens they'll be treated as weird and told to stay away from them or the kids/teens will act against their expectations, making them realize they're REAL and have their own personalities and wants that won't align with theirs and break the antis' delusions. But with characters they can make them helpless, force them to be helpless and more importantly, keep them that way, making them need antis to protect them. Antis can be their heroes and get praise and admiration from them. And they can force them to always be in danger, always need them. That's why they couldn't care less about people, even kids, but are so gung-ho about characters. And why they're only focused on sexual things. People are sadly used to violence these days, and the religious idea of "sex being a sin" is also commonplace imo, and these characters are used physical danger so they can save themselves. But sex is a "bad thing" and something they can pretend the characters aren't used to even if they're high schoolers, so antis can swoop in, saving them from a "traumatic experience" earning the characters' worship for however long they want. Being an anti is an ego thing, it's not about being a good person or about morals, it's purely and inherently a self-centered idea created solely to allow the person to feel special. Since most antis are teens, Idk if they're scared because they realized how uncaring the world can be and took the idea that you have to make your own meaning too far in the wrong direction, or, as the cynic in me believes, they grew up on social media which made them develop main character syndrome and have a severe lack of empathy for anyone but themselves. If all this makes sense. Idk, I'm just spit-balling because I don't understand how being an anti is the hot new trend among the youth even though proshipping is the standard and how things have always worked, and the world didn't end, murderers and pedos didn't increase in numbers, because again, the proshipping stance is how it's always been but antis are suddenly trying to create a problem where there's never been one and keep trying to force reality to conform to their fantasies. I just don't understand how people could look at the world and then genuinely believe the world works the opposite of how it actually does, like flat earthers. And Idk why so many kids would fall for this nonsense and why antis are so commonplace nowadays. Imo, antis just...really need therapy cause it feels like they have this debilitating NEED to be a modern fairy tale hero you know?

I sometimes wonder if being an anti is a final, desperate bid for control after a lot of them realize that life isn't exactly something that can be controlled to the extent they want it to be.

[mirensiart]

https://www.tumblr.com/mirensiart/766516621742374913/i-have-to-ask-is-the-curse-in-the-pain-sharing?source=share

I'm usually the definition of a lurker but I'm leaving the safety of the void to ask about what you think the other curses would be for each of the Links. I thought up a few but I want to hear what you think they'd be!

Sky: No idea

Four: Forcing all the Links to split. So there's now 36 Links! I can only imagine the chaos :)

Time: De-aging/advanced-aging curse. So either everyone gets turned into kids or old men, or a mix of both. Or maybe a timeloop! Or maybe something to do with his masks? He has too many possibilities!

Legend: The Pain-Sharing AU

Hyrule: I want to say The Blood Curse gets shared, but none of them would even know unless the monsters started sacrificing them so... maybe everyone turns into fairies?

Twilight: Animal/Dark World Forms Curse.

Wind: Its a common headcannon that Wind can see spirits right? Maybe the spirit sense gets spread around? But that seems more like a benefit than a curse...

Warriors: Uhhhh...? No idea.

Wild: The only thing I can think of is giving the entire Chain amnesia and forcing them to recover their memories the same way Wild does.

Ooooh! OK so, when I made that post I was thinking specifically about legend and twilight cause like, they're already cursed/have a magic thing going on (legend has the soul bond and twi the dark curse) so the wizzrobe would have something to grab onto to base it's curse of

But the idea that the wizzrobe would base the curse on details of each link is pretty interesting ngl

Sky can be either a curse where everyone suffers from stamina issues or that everyone is aware of where everything is making it a sensory nightmare cause of his tracking homing abilities, lol

Four can be very fun, the wizzrobe curse can be either everyone splits into 4 making it the worst thing ever lmao or everyone is now minish sized, like imagine them trying to deal with the black blooded monsters as tiny lil things lol

Time can be the aging-deaging one but like by 7 years lol either some of them get older by 7 years or get younger by 7 years, for the younger ones getting 7 years younger would suck tbh like wind would be 6 lmao the masks ones are also good I feel, maybe wizzrobe casts the spell and the only one standing is Time surrounded by 8 masks of each of his bros 🙃

Hyrule's i'd love it if if where the fairy one, everyone is a fairy!!!! They can't wield a sword or use their items so it would suck ass lol

Wind would be funny if like, the wind waker abilities get spread around, like one of them moves their arms a lil and a cyclone happens lmao they move their arms up and down and now suddenly they're all being blown over by a strong gale, they do some hand motions and oh I can control one of you now, they move during battle making motions with their arms and now it's night time lmao

Warriors' can be constant era hopping cause of how there are so many portals between eras in his game, if the normal portals were annoying, then now every couple of minutes, a portal opens up, and they're in another time lol

Wild's giving them amnesia is so funny and idk why, I like this, everyone just standing there looking at each other like "who the fuck are you.....and who the fuck am I???"

And well, twilight's is the everyone is their dark world animal one and I love that one a lot too hehe

In a way, legend's pain sharing curse is one of the least awful ones lol

[melancoley]

WHAT MOVES THE WORLD

SYNOPSIS: when you’re born into a burning house, you think the entire world is on fire – that was kakashi’s reality. always surrounded by fragments of war, kakashi grew up with only the purpose of surviving beating in his heart. for him, nothing else existed in the world but war – that was kakashi’s philosophy. until you showed up. and, like spring, you came with the promise of hope and warmth and ended up bringing an inevitable change that would forever alter the life, and heart, of hatake kakashi.

PAIRING: hatake kakashi x gn!reader WORD COUNT: 5.811.

TAGS: soulmate!au, strangers to lover(s), fast-paced, unrequited love, kinda miscommunication. angst, fluff, hurt/no-comfort. CONTENT: gloomy kid kakashi. confused young-adult kakashi. heartbroken adult kakashi. shinobi reader. you are full of life & love talking to kakashi. conversations about stars, wars & love. he is the captain of your team one time.

WARNINGS: mention of sakumo's death but nothing explicit. you are going to break kakashi's heart, so be ready.

COLE'S NOTE: hiii, miss me? ♡ so !! this fic was originally a request and i posted this on my previous blog - if it sounds familiar, maybe u read the old version: ‘war & love’. i did some changes here and there to turn ur reading more pleasant and i hope i did a good job lol also !!! someone made one fanart based on this fic - if u know them/saw the fanart, please tell me so i can link it and give them the attention they deserve. ok, that's all ♡ have fun breaking hearts ♡

Not all stories are happy.

Not all soulmates are reciprocal.

Not all people could change their destiny.

Of course, in a perfect world, one person’s soulmate would also be another person’s soulmate. But reality went far beyond fairy tales and, as such, not all soulmates were mutual – and a person only knew their destiny when it was too late.

For years, people woke up with words tattooed on their wrists. They were simple, small words, just for the purpose of summarizing people’s love lives with their true love.

There were the luckier ones who woke up with little ‘fulfilled’ or ‘happily ever after’ on their wrists after their wedding. There were also those who had little ‘close call’ or ‘don’t try again’ written on their wrists on the coldest nights. And there were also those that read painfully ‘not destined’ or even ‘maybe in a next life’ that caused an inexplicable burning in the eyes of those who received such words. There were those who liked it, there were those who didn’t mind a mere tattoo and there were also those who did everything to force a soulmate into their lives.

The reality is that a person’s tattoo was already inscribed on them from the moment their soul found a body, always wanting to arrive at the right time to make itself noticed. And that was why no one could change their destiny.

But none of that matter. None of that mattered one bit to Kakashi. Because he only had one thing in mind: becoming strong and reliable. Kakashi didn’t care about dating or romance. Kakashi just wanted to do his duty as a shinobi.

But, of course, no matter how much he didn’t want to know, no matter how much he showed he didn’t want to know, his father was always attentive to him, always wanting to make him even minimally interested in the subject. After all, parents only wanted the best for their children.

And that was why Sakumo forced Kakashi to sit next to him on that cold, foggy morning.

“Kakashi, there is beauty in the midst of all this chaos.”

Sakumo’s voice was lost amid the fog, a phrase of pure harmony and delicacy trying to find its way in the thick maze of clouds and trees that invaded the territory.

There was a pause.

Kakashi didn’t deign to respond – he knew perfectly well where this conversation would end, he knew perfectly well what awaited him.

“The world is not driven by war alone.”

“Dad…”

Kakashi let a long and monotonous sigh escape his small lips, muffled by the dark mask, trapped inside the fabric without being able to show his total dissatisfaction.

“Not again. I have class in a bit.”

Kakashi stood up carefully and a little hesitantly. The truth is he didn’t want to leave his father alone. Kakashi didn’t want to abandon him once again at the mercy of fairy tales that did nothing but deceive a person.

However, Sakumo gave him no other choice. The cheap repetition of stories and princesses and kings became tiring – there was no longer any surprise in his father’s speech, there was no longer any hope for Kakashi.

As such, he was determined to abandon his father sooner than expected, his little feet taking short, uncertain steps to get away from his father, to get away from yet another unwanted conversation.

“Kakashi, why do you think there is war?”

Kakashi stopped his step with some abruptness.

That simple question from Sakumo echoed strongly inside Kakashi’s head, causing small dizziness in his mind where several possible answers appeared without any invitation, assaulting the little child’s sanity, making him question everything.

Why does war exist?

Of course, the main answer focused on people’s inability to be able to communicate with each other. There was also that need to come out and show their disgusting egos – that is the second answer to that question.

But there was something more.

There had to be something more.

People didn’t start wars just because they were bored.

…

Right?

Throughout his small and short existence, Kakashi has lived in a world of war and from an early age he was trained and taught to live and survive amidst so much devastation and anguish. Kakashi’s entire existence was shaped around the thick and aggressive sphere of what moved the world – war.

Would he have to know why?

In reality, Kakashi didn’t care if someone wanted to conquer the world, or if someone was kidnapped or killed unleashing days and months and years of pure destruction. Kakashi only had the mission to fight the war – that was all that mattered. Now the reason?

“I don’t care. Certainly the origin of all wars has an illogical basis. I have to stop the war. I don’t need to know why it started.”

Sakumo smiled and let his son go on his way, slowly losing sight of him as he began to be consumed by the fog.

Sakumo’s lips formed a perfect smile, a smile that left a trail of sadness with it because he knew perfectly well what was going to happen that day – Sakumo couldn’t really smile, not when he knew the end was near.

But there was something else hidden in his smile.

No matter how loud the voices screamed in his mind, the reality was that Sakumo feared for his son. Sakumo feared that Kakashi would never experience the beautiful pleasures of love as he himself had once experienced.

And there was nothing to do. There was nothing to do when Kakashi only focused on the human intellect. There was nothing to do when Kakashi purposely denied all the emotions that moved the world. There was simply nothing to do.

And Sakumo kept smiling.

His cold fingers gently stroked a small ‘there will be more in the next life’ that was fading due to the passage of time.

Several memories of a short and intense love began to haunt him in such a way that Sakumo didn’t even notice when the sadness on his lips turned into hope.

That hadn’t been the last life with his beloved – Sakumo knew that.

Then, muttering the answer to the question he himself asked his son, Sakumo stood up as well.

He knew perfectly well that there would be a second chance for his love. He knew perfectly well that Kakashi would realize the reality of the world they lived in. He knew perfectly well that everything would end well.

After all, there has never been a war without love.

Kakashi had lost everything.

There was nothing left for someone so young.

At fourteen, Kakashi’s entire life fell apart before his own eyes. Without family or friends, without anyone who could support him, he had lost everything – including his way in this world. Kakashi was wandering through the days, lost on the path of life, with no knowledge of maps or no guides that could help him.

Kakashi had lost everything, until he gained a new friendship, a new hope.

You appeared with the arrival of spring. Uncertain and always encouraging steps, an enormous desire for knowledge to be noticed in the intense shine of your sweet eyes, and wide smiles enchanting anyone.

You brought with you the breath of fresh air that prevailed at that time of year. Your feet encouraged so many beautiful flowers to bloom, new lives were created by you, new paths were drawn by your bare feet. The innocence of someone who had not yet experienced the evils of the world painted your smile with an extra tenderness that gave your cheekbones small splashes of the passion that the sun felt for you.

That spring day, when Kakashi saw you leaning over a hollow log, you carried something more than pure curiosity and amusement in your fingertips. You brought with you the hope of a new life for Kakashi, a hope that was felt by him when he, very clumsily, stopped you from rolling with the log to the bottom of the cliff.

Quickly, like someone blowing a leaf, something formed between you. A friendship? Probably. It was hard to be sure with Kakashi. But whatever you and he shared, you both knew it was something unique, something true.

A new stage in both of your lives was discovered in the other’s presence, a vast and longing wave of feelings beginning to form in you.

There was complicity between the both of you.

Since your first meeting next to that log, you and Kakashi shared an enviable complicity. Each one understood the other without the need to exchange words. A simple look, a simple sign, was enough for one to be understood by the other.

Days were spent together. Little secrets were exchanged amidst laughter and sighs, two distinct lives were soaked in pure melancholy, drenched in an extreme longing for a long-lost past.

And your adolescence has never looked so beautiful in the eyes of others.

Before you knew it, you and Kakashi have reached adulthood. And what used to be so simple and natural now seemed complicated with so many glances and hidden smiles and that hint of desire that clung to every word you exchanged.

Quickly, like someone forming a smile, beyond that very natural friendship, something more emerged between you. Something deeper began to emerge between the two of you.

“I don’t understand people’s admiration for the stars.”

You stretched a little as you sat next to Kakashi, the red blanket you always carried protecting you from the cold wind of that autumn night. “It’s something that has existed since the beginning of time. There are maps and photographs of them everywhere. Why the fascination?”

“It’s like war.”

The rest of your team rested silently on the ground, wrapped and cozy by a small fire starting by you, the tranquility of a successful mission being noted by their deep and steady breaths.

You and Kakashi were relaxing on one of the many branches of the most colorful and sturdy tree near your camp, your vision completely focused on the vast starry sky and the faint line of the horizon painted by the small mountains covered in snow.

There was silence on the ground and there was silence in the tree branches.

The breeze had been encouraged by several clouds venturing along unknown paths, giving you a little privacy on that very welcoming night. The moon was small, gaining strength for a more special date, slowly feeding on the desire of the most melancholy people who wrote to her. Every animal in the forest slept near you, the heat of the fire that crackled so loudly convincing the most diverse living beings to truly rest that night – except you and Kakashi.

“The war?”

You couldn’t contain the laughter that formed inside you, a sound so melodious and innocent that it woke up nature itself for a brief moment. The breeze had returned to you only to take with it the pure sound you released, keeping among the various clouds and stars the memory of your innocent question and laugh.

“How does the fascination of the stars compare to the war?”

“Humans can’t live without them.”

Kakashi was leaning against the trunk reading one of his typical books. None of his words were of the slightest interest. His uncovered eye cautiously read each line of the book. And he just waited for an answer. He waited for your curiosity. He waited for you.

“My dear Kakashi, I live well without both. Does that make me non-human?”

Kakashi let a long, amused sigh escape his lips and grab the echo of your new laugh. By closing the book and adopting a posture more favorable to a conversation, Kakashi let his movements continue over time.

The relaxing crackle of the fire calmly accompanied your team captain’s gestures as you fixed your eyes on Kakashi in the vain hope of encouraging him to speak or, at the very least, to hurry up.

However, there was no rush in Kakashi’s movements – all the time he took to sit next to you and stare at the stars seemed like an eternity to you.

But finally, Kakashi spoke.

“Of course you live well without both. But would you be the same person you are if they didn’t exist? Would you be complete if they didn’t exist?”

“Are you insinuating that we humans need to have stars and wars to be real?”

It seemed like an outrage. What Kakashi had just insinuated to you seemed to be wrapped in a thick layer of blasphemy and nonsense. The indignation at those words was reflected in the way you looked at the various leaves that framed Kakashi in an ethereal casing of change.

What was once a peaceful setting has now become a stage for nature. Strong winds and thick clouds slowly began to appear, hoping they could continue listening to Kakashi’s thoughts. Small nocturnal birds greeted you shyly with sweet and tender melodies that spread through the sleeping forest and made you smile.

“It’s what moves us.”

“I’m sorry,” you let out a fake laugh as you composed yourself on the tree branch.

You turned to Kakashi and focused your attention on his relaxed posture. Curiosity was caught in your eyes, and an eagerness to prolong that conversation could be seen in the way you so firmly and enthusiastically pronounced the words. “But I still don’t follow your reasoning.”

“A’right, let’s go step by step.”

“Please.”

Kakashi let out a small, almost inaudible laugh at your tender plea.

His eyes were now resting on your very curious posture: your arms adjusted the red blanket to also shelter Kakashi on that cold night; your eyes sparkled with the enthusiasm of yet another conversation with your best friend; your smile warmed Kakashi more than any blanket or fire could do.

“The stars, yea? We all know that since ancient times they have been the cause of all happiness and pain for people. People in ancient civilizations worshiped the stars as gods and saw in them countless stories and life lessons. And the very own people of those civilizations used the stars and their positions for agriculture and to make decisions. Are you following?”

“Yes, professor.”

You let out another laugh as you placed your legs over Kakashi’s and gently slid closer to him. The night was getting cold, the fire was on the ground and all you had was a red blanket and Kakashi.

And how he thanked all the gods for wearing a mask and for the moon being lazy that night. For, the pink tone he quickly adopted when he felt you so close to him only revealed how much he was waiting for that action of yours.

“So…”

A brief moment of silence followed after Kakashi’s statement.

Your captain’s reasoning was lost with your innocent act. It was a simple, affectionate gesture, something that had been repeated so many times. And, like every other time, Kakashi simply lost any coordination – the feeling of having you so close to him was fantastic, almost magical.

Thus, a brief moment of silence followed as Kakashi tried to find the thread of his thought, as Kakashi tried to grasp that thread without losing the very welcoming feeling of having you close to him.

“So,” he repeated again, his posture always relaxed and carefree, the mask being the perfect hiding place for his rosy face. “People adopted these little habits from their ancestors and that’s why there are so many people who still marvel at the stars. Of course, all romantics are also enchanted by them.”

“Why?”

Pause. Silence. Contemplation.

Why? In fact, that was always the question you asked. That was always the question that made sense to ask. Indeed, why?

Kakashi stared at the stars, trying to understand why. You stared at Kakashi, waiting for him to answer why.

But the answer never came. The answer never showed up and beautified your ears with sweet justifications and immaculate logic. For, realizing that there really wasn’t a defined reason for that question, Kakashi continued his reasoning.

Your captain’s voice was drawn out and always monotonous as if it were perpetually stuck in a timbre that conveyed a vast sense of comfort.

And you listened carefully to every word Kakashi said. You listened attentively to everything he had to say, always trying hard to follow his thoughts.

“Now the war.”

Kakashi paused briefly and took a deep breath.

A sigh that seemed to be filled with tiredness escaped his lips without realizing it – the memories of conversations he had with his father were felt at that exact moment. And they weighed. They weighed so much.

“War has always existed. Since the beginning of humanity there has been war. No wars, no humans. It is in our condition as human beings – it is our need. We crave destruction. We seek chaos. It’s in us. We need war to move us. Because, quite simply, we are the war. Without it, what would we do? Who would we be? That’s why there is fascination with it. That’s why there’s so much admiration. War is the stars of the most political. And the stars are the war of the most romantic.”

“So, by that logic, love is the war of the most philosophical.”

Kakashi looked at you with confusion expressed in his eye. The various and infinite stars reflected in Kakashi’s gaze showed that, in fact, he had not understood the use of your words.

Why did you decide to grab love out of nowhere?

Why did you decide to bring that taboo into the middle of a conversation that was so special to both of you?

Why?

You noticed the confusion in Kakashi’s lack of reaction. You realized that there must be doubt in your captain’s thoughts. Looking at Kakashi, it was easy to decipher the confusion he felt and you were intrigued, fascinated even.

“Do you really think that it is only war that moves the world?”

Kakashi opened his mouth but you didn’t know.

Kakashi closed his mouth again and you didn’t even notice.

In your captain’s mind, that last conversation he had with his father began to replay endlessly. Sakumo’s words came up whenever that dangerous topic was brought up – it seemed that Sakumo’s cheap philosophies tormented Kakashi until that day.

But it wasn’t always like that – no.

From the moment Kakashi met you, Sakumo’s haunting finally ceased.

There was no need to understand love because, quite simply, and even though he didn’t know it, Kakashi was experiencing that feeling so strong, so true. There was no need to recall a conversation that tried to explain something he was feeling, even though he couldn’t decipher that specific something.

Therefore, for several years, Sakumo’s words that were imbued with understanding and affection had been forgotten, completely erased from Kakashi’s memory.

No. Wrong. The words were still there, safe, inside Kakashi’s heart.

And it only took your question, your question so similar to Sakumo’s question, to free the words and torment Kakashi again.

“Kashi?”

You let out a laugh.

Kakashi certainly knew there was something more than war. He positively knew that not everything was destruction or contempt in this world. He had to know there was beauty and hope. He had to know that there was something good in this world. Kakashi had to know all this – right?

“Love?”

The word burned in Kakashi’s mouth, his melancholic eye locked in your eyes, the reflection of the universe trapped in your fingertips.

“Love.”

Your response came with a real, genuine smile. Your eyes showed a light and tenuous sadness while a tiny hope threatened to collapse at any moment.

You spoke like love itself. Delicate and light, your lips pronounced that word with precision and extreme ease.

You spoke like love itself. Your smile was genuine and embellished by the infinite stars, painted by the cool night breeze. Your eyes were sad, scared and fearful of the drastic change of an event, of a feeling.

You spoke like love itself. You spoke in a mix of emotions that were foreign to Kakashi, a thick ball of feelings and memories was trapped in your expression and made Kakashi feel confused.

You spoke like love itself, but Kakashi could only speak like war.

Kakashi spoke like war itself. Without any feeling, afraid of what his lips could utter, scared of the strength of the word itself.

Kakashi spoke like war itself. His every word and thought was completely calculated by him, no mistake to be uttered by Kakashi, the doubt that escaped his lips bringing a bit of wisdom.

Kakashi spoke like war itself. Kakashi spoke knowing perfectly well what awaited him, he spoke knowing perfectly well the answer to his question.

And between war and love there was a brief moment of silence. A moment of tranquility brought by the infinite stars.

Between war and love there was a moment of serenity that was heard only by your careful breathing, your gaze locked on each other, your smile slowly fading as time passed.

Love.

Was that the answer to his father’s question? No. It couldn’t be something so simple like that – but there was no such thing as simplicity in love.

“Love.”

Kakashi said his statement again, allowing a fragile and invisible line to escape his mask and take with it the bruning of that word.

There was something comforting in your gaze, something soothing in the way you held the blanket tight to you. There was something serene in the way you rested your legs on Kakashi’s, something welcoming in the way you and him stood together under that starry sky.

“Love” – Kakashi never found it easier to pronounce that word.

Days without you were boring.

Everyone knew that whenever you were on a mission without being on Kakashi’s team, he would roam the streets of the village like he used to do before he met you. Everyone knew that, for Kakashi, days without you simply didn’t make sense, not when you and he had already become fully accustomed to each other’s presence.

And that day wasn’t much different from the others.

Kakashi walked through the streets calmly. His feet shuffled without any energy, one of his hands sheltered in his pants pocket, the other holding a book close to his face.

Kakashi didn’t pay attention to what he was reading or where he was walking. Having already read and reread that book so many times, having already walked those streets countless times, Kakashi didn’t need to pay attention – because something else occupied his mind.

Your mission was somewhat complicated and you left with a good team, yes. But Kakashi couldn’t trust them, not when your integrity could be at risk – Kakashi could only worry about you.

A melancholy trail was left by Kakashi’s short and relaxed steps.

His eyes read and reread the same page over and over as his mind wandered to so many possible scenarios that could happen to you.

How he hated being away from you at a scary time like that.

Kakashi had been your team captain enough times for him to know you knew how to take care of yourself. But you were also distracted and that was what bothered Kakashi. A distraction from you, an ambush from them, a misfortune from the universe – everything seemed plausible when he was away from you.

He just wanted to be with you, to hear from you, to know that you were okay. He had to be with you.

But regardless of whether or not you managed to get home safe and sound, Kakashi spent his days monotonously without you by his side.

Even though Guy continued to make his occasional appearances, enticing Kakashi into meaningless duels; even though Naruto and Sakura could fill a fragment of the void you created; even though he knew you would be back next week, the reality is that Kakashi simply couldn’t live the days in your absence.

Not since that night under the starry sky. Not when the confession of a love came out disguised in a novice and somewhat shaky pronunciation.

What could Kakashi do? Just wandering around the village without your company. Just wishing every day was shorter than the last. Just peacefully wait for your arrival.

“Today I received my words!”

Naruto was always so loud.

Kakashi lazily looked up from his book and watched Naruto talk excitedly to Sakura and Shikamaru. The smiles they shared with each other were big, contagious, as if enticing Kakashi to also let out a small smile.

“Hinata is my soulmate!”

“I got mine during the war. It was Ino who noticed,” Sakura let out a small laugh as she recalled her chaotic reactions when she discovered that Sasuke was, in fact, the man the universe had destined for her. “What about you, Shikamaru?”

“Nothin’.”

A small sigh escaped Shikamaru’s lips and brought with it the hope of not having to worry about a soulmate anytime soon.

“What about you, Kakashi-sensei?”

“I don’t pay attention to that.”

A shrug was enough to direct the conversation back to Shikamaru.

But Kakashi kept thinking. Without realizing it, all the younger’s’ speeches were obstructed with the thought that, perhaps, Kakashi had already received his words.

It was true that Kakashi avoided looking at his wrist – since that night, the mere thought of love scared him.

Once, Kakashi simply didn’t care about something as trivial as love. The mere thought of such a feeling brought only haunting of long, uninteresting conversations with his father. But now, after that night, there was fear in the feeling. There was an extra fear that burned in Kakashi’s heart when he allowed himself the luxury of thinking about something as dangerous as love.

Ever since that night, the mere thought of love scared Kakashi because, quite simply, Kakashi couldn’t imagine that word without picturing you.

And Kakashi blamed you. Yes, you. You were the bringer of Kakashi’s destruction. Because, since that night, Kakashi really started to see the world differently. And he blamed you. He blamed that word. He blamed all the stars.

But had any mark already been engraved on his wrist?

Leaving conversations and laughter behind, Kakashi returned home.

A single goal was stuck in his mind. A single need ran through his heart. A single feeling moved Kakashi. Love.

The four walls of Kakashi’s room had never felt as cozy as they did at that moment.

It was the end of the day.

The last rays of sunlight were lost in Kakashi’s room. Shades of gold and hope burned fiercely in the three frames that rested delicately on his little furniture. Your face and Kakashi’s were adorned with light celestial tones from the last ray of sunlight, enhancing the joy and comfort that that photograph brought to Kakashi.

Night fell so quickly that it didn’t even give the sun a chance to warm Kakashi’s room.

It was cold.

The proud and bright moon contrasted with the weakness of that night, the stars taking the night off to give the various and diverse clouds their turn to shine.

There was darkness and there was cold.

In the midst of that discomfort, Kakashi looked for some warmth in his wrists.

His right wrist had nothing on it – the pale skin brought a bit of disappointment to him.

But there was still hope. There was still a second chance.

Cautiously taking off his left glove, Kakashi saw a single word shining in the moonlight.

‘Almost’.

Almost?

Kakashi’s mouth opened slightly on impulse as his eyes repeatedly read and reread that single word that was carved into his wrist.

How long had it been there? How long ago did fate decide to steal you from him? Almost? Why ‘almost’? Hadn’t his confession that night been enough for you? Wouldn’t the vulnerability with which he uttered and repeated that forbidden word have been enough for both of you? Almost. Almost? Why? Could he have done something? Could he have done nothing?

A wave of corruption completely washed away any and all hope Kakashi might have had. The curiosity that once drove Kakashi’s gestures was entirely replaced by regret and frustration.

Could he go back? Could he do something to change that word?

Surely if you arrived and he confessed everything he wanted and felt for you, maybe you would reciprocate his words.

No. Not ‘maybe’. Kakashi was sure there was reciprocity. That night left no doubt. The way you two spoke, the way you looked at each other, the way you pronounced the forbidden word.

Yes. There was definitely still a little hope, even if it was small. And Kakashi knew, as years of war had taught him, that hope would always be the last to die. Surely the same applied to love. Right? – you said it yourself: love is the war of the most philosophical.

Yes. Hope.

‘Almost’ wasn’t the word Kakashi had chosen to dictate his fate, no. It was ‘hope’.

 Clinging to that small flame that had quickly lit in Kakashi’s heart, he watched the remaining days pass slowly and wistfully.

Kakashi just wanted you to come back as soon as possible. He just wanted to cheat fate once and for all and grab the happiness he had been so deprived of. Would it be too much to ask?

‘Almost’. Pathetic.

‘Almost’. Of course it wasn’t almost – Kakashi would never allow it to be ‘almost’.

And when you arrived, Kakashi carried the war with him – he was determined to change his destiny, even though he was scared. There was determination in his steps, Kakashi’s eyes so empty conveying a bit of uncertainty, of fear, of regret in actions he should have done long ago.

Waiting for you for so long only gave Kakashi permission to think, to ponder all the opportunities that were missed by him in fear of a confession made of decent words – he could make a list of all the waste that was lost.

The ‘almost’ was right.

Years passed – Kakashi should have known better. He had so many books about it, he should have known better. It wasn’t enough to just say a complicated word. It was not enough to just feel a complex feeling. Kakashi had to show – and Kakashi never showed.

But now Kakashi was determined to change that. Kakashi was determined to change his destiny.

Just like war, Kakashi came to you without any warning.

Just like war, Kakashi caught you unnoticed in a spontaneous embrace of longing and nostalgia. It was rare for Kakashi to express his love, but you couldn’t deny that it was something that always made you smile.

You hugged Kakashi back, your arms fitting perfectly around his body, the way his strong arms squeezed you in a comforting embrace making you more relaxed. Although you had already arrived at the village two days ago, it was at that moment that you truly felt at home.

“How’s the mission?”

That wasn’t the question Kakashi wanted to ask – it wasn’t what he had rehearsed.

But you started a long, drawn-out monologue about all the ups and downs of that mission that lasted almost two weeks. A rollercoaster of emotions was reported by you as Kakashi listened attentively to every word out of your mouth.

And, while he listened to you, he looked intently at your arms.

Kakashi’s empty eyes searched for tattoos made by the stars. The curiosity to know your fate was what moved Kakashi’s eyes and forced him to look at your body.

Until finally he saw it.

‘It was close’.

It was close?

What absurd words had fate given you? It didn’t make sense.

Was it close that you didn’t end up with Kakashi? Was it close that you fell into someone else’s love trap? What did those words mean? What did they mean in a vast sea of ​​possibilities?

“And I got my tattoo on the way here.”

You extended your arm and gave Kakashi permission to read your mark better.

‘It was close’.

“I was confused by what it meant. But it made sense when I found…”

“Him?”

Him.

Kakashi knew who you were talking about.

You didn’t need to confess names or draw portraits with your words. Kakashi always knew who you were talking about, because he was the one you loved before you met Kakashi, and he was the one you loved during the early days of your friendship with Kakashi.

“Yea.”

The smile you let out reminded Kakashi of love: shy and so happy, a hint of accomplishment displayed in the beautiful curves of your lips, a sense of comfort trapped in your confession.

Love.

Damn you.

“He walk with me to the village and is staying here. Today we’re going to our first date.”

And that’s when Kakashi realized – no one could change their destiny.

With a fake smile and forced curiosity, Kakashi allowed you to nail long, painful barbs into his heart, erasing any hope he still had left, completely staining the forbidden word for Kakashi.

With a fake smile and tears trapped in his eyes, Kakashi allowed your happiness to flood his darkness, little stars of your joy faintly painting Kakashi’s pain.

Because, yes. Despite everything, Kakashi was happy.

Even though he would be happier with you, Kakashi was happy for you.

You overflowed with love.

Extreme happiness wrapped in a film of euphoria delicately filled your room. Your eyes shone with the emotion of a love about to be lived. Your wide smile managed to be contagious, even though Kakashi didn’t want to smile.

You were the embodiment of love.

You were hope and comfort from the first day he met you and he hated you for it.

Kakashi hated you because he knew he would never be able to find someone who had as much of an impact as you did. He would never be able to find someone who made the word ‘love’ mean as much as you did.

It was the way you spoke so happily about each other. It was the way you still cared about Kakashi like you still liked him. It was your own way of being.

You were kindness and simplicity hidden behind a strong sphere of complexity.

You were, undeniably, love.

And the conversation that night never made as much sense as it did at that moment.

In Kakashi’s realization, in the midst of all the suffering caused by you, you continued to move Kakashi. The way you still made Kakashi eager to see you. The way your company was still, and always would be, crucial to Kakashi. The way he still loved you after you caused him so much anguish.

You have always been the personification of the word love. And, just like the feeling itself, it was you who moved Kakashi’s world.

♡ feedback is always welcomed ♡

[earlgreytea68]

its just one of those days where ive had coffees for closers on repeat

sighhhh

have u ever done an analysis of the song? if not what r ur thoughts?? hope ur having a good day btw xx

Ugh, this song is such a gutpunch. I've talked about it briefly in the context of how it reworks lines from Pete's poem "to you (unfinished, off the top of my head)" in THE MOST PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE:

He does the same thing with the lyrics he borrows for (coffee’s for closers). Pete’s poem sets the tone for fairy-tale storytelling right at the beginning: “It all started with some friends and a van, a kick drum inside my ribs, preaching electric into a microphone stand.” These beginning images are fond: holding up red cups at house parties, falling asleep together on the grass during festivals, laughing. But Patrick carves those lines out and brackets them with “I will never believe in anything again, we will never believe again.” What an answer to this poem out of Patrick: to take those words and slap them between endless proclamations of not falling for that fairy tale again. Even worse, he tops it off with a rewrite of the “read the charts” line: the poem reads “you can get lonely when u only read the charts.” This feels like more on the theme of “you can get everything you want [but it’s never enough], but it won’t actually make you happy.” You can read the charts, and FOB would be on top of them, but it’s lonely up there, and you need more than that. But the line in (coffee’s for closers) goes: “Only get lonely when you read the charts.” The movement of that “only” shifts the line for me. There are a bunch of ways to read it, but for me it reads like: “You only get lonely when you remember you’re in a band. You’re so busy running around being the life of the party, you’re never, ever lonely unless you’re paying attention to your band.”

The thing is, I consider that poem a fond and wistful love poem from Pete to Patrick, trying to reach across a great chasm, and at first the pain of it is how Patrick initially writes songs that take those lines and rejects them, twists them, spits them back out. Eventually he doesn't. Eventually he soothes the lines back into answering love songs. But in the beginning, he writes songs that are fiery rejections of the mood of this poem, and (coffee's for closers) is one of them. Pete's poem reads all us believers still believe. Patrick in this song writes, over and over and over again, slamming it home, I will never believe again. Take that, Pete Wentz! Never! Again!

To me it's just a brutal song about hating how everything turned out but not seeing a way out of it (I want everything to change and stay the same). The Genius annotation says throw your cameras in the air is about how people always film concerts these days, but I think that's wrong. I mean, maybe, although the song was written in 2008 when cell phone taping was still a fairly new phenomenon. But I think this line is really a rumination on fame, on feeling like everywhere you look there are cameras in your face, and it's not about concerts, it's about your life. Girls used to follow you around...until you got cold, and you were no longer the current big thing, and then it's lonely there in the spotlight, where no one's having a good time, the hands they wave in the air are all cameras pointed at you, hoping to catch the next mistake, and everything that was supposed to be good and great, all those pretty promises Pete Wentz made back in the summer fest days when you fell asleep on the grass turned into this. You've become something I don't even recognize, and I'm just your mascot, some laughable gimmick everyone makes fun of, and you love the mayhem more than the love that was all around you, you threw all that love away like you didn't even want it, and I will never believe in anything again. Change will come, and nothing good is going to come of that, either, because you don't like things the way they are but you know that changing them isn't going to turn out well, either.

This song is just so much. It's so angrily hiatus. It's such a demonstration of how much they had broken down around each other.

But it's okay. Because on the other side of it, eventually, Patrick takes this same poem and makes it into "Favorite Record," so it turns out all right in the end. Happily ever after (below the waist)

[thekatebridgerton]

Mystery of the sexy paintings au

Today on another episode of aus I talk about with @seaowl when I am high on energy drinks

Mystery of the sexy paintings au

In which 17yo Gareth St Claire, good for nothing, except painting riske pictures that get him into trouble in the uni, comes up with a plan to con the ton into buying his amateur paintings for an exorbitant price, so he can get the cash he needs to pay for tuition. Enter, his friends/models. Who were nice enough to model for him for free.

The problem is, that the Bridgertons may have made mysterious French painter Gautier-Gautier / 17yo Gareth, rich overnight, but also, now they’re trying to discover his identity. How was Gareth supposed to know his friends attracted so many lunatics.

Sophie, he can understand, Benedict was the initial target of this whole fake art show business. Con the delusional rich guy into buying the painting of odalisque Lady in Silver (wearing a mask and a transparent sheet). But what he didn’t expect was that Benedict would fall inlove at first sight and make a shrine for the painting in his room. Benedict also makes his sister’s lady’s maid clean the shrine, who happens to be Sophie. The very same Sophie who got so fed up with Benedict’s Lady in Silver delulu after a masquerade a year ago, that she was willing to pose semi naked for Gareth and was 100% unapologetic about conning the Benedict out of millions in cash. Now she’s cleaning a shrine to the painting of her own semi naked body and this close to killing Benedict.

  Kate, well Gareth doesn’t even know why Kate agreed to let him paint her naked back and buttocks in all their sultry and exquisite glory. All he knows is that she felt sorry for him and that some guy she disliked said she was uptight and priggish and hadn’t done one wild thing in her life, so Kate told Gareth to paint her buttocks on top of a mushroom and get as much cash as he could manage from auctioning off her likeness. Gareth thinks Kate may hate him, because a furious Anthony Bridgerton saw the painting and immediately had people looking for Gautier-Gautier. Gareth knows Anthony can’t prove the naked back-buttocks model in the painting is Kate, but boy is the man trying his best to make Kate confess to her evil misdeeds. He also knows from Sophie that Anthony keeps Kate’s painting in a secret place only he can enter and that he spends way way too much time there. On the bright side, Anthony paid a lot of money for the faceless mushroom fairy, so Gareth has to thank Kate for her honorable, if spiteful gift of charity.

Penelope volunteered to help Gareth because she thought his paintings of Sophie and Kate were beautiful and she was even fine with her face being visible because in her reasoning, nobody would recognize HER wearing negligee anyway, she was a wallflower, if people saw the resemblance, well, redheads were a dime a dozen in popular paintings, nobody would think it was her. Gareth thought so too, and he was happy to help Penelope get in touch with her desirable femininity by painting her as the goddess of love. He was proud of the redhead seductress he painted. That is until another furious Bridgerton walked away from the art show with the painting AND the woman he clearly recognized in tow. Gareth doesn’t know much about Colin Bridgerton, but he looked about to shoot somebody the moment he saw Penelope, and the painting of the goddess of love that everyone was admiring. Penelope at least tried to explain, but Colin was fit to be tied. Gareth really hopes his friend is okay and not locked away somewhere being ravished by Colin Bridgerton. the man did pay an exorbitant amount of money for the painting, but Gareth is okay with accusing Colin of kidnapping Penelope if he doesn’t hear from her in a few days.   

Phillip, okay yes Gareth did it on purpose, he painted the man as a dark sexy demon wearing a loincloth, but to be fair Gareth asked for help, Phillip said no, because #thinkOfMyChildren, so Gareth had to resort to blackmail. And while, yes it is wrong for Gareth to use Phillip’s sad depressive diary against him, it was also wrong of Phillip to say no to posing semi-nude for Gareth’s moneymaking schemes. What better way to celebrate being in London for a hot widowed father than to do Gareth a favor.  In the end the bidding war among the thirsty debutantes made loin cloth fire demon the hit of the night, I mean Eloise Bridgerton probably bankrupted a few years of her allowance with how much she put on the pot to take the painting. Now Phillip is complaining that Eloise is sniffing around too much when he’s shirtless in the gardens trying to teach his kids about plants. Honestly for Gareth that sounds like the opposite of a problem, but Phillip has this thing called modesty that Gareth can’t quite get.

Look at cousin Simon and his boxing buddy Michael, they were both good sports about being part of the art show. Sure Simon almost fainted with Daphne Bridgerton began arguing with her brother about the whole ‘if you can take the mushroom fairy, I can take the semi naked warrior, so give me the money’ ordeal, because you know, Anthony was Simon’s university pal and could recognize those warrior biceps anywhere. But in the end, he couldn’t deny Daphne her wish without explaining that she was thirsting over semi naked Simon, and giving up the mushroom fairy painting that other gentlemen were eying with envy was a non negotiable. Daphne walked away with her painting and so did dowager duchess Francesca Stirling, who took one look at Archangel Michael’s painting, paid a king’s ransom for it and walked out without so much as looking around, you gotta admire a woman on a mission really.  

Lucy’s painting was probably the less risque of the lot, because while she was only a year older than him, she still wanted to participate in the gautier-gautier moneymaking scheme and help Gareth, so Gareth painted her as a beautiful mermaid, in honor of their childhood friendship. She was dressed…sort of. I mean look at Greg Bridgerton, he bought it for her didn’t he? He thinks the art looks pretty. He thinks the art looks like Lucy. And with the way Greg talks about the mermaid, Gareth wonders how the man can be so dense. But that’s Lucy’s problem to worry about.

Enter his current problem. Debutate and diamond extraordinaire, way too perceptive to be sixteen, Hyacinth Bridgerton, who apparently knows all about Gareth’s secret identity as Gautier-Gautier and is threatening to let her siblings know, unless Gareth gives her a self portrait… for free.  

An: I’m thinking about writing a drabble about this, mainly just the part of Gareth and the fabulous seven coming up with the idea and actually implementing it. tagging @sea-owl my au loving buddy who is okay with hearing me ramble

[zundely]

Okay so, I've seen one bad Harding take too many and I need to VENT. Some thoughts and spoilers for dwarves and Lace Harding ahead.

Some people made claims that it "makes no sense" that Harding is the character to get the stone-sense powers since she has never given any indication of having any intrest in the Stone or dwarven traditions and... it just bothers me at this point. Like ok I understand some people would rather have Valta or Dagna in her place amd you know what, fair, understandable but let's not ignore that Harding's plot in game doesn't mention and deal with the specific situation Harding is in. Like her being a surface dwarf and raised Andrastian isn't a bug, it's a part of the whole story.

Lace can be the only dwarven person in the room when they learn the true story about the Titans, and when she tries to reach out to other dwarves about her powers, makes and effort to connect to her cultural roots she gets harshly rejected. Because she is not good enough- the Stone literally manifested through her but she is not good enough because she is a surfacer. And it hurts her. It angers her but she pushes it down and moves forward because Harding deal with her anger by not dealing with it. There are also few banters about her being raised Andrastian and how that affects her current beliefs. And I am glad it is there. I am glad they didn't have her just switch to believing in Stone all the way. Because religion and beliefs can be messy that way and it can be hard to let go off.

And to have all that be there im text and still see people say it's not logical for her to be interested in culture she comes from after the STONE STARTED TALKING TO HER- it's a bit annoying to be quite frank. First of all, it would be fine if she took intrest in the dwarves just because of all the things she learn about the Titans and their history. I don't know, I feel like trying to learn more about your cultural roots when you grow up is a fairy common and natural thing. And implying that because she was born outside of it she is somehow less worthy of a connection to it is... it's exactly the shitty thing Orzammar is doing.

I personally find Harding's story of finding connection to dwarven culture and exploring what does it mean for her, and it not undercutting her ties to Ferelden is nice, not perfect in execution but still considering the Bioware's usual approach of "loosing your cultural ties isn't a bad thing actually and people who care about it are loosers" it's at least not that.

I will just end it by saying I also think if it was Varric getting the Stone powers and he would whine the whole time about how it sucks and it's creepy and he doesn't like Deep Roads people wouldn't bat an eye sooooo.... yeah.

[cubbihue]

Omg can we see more of fairy dev?

Here's another Fairy Dev!

The Pixies love pampering Devin, haha. They'll let him sit in all of their meetings as they argue over this or that policy. Any input he gives is given great consideration, and generally, he gets better benefits than other Pixies do.

Whenever a Pixie is about to be scolded, they give the job to Dev. There's just something about a small child yelling at a fairy over his "Adjudication" of them that they find endearing. Dev is the only Pixie who can get away with this.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[nomaishuttle]

omg also im soo mad i e been listening to rhis worldbuilding podcast at work and it was giving me lots of ideas but i had to turn it off bc i took like..an hour on a room bc i was so focused on jt and my beautiful world.. and i forgot all the ideas i had 😭😭 all i can remember is my fairy thing and that isnt even a from today thoufht

[a-silent-observer]

Not doomscrolling anything I've been on this ride back in 2016 an didn't like it at all. I am just feeling numb. Calmly looking at my belongings and assess what I can pack in a single person suitcase permitted for air travel. We are going to lose everything. (I am not flying to USA now. That's for sure.)

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Pt 1(you’re here)

Pt 2

warning: dubcon, somno, size difference(big time)

A/N: my requests are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commissions are open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited(2 left), so get a commission while you still can~

Having thoughts about a fairy that’s the last of his kind.

He usually spends his days lounging around in flowers or by the lakeside, sometimes visited by woodland creatures.

After his species died out, he's been quite lonely. Being the last of your kind was a fate worse than death, and all he wanted was someone to call his own.

And then he sees you, a normal human woman walking home through his forest.

Usually fairies would play tricks on wandering humans or even curse them for entering their forest, but he couldn’t take being alone anymore, so he followed you home instead.

He just planned to take up residence in your garden, maybe help your plants grow if he felt like it… but one night he ended up flying by your window.

The sight of you undressing made his wings flap in excitement. Your ample breasts, soft belly, and plump thighs were a lot to take in, but he sat in the windowsill, his eyes fixated on your body as he stroked his cock.

He’d never seen a fairy that looked like you, they were all so little and dainty. You had such soft features, all he wanted to do was bury his face in your breasts and fuck that fat pussy of yours.

But alas, he was too small, barely the size of your hand. Never before had he wanted to be the side of a human. Their bodies seemed so clumsy and cumbersome… but now the only thing on his mind was finding a way to grow to your size.

As you slept, he flew in through your cracked window, settling on your chest. It was softer than he imagined, like lying atop two doughy mountains. The fairy couldn’t help but marvel at your hard nipple poking through the fabric of your top.

He held your perky bud in both of his hands, marveling at the way you whimpered under his touch.

Before he knew what he was doing, the little fairy pulled out his cock. He pushed up the fabric of your shirt just enough so he could rub the tip of his sensitive, needy cock on that pretty nipple of yours.

“Mmph…”

He stopped rutting against your nipple when he spotted your soft, plump lips, glistening in the moonlight. The fairy’s shimmering wings fluttered as he gently walked between the valleys of your breasts and climbed up your face.

He positioned his cock between your slightly parted lips, gently pressing the tip against your tongue, testing the waters.

When you didn’t wake up, he began to slowly fuck your mouth, glancing up to your eyes every once in a while before picking up speed.

It was like heaven for him, fucking into your warm, wet mouth, imagining you tasting his cum on your tongue come morning time.

He lost count of how many times he was pushed over the edge by your soft tongue, and ended up passing out on your breasts. He looked like the cutest little thing, all curled up in your cleavage…

When you woke up the next morning, everything was the same as usual. You just had this weird taste in your mouth…

After a nice breakfast, you went to water your plants, only to find out your vegetables had doubled in size over night! As you stared on in awe, your little fairy admirer sat on your windowsill, his cheeks pink as he watched you smile and harvest the plants he had tended to.

You were his lover now, after all… and he didn’t want you going hungry, did he? Especially not when he was planning to find a growth spell and fill that chubby belly of yours full of his young so he could rebuild his species.

You’d need lots of nutrients to carry his young, and he was a good little mate~

part 2?

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143

[monstersflashlight]

It’s finally here, I know I’ve been teasing with this story for weeks but life has been hectic and I wanted to do some requests, but here it is, the forest entity story. Hope y’all enjoy it!

The tree-hole debacle

Forest entity x fem!human || very light dub-con, tentacles (more like vines), bondage, squirting

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no... You kept chanting in your brain. You were trying to reach the fucking shiny thing you saw in the tree's hole and you got stuck. In the middle of the forest. All your torso inside a tree-hole and your legs kicking the air. You couldn't get out. You were stuck. You felt like you were living your own bad porno. Fuck.

You always knew your eagerness to pick stuff in the woods would bring you problems, but you never thought it would be in the shape of a tree. A fucking tree. You were just walking around the forest trying to find some good pieces to build some more fairy jewelry, who knew you could get stuck in a tree. And now you didn’t know what to do, how to get out. A spark of anxiety was creeping up your back. What if you died there? What if they found you dead in a tree-hole? They would think you are a weirdo. Well, in that they wouldn’t be wrong, but that would be so embarrassing. News would say something along the lines of “young girl found in a tree”, and that would be awful in so many levels. God damn it.

You tried crying for help, but you knew there wasn’t anyone coming, you never followed the path, confident you’d find your way back. And you always did, you have some kind of sixth sense about these woods, they called to you. And well, now you called whoever was listening to get you out of that damn tree-hole.

When you felt something creeping behind you, you started kicking your legs, trying to scare whatever animal was close. You didn’t want to be attacked by a random wolf or something. You didn’t even know what kind of animals could roam the forest, you were so careless in the way you explored the woods without thinking about it. You felt like a dummy now, a completely dumb woman who was now stuck in a fucking tree.

Something behind you let out a growl, you started to panic, moving your legs faster, making sounds to scare it away. A light caress to the back of your leg made you twitch, your whole body reacting with full on panic. But before you could scream, you were hanging out upside down, roots embracing your body. You were suspended in the middle of the woods, a weird creature made of leaves and some kind of mud in front of you. He slowly shook your body up and down, making you bounce in an uncomfortable way.

Your confusion, added to being upside down, made your head feel all kinds of dizzy. The roots around you seemed to come from everywhere, like he could control all the things around you. What was he? He answered you without having to verbalize your question: “I’m the spirit of these woods, and you, human, were asking for help. I came.” His voice sounded deep, like if he was talking from inside a cave, an echo of a real voice. Your body shivered.

“I- You- What?” Your confusion at everything happening was making your head spin. He turned you around, hanging you in an upright position this time, your feet still far away from the ground.

“You were screaming, the little creatures came to find me. And here I am,” he explained. His matter of fact statement made you think he was crazy. Maybe you were crazy. Maybe you did die inside that damn tree-hole and all of this was just an hallucination.

“Thanks?” You didn’t know if that was the correct answer, the vines and roots around your body wouldn’t stop twitching, touching, careful not to touch any of your most vulnerable parts. But hey were exploring everything else, caressing your hair, your cheeks, your legs… “Can you put me down?” You asked.

“No.” That instant denial should have scared you, but weirdly enough, you didn’t feel fear or panic anymore. Your body was calm, your mind completely quiet and relaxed. What kind of weird mojo was he doing to you? “You asked for the help of a forest spirit, you need to repay your debt now.” You looked at him expectantly, trying to convey you needed more explanation. He didn’t say anything.

“What the fuck does that mean?” You finally asked, a spark of anger rising inside your chest.

He nodded as if your question was answered like that and said: “I will take you now.” The vines around you started to pull at your clothes. You struggled against the hold, but they were so strong and tight that you could barely move some millimeters.

You struggled harder, screaming at him: “What? No!” You looked at him with all the fire inside of you. If looks could kill, he’d be killed right there, right now. But it wasn’t the case. He just looked amused at your struggles. But he stopped the vines from moving, some of them hovering over your tits and mouth, so close you could smell the petrichor smell they emanated. It was intoxicating.

“You have to pay, human. The balance must be restored.” That made no sense to you, he talked about restoring balance as if you had a debt with the forest or something. What?

“But I didn’t ask for your help.” He looked back at you skeptical, his dark eyes so expressive even though he didn’t have eyelids or brows. His face was so weird, but enthralling at the same time. “Okay, I did need help, but I don’t- I don’t want to have sex with you,” you lied through your teeth.

The truth was that you were aroused, the vines around your body were making you all kinds of horny. You always dreamed of being tied down, of being at the mercy of your partner as they took their fill off you. And without knowing it, he was restraining you, making all your fantasies come to the surface and making your pussy tingle. But you weren’t going to say that to him.

“What is sex, human?” The question caught you off guard, how could he not know what sex was?

“You… You said you’d take me.”

He was looking at you intently, like the answer to your unasked question was obvious and you were just dumb. Maybe you were. “I’ll give you pleasure so your juices can fertilize my forest,” he explained. You could what?

“You what? Fertilize? What?” And then it clicked. “You want to make me cum?” It seemed so random you couldn’t fully process what that meant.

“I believe that’s how humans call it, yes.”

You argued with the angel in your head, but the demon rapidly won the argument and before you could process it fully you were saying: “I- I- Okay.” Your voice was barely a whisper but he nodded and the vines around you closed more firmly against your body, making you shiver. It was weirdly comforting to be held so tightly.

You clothes were pushed away, thrown carelessly to the ground and you found yourself wrapped in vines and roots, suspended in the air. He opened your legs fully, exposing your holes to his eyes. He approached you then, his weird face close to your pussy, but not touching. The leaves around his head tickled the inside of your legs as he inspected you, his breath cold against your heated skin. You whimpered, being exposed to him so openly was embarrassing beyond belief, but the juices dripping off your cunt were even worse.

He reached around him and took some kind of leave, different to the ones covering his head. He squeezed it until a clear substance formed. He coated one of the vines with, the vine shifted into a wider form, cupping your whole pussy, coating it with the substance. At first, you felt nothing, but suddenly scolding heat ran through your body and you came. Just like that. You came faster than ever, he didn’t do anything, he didn’t touch your clit, your entrance… He just put some magical liquid over your cunt and made you cum. What the fuck?

You didn’t get to catch your breath before another vine was proving your entrance, making you moan loudly as it pushed inside. Two more vines appeared, framing your boobs and squeezing, some leaves playing with your nipples at the same time. The pleasure was maddening. The combined sensation of the vine entering you and the leaves was so overwhelming that you came again. This time your scream was cut short when another vine pushed against your asshole. Surprise and arousal made you arch your back, which was fruitless, the restrains on your body so tight you couldn’t move at all.

He was still close, observing the vines playing with your body, controlling everything but not touching you. You felt dehumanized, you were just a means to an end for him. And that made you hot. You could be anybody, everybody. He didn’t care. He just wanted your juices… And he was milking every drop off you.

The vine on your pussy pressed against your G-spot, the sensation too rough and raw. Some more juices gushed around it as you came again. He hit and probed and pushed and made your mind go blank as he transformed your body into a pleasure machine. You came, and came, and came. You were sure there was a river down your legs at that point. You were crying, tears running down your face as he assaulted all your sensitive areas at once. Your body felt like an exposed nerve.

When you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pushed a new vine in your already overflowing pussy. You saw stars as the vines inside of you intertwined. You were so full, so sensitive, you couldn’t stop crying in pleasure, your voice long gone.

And then something inside of you broke completely and you were peeing. Peeing? No, squirting. He made you squirt. Your juices flowed over him, showering his leaves like summer rain. You ascended to another plane, the pleasure beyond human realm, the orgasm so good your brain broke a bit.

He stopped abruptly, his leaves shiny and his face contorted in some sort of a grin. “That would be all, human. You paid the debt to the forest.” You blushed deeply as he lowered your naked body to the ground, a bed of moss forming under you. “I’ll see you soon,” he muttered as he disappeared before your eyes. The earth literally swallowed him.

[yandere-wishes]

Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.  

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.  

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "  

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 — squirting

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: shy!reader (not "innocent" or inexperienced, just a little more reserved). penetrative sex.

Chrissy didn't know what she was doing.

It was an innocent question — as innocent as the questions being raised could be, that night. The conversation had quickly descended into more risqué subjects after Steve had gotten a little too tipsy and started complaining about his lack of luck on his latest escapades.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really. You were all used to talking about sex in one way or another. Eddie was famously loud about it, always having a story to tell, his or otherwise. Stories that made you imagine yourself on the receiving end of, guiltily wanting your friend to do those same things he was describing to you.

You kept those fantasies to yourself, though. Not wanting to be teased by the girls, maybe even worse, have them try to set you up with him. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if Eddie ever rejected you, or dated you out of pity. There was no scenario where this would work in your mind, no "you and Eddie", just you and your thoughts of him, where he would never hurt you, where all he did was make you feel good, imagining it his hands on your body, roaming until they found that place between your legs, instead of your own.

That night, it was no different. After Steve started the conversation, there was no stopping it. You often listened more than talked — not due to lack of experience, you were just a little too shy to share too much, even among close friends — but when the talk switched to Robin commenting about making her girlfriend squirt, you slipped.

"Good for her."

Your reply may have sounded a little more bitter than you'd anticipated, because, one by one, all of your friends looked at you. Maybe it was the scoff that has left your mouth, maybe it was the alcohol that had loosened your tongue. 

"What was that?" Nancy asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you.

"Yeah. What was that?" This time, it was Eddie who repeated her question. He sat on the opposite couch with his legs spread, tight black jeans stretching on his lean legs, making you wish you sat between them. You avoided his eyes.

"Nothing. I mean…", you signed, already regretting having said anything, "it's good! Good for her. Robin is good to her, that's a good thing."

You cringed even before you could finish all those convoluted sentences.

"Honey, have you ever… you know," Chrissy asked from her place on the floor, sitting as delicate as a fairy. "squirted?"

"No." You said, simply. Scared to run your mouth even more. "It's not a big deal. Doesn't happen to everybody."

"Have you tried?" Steve asked from behind his beer. He got a myriad of answers ranging from "that's not how It works, dingus!" from Robin, "it's not a matter of trying" from Nancy and "don't ask that, dude" from Eddie.

"I don't even know where to start, Steve. And before anyone asks, yes, I have cum from sex. Just not… like that."

You wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. It was even worse when you could feel Eddie's eyes on you, like he could see right through you. He tilted his head, and you weren't able to handle the kindness in his brown eyes. You looked away.

Your friends' opinions diverged again, making questions and trying to get you to speak, but you couldn't deal with their scrutiny anymore.

"C'mon, guys. It's fine! Can we change the subject, please?" You tried to swerve them. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. Maybe I'm just broken like that."

They shrugged. You shrugged. They moved on — but Eddie's eyes stayed on you for the rest of the night.

You're on Eddie's passenger seat, right in front of your apartment building, later that night when he brings the subject up again.

"I don't think you're broken."

The two of you had spent the entire ride silent, which was odd since Eddie was the chatterbox between the two of you, always filling the gaps with anything that would cross his mind. Neither that, nor his music filled the silence between you.

"What?" You looked at him, still not believing what you'd heard.

"You said that maybe you were broken like that. That's not true, you're… you're perfect."

That feeling of wanting to hide came back tenfold, making your eyes fill with tears. "Eddie, forget about it, please."

"Hey," he brought your gaze back to him with a finger to your chin, delicately turning your head. "I meant what I said. You're perfect, it's just that no one's taken the time to treat you right. It takes patience, from both sides."

"Yeah, and?"

"I was thinking that maybe I could change that. If you'd let me."

One thing you'd always admired about Eddie was his strength of conviction. He never said anything he didn't believe in, and backed it all up. His voice never faltered, he doesn't shy away from speaking his mind — and you hated that you were forcing yourself to disbelieve him.

"Eddie…"

"Look at me." He pleaded, and in spite of your concerns, you did as he told. His eyes bore into your with a sincerity that was so painfully him. "You can say no. I'll go home and we'll forget about everything I just said. But, sweetheart… I'm dying to prove you wrong."

Eventually, he did.

After you'd gotten up the stairs to your floor kissing and tugging at each other's clothes, letting Eddie's tongue taste yours over and over, stopping to let yourself be cornered against the wall by him. Getting lost in the feeling of his solid body against yours, the smell of him — a strong, masculine perfume, cigarettes and beer — making you dizzy, his lips on your neck making you even dizzier.

After he took your clothes off halfway down your living room, reverencing your body with his rough hands, kneeling between your feet in the middle of your halfway. He made you cum for the first time that night with his mouth, kissing your pussy the way he kissed your mouth, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your tongue. You came as you pulled his hair, his strong arms around your hips preventing you from falling.

After he guided you to your bed, still craving a taste of you. Hands not knowing where to sit still while he pulled another orgasm from you, his fingers deep within you, curling and stroking your walls, his mouth still not leaving your clit. Your ears buzzed with the force of your climax, not being able to hear Eddie's praise. "That's my girl," he said, head resting on the plush of your thigh, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, "doing such a good job, but I'm not done with you yet."

After he made your eyes blur with pleasure when you finally entered you, rubbing the head of his cock on your sensitive bundle of nerves, once, twice, three times before putting it in, slowly bottoming out. Leaving kisses all over your face, shining with sweat. You didn't think you could take it, curling your toes and hugging his narrow hips with your spread legs, feeling each thrust with a tenderness you never did before.

After he filled and stretched you to the brim, pulling out only to push it all in again. Uttering against your skin, broken whimpers, your name on his lips like a prayer. You were beyond the point of forming words, kissing him to stop yourself from screaming. You could feel yourself dripping down your pussy, and into the sheets, soaking Eddie's cock.

After he pulled your thigh higher up his waist, and stood on his knees, pounding into you with measured speed. He hit your spot over, and over, and over — you grabbed the sheets with both hands, repeating his name like a broken record, music to his ears.

"Yeah? That feels good, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Eddie looked like a god above you. Wild hair down to his shoulders, pale skin slick with sweat, eyes drilled on you. You made the mistake of looking down to where your bodies met, watching his thick cock drenched with your juices, going in and out of you. His pubic hair, also matted with your wetness, creating a delicious friction against your clit. "Tell me. Who's making you feel this good?"

"You, Eddie." You whimpered. "You, you, you. Always you."

"That's right, baby. That's" a hard thrust, "fucking," a a squeeze of your thigh, "right."

You felt your orgasm approach with a  deep pressure on your navel, building and building until you couldn't keep It down anymore. You let yourself go, the ringing in your ears louder and cleared, cumming with Eddie's name on your lips.

That's when you felt it. You were limp in your bed, with Eddie above you. You'd felt him cum too, dropping his weight above you, but still keeping himself steady by his elbows. but everything was distant, like it was happening in a dream. Slowly, you came back to yourself — to Eddie, gently coaxing you with sweet words, and to the warm wetness coating your thighs, your ass, and Eddie's lower half.

"Did I…?"

"Fuck yeah, you did." His boyish smile, so different from the confident smirk you saw not moments ago, made you smile too, weakly and still a little embarrassed, but too satisfied to care.

"Happy now?"

"Only when you do it again." 

[eglerieth]

Some of y’all are not appreciating Bilbo Baggins enough. I am here to remedy that. This guy has:

• somehow managed to establish himself as a respectable, staid hobbit by the time he was fifty, despite being both a grandson of Bullroarer Took and the Shire champion of pretty much every aiming-game known to hobbitkind

• had an in-depth debate on pleasantries with a random guy passing by in the street, who turned out to be GANDALF

• collapsed in front of his own fire shaking and muttering “struck by lightning” over and over again in response to hearing about dragons and danger

• mind you, this was after he screamed loud enough to startle a roomful of Dwarves

• signed up for a dangerous quest completely outside of his league out of spite

• when told to scout out a mysterious light, saw some trolls, and instead of reporting back with the information, decided to PICK THE TROLLS POCKET

• arrived in Rivendell for the first time and said it “smelled like elves”

• upon meeting a strange creature that visibly wanted to eat him, he decided to play a riddle game with him- and guessed pretty much every one, and made up his own riddles, afraid and alone, that not only were good and full of linguistic puns, but actually stumped the other guy- AND THEN CHEATED AND WON WITH A QUESTION

• showed mercy to said strange creature who wanted to kill him, and was now standing between him and freedom

• eavesdropped on the dwarves arguing over whether to try to save him, then popped up casually smack in the middle of them just as they were debating

• somehow managed to sleep like a log at the really really high eyrie full of wild predators

• found himself in a bad situation, said eff it, and turned around and antagonized and fought off an insane amount of man eating spiders, like enough of them that fifty was a small portion, by singing at them with incredibly complex and punny insulting songs composed on the spot, while simultaneously slaying them in multitudes despite having zero combat training. Seriously, we don’t discuss enough how epic the spider scene is.

• broke a company of dwarves out of the very secure prison of the Elvenking by inventing white water rafting with barrels

• charmed his way out of being eaten by a dragon

• stole the frickin Arkenstone from the guys who employed him, one of whom was a king

• took part in an epic battle, only to be knocked out in the first ten minutes and miss the entire thing

• was named elf-friend by the guy who’s prisoners he sprung

• wrote his own autobiography, complete with all the narrative recognition of his own heroics

• spent 60 years writing said autobiography

• taught his lower class neighbor’s kid how to read

• taught his nephew Elvish- not only Sindarin, but Quenya too

• spent decades telling his cousins his own story as fairy tales, complete with character impressions accurate enough that one of them was able to fool a servant of the Enemy with a second hand impression

• used the One Ring of Power to hide from his neighbors

• planned an elaborate feast with multiple social faux pas to mess with his neighbors, complete with a purposefully bewildering speech and culminating in him vanishing into thin air in front of everyone

• left his cousins and neighbors very unsubtle passive aggressive gifts in his will

• settled into Rivendell, randomly befriended the heir to the throne of like half of Middle Earth, and apparently spent his time writing very personal poems about his hosts and reciting them to crowds of elves

• after being invited to a Council of basically every major kingdom in the continent, spent a quarter of the time reciting vague poems about his friends, a quarter of the time telling anyone who would listen about his heroic past, and half the time interrupting to ask when lunch would be

• volunteered to bring the ring to Mordor

• became one of only four or five mortals in history to live in Valinor

Seriously, Bilbo Baggins may well be the most chaotic, insane person in the entire legendarium, and that includes the likes of people like Finrod “bit a werewolf to death to save the life of guy who he just met and gave up his kingdom for” Felagund.