#and it’ll be even more unfortunate if the wind was a bit too strong that day. and his hair got swept behind and the collar ruffled

[mimiriko]

I want to put lipstick on geto so badly and the way he’d be the one to initiate it bc he’s a freak. Ownership goes both ways for him and he’s so humiliating about it. He never says anything about how it makes him feel… it’s just about you. He’ll make you stare at the mark until you squirm and somehow it makes you feel like you wanted it in the first place, nevermind the fact that you’re on his lap, caged between his arms

[vodika-vibes]

Coruscant is Hell

So, since it’s Sunday, and I’m bored as fuck, I decided to try turning my Coruscant is Hell AU into actual, like, words. Rather than conversations. Allow me to introduce my second Corrie OC - Lieutenant 80, a transfer from a combat battalion. 

Once again, I barely proofread.

tagging: @starrrgazingbunny and @keantha (since you put the idea in my head this morning)

It was late. Late enough that even the Lower Levels were largely abandoned, or maybe the criminals of Coruscant were just smarter than anyone gave them credit for, and just didn’t work after a certain hour.

Unfortunately for the Guard, they didn’t have the choice to be smarter about their life choices.

“’It’ll be fine’,” 80 rasped out as he sprinted behind his older brother, “’Night patrol is easy’. You fucking liar, Cap.”

Dusk, sprinting slightly ahead of him, didn’t even spare him a glance, “You volunteered for this patrol, 80,” He countered, barely winded even as he sprinted down the streets in his full kit, “The rest of us were forced. You didn’t wonder why that was?”

He took a sharp turn to the left, and 80 bounced off the wall as he scrambled to keep up, “Thought you all just wanted your beauty sleep,” He admitted, “Never even considered that Coruscant had fucking demons.” 

“Well. Surprise.” Dusk replied, “Welcome to Coruscant.” He grabbed 80 by the collar of his armor and flung him into an abandoned building, before he scrambled in after him, and then he pushed him down.

“How the fuck are you so strong?” 80 hissed.

“Quiet!”

80 fell silent as Dusk crouched near the door and pulled a wicked looking knife from his vambraces. It was definitely not regulation, and 80 was pretty sure it was glowing.

There was the sound of a heavy footstep, and then another one. Then there was silence. 80′s blood was pounding in his ears, and even though his legs were starting to cramp, he didn’t twitch so much as a muscle. And then-

“Captain? Are you here?” It was a vod’e, their voice muffled from their helmet.

80 went to stand, to go to a member of the squad that had been separated from him and the Captain, but he stilled when Dusk made the simple hand motion of “hold”.

“Lieutenant? Now’s really not the time to be hiding,” Now that 80 was listening, really listening, the vod’e voice sounded strange. Plus, he trusted that his Captain knew what he was doing.

There was silence again. 80 thought that the person pretending to be a vod’e had left. And then the metal door that they were flanking exploded inward. 80 floundered, falling backward in sheer disbelief, but the Cap moved.

The dagger slammed into what was probably the creature’s thigh, and it let out a furious shriek. Cap twisted the blade, ripped it out, flipped it into a reverse grip, and surged up, the blade dragging against the creature’s throat.

It let out another shriek, and staggered back, allowing Dusk to slam a shoulder into it. “Move, 80!” He shouted.

80 wasn’t ashamed to admit that he might, possibly, be in shock. But Orders were easy. He could follow orders half dead. So at Dusk’s command, he scrambled to his feet and chased after his Captain.

They sprinted in silence for a moment, taking side streets and alleys that Dusk seemed to know like the back of his hand. And then he slowed from a sprint to a jog, and then to walk, and then the Captain stopped. “Cap...what the fuck?”

“Like I said, welcome to Coruscant. Are you hurt?”

“I...no? Shouldn’t we still be running?”

Dusk’s helmet tilted slightly, “We’re safe. for the moment.” He paused, “Well, safe enough, at least.” Then he and gripped the...was that a tooth?

80 stared. And stared even more. As Dusk gripped a tooth that was easily the size of his own hand, and ripped it out of his armor. There was a small amount of blood on the end, but Dusk didn’t seem too concerned. “Ah, good. Not venomous this time.”

“Sir, what the actual fuck?” 80 sounded a bit alarmed.

Dusk glanced at him, “There’s a lower lower level. That’s where I fell when the shadow bitch decided that we were trespassing. I got bitten, obviously.”

“Are you okay?!”

“Surely you’ve noticed that our armor is a bit, hm...sturdier, than yours was when you were a frontline soldier?” Dusk asked.

“Well...sure. I thought,” 80 paused, suddenly ashamed of his thoughts on the Corries.

“You thought that it was for appearance’s sake? Or because we thought we were better?” Dusk asked, there was no heat in his voice, and that just made 80 feel worse.

“Everyone thinks that the Corries do nothing but paperwork...and protect the Senate.” 80 admitted, “Some of the vod’e have even started pushing to have your armor taken from you, since you don’t need it.”

“...And what do you think?”

80 stared at the tooth, now laying at his feet, “I think I might have judged too harshly.” He admitted, “Cap...what happened to the rest of the squad?”

Dusk was silent for a long time, “Best case scenario, they’re already dead. Worst case scenario, they’re still alive.” He straightened, “We have three hours before sunrise, 80. If you don’t think you can do this, let me know. There’s a lift to the upper level only a few blocks away. I can get you there in one piece.”

80 blinked, genuinely surprised. And then he scowled, “What, and leave you alone?” He straightened his spine, “What are your orders for the next three hours?”

Dusk regarded him thoughtfully, “There’s no way for us to kill demons, vod. But we can stop it for a couple of months.”

“Okay. How?”

“Fire. Lots, and lots of fire. Also, we’re going into it’s den. I think I know where it is.” Captain Dusk motioned for 80 to follow him, “Keep up.”

“I don’t suppose you have another one of those nice daggers, sir?”

“If you survive tonight, I’ll buy you one.” Dusk replied with a light laugh.

*****

Fox eyed the small pile of daggers laying on his desk, and then allowed his gaze to drift over to the young woman sitting in a chair in front of the desk, “Only 10?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How many demon killing daggers have you enchanted in the last week?” Kanna Rae was 19 years old, and was one of the few people on Coruscant who was well aware of just how bad the planet was. She was also one of the only people who was willing to enchant daggers for the Corries. How she enchanted them, he wasn’t sure. So far as he was aware, Jedi weren’t witches, but really, so long as they worked, he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, Kanna. Thank you.”

She sniffed, “You’re welcome.”

“Even though there are only ten,” Fox added with a small smirk.

“I can take them back you know.”

“They were a gift. That would be rude,” Fox countered, as he picked up a knife and examined it closely, though he already knew what he would find. He had three identical daggers that he was currently wearing, after all.

Kanna snickered, and slumped in her seat, “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

“This is why you don’t have any friends.” Kanna pointed out with a laugh.

“I don’t have any friends because I’m an asshole. Well, save for you, I suppose.”

Kanna opened her mouth to reply, but she paused and tilted her head, “Dusk’s back.” She said, and then she frowned, “He only has one person with him.”

“...fuck.” His office door slid open, and Dusk and 80 walked in. Dusk was limping and his armor was singed. 80 looked a little shell-shocked. “Welcome back, vod.”

“Hey Fox,” Dusk said, as he stepped further into the room, and lightly tugged on Kanna’s padawan braid, “hey kid.”

“You have three broken ribs, and a puncture wound on your left side.” Kanna said with a frown, before her attention flickered over to 80, “You’re uninjured, but in shock.”

“And they will both submit to your health check after I get my report.” Fox interjected smoothly, “Where’s the rest of your squad?”

“Puppets. Ran into some kind of shadow creature in the lower level.” Dusk explained, “Blew up a street and knocked us into the sewers. Me and 80 escaped, but the others-” He shook his head, “Found them in the den.”

“Shadow creature? That’s a new one.” Fox murmured, walking over to a map on the wall and examining it closely. This was how Fox kept track of the supernatural side of Coruscant, with the help of his men.

Dusk walked over and grabbed a black tack, the color that they decided was for demons, and pressed it into the spot on the map where the den was. “I cleansed the den with fire, that should be enough, right?” He asked Kanna.

“Should be, unless it has another den.”

“Hm.” Dusk glanced at the map, and grimaced, There were a lot of black pins on the board. “I made sure the puppets burned. They deserved at least that much.”

Kanna made a wounded noise, “You all deserve so much more than that.”

Fox smiled at her, “You’re just soft, Kanna.” he teased, but he focused his attention on his vod’ika again, “You made the right call, Dus’ika. I’m proud of you.”

Dusk rubbed the back of his neck, “I feel like a fucking monster.” He admitted, and then he dropped his hand, “We might have a problem, though.”

“Another one?”

Dusk smiled humorlessly, “80 told me that some of the vod’e are making noises about having our armor taken away...and given to people who need it more.”

Fox went grey, and then red with fury, “Absolutely fucking not.”

“If enough of the Marshal Commanders go against you-”

“It won’t happen,” Kanna interrupted, her arms folded over her chest, and her knuckles white from where she was gripping the sleeves of her robes, “I need a list of every vod’e who had died in the guards for the last 6 months.”

“You’ll have it.” Fox promised, “But what are you going to do with it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m going to fuck with the data until it looks like they were all killed by people, rather than demons, and then I’m going to shove the data into the hands of every single clone I can.”

“This. This shit right here is why she’s the best Jedi.” Dusk said, pointing at Kanna. 

“You won’t hear any arguments from me.” Fox agreed, “Grab another dagger, Dusk. And make sure that 80 gets one too.”

“Can do, boss man.” Dusk replied, as he stepped over to the desk and scooped up two daggers. One slid into his boot, the other he remained sheathed. “Come on, 80. Time for medical attention. Mad-bay 4?” He asked Kanna.

“That is my normal one, yes.” Kanna replied, watching as Dusk guided 80 out of the room. “I’ll get them back on their feet.”

“Thanks. I’ll have your info ready before you head back to the temple.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kanna waved and slipped out of the room.

Fox eyed his map one more time, and then he walked over to his desk and dropped into his seat. He needed to request more men from Kamino, he needed to gather the information Kanna asked for, and he needed to pass out the remaining 8 knives.

He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. Better get to work then.

[aemonds-sapphire]

Make a Wish - Hawks x Reader

Summary: You finally asked Hawks to show how flying felt like; he ended up showing you a lot more.

Warnings: Fluff. Cavity-inducing fluff. Friends to lovers.

Word count: 2.1k

“Don’t drop me.”

“Oh! Thanks for reminding me,” Hawks said teasingly, spreading his arms. “Now, come here.”

Against your better judgment, you decided to ask the number two pro hero to take you on a short flight. Even after years of being friends with Hawks, it still took a leap of faith to trust him with something like this.

You didn’t budge, feet rooting you to the ground. “Promise?”

You knew deep down that he would never allow such thing to happen, but fear gripped your heart and lungs.

He wiggled his gloved fingers in an attempt to snap you out of your frozen state, beaming smile spreading his lips. “Why would I drop you? I love you!”

There it was.

Those three words that he’d often toss around mindlessly, and that you wondered far too many time whether it was just a proclamation of his friendship with you, or if there was something else underneath.

“Why are you frowning?” Hawks’ arms dropped to his sides as he stuck out his bottom lip. “You don’t love me? I’m hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Shut up. Let’s do this before it gets too late.”

He reached inside his aviator jacket and snatched a pair of headphones. “Put these on. I don’t want your eardrums busted.”

What a comforting thing to say to someone who was about to be swung up in the air in the middle of the night.

“Anyways! Now I’m matching with the famous pro hero Hawks,” you teased, finally getting your feet to move closer to where he stood. “I wonder what your fans would say.”

His big red wings quivered slightly. “Oh, so you think they’d be upset that I’m taking a beautiful girl on a ride?” he feigned concern before winking at you.

“Should we ask?” you grinned in defiance as you positioned the protective headphones over your ears.

He lifted his arms once more as if offering you a welcoming hug. With a deep sigh, you shortened the distance between you two. It was now or never.

You laced your arms around his neck as your chest hit his. Unfortunately for you, this was enough to get your heart to skip a beat.

“Hold up,” Hawks said, raising a brow. “I forgot to bring another eye visor for you. Damn.”

Your palms started getting sweaty from how warm he felt against you, but you had to push that aside for now.

“It’s fine. I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

He brought his hands up to retrieve his own visor. “And miss the amazing view? Can’t have that,” he beamed while placing it snuggly on you. “Besides, I know these airways like the back of my wings.”

The visor tinted your field of vision with pale yellow, but since it was already dark, it didn’t make much of a difference.

You adjusted it across the bridge of your nose, and offered a smile before looping your arms around him again.

Hawks was staring at you like you were his pride and joy. “There! Seems like we got ourselves another winged hero.”

“Except I have no wings, you dumbass,” you noted, laughing.

“You have mine,” he winked in response. “Now, I need you to wrap your legs around my waist.”

Your smile faded slightly. Very poor choice of words.

“Just hop on me,” Hawks added, seeing the confused look on your face.

You took a deep breath and bent your knees slightly, just to have your legs spring up and circle his body just as requested.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, both arms tightly holding you. “Ready?”

Your heart skipped two beats; one for because how he had just praised you, even if he hadn’t meant to make it sound like that; the other because the question he had shot at you.

You nodded, propping your chin on his shoulder, instinctively closing your eyes as he took a few steps to stand on the edge of the the rooftop of your apartment.

One hand rubbed your back for a bit as if preparing you. “This part is the worst. But it’ll get better soon.”

“Just go!” you half-shouted impatiently.

And before you could even register what was about to happen, you felt your stomach lurch upwards as he took a dive off the building.

Just as you were about to scream, you felt the air change in direction when his two colossal wings suddenly hurled you up into the night sky. Your insides rolled once again as the young man defied gravity. Was he also defying your ability to keep your food down?

The white fur that lined collar of his jacket would occasionally tickle your cheek as the wind fanned the both of you. For a while, all you could hear were the strong flaps of his wings, and even though you had been flying for a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Hawks’ grip on you never wavered, and neither did yours. Your legs were completely glued around his toned torso just like your arms kept tightening around his neck.

“You okay?” You heard his muffled voice.

You gave him a thumbs up, still keeping your eyes closed.

His hand started patting your lower back. “Open your eyes!”

How did he...

Carefully and slowly, you opened one eye at a time. Hawks had brought you so far up high that all you could see when looking down were faint rivers of city lights spreading as far as the eyes could see.

His wings drifted expertly across the chilling wind, bending into different angles whenever Hawks intended on shifting directions.

Everything was breathtaking. Your fear was replaced with excitement as you felt for the first time ever what it was like to be him.

Soon after, you watched as he started lowering himself towards a very tall building.

Both his wings shot upwards, allowing the wind to flow through them and allowing him to prepare for what came next

He gracefully landed on the rooftop, bending both wings close to his body.

A part of you was relieved, but another was ready for more.

“You know...” he started slowly, still holding you in place with his strong arms. “As much as I like this position—“

“Uh!” you huffed in annoyance as you promptly let your legs slide down his body, bringing your hand to his chest to push him away. “Pervert...”

“Just teasing you!”

His voice was coming out muffled, and you suddenly remembered you still had the headphones on; you pulled them down to rest around your neck much like Hawks would often do. The visor came off next and he took it back with a smile.

“How was it?” he was looking at you expectantly as he placed the visor on top of his head, a few strands of golden hair going astray in the process.

You flapped your hands along your jacket and pants to set everything back in place again. Your body was still coming down from that high, and you could still feel the surges of adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Very... weird?” you said truthfully, rubbing both hands together from the cold breeze. “But in a good way! You’re approved!” you quickly added when you saw his smile waver.

“You cold? Want my jacket?”

Ever the gentleman. “Just my hands...”

He immediately slid his gloves off and handed them to you.

“No! What about you?” you asked worriedly.

“It’s okay! I’m hot,” he shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows at the not so subtle innuendo.

You stuck out your tongue at him, slipping both hands inside the warm fabric. You then turned on your heels to explore the rooftop and beautiful scenery.

“This makes me feel so...”

“Free?” you heard him suggest from behind you.

You agreed in silence. Up there it seemed like nothing could ever reach you. Then it hit you.

Hawks longed for freedom more than anyone else. It was painfully ironic how he was gifted with a set of wings, but was still caged by his own morals.

Looking up, you saw bright specs of stars sprinkled across the night sky, some of them framing a bright and round moon.

“Do you bring every single girl here?”

He chuckled, slightly taken aback by your change of topic. “Only the ones I want to impress.”

You scoffed. “You don’t need to do that to impress anyone,” the words automatically left your mouth, and you inwardly cursed at yourself for the slip.

“Oh? Is that a compliment?” Hawks took the opportunity to rub salt on the wound as it was so typical of him.

You shifted your eyes to the horizon that was lined by a row of light of a nearby city, feigning sudden interest.

“So... are you?” he drawled from beside you.

“Am I what?”

This time you turned your head to face him, and you had to mentally slap yourself as you were met with his handsome face.

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Impressed.”

“Very. Thank you for bringing me here... this is beautiful.”

You were about to shift your gaze back to admire the amazing view when his hand grasped your arm.

“Hey, you have something on your face.”

“Huh? What?” you panicked.

“Come here.”

Hawks leaned in, his brows furrowed. “Ah!”

“What?!”

He merely smiled as he brought a hand to your face, his thumb grazing your skin and sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

Oh.

You saw a thin and slightly curved strand on the tip of his finger. An eyelash.

“Make a wish,” Hawks said excitedly.

“You serious?” you widened your eyes at him, but almost did a mental backflip at the sweetness of it all.

He didn’t reply; instead, he brought his thumb close to your face.

You puckered your lips, but he promptly pressed his index finger on them effectively stopping you.

“Eyes closed,” he whispered, looking far too serious. “You’re gonna jinx it otherwise.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, but did exactly what he asked. Once more, you brought your lips together, allowing a swift breeze of air to flow through them.

Wishing upon lashes... this was so... Hawks. You quickly thought of him. No specific details... just him.

“Keep them closed.”

“Why?” You inquired suspiciously.

His face was close to yours as his hot breath fanned your skin. “You gotta wait fifteen seconds for it to stick.”

“You just made that—“

You were cut off by a pair of lips covering yours. Your eyes shot open in surprise as his mouth slanted firmly against your own, causing a wave of warmth to pool in your stomach and a faint shiver to course down your entire body.

Thinking back, you had wished for this moment for a long time. Well, not this one in particular, but your mind managed to come up with very vivid images of Hawks slamming you against a wall only to finally kiss you; or maybe as you both gazed at the sun setting just like in those romantic movies where everything always worked out in the end.

But this was so much better.

It was far better, because of how unexpected it was. Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear the rhythmic pounding in your ears. Once you got over the initial shock, you let your eyes flutter shut as he deepened the kiss, one hand at the nape of your neck, pulling you into his embrace.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of laughing at you. A moment ago you were laughing at the idea of wishing upon eyelashes. It seemed like a childish thing to do, but here you were. You had wished for him, and he was here.

Hawks’ hand splayed across your lower back as the other slid forward to have his thumb caressing your cheek.

A raw moan tore from your throat as you felt all of him pressed up against you, and Hawks followed soon after, a soft groan rumbling through his chest.

Instinctively, you dragged your hands through his thick locks, completely forgetting about the visor resting on his head. Before you could process it, you heard a loud shatter as the fragile object hit the ground.

Fuck.

You broke the kiss at once. “Oh my god... I’m sorry!”

Hawks was glaring at you through hooded golden eyes, and you swore you had never seen that hungry look on his face before. His trademark markings that framed both eyes on both corners were lightly accentuated, and that alone was enough to make him even more alluring.

“It’s fine!” he hurriedly mumbled.

He was leaning for another kiss, but then you smacked his arm as you realized what had just happened. “You asshole! What took you so long?”

“W-what?” the young pro hero looked genuinely confused. “I could say the same to you!”

You pulled him into a hug.

Hawks relaxed against your touch. “I love you.”

Those words yet again... “Do you mean it this time?”

“Always have.”

-

Masterlist

[shangsclaws]

Hugs! (Pt. 2)

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

What is it like to hug the Kombatants?

Includes: Raiden, Fujin and Jax

gifs are not mine!!!

Raiden

Being 7ft tall has its perks.

(( ok to preface this I am 5 ft tall irl so holy fuck I know his hugs will feel IMMACULATE,,, like I’m a literal MOUSE in his arms ))

Earthrealmers tend to do this physical act as a sign of general contentment, he’s noticed this. That does not mean he’s good.

He simply doesn’t know where to place his hands. Giving specific advice will not help either, it’ll only confuse him more. That, or he might take it too literally and accidentally squeeze you too hard.

The best advice to give is to simply do what his heart so desires. That’s what earthrealmers do, after all.

He will be soooooo good at hugging afterwards. It’s heartwarming, really, to know that he had it in him all along.

And the fact that he’s the size of a literal post light makes it feel like you’re drowning in his arms — he’s fucking huge and you (I) LOVE it

Still, he presses quite a bit hard for your taste, and that’s simply because of the sheer size of this man. You’ll have to tell him to either tone it down or hug for shorter amounts of time if you really can’t take it.

He’ll won’t understand the request at first, he swears he’s hugging as gentle as possible. He won’t mind testing the waters with you though, it’s just another excuse to have you in his arms.

Fujin

Earthrealm’s finest (does that need to be said?)

It’s the general consensus in this fandom that Fujin is good at anything remotely romantic, lmao. Hugging is no different.

It only gets better when the wind he brings is contrasted by his warmth. You can feel a cold breeze at your back only to be wrapped in his arms, it feels fantastic.

He will embrace you just about as often as he leaves to scout Earthrealm for danger. In that sense he never says his farewells out loud, only embraces.

His hugs feel like hot soup/chocolate after being in the gruelling cold. Or lying in bed after a long day of standing up and walking around.

The wind god presses you into him, he does not squeeze. You are closer to him that way. He will never press enough to make it hard to breathe, though. He is gentle, as he is with almost everything else.

And even if you aren’t romantically involved, that’s okay! You will find a way into his arms either way. Being with Fujin (or really any kombatant for that matter) will usually mean getting injured in some way, and since he knows nothing about healing magic, the least he can do is to hug you. In a way these are also his apologies — your injury could have been avoided if he was around to stop it.

And he smells veeeerrrrry inviting, like an exotic rose. It’s not overpowering, if anything it’s faint until you’re that close to him. Makes the experience all the more better.

Jax

There’s no way his arms are made of steel.

Working in the Special Forces, seeing the things he’s seen, Briggs can’t help but to bring it in sometimes.

Sonya will tell you just how lucky you are to have him all to yourself (and Cage will say he’s cheating because he’s got cool arms) — he’s probably the best human hugger there is.

Unfortunately he’s lost all sensation in his arms and fingers, so he can’t feel you in the way he’d want to. But if anything he watches the way you react to his touch, and he’s gained complete control of his arms over the years, so he holds you in a way that feels very natural to you.

And he can warm his arms to just the right temperature. Let me repeat, he can warm his arms to just the right temperature. His hugs transcend feeling natural at that point (( god I want to hug him so bad ugh ))

Jax is nonetheless a handsy man, so he’ll usually have a fond arm armed draped across your shoulder when you’re out and about. You’re presence is his comfort just as much as his hugs comfort you. He wants you to know that.

He is firm in his touch, but despite having such strong arms he isn’t suffocatingly tight. This man, as it’s been mentioned before, knows how to work his cybernetics.

He also is in the cute habit of resting his chin upon your neck — if you’re that tall, that is. If not, that won’t stop him from picking you up.

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

LU Headcanons

[Disability/projection edition. Having a bit of a rough time, so this is me dealing with it.]

Sky - Asthma, though that’s more because he’s so used to the air in Skyloft. I think I talked about this before in my Sky Headcanons. He has some scars from electricity, the enemies in Lanayru Desert are relentless not to mention Demise. He has some nerve damage too most likely. Instead of saying that he sleeps too much or something like that, I think he would be more likely to have some form of insomnia. He gets tired, sure, but true sleep is hard to come by for him.

Four - He gets awful headaches on occasion, not always caused by the Colors, sometimes it’s the magic from the portals and other times he just gets stress headaches for reasons he can’t figure out. This boy also has some arthritis in his hands from working in the forge all the time, but it only really bothers him when it gets very cold. Unfortunately for him, he gets cold easily.

Time - He’s blind in one eye, though we all know that. He has periods where he feels out of place in his body, like he’s too big or too small and everything feels disjointed. When he’d get like this at home, Malon would be sure to just hold him tightly so that he could feel more put together. Now though, he hasn’t quite figured out how to manage it. Thankfully, some of the boys are willing to cuddle or hug and that helps enough.

Legend - He’s got a lot of joint problems that are most likely arthritis. While he doesn’t get cold as easily as Four, his joints seem to know when it’s cold and will cause him to be more irritable than usual. He also most likely has lightning scars and nerve damage like Sky, from Koholint and other electric-based enemies he has fought. Also may have a form of insomnia, but this is more from not wanting to sleep at all. He has pretty violent nightmares that can morph into night terrors.

Hyrule - He has sensory issues, mostly that he gets overwhelmed by large crowds or sudden temperature changes or other things that I can’t think of currently. He was used to travelling alone for so long and in an era that was mostly quiet with few people in each town that the contrast to everyone else’s era is just too much sometimes. He’s similar to Time in that regard, but he’s one of the Links that enjoys/initiates hugs, so he’s coping decently enough. He’s also perhaps slightly paranoid that towns with lots of people may have hidden enemies like some towns did in his era. Monsters disguising themselves as Hylians aren’t that uncommon where he’s from.

Twilight - Transforming so much changed his senses quite a bit, so loud sounds can be near painful for him. Strong smells can also on occasion be too much, though he tries to push past it if he needs to. His color vision isn’t as good as it used to be either, so he tries to rely on everyone else for that sort of thing.

Wind - He probably has some sort of early arthritis too from working on ships for so long. His hands are rough and calloused from working ropes and sails all the time. He also sort of hates sleeping, but more because he feels like he needs to keep moving. [Okay, so I haven’t played much of Wind’s games and I don’t write him much, so I don’t have a lot of ideas currently].

Warriors - He has bouts of paranoia that he’s going to be betrayed, though he’s learned to try and rationalize things more that he’s with the others. While he flirts with people at towns or in taverns, he internally fears that it’ll be reciprocated. He doesn’t truly want people to like him for his looks or his words, he’s not even sure if he wants something like a relationship. [I say this knowing full well that I think Impa and/or Volga are cute with Wars.] 

Wild - Nerve damage from all the scars on his body, even though the shrine restored him. He’s similar to Hyrule in a way that sometimes large crowded towns can be too much, but he also enjoys the thrill of it on occasion. [I can’t think of much else at the moment.]

[mozak-hh]

Genshin Impact Headcanon:

When they’re horny.

thank you all so much for the genshin matchup requests! The response was so overwhelming I’m beaming. I’ll try getting through as many requests as I can so while you guys wait I’ve decided to write you a little something in appreciation. ^^ I also added my first female character because I was sick of the lack of gender diversity hehe. If you like Jean, pls comment any other fem requests you may have since it really helps out a lot. Don’t be afraid to ask me to write anything either, it’s my job after all! x

Includes: Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, Jean

Type: Nsfw, you have been warned~

Kaeya:

When is this man not horny?

Perhaps it was the change of wind, or maybe it was the change in your attitude that set Kaeya off. The subtle lift of your skirt, the breeze making the collar of your shirt flow, Kaeya couldn’t resist the temptation of wanting more. He was a man after all. A man who fancied you quite significantly.  How could he resist the primal urge to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer? Your scent was mesmerizing, making it hard to turn away. Suddenly Kaeya found his body had become too warm to stand it. 

Kaeya growled in lustrous frustration. A Bead of sweat dripping from the crown of his head. The damp air of the shower only adding to the sensual heat in his lower abdomen. The hot water covered his broad shoulders and streamed down his toned abdomen, gliding over his hand as he pumped his cock in slow, rhythmic motions. 

Perhaps it was the change in scenery, being away from you for so long that is, which brought Kaeya into this animalistic state. He lifted his head up and jerked his arm faster. Streams of water following the curves of his muscles. He’d already seen you that morning, but his heat had gotten a lot worse. He imagined your small frame pressed against the shower wall, covered by his taller build. Arms captured in his own as he thrusted into you. You squeezing your legs which were wrapped around his waist. Locking him in your tight wet walls.

“f-fuck it..,” Kaeya moaned as he turned to lock away from his throbbing cock. rubbing his callused hands over the soft tip, pumping his hand a few more times before letting out a chocked moan. Cumming all over the wall in front of him, and letting the water wash the rest of the sweat off his body.

Damn. Kaeya sure as hell wouldn’t be spending another night in the shower alone.  

Diluc:

Diluc is a busy man, so its often that he doesn’t have the time to enjoy simple pleasures such as sex. But after weeks after not being able to spend one night with you, he becomes ravenous. 

He becomes rather snappy and short tempered. Not being able to handle any person touching him. This wont interrupt his work performance much, but it’ll make him a lot less polite, often making his staff tend to the bar instead of him. That is, until you see him one late night during his rut. 

You went to his winery to provide him with some necessary information. The maids let you in and told you he was upstairs. Once you began to move slowly towards his bedroom chambers is when you heard the painful grunt. 

You rush to door and open it slightly, peering to see if anyone was hurt. It seems as if time had slowed down completely, your breath hitched. Diluc sat at the corner of his bead, palming the large bulge straining beneath his pants. Half of his buttons on his shirt were undone, leaving his exposed chest gleaming with sweat. He must of had good hearing, as his eyes snapped to the door where his eyes instantly met yours. 

“Oh Fuck.. you look delicious..” Diluc’s eyes scanned your form, licking his lips as he stood from his bed. As soon as you silently shut the door behind you he wrapped his strong arms around your body, letting him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Diluc becomes a little more loud during sex, perhaps even a bit whiny. All while hugging you so you can’t leave. For the rest of the night, Diluc has to have his cock inside you. Gripping you tightly and fucking you senselessly. He won’t stop until he can’t breathe. 

Jean:

Jean’s another hopeless case, never allowing herself to indulge in such matters. But after getting involved in you, she suddenly finds herself waiting for her day to end, signalling her to go home. For jean, it’s the thought of her face in between your thighs that make her legs feel light beneath her office desk. 

Being under a heavy workload all the time, doesn’t do any good either. Unfortunately for Jean, there is no such thing as a sweet release during her breaks. that is, until you stride into her office, tray in hand. 

After hearing about Jean’s stress this pass week, you decided it would be a perfect chance to bring her lunch. Striding into her office, Jean’s legs start to shake, fire swelling in her stomach. You smile, and place the tray of hot food on her desk. Jean’s mouth waters, but not for the food.

“Oh you poor thing! I couldn’t imagine sitting at this desk all day. I brought some things I thought you might like-” you look down at the plate on the desk, “ I’m hope I didn’t intrude-” 

“Y/N baby~” Jeans huffs under her breath, standing up and pushing her chair abruptly. By the time your eyes snap back up, Jean’s already moved the tray of food, and taps your shoulder from behind you. Turning around, your met with a harsh kiss. Jean’s tongue dominating the inside of your mouth, making your cheeks flush and knees grow weak. You loose your balance, falling down towards the desk. Jean takes this opportunity to rest your head in her hand, gently lowering you down and slamming her other hand on the desk to catch you both before starting to kiss you again. 

You wrap your hands around Jean’s neck, running your hands through the back of her head. You whine as she stands, making her way towards the door and locking it. She turns around after the soft click, and strides back towards you, loosening the buttons on her shirt. 

 Licking her lips, she stands above you. Lightly yanking your shorts.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?”

(Sorry I’m a simp for dom Jean pls send help)

Xiao: 

This guy goes through regular periods of heat, like an animal. Perhaps It’s an adepti thing, but every so often he’ll stop talking to you and shut himself within the walls of the inn. Not even the managers go near him, fearing the unusual scent coming from his chambers. This man wont let himself stop. Only using his time to pleasure himself. 

Somehow in your right mind you decide to check up on him to make sure he was doing alright. Ascending the stairs to the attic you catch the scent of something sweet, mixed with the smell of sweat and Xiao himself. The air begins to grow thick as you reach the door to his room. Turning the knob a few times you find it to be locked from the outside. Panicking, you pound your fist on the door to see if someone had locked him inside.

Xiao smashes his fist through the door, wood splintering and groaning under his force. He rips the handle off clean, allowing himself to bust the door open and pull you inside. Trapping you beneath his body as he Hauls the broken door closed again. Seeling it with special magic.

“I knew you’d come for me~” he purrs, putting his thigh between your legs and caressing your face. Pinned up against the door, you notice Xiao’s ankles bound in thick metal cuffs, the long Chain connected to his bed. There were claw marks on every whole. It truly looked like he tried to destroy the place.

You try to break from his grip, but he blocks you with his arms, kissing you forcibly. His breath is hot, his hands tremble. “Touch me y/n, touch me” he wines, bringing your hand to press on his crotch as he moans into your neck.

Sex with this animalistic beast will be nothing short of desperate. From the minute you allow him to the end of his heat, Xiao will have his throbbing cock inside you. He won’t let you go, hugging you from behind as he pounds into you. Don’t try to run away from him, that’ll just turn him on.

At the end of his heat he’ll probably feel so bad but if you’re ok with it he’ll have you around more often during his heat.

Hope you enjoyed~

[rheagodlywrites]

Hard to Love

Kai x fem! reader

Kai has spent so long trying to get Y/n to like him back. But between the gifts and the fame, Y/n just doesn’t care about either. She just wants..him. Too bad he doesn’t realize this till she’s almost dead

Happy birthday,Sis. Don’t say I never do anything for you.

“Kai, I keep telling you that I don’t want any more gifts!” It was the fourth present he got you this week. While you did like something every once in a while. This happened quite often. You were the master of the wind. (The power being passed down from Morro to you when he finally passed on to the next life).

“Well you don’t have to..throw it away.” You put it in the pile of other gifts that ranged from Flowers to teddy bears and chocolate. You had allergies, and considering that flowers weren’t the best idea. They would die quickly too. You didn’t like stuffed animals that much and you just weren’t a fan of chocolate.

“I’m famous! The whole team is well known! Even you! We have articles about us! I can ask for anything you want and it can be yours. Why won’t you accept?!”

“Because I don’t need material items to make me happy. I need to train. The winds still don’t listen to me well.” You walk past him, leaving him confused and frustrated. He adored you. He loves how strong you were and loved how dedicated you were. It was just hard to get you to love him back. Zane and Jay walked up to Kai.

“Another loss?” Jay asked. Kai nodded looking in the direction that you went in.

“That makes 27 to Y/n and 2 to Kai, how did you even manage two?” Jay questions. Kai didn’t know either. They were famous so why didn’t she want everything? Kai thought hard about it but couldn’t think of anything.

“I don’t know! Why did she accept me twice?” Kai wondered, frustrated.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t like material items? According to the widespread of data of all the times she has rejected you. She has a distaste for useless things. Flowers cause her allergies spike so she tosses them out. Teddy bears freak her out so she doesn’t like them and chocolate isn’t a candy she actually likes so she gives them to Cole.” Zane explained.

“So that wh- wait. Did you say she gives them to Cole?” Jay did a slight double take,offended that she doesn’t share with him. Zane confirmed.

“The things you did give her that she kept were the fancy stationary you gave her along with that blanket. Since then you only gave her toys,flowers and chocolate. Or something like that. It may be best to try again in a few days or she’ll be angry once again.” Zane explained.

“So that explains it.. Thanks Zane.” Kai quickly thought up of his next plan.

Few days pass and the team is chasing after a Djin who calls himself Nadakan. He gives out wishes and no one is allowed to be on their own as risking a chance to be alone with him to hear his silky and promising words. Unfortunately,Nya was a lookalike to his past love. You stayed with her but Jay wanted to talk with her so you got stuck with Cole.

“So you and Kai?” He asked. You shake my head laughing.

“Not you too.” Cole put his hands up.

“Well you like him don’t you? Why are you rejecting him?” He asked. You lean on a wall thinking of your answer.

“Well, it’s not so simple. I mean I like him but I don’t want that love to be built on material items. I want it to be genuine. Where even a rock from him can make me happy.” Cole nods.

“Well at least you know what you want. I think without the fame, it’ll knock some sense into Kai. Hopefully.” You shrug not really sure. Some just don’t learn. Being on the run is hard especially now that the Bounty is taken by the police who are hunting us down. It’s difficult but thankfully we can manage. All we have to do is clear our names.

You head into the bathroom to clean off your face. Your mind goes all over. From Kai to the Djinn.

“You seem a bit troubled,hmm?” You look into the mirror. You scoff looking at him.

“It’s not like you can help me with love. Or stopping you.” You give him a glare but he only laughs.

“I can if you word your wish carefully.” He winks at you and you internally gag. You think it over. No wishing would be dangerous but maybe just one.

“I wish..that I could know the reason as to why my dad dislikes me.”

“Your wish is yours to keep.” He says disappearing. You leave the bathroom slightly freaked out. When you get out to find Cole, he taps his foot.

“There you are! This letter came for you by the way.” Cole handed you the letter.

“Dear Y/n, we are sorry to say but you don’t know the truth about yourself. You are something of a monster. Your father today is not your true father. Your biological dad was an Oni. He came here to help in the destruction of Ninjago but he loved the place so much that he stayed peacefully. Unfortunately your mother fell in love with him and had you. You are part Oni. Love, Mom.” You quietly read. It was something hard to hear. You couldn’t believe it and didn’t even know what an Oni was. It felt fake. A Fabrication. But why did it explain so much..

The others got lost to the Djinn. Nadakan had taken them in his sword leaving Nya, Jay and you. You don’t like this situation at all. It’s worrying.

“What if I mess up? What if I accidentally waste the wish?” Jay asks. You shake my head.

“Jay, you’ll know when to wish. It’ll be ok. And when this is all over, we can all enjoy Zane’s cooking. I miss the chicken he would make.” Jay agrees and so does Nya. You use the winds to push yourself further to the lone lighthouse. But things got more complicated when Nadakan’s crew showed up. They grabbed Nya but you managed to get her back. It was a battle of wits at this point but they eventually get the edge.

“Jay! Take the tea and go!” The strong woman crushes my sides as you try to get away.

“But you and Nya…” You inhale try to get air as her fist crushed my sides. You smash the pot next to Jay and with a flick of your hand, the winds push him into the portal. Almost instantly it disappeared and at the same time you start blacking out.

When you wake up, you’re in a room with Nya. Where she is free to walk around, your legs and hands are chained with vengestone.

“Oh god! Y/n, are you ok? I told them to not hurt you any further but you might still have injuries. Are you ok to move?” Nya rambled with worry. I cough looking around.

“Why am I in a orange dress? It’s so not my color,” You joke. You were more so dressed in yellow and grey than orange.

“They changed us. You’re supposed to act as some bridesmaid to the bride.” You pale realizing what that means.

“I hope Jay will get here soon.” You mutter. Just as you say that Jay hits the bars of the window. Nya and Jay try to pull at the bars but nothing. Jay slips falling right before Nadakan enters the room.

“How are you two? I have some special accommodations for you, my little monster.” The strong woman picks you up.

“Put me the hell down! Let go! Nya!” The door closes leaving the two alone in the room. They haul you to the cathedral forcing you to stand in your chains. More chains are put on your neck as to keep you more stable.

“There we go. One hybrid Oni locked up tight.” She said. You spit on her face and she grabs your arm.

“Nadakan has plans for you. Under any other circumstances, I would have crushed your skull.” She walks off and the ceremony starts. Nya and Nadakan walk in. Nya gives me a glance. You give her a look wondering if Jay got caught. Nya seemingly read your mind. She shook her head no. As the stuttering snake spoke your gut sank further. Just as the snake was finishing up, the others burst in the room. But they were too late. Nadakan was at his strongest. He put Nya to sleep and smiled at you. He made copies of him.

“I wish you, a monster.” I felt my body move on it’s own. My hands started to darken.

“What’s happening? Why? Make it stop!” You panicked as you watch the darkness trail up your body. Horns sprout and a darkness surrounded your eyes. You felt your heart be filled with hate. Your goodwill replaced with hate.

Kai witnessed as you changed. The chains held you down but you looked as if you wanted to kill. Your eyes were pitch black,horns out of your head, ears pointed and even claws.

“Kai we have to run!” Lloyd encouraged.

“But-“

“We are no help to them gone!” Kai and the others ran but Jay lead them to Nadakan’s ship. They ripped off the block that kept Jay quiet and they devised a plan. They rammed his ship into the temple destroying it. Nadakan, with Nya being possessed by Delara and a monster Y/n all left the rubble. The only scary part was Kai could still see Y/n’s face. Her face was the only part that was normal. The same face that he fell for was trying to kill him.

“Y/n! Can you hear me?! Please! Wake up!” He asked her. She kept destroying things trying to get to him. Their plan was to destroy the things around him so he could get shot with the venom. Only problem he started to turn everyone into a statue. Jay eventually became the last one left. He avoided the swings of Y/n and got her to cause more destruction. When everything was destroyed and Nadakan was in the open. Seconds when Y/n was going to remove Jay’s head, Nadakan was shot. The spell on Y/n faded and her eyes went back to normal. Her body didn’t change however.

“J-Jay?” You put him down on his feet. He coughs and smiles up at you but you were only panicked.

“What have I done?” You watch as the others went to Nya’s aid but you couldn’t believe what happened to you. You watch as sands swirl around you.

“Y/n!” Kai quickly ran up to you.

“Jay made his wish. He’s turning back the clock!” Kai urgently said.

“Really?”

“Yes. And I just want to apologize. I never thought about what you would’ve wanted. I should’ve listened to what you wanted.” Your body slowly changed back to normal. As he spoke.

“I don’t know if we’ll remember any of this but I just want you to know, no matter the timeline, no matter the day. I’ll find some way to tell you this the right way.” Kai pulled you in close and he kissed your forehead.

“I love you.” He said. You smile and hug him.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You kissed him and you felt a force pull on you.

“Wait! No no! I need more time.” Kai yelled to me. Time pulled us away going back through events.

“I love you too!”

——

Nya stubbornly looked away from Jay as he tried to convince her to take his hand.

“Just take his hand Nya! Or else we’re gonna be spotted..” Cole said. I feel a headache come on.

“I’m getting a feeling of Deja vu. This is weird..” I mutter. We all agree to not look for Clouse. There’s no way he’ll find that pot. Right?

[solliewriter]

Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is  less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through. 

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY 

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age. 

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

 2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking 

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics 

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

[sugako]

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

[rivalry-trope-enjoyer]

Kaeya x GN! reader: Fake Dating AU

*Started a new series of the Genshin Impact boys as different romance tropes in one-shot form, starting with Kaeya! The list will go on soon and I plan for Diluc to be next. Disclaimer: May be a little bit OOC since this is my first time writing Kaeya. 

The Kaeya as far as you had known has always been a sweet talker that wooed all the people of Mondstadt with a mysterious and alluring charm. You, too, had fallen victim to his hand. 

Unfortunately, being a traveler with no permanent place to stay in all of Teyvat, it was customary to take someone like Kaeya with you on such adventures. You didn’t hate his company; he always loved to crack jokes even if it came with a flirtatious anecdote at the end. He had even already established sweet nicknames for you and even went as far as playfully calling you “sweetheart” or “dove” from time to time. 

Spending time with him casually already seemed like a nightmare for your poor heart, and commissions and tasks were the exact same story. 

This time around you were sent on an errand to take care of some Fatui agents with Kaeya around Mondstadt, the two most capable, arguably, of sneaking around when it came to the Knights of Favonius. 

Around this time relations with diplomats have soured from the incidents that had happened in Liyue, and a lot of secretive moves are needed to take care of the root of the Fatui in Mondstadt. 

The both of you have decided to embark on your journey, in which Kaeya had the faintest of ideas that he had under his sleeves on how to get through with the Fatui. 

Upon arrival you both decide to approach them, careful with how you act and greeted them politely. 

“What is your business with the Fatui?” they grab a blade under their coats as their masked faces pointed to you both.

Kaeya casually approached them and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your closer causing you to blush instantaneously. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, but my significant other had run a shop in Mondstadt, we sell sunsettias and apples that we farm in springvale and we have gone bankrupt from the unfair trade system of this entire nation!” Kaeya had played his part well, a little too well to make you realize how much he had been acting around you. 

He had shocked you initially with his actions, and you had thought of it to be selfish to hold onto him like this a little longer and to just pretend. 

You slowly embraced him back, which caused Kaeya to flinch initially, but tightened the grip he had on you like a warm embrace. 

“He’s right,” you stated in a sullen tone. “My husband and I, we cannot make an honest living from this, and we had heard around that your code involved economics, so we hope that we can trust you to, even out the scales a bit,” you instantly lowered your head at them with respect and tugged at Kaeya to do the same.

Waiting for a response your heart tensed up ever so slightly, but when you heard a gruff “Fine” coming from the Fatui, your heart soared in excitement. 

“We will avenge your little fruit stand at dawn tomorrow. Mondstadt’s knights will know terror,” she muttered before walking away and signaled for the rest of the Fatui to do the same. 

Kaeya had immediately let go of you and the strong winds of Mondstadt had struck you ice cold. He gave you a flirtatious smile as he held your chin with his index finger and thumb close to your lip.

“You did a great job playing my significant other there, sweetheart,” he continued to call you these playful names that made your heart twinge in confusion and embarrassment.

Realizing his skills when it came to acting, you wondered if the affection that he gave you from time to time as well as this very moment was all a ruse. 

Giving him a sullen face you slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, backing away from him and walking back to the headquarters.

“Hm? What seems to be the matter? Nothing Captain Kaeya can’t fix,” he ran to stand next to you, but you looked away from him, terrified of what he could do next to you. 

“It’s nothing, Kaeya,” you wave him off. “Nothing you can do about it, anyways...,” you mutter the last line to yourself that he had barely heard with his own ears. 

It was difficult for Kaeya to help you in such a depressed state that he had, and thought going about it by giving you space. After what had happened in the past, he preferred for you to have your moments before he’d butt in himself. 

He distracted the thoughts by letting the Knights of Favonius know about the incident and prepare for a raid at dawn. However, when leaving Jean and Lisa had noticed something drastically different about Kaeya’s behavior; a worried look on his face. 

Dismissing it as part of the Fatui’s attack, he had never really felt total fear towards them and knew how easily he could take a couple of their members head on. However, he found himself checking up on you and did not dare step in the bar he loved, knowing that because of his actions he would be the last thing that you would want to see. 

In the mean time you spent a lot of time at the tavern, letting the bard’s music and lively atmosphere drown out your overthinking thoughts, as you waited till the next morning until you had to face the mysterious Kaeya yet again. 

With a sword ready in hand and the other guards at the front of the headquarters, you watched the Fatui approach and soon became no match for the Knights of Favonius, countering the surprise raid with ease.

At first your swordsmanship kept you protected, but upon seeing Kaeya in a distance, you fumbled consistently. Forcing yourself to get back up in battle, he looked back at you, too. Worrying for your safety, a feeling that you would have last expected from him. 

As you took on more of the Fatui agents than you can handle, one had crept up behind you, and aimed a blade towards your throat. 

Fortunately, Kaeya was quick enough to act and knocked down the Fatui with a couple of blows, aiming a sword at their neck. 

“Y/N! Quit slacking off you could have died there,” his normal cunning attitude and mocking remarks seemed to have lessened tenfold.

“What, are you acting about caring about my wellbeing now?” you were fueld with anger as you let it out on the enemy attacking, knocking them out in a similar fashion with swords clashing the blades of the Fatui. 

“Well-” Kaeya parried the shots being thrown at him. “-If you consider me hiding what I’ve felt for so long acting, then I must be the most talented actor in-” he was cut off by quick attacks from the enemy. “-all of Teyvat!”

You were shocked at your statement, and in the heart of battle, yours filled with adrenaline from Kaeya’s words. “Wait-” you continued to battle those in front of you, swiftly putting them out of their misery with quick blows to free room to talk to Kaeya. “-Wait, why now?” you panted out with tire. 

He let out a cocky laugh as he took on more of the agents. “Doesn’t matter when. Doesn’t matter if you thought I was faking it before. What matters is-” he grunted out of pain when he was forcefully hit at his side. “-That I got the message across, right?”

After hours of relentless battle he finally doubled down and the Fatui had retreated, leaving you with minor injuries but Kaeya taking on more than needed. 

Sitting at his side on the battlefield, you grabbed medicine that was strapped to your waist. “Lift up your shirt,” you disregarded what he had said earlier in fear for his wellbeing. 

“Are you sure you don’t need that medicine yourself, Y/N? You’re face is awfully red,” he outstretched a shaky hand to cup your face with a wry smile, his eye shimmering as he stared at you.

Your heart thumped rapidly when combining his previous words of confession and his present actions now. You froze in time to Kaeya’s cold touch and let him be in your company this time around.

“Shut it, Captain Kaeya,” you took out the medicine and poured it over his toned chest, hands shaking from the flustered feeling you had throughout.

“Ouch, who knew that someone without a cryo vision could be so cold to a person with one?” he winced at the stinging medicine covering his wound, and in return you held his hand cupping your face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “It’ll only hurt a for a little bit longer before it heals, if it actually hurts at all,” you stubbornly let out. 

He let out another weak laugh. “I wish I was faking it this pain this time around, Y/N, but everything I’ve said on this battlefield is the truth.”

You were silent at this point, working diligently to bandage his wound.

“Holding you had felt like I cradled the world in my arms, even if it was a temporary moment, dear,” his fingers tapped gently on your cheek. “Even if the idea of us being wed was fake, the feeling that significant others would have for each other felt real to me.”

You smiled at his notion, staring into his glimmering eye with the weak smile and face caked in scars and dirt. 

Holding him close to you, you could not help but smile back.

“And you promise that you aren’t faking it this time?” you asked.

He laughed again, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “I promise what I feel is real, Y/N, and I’d love to show you for whatever days in Teyvat we have left.” 

And in that moment, that fog of mystery unveiled Kaeya’s true nature and colors in front of you in a moment of vulnerability, one you wanted to cherish every moment and label as real. 

-------------------------------

[cursestothemoon]

Paging Dr. Weasley

Requested: yes

George Weasley x fem! reader 

Warnings: strong language, asthma, fever and illness symptoms, food

Word Count: 3031

Summary: George is excited to go see the new products at Zonko’s and the harsh weather isn’t going to stop him. The reader has asthma and she's a bit apprehensive about going out in the cold, dry weather but George insists it’ll be fine. George, unfortunately, is wrong.

***

The night prior it was quite clear to you that the weather would be horrid. The wind, aggressive in nature, thrashed and collided with the walls of the stone walls of the castle. You were fortunate, however, tucked under your boyfriend George’s arm, asleep in his warm dorm. He had insisted that you stayed the night with him, when it got cold out he got clingy, and you had no objections to his suggestion. The following day you were to venture down to Hogsmeade with George, a week ago the plan was made when he mentioned needing prank supplies from Zonko’s, Fred unable to go because of a weekend detention he got himself. With the oncoming storm you had assumed that tomorrow’s plans had been canceled, knowing from past learning experiences the harsh cold was no help to your asthma.

Light flooded through the window in George’s dorm, a bright white that pierced your eyes even as they rest under your lids. You turned away from the harsh light, nose pushing into the warm, inviting chest of your boyfriend as you tried to slip back into a deeper sleep. A deeper sleep would not come, it wasn’t long after you turned that you were fully awoken by a deep groan.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, I told Lee to close the stupid curtains when he got in too.” George grumbled, hand smacking against his face to cover his eyes.

You were silent as you slowly shimmied yourself higher onto the pillow, motioning for him to lower himself so his face would be in your neck, concealed from the morning sun reflecting off the night's snow. George happily complied, humming his gratitude as he nuzzled into your neck before placing a gentle kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

“Who opened the fucking window?” Fred’s voice was heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

His tone showed his clear annoyance, followed by a groan and the shuffling of covers probably a result from him angrily pulling them over his head.

“I might’ve forgotten.” Lee answered from his bed making Fred chuck one of his pillows at him.

George groaned into your neck, “Will you two wankers shut up. We’re trying to sleep.”

“We?” Lee and Fred asked in unison before Fred continued, “Is Y/n there with you?”

George and you had retired to bed quite early last night, and neither of you expected Lee or Fred to check to see if George was alone last night before going to sleep.

“Yeah she’s here so shut up.” George grumbled again.

You could hear Fred, or Lee you weren’t sure, as they moved around in their bed before they spoke. It was Fred.

“Was the poor girl buried under the blankets all night?”

You decided to respond this time, “No, I had my face out to breathe.”

“Guess it’s time to get up.” Lee grumbled, moving to swing his legs out from under the covers.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains we’d all still be asleep a bit longer.” George sassed as he moved to sit up, not before giving you a good morning kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains…” Lee mimicked in a high voice, getting up to go to the bathroom.

Deciding that sleep would not be achieved until tonight, you too, sat up, knuckling at your eyes as you leaned against George’s chest. He circled his arms around your waist, placing another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Morning, pretty girl.” He rasped into your ear.

Unfortunately it was loud enough for Fred to hear and make a gagging noise as he turned away from you two.

“Disgusting. When you guys leave feel free to close the curtains, yeah?” He mumbled from under his covers, a few tendrils of fiery hair poking out.

You shuffled your legs over the edge of the mattress, standing up and stretching before grabbing the pillow you had been using to go over and smack Fred from over the sheets.

“Get up you wanker.”

He yelped before sitting up abruptly, hair a literal mess with strands sticking out randomly, “Georgie! Your girlfriend is attacking me, make her stop.”

George pretended to think for a moment before answering, “No. I don’t think I will.”

Fred feigned offence before also getting up and out of bed, his maroon boxers with green ‘F’s on them were quite the sight.

“Mate, it’s snowing out. How are you only wearing your knickers.” Lee asked, coming out from the bathroom.

“Run hot.” Fred answered simply with an overly flirty wink directed at Lee.

“Merlin…” George muttered, shaking his head as he got out of bed.

You smiled at your beloved, his hair- much like his brother’s- a frizzy mess of red locks and his eyes still puffy from just having woken up, but unlike his twin, George had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old Gryffindor t-shirt that he had cut to show his midriff. He was quite literally perfect, his pants hanging low on his hips- just exposing his v-line- and his t-shirt, now crop top, ended just above his belly button, an auburn happy-trail in view.

“You ready for today?” George asked, pulling you out of your less than innocent thoughts, his knowing smirk a clear sign that you had been caught ogling at him.

You stood for a moment in thought, “Today?”

George nodded, “Zonko’s, butterbeer, our plan to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I thought we would postpone that, the weather is horrid.”

He peered out the window before turning back to you, “It isn’t snowing much anymore, I think we should be in the clear.”

“Don’t you have asthma though? Won’t it make it act up?” Fred asked as he slipped on his shoes.

You nodded slowly, moving to fix the astray sheets on George’s bed, “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go out today.”

George pouted slightly, “We’ll bundle you up extra warm, and it’ll be quick. You’ll be ok, you haven’t had an attack in so long.”

You knew why he was so keen on going, Zonko’s had a new line of products that he was dying to get his hands on. He’d been talking about it for months, he and Fred finally saving up enough money from selling their own things to go purchase a few things. You felt bad, and he was right, you hadn’t had an asthma attack in a while so perhaps you’d be fine.

“Alright, but we’ll need to stop by my dorm so I can get my thick scarf. The one that goes up over my nose.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it anyother way.”

An hour later you and George were ready to go, two scarves- one long enough to go over your nose- a beanie, fuzzy socks, and a pair of George’s mittens were part of the outfit you were sporting. You felt a lot more confident in your attire now, nothing could go wrong...right?

It went wrong.

So very wrong.

The first half hour out on the town was fine, a bit chilly but George was there to wrap an arm around you and pull up your scarf so it covered your nose. Then, as the forty-five minute mark hit, you started to feel a bit...wheezy. The scarf kept slipping, the wind had picked up, and it was extremely dry out. Once it hit an hour you were in a full blown asthma attack, having to pull out a rescue inhaler- something you made sure to bring with you no matter how confident you were at first- and George felt absolutely terrible as he watched you try to catch your breath in The Three Broomsticks.

George rubbed a hand in comforting circles on your back as you took a few inhales of your inhaler trying to stop the painful wheezes. You reached behind you, putting a hand on his to try and tell him it was alright and you didn’t blame him, knowing he’d be beating himself up over this.

Once your breathing had leveled enough for you to string together a few words uninterrupted, you turned to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry but I think it would be better if I went back.” You muttered, voice still a little raspy.

George crouched down, face to face with you sitting in a chair, as he spoke, “Baby,” He cooed, “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry I forced you to come out knowing you have asthma and you were worried. I should’ve been thinking more about you, pretty girl.”

You shook your head gently, “It’s alright George, you were excited. No one needs to apologize, let’s just go.”

George silently agreed, moving to remove his scarf as you stood up. He pulled up your scarf so it went over your nose and wrapped his own scarf around it in hopes of it staying up better. Once he was happy with his work, he grabbed your mitten covered hand and you two walked out of the little pub.

Fortunately, you two got back to the castle without another asthma attack hitting you. George took you straight to his dorm, and sat you on his bed. The dorm was empty, it was still rather early in the day, but you felt your eyes start to droop as fatigue from the asthma attack, shivering in the cold, and fighting your way through the snow all came crashing down on you. You were also starting to get a headache, something you were definitely not happy about.

The lanky ginger noticed how tired you started to look and felt his heart melt all while guilt nearly ate him alive. He knew it was his fault you were feeling so bad, but your tired eyes and grabby hands at him made him smile.

“We need to get you changed, love.” He said quietly, going to his own trunk to pull out a sweater and pajama pants for you.

With his sweater and pajama pants in hand he got down to his knees in front of the bed where you sat and started to unbutton your coat. Once unbuttoned he helped you shrug it off, then helped shed all the other layers until you were in a thin t-shirt before pulling his sweater over your head. You moved to take off your bra but George muttered to let me, his hands sliding up under your shirt to unhook your bra, then letting you shimmy around to get your arms out before grabbing the undergarment and putting it in his trunk- he doesn’t need the boys coming in and seeing his girlfriends bra.

He then unbuttoned your jeans, slowly helping you pull them down your legs before replacing them with his own pajama pants.

“Stan for me for a moment.” He said, going to tie the drawstring in a neat bow to make sure the pants didn’t fall off of you.

“Thank you Georgie.” You smiled leaning into his chest.

“No problem, love. Let’s get you into bed.”

You shuffled onto the bed and situated yourself under the covers, looking up at George expectantly making him chuckle.

“You take a nap, I’m going to go get us food alright?”

“Ok.” You nodded, getting comfortable.

Before George was even out the room, you had fallen asleep, the day had taken a toll on you evidently. He smiled at your peaceful form, asleep in his bed, before carefully leaving the dorm to go grab some food for a late lunch.

George came back with the food fifteen minutes later, but he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up just yet. He waited around an hour before gently kissing your hairline to wake you up, but he grimaced at the unusual heat that your skin held.

When you woke, you felt fine, maybe a little lethargic, but fine. Usually asthma attacks didn’t take this much out of you but perhaps it was just because of how intense this one was and your head was still pounding.

You two quietly ate, George asking how you were every so often, you responding with a soft ‘alright’ before going back to the sandwich he brought. When the food was finished you crawled back into George’s bed, still feeling a bit sluggish but the food helped.

“Can you lay with me?”

George nearly awed audibly at how soft and small your voice was.

“Let me just change ok, bubs?”

You nodded, “Wear the cropped shirt please.”

George chuckled at your request but of course complied, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall just above his belly button. You smiled at the sight making him shake his head before pulling his own pajama pants on and climbing into bed next to you.

Hushed conversation started between the two of you. He was sitting up slightly with your head placed on his chest. As the sun went down and the other boys came back to the dorm, you let the melodic thump of George’s heartbeat lull you to sleep.

***

The night was a bit rough to say the least, George barely got any sleep due to his worrying about your wheezing. You didn’t usually wheeze when you slept, so it worried him. You on the other hand woke up with a stuffy nose, painfully dry cough, and achy muscles.

You were sick.

Even worse, it was Monday morning and you could not muster up the strength to get yourself dressed and to class. You had woken up first that morning, an aggressive cough pulling both you and George out of sleep. Once you the coughing fit had subsided you turned to look at George.

“I don’t think I can go to class today.” You pouted.

George pushed your hair out of your face as he answered, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” He placed an open palm on your forehead, “You’re burning up.”

Just as he had said it your body shivered before you erupted into another coughing fit.

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled. “You are not leaving this bed today, and I’ve just gotten word that Dr. Weasley is in.”

You let out a raspy laugh, “You don’t have to miss class, I’ll survive.”

George shook his head, “Nope, I’m going straight to McGonagall to tell her that you are sick and I need to take care of you.”

He left before you could protest any further.

You turned around, getting comfortable again, and started to doze off before Fred piped up.

“I thought you two would never quite fucking yelling.” He groaned.

Lee responded for you, “Shut up you twat.”

***

George jogged to the transfiguration classroom still in his pajamas getting interesting looks from the people in the halls. He didn’t care though, not when his little love was sitting in his bed sniffly and sick waiting for his cuddles.

He made it to the classroom and pushed the door open, startling Professor McGonagall and the few students in the room.

“Mr. Weasley! You cannot just come stampeding into my ro- what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

George caught his breath before speaking, “Professor, Y/n is sick and she can't come to class and since she’s sick she obviously needs me to take care of her so I also cannot attend classes today.”

“Is Miss L/n alright?” McGonagall asked, now worried about the girl.

“It’s my fault, I took her out in the cold yesterday and her asthma acted up but now she’s also got a fever and she was wheezing all night.” George rambled, the guilt coming back.

His Professor put her hands out to stop his rambling and push him toward the door, “Alright, alright, you go take care of the poor girl, both of you are excused for today and tomorrow if it’s necessary. If it gets any worse take her straight to Madam Pomfrey, understood?”

George nodded and McGonagall continued, “And for Merlin's sake next time send someone else to come tell me, we do not need you strutting around the school in- in- whatever this is.”

She gestured toward George’s outfit making his ears turn pink, realizing just how many eyes are on him at the moment.

“Right, of course. Thank you.”

***

George made it back to his dorm just as Lee and Fred were stepping out to leave for their first class of the day. He offered them a quick good morning and ‘see you later’ before making his way to you. He found you asleep in bed and tucked the covers under your chin before sliding into bed with you, pulling you into his chest as he let sleep take over.

A few hours later he woke up to you already awake and reading a note, he assumed it was attached to one of the two bottles that had been placed on his bedside table sometime while he was asleep.

“Who’s that from?” He asked, sitting up and looking over the note.

“McGonagall, she sent up medicine.”

“How sweet of Minnie.” He smiled pulling himself out of bed, “Alright, let Dr. Weasley read it.”

You laughed, “Dr. Weasley?”

He nodded feigning shock, “Yes, Dr. Weasley, and I’m going to nurse you back to health.”

George plucked the note from you and read it over, taking in all the instructions on how and when to take the medication which he assumed were the two bottles.

The rest of the day passed with George waiting on you hand and foot, bringing up food, rubbing your back, cuddling you, you name it he did it. He also did it all in his cute little crop top that definitely helped speed up the process of your recovery.

Now as you lay in bed, George tilts your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips but you stop him before he can.

“You’ll get sick.”

He chuckles, “I’ve been kissing on you, and cuddling with you all day. I’m going to get sick either way, pretty girl, so please let me kiss you on the lips at least once today.”

“Alright but we can’t tell anyone, I don’t think it’s very proper of me to be snogging my doctor.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa 

@hufflepuff5972 

[jolynej]

I’m Not in Love

Summary: You and Prosciutto, both determined to keep things casual, are sent out on a mission to eliminate a target, but something goes wrong and you end up hurt, forcing Prosciutto to come to terms with his feelings

A/N: I started this weeks ago, but have been so busy that I haven’t had time to properly finish it until now! I’m a very slow writer, and I struggle with creating longer fics that exceed 1k words, so this was a huge labor of love! I hope that y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: heavily implied nsft, violence, guns, minor character death, blood, Prosciutto being a bit of an asshole, fainting

You both told each other when you made this arrangement that it was strictly physical and that you were only doing this out of convenience and carnal desire. Sure, he’s very attractive, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about lingering in bed and pretending that you’re still asleep if only to savor his body heat and the weight of his arm across your torso for a few more minutes. But you couldn’t possibly cross that line.

The lives that both you led didn’t allow for the luxury of developing and maintaining romantic — or any, really — relationships that were outside of your work. You’d lost friends and family members to the steady passage of time and lack of communication. It came with the territory of the job, and though you’d tried to justify your drifting relationships by assuring yourself that it was done to protect those you used to hold close, you knew that was just an excuse you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

The initial adjustment to your new job was tough in that aspect, but Prosciutto, aside from being your mentor, slowly became a comfort and a confidant for your bouts of anxiety and late night regrets of leaving your old life behind. You’d joined him outside at night on the balcony of the hideout plenty of times. He would self-soothe with cigarettes, exhaling out his demons in the shape of a puff of smoke whilst he listened to you reminisce on your happier, less bloody days.

“It’s a damn shame you’re so good at you job,” he’d told you one particular night, when the orange and white city lights below cast a bright glow over his sharp features; yet simultaneously, it accentuated the dark circles under his eyes, and the shadows beneath those jagged angles of his cheekbones and jawline made him look far older than he was. Prosciutto looked beautiful as he did horrible.

You just shook your head and smirked, inquiring, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Kid, there were many different paths that you could’ve picked from,” He stops briefly to take a drag of his cigarette. “But this is what you opted for.” The blond flicked his cigarette and snuffed it with the toe of his oxfords, answering with, “All I’m saying is that you had your whole life ahead of you, and instead of getting a normal, decent job, you decided that this was worth the Louboutins and those diamond earrings of yours.”

“It’s good that it ended up working out for you.”

His compliments were usually pretty backhanded, but you could tell that this wasn’t just because of his usual condescending behavior. He seemed almost... sad and guilty, but then again, it could just be from the shadows on his face exaggerating his features.

“I’m glad you’re damn good at your job, too,” you remarked, leaning against the railing, savoring in the feeling of the warm, summer night wind caressing your face.

Soon, you found the touch against your cheeks was replaced by his calloused fingers and then his lips, giving birth to a routine that would continue every-so-often: you’d join him outside at night and would wake up in bed next to him in a tangle of limbs and satin sheets.

Maybe it was only natural that you and him would end up growing closer and more intimate.

—

This little arrangement between the two of you continues, and with each time you bare yourself to him, you struggle with your developing feelings. After you had slept together that first night — before you had a real chance to give yourself a proper chance to evaluate your own feelings — he assured you that the prior night’s events had meant nothing to him, that it was a mistake. He apologized, confessing that the rendezvous had stemmed from a place of pent up arousal and convenience and that it wouldn’t happen again.

That’s what he’d said the second, and third, time too. But by the fourth time, you’d both decided to become ‘coworkers with benefits’ as you’d so eloquently put it. It’s purely out of physical need and mutual trust and nothing else. There’s no time for romance.

—

The following spring, you were sent out together to a job on the coast, and were given a shared room at a hotel near the warehouse where your target was supposedly going to be tonight. The assignment had worked in your favor, you’d both arrive mid-morning, have time to scout out the location, go back to the room for a quick fuck, then proceed to the location, clean up, and spend the night between the sheets until you both passed out from sheer exhaustion.

“The target should be on location this evening,” he informs you casually as he’s sliding on his trousers, as if he hadn’t just fucked you into the mattress. He gives his watch a quick glance before speaking again. “Which gives us approximately an hour before we need to head out.”

You nod, reaching for your clothes — his hand stops you, grasping your wrist. “Let me clean you up first,” he says, briefly locking eyes with you, before averting his gaze just as quickly. “If you’re going out you should at least be comfortable.”

While Prosciutto walks off to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water and a washcloth, you look down at your naked body. Your combined releases dribble down your thighs, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the sticky, wet sensation on your lower body.

He’s back approximately a minute later, the glass is set upon the nightstand, and he’s kneeling, still shirtless, at your feet with the wet washcloth in hand. He cleans you up in relative silence, and the intimacy and vulnerability in this situation is not lost on either of you. It hangs around like a heavy fog that both of you desperately try to ignore, hoping that it’ll dissipate.

Under different circumstances, you’d love to be able to cradle his chin in your hand and confess every single romantic thought that you’d ever held for him, and in turn, he’d press tender kisses up your thighs, and trade the rag for his tongue, cleaning you up with a few slow licks. Instead, you give him a curt, ‘thank you’ and get dressed.

Your little trysts were littered with subtle, more domestic moments like this one where you wanted to push the boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate when you’re in a friends-with-benefits situation with your coworker. Even without the romance that you so desperately craved, there was still a strong sense of intimacy and familiarity with each ‘Was I too rough?’ or ‘You can sleep in here tonight’ that could only stem from a certain level of trust and comfort.

The rest of the time leading up to your assignment was spent going over your plan of attack and working out any loose ends or confusion on either side, and as he spoke, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to travel down to his plush lips and the exposed patch of skin from his half-buttoned blouse that, when he shifted at a certain angle, allowed for you to catch a glimpse of a dark red bruise where your lips had been.

You were passing the threshold, the imaginary line. You’d stepped on it, gotten it stuck to your feet, and try as you may to deny its presence and scrub it clean from your skin — you could scrub it raw, until you bled — it wasn’t something you could erase.

As he’s stepping out of the hotel room, you glance back to ask him if he’s ready, but you’re caught off guard by the buttons of his shirt. They’re all closed completely save for a lone button rendering the bruise no longer visible. Inquisitively, the blond quirks up an eyebrow, silently asking if there’s a problem.

“I’m just ready to get this over with,” you sigh, matching your stride with his as you both exit the hotel and journey to the warehouse.

The target doesn’t show as planned, much to your and Prosciutto's dismay and annoyance. You had both searched the large building and its surroundings as thoroughly as possible but still the target hasn’t made an appearance. There aren’t even any hidden clues as to where he’s run off to. As pissed as you both felt in that moment — you were cursing to yourself and your partner was leaning against a metal structure with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth — Risotto was going to be absolutely furious.

Unlike most contracts where you were paid after the deed or half before and half after, the client had paid a hefty sum up front and with a dark leer he was insistent that the job be completed as soon as possible. Something deep within you knew that he would not be the type of man whose bad side you’d like to be on.

Defeated and angry, you both decided to bite the bullet and head back to the hotel to inform your superior of the unfortunate situation. Just outside of the hotel, Prosciutto glances over at a payphone on the street corner.

“Go on inside and shower and eat, kid, I’ll talk to Risotto.”

“Are you sure? We can speak to him together, or I can just sp—“ He cut you off with a hand patting your cheek, gently thumbing your skin. He was stressed and so were you.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he manages a tiny half-smile. “I’ve got it.”

Yeah, you are stressed as all hell, but at least you didn’t have to be at the receiving end of Risotto’s wrath — for tonight anyway. Thinking about Prosciutto opting to do so in your stead and acting out of concern for you sends a cacophony of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. He has always looked out for you ever since you’d joined, but this was something more than just him looking out for a junior member of his team. There was no way that he’d touch Formaggio or even Pesci like that, with such a pure tenderness that leaves your skin tingling from where his fingers were.

Making your way up the stairs to your shared room, the sensation of butterflies immediately flees from your stomach and instead, an eerie, insidious feeling begins to tiptoe up your spine, and you get the sense that something is very, very wrong.

One of the hall lights has gone out, and the other is flickering in random spasms as it emits a faint buzz. With each step towards your door, the broken light fixture seems to dim and buzz louder until it makes one final loud screech and dies completely the moment that you touch the door handle, and as soon as your fingers gripped the metal handle, an overpowering jolt of electricity fizzles throughout your entire body, sending you doubling over in pain, desperately croaking out for your stand as you fall to the dingy carpet.

The world around you seemed to morph into blackness and little snippets of sounds — you weren’t sure if you were still awake or if you’d lost consciousness — but you clung onto what you could decipher to the best of your ability. Static, the plodding footfall of someone running on carpet with urgency, the unmistakable click of a gun, a heavy thud, then silence.

You crane your head and espy a familiar pair of oxfords, and with a sigh of relief you feel your eyes grow heavy.

—

You come-to in the backseat of a car, and if it weren’t for the intensity of the events before you passed out, you would’ve happily shut your eyes to the steady thrum of the car speeding down the road. A bubble of panic rises up your throat, throwing your senses in overdrive as you carefully assess your surroundings. You find that a suit jacket has been draped over you like a makeshift blanket, and the familiar scent of cologne, tobacco, and cigarette-smoke is an instant relief.

Looking up, you find Prosciutto is in the driver’s seat of the car with a plain, white tank top in the place of his button-up. The bones of his knuckles are prominent due to the strain and force of his grip on the steering wheel, and they’re dotted with specks of red that extend up to his forearms.

There’s an evident scowl on his lips, which are scabbed and bloody from worrying teeth marks and not from — what you can safely assume given the sound you’d heard earlier — a gunshot to the man that had been in your hotel room.

“The target was dealt with,” he says upon seeing you awake, and he disguises it with a cough, but his entire face softens with a relieved sigh. The visible tension in his bulging veins on his forearms eases along with the death-grip that he has on the steering wheel; Prosciutto settles one hand on his thigh, splaying his fingers out on the fabric of his trousers, feeling for something in his pocket — cigarettes most likely. He’s still antsy and tense, alternating between his hands on the wheel to search his other pocket.

You have a myriad of questions wreaking havoc on your brain, which is still a bit fuzzy from the electricity and has brought on a dull headache. With the blazer clenched tightly to your chest, you fiddle around until you find a pack of his smokes and pull them out, holding them in the air with a dopey, lopsided grin that says ‘lookee here!’. It earns a playful eye roll and a smirk from Prosciutto who brings his hand back to take them from you.

When you offer the box up, your fingers brush, and you swear that he leaves his hand extended towards you a moment longer than necessary. The sensation sends a full-body chill through your veins.

“Put the coat on, kid, I don’t want you freezing up and getting sick in the car.” He’s staring straight out at the road, but you know the sentiment is there, beneath the layer of sweat and blood there’s worry. “Go back to sleep,” he orders in that gravelly, stern but caring tone of his that he uses on you when he gives you orders, and only you. In a way, it’s not that much different from how he talks in bed, and the familiarity has you warm all over. God, you’re in love with this man.

“I’ll wake you up in about an or two, capisce?”

—

You’re awoken by Prosciutto opening the door of the backseat and calling your name. You can barely see him, he’s almost a dark, looming figure in the night. The sky in the countryside is worlds away from the city skyline that you’re accustomed to. Behind him, there’s a sea of twinkling stars, and the bright crescent moon hangs proudly behind his head like a half-halo, and he appears to you like a fallen angel, still clinging on desperately to something good and holy that someone like him does not deserve. In his right hand, he holds a shovel, and his arms and face and tank top are caked in the weight of his sins, blood and dirt and sweat; you surmise that the closer you get to him, the less the moon resembles a halo and moreso a pair of horns. Again, the night is playing tricks on you.

“I’ve buried the remains,” he explains. “I decided it would be easiest to just take care of it myself until we can get you checked out. We don’t know the full extent of the damage that you’ve received or what effects that my stand could have on you in this state.” It’s a poor excuse, and you both know it, but it’s easier for him to lie to you when his facial expressions are harder to see.

Still, you don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline in your blood, your feelings for him, or some leftover electricity that’s done something to your brain, but you decide to call him out.

Sitting upright, you say, “I still could’ve helped, Prosci, otherwise there would be no point for me to come on this mission with you. You’ve done more than enough to help me, and I… I really appreciate everything that you’ve done to help me, but I have to work to earn my share of the payment!

“I can’t just lie back and let you treat me like some doll or damsel in distress!” You spout, wadding up his blazer and tossing it at him. He catches it with a growl, and the shovel clatters to the ground with a resounding clang.

He’s crawling across the backseat, hovering over you like a mangy beast; truthfully, you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so unhinged and disheveled. His scent bears no resemblance to the comforting aroma of his suit-jacket, and instead, he emits a pungent odor of grime and sweat, evident by the damp, dirty stray pieces of hair that encircle his face and the thin layer of earth that stains his skin with splotches of gray and brown. He looks like he can hurt you, and for a second you make the mistake of thinking that he will.

“Kid, you need to listen to me! I—“ he huffs, but upon seeing your face up close, all scared and doe-like, he kisses you. It’s emotional and hurried and needy and far unlike any previous kiss that you’d shared. It’s not spurred on by wanting or lust but by love and a great fear of loss.

“I love you,” he whispers like a gasp when he pulls apart from you. “I love you,” he says once more, softer, sweeter. “I love you.”

In his eyes, you can see every word that he leaves unsaid, his confession of how afraid he was that he’d never see you again, how he panicked and saw red and shot the man on sight, how he carried you to the car with a metaphorical knife stabbing at his heart, and how he almost cried from relief when he saw you open your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you say back, smiling, kissing him again with that same passion as before.

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 4

TW: Mentions of SA, violence, and dark thematic elements. This is not any worse than acosf, so if you read that and I’m assuming you did if you’re a gwynriel fan haha, then this fanfic probably won’t bother you.

There will be one more part after this and it’s partially written, so hopefully it’ll be up soon. Thank you for all the support I have received over this. It really motivates me to keep writing.

"Do you see the male with the long dark hair, blue jacket?" Lucien pointed to a window in a tavern. Gwyn followed his line of sight before nodding. "That was the general of the raid. He left soon after the cauldron leg had been retrieved. He still managed to enjoy himself according to rumors, but he left before Azriel even got there."

Gwyn was unsure how Lucien came across this intel. Part of her wanted to question him, but did not think it was appropriate given that she was planning to kill that male nonetheless. She was unsure if she could recognize him or not given the distance. She figured she would not be able to though. Azriel killed all the men directly involved in her trauma, but there were many young priestesses there that day and many of them shared the same fate as her. Some of those soldiers had escaped Azriel's fury. Gwyn made a promise to herself that they would not escape hers. She shifted her stance so that she was kneeling instead of crouching. Leaves rustled under her which earned a cringe from Lucien. They were currently spying on the Hybern general from a forested hill. Apparently, the male frequented this tavern enough for Lucien to find him. Gwyn questioned whether he was solely Tamlin's emissary or if he did a variety of work. He was much better at spying than she initially figured.

"Do you want me to handle this one?" He asked warily. He knew why Gwyn wanted to do this, but he also understood if she would not be able to follow through.

"No." She shook her head while whispering. "I need to do it."

They continued to watch inside the tavern. The male was drinking quite a bit and was being a bit obnoxious from what Gwyn could tell.

"It's time." Lucien interrupted her careful observations. She looked towards him curiously. "At this time every Friday night, he steps outside to smoke his pipe. Supposedly, his wife finds the smell horrendous and requires that he step outside for it. You will be able to catch him alone if you wait by that back door in the alley." She followed his finger to find it pointing at a door to the side of the tavern. She shuddered a little at the fact that this male had a wife. Gwyn wondered if she knew what type of man she had married. She hesitated.

"What if this goes poorly, Lucien? I cannot live through Sangravah again." She sounded desperate and she knew it. Gwyn wanted affirmation that she would never be powerless again.

"It won't." He reminded her. "But I will be watching from here the entire time. I will not allow anything bad to happen. First sign of trouble and I will be by your side before you can blink." He grabbed her hand from where he knelt beside her and squeezed. She looked into his eyes and her nerves began to fall away. That one russet eye, so similar to Catrin's, put her at ease. "Hurry. Or you will miss your chance." He let go of her hand.

Before she left, she placed her invoking stone on her head at Lucien's insistence. It would give her an advantage and she would take all that she could get right now. She started to utter a prayer. It was one that she read in a random book about the rules and rituals of warriors from different cultures. This one originated from the Illyrians.

"For the honor and glory of the Mother, for the safety and freedom of my kingdom, and for the respect and love of my family."

She stood up and slowly began to descend the hill as quietly as possible. It was difficult considering the leaves were still brittle from the cold. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as the icy wind whipped around. Soon enough she was near the door. She plastered herself to the wall, concealing herself in the shadows. It made her miss her mate and his shadows. She remained quiet as the male loudly stumbled out. She spent a few moments observing him. He was tall and physically imposing, similar to Cassian in that way. Gwyn knew that was the only similarity the two males shared though. His hair was longer than hers and tied back out of his face. Sweat collected on his face as he pulled out his pipe.

"Do you remember me?" It was all Gwyn could muster, but it startled the man. He looked towards the shadows she was hiding in. She certainly did not recognize him. There was so much chaos during the raid that her memory only had room to process so much. She was glad she could not remember anything more, could not remember what this specific man did.

"I dunno darling. I can't see you." The disgusting smirk on his face made her decision easier.

He was handsome that much she could tell. It made her feel so much worse for some reason. Perhaps she wished his outsides matched his insides. She quietly pulled her hood down while she stepped into the light, making eye contact with the male. His eyes hardened as they caught on her invoking stone and his stance was no longer relaxed. It was all Gwyn needed to know that Lucien's intel was good. She thought she might feel more fear or maybe more overwhelming anxiety. It was the typical response she had around harmless men, so she expected to feel it even more so now. However, all she felt was disgust. Looking at this male made her skin crawl. She wondered how long his list of unconsenting females was. Her grip tightened on silver majesty as her resolve hardened.

"Came back for round two?" He sneered as he lit his pipe. Clearly deciding she was no threat.

"Actually, I need your help with a decision." She should not toy with him this way, but his comment grated her just enough. She took a step toward him, waiting for the anxiety to bloom. When it did not, she cocked her head to the side as if she was analyzing him. He looked at her in expectation, but did not verbally respond.

"I was planning on killing you tonight. I think it might be more torturous for you though if I let you live without a certain appendage. Thoughts?" She lifted a singular eyebrow while a smirk played at her lips. Her face may have looked amused, but she did not feel that way. Truthfully, she wanted this over with. The statement did not have the desired effect, however. The male began to laugh so deeply that he was bent over, his pipe forgotten. The profuse arrogance provoked her into action.

Before he could react, she slammed her dagger into the side of his thigh- just barely missing an important artery. His scream of pain should not have brought her joy. Gwyn was aware that it was wrong to find pleasure in anyone's pain. This was different though. Her rage began to consume her, engulf her. Suddenly, she was back in Sangravah. She was not helpless this time, though. She could stop this male. She could stop all the males. A sharp pain to her temple brought her back from her flashback. The male had recovered and slapped her away from him. Unfortunately, her dagger was still lodged in his thigh.

"Fucking bitch." Is all he muttered as he launched himself at her.

He mistook her for a meek priestess who shied away from any negative emotion. She would never be that priestess again. Instead, she allowed her anger to consume her. She ducked under his arms and quickly turned around, kicking him in the back in the process. He was slow, poorly trained even for a general, and drunk. Gwyn would continue to toy with him even if it was just to satisfy some sick need for revenge. This death would not be quick for him. He stumbled back to his feet as he ripped her dagger from his thigh. He wiped blood from his nose from crashing into the building face first and waited for Gwyn to make the next move. She could be patient though.

"You never answered. Which do you prefer? Your life or your cock?" That vulgar word had never left her mouth before but she refused to give that away with a blush. He managed a smirk.

"You tell me. Would you prefer your life or my cock? Cause that's the only way you will be leaving here alive."

She saw red. It was like her body went on auto-pilot. She knew what she was doing, but there was no way to stop. She hurled herself at him, knocking her dagger out of his hand. She sent her knee to his crotch which he managed to block somewhat. He still let out a groan. With his face closer in range, she jammed her thumbs into his eyes. Before she could do too much damage though, he was shoving her away. She fell to the ground, but quickly propelled herself back to him. He did not even have time to recover before she was back and this time with her dagger. She shoved Silver Majesty through the center of his palm. His screams and groans were powering her to continue. He deserved this she found herself repeating like a mantra in her head. He caught her off guard with a strong kick to the ribs, but after the initial surprise she was swinging her dagger back at him. Luckily for him, he managed to dodge her swing that was headed for his eye. He grabbed her by her cloak and dragged her to him from behind. His arm wound itself around her neck. She was struggling to breath which is when she slammed the dagger that was still in her hand that lay unguarded by her side into his crotch. He immediately pulled away to grab himself. As he hunched over, sending explicit curse after explicit curse her way, she took a few lungfuls of air. Blood poured from his crotch so she knew she hit her mark. He fell to his knees and continued to scream. Gwyn, suddenly, remembered where she was. Why was no one rushing out to help him? His screams were loud enough for all to hear in the Tavern. Perhaps even his loved ones knew he deserved this. She approached him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. She put her dagger to his neck and before she could drag it across, he began to splutter excuses.

"Wait, wait! You can take it. Cut it off, burn it if you must, but I want to live." He pleaded. She turned up her nose in disgust. He had no honor and no shame.

"Sorry. Offer expired." And then she slit his throat. Pulling her hood up and cleaning off her dagger, she quietly trekked her way back to Lucien- attempting to remain unseen.

She thought she might feel sad or anxious or upset with herself. She had killed before- in the blood rite. That had been in the name of self-defense, though. This time she committed pre-meditated murder against a seemingly helpless male, although she knew better. She should be ashamed with herself, but if she was being honest, she felt powerful. She knew that no man would ever have that power and control over her again and this very moment proved that. She could not stop the sly smile that lifted the edges of her mouth. She was a force to be reckoned with and she would let every Hybern soldier involved in that raid know it.

***

Gwyn slid her dagger across his throat once more. Blood poured out and the limp body fell with a thud. Gwyn had been chasing the high of her first kill, but with each new fallen Hybern soldier, Gwyn felt further and further from control. Logically, she knew they deserved to die. She just no longer felt the power she originally possessed after her first kill. She had felt liberated, now she felt trapped by her revenge. It seemed to be an endless cycle. This was only the third Hybern soldier, but Gwyn did not know if she should continue. It felt like a betrayal to the other priestesses from Sangravah. She did not know if this would ever stop otherwise though. There would always be some vile male who deserved death and some beaten female who deserved to be avenged. Gwyn wiped her blade clean on the male's jacket and adjusted her invoking stone that had been knocked askew in the struggle before walking away. She lifted her hood to hide her face as she quietly slipped off to where Lucien was waiting. To his credit, he offered to kill the soldiers himself. The idea became more and more appealing as Gwyn's emotions sucked the life out of her.

"You okay?” Lucien asked once the priestess began to approach him. She pulled her hood away and simply nodded, quietly grabbing his arm. It was her subtle way of tell him she was ready to leave. After one long look, Lucien winnowed them back. Instead of the castle though, they were at a lake. It was beautiful, but definitely presided in the spring court. Gwyn sent a surprised look to the male.

“Should we be here?”

“I have no doubt that you single handedly could take on Tamlin.” Lucien responded with a sly smile. It broke some of the tension hanging in Gwyn’s mind. She plopped down at the edge of the lake to shimmy her boots off. Lucien followed suit and then they were sitting side by side with their feet in the lake. It was beautiful. It made her wish Catrin could see it.

“What troubles you, granddaughter?” He was trying to make her laugh and it worked. A small chuckle left her throat before a heavy sigh. She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“I thought this might take back some of the control I lost, but it just makes me feel...” she took such a long pause that Lucien had to nudge her to continue. “Like they have won. It is just another part of me they control. As long as I am controlled by the need for revenge, I am controlled by them. Do you know what I mean?” She looked at him to find any sort of understanding in his eyes. He did understand- more than she could ever know. He had also been controlled by his need for revenge at one point in his life.

“I can finish it for you. Just say the word.” He would do it for her because he wanted to. He wanted to protect her when he failed so spectacularly in the past.

“I thought I could not travel a world, escape the library, if men like those Hybern soldiers existed. But those men will always exist. I think I need to accept that rather than killing my way through the problem.” She swished her feet back and forth through the water. The truth is, she was able to leave the library even with those men existing. Lucien had shown her a great many things, including this lake, that made her want to see the whole world despite her fears. Perhaps that was the best revenge anyways.

“Whatever you decide, I will support you no matter what.” He rested his head on her shoulder, drinking up the scene before they would inevitably have to leave again. He had not been here since his time with Feyre and Tamlin, and the experience was bitter sweet. It was beautiful though, and he knew Gwyn would love it.

“Thank you, Lucien.”

***

Azriel had been putting off this conversation for the last 500 years and did not particularly want to bring it up now, but enough is enough. He needed to move on with his life. He did not think he would be able to until this conversation was finished. He eventually found the beautiful blonde immersed in conversation with Emerie at the House of Wind library. A clear of his throat caught both of their attention.

“Hi Az.” Emerie gave a slight smile which he returned before looking at Mor. She looked beautiful in a revealing red dress and curled hair. He wondered where she might be going tonight to be so dressed up. Especially considering Emerie was still wearing her training leathers. Clearly, they did not have plans together for tonight.

"Mor, can we talk?" He turned his slight smile to her. She gave him a brilliant smile back. It did not seem to have the same effect on him as it once did though.

"Of course! I feel like I have not seen you at all recently." She gave Emerie a hug before walking past the Shadowsinger and into the kitchen for more privacy. It was not nearly the amount of privacy he wanted for this conversation, but he would make do. His shadows used this time to abandon him when more than anything he wanted their comfort.

"Why?" Was all he could muster. His cheeks already turning a slight pink. He leaned onto his forearms using the counter from the island for support. Mor stood on the opposite side of the island. She crossed her arms over her chest a bit defensively.

"Why what?" She asked with a frown.

"Why won't you give me a chance? There are times when you seem interested and then there are times when you seem interested in Cassian." He explained further. The look on Mor’s face told him that she wanted this conversation to happen as much as he did. They had avoided it long enough though.

"Az..." she began with a long sigh but trailed off. She refused to look at him now, choosing to stare at the floor instead.

"What?" He did not think it was an unfair question to ask, but apparently she did.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"That's not fair. If there's a real chance for us I want to know. But if you just like having two Illyrians attention rather than just one I'd rather you leave me out of it." It was harsh and a low blow. That did not make it less true. Sometimes he felt that the reason she refused to turn him down outwardly was because she liked the attention. Or she liked having someone stand up for her against Rhysand when he did something she did not like. Azriel was growing tired of their current situation. It needed to change before he started to resent her for it.

"That's not fair either, Az! You're my friend. I don't owe you a relationship." She yelled in outrage. She finally looked up at him and he could see the rage burning there. Guilt began to claw at him.

"You are right, you don't. But you know my feelings on the matter and you continue to lead me on. Or maybe you're confused too. I don't know but that's why I want to talk this through. Just tell me what you're thinking." A long pause ensued after that. The fire burning in her eyes slowly eased away. She moved to sit on top of the island next to him with his stance unchanging.

"Technically, there could be a chance for us. I just don't want to take it. Our friendship means too much to me and..." she muttered while trailing off. Now he was definitely confused. Why wouldn’t she want to take the chance? What was so wrong with him that stopped her from wanting to try a relationship?

"And?" He pushed her to explain further.

"And I think I prefer females. That's why I don't want to take a chance on this. It'll only end badly."

"Oh." He stood up and looked Mor over throughly. She was not dressed up for some party tonight he finally realized. She was trying to impress Emerie. And suddenly, he felt very stupid. He also felt a bit of relief. All this time he was trying to discover what he lacked for her to pass him over for Cassian- what he needed to change to be good enough. Nothing, apparently, given that he could not magically turn into a female.

"Oh?" She gave him a cautious look as though he was some rabid animal who might bite. He realized why she could never have been his mate in that moment. Gwyn had never given Azriel that look.

"Yeah I wish you would have told me sooner. All this time I thought you couldn't decide between Cassian and me." He explained. He could have saved himself so much torment if only he had known. Not that he was blaming her. He was truly blaming himself. He is the spymaster after all, how could he have missed all the stolen glances and longing looks Mor always sent to the females at Rita’s.

"Oh." She repeated what Az had said earlier. She was suddenly very interested in examining her nails.

"Yeah. I am sorry if it seemed that I do not value your friendship. I genuinely thought there was a chance here." He tugged at her chin to make her look at him. He wanted her to see how genuine he was. Mor was one of his oldest friends and he would not let this ruin that.

"I'm sorry I lead you on. If I'm honest, it was partly on purpose. If I keep enough men flaunting after me, It leaves less questions from busybodies." She gave him a sheepish look. Hearing that did not upset him as he thought it might.

"I would do anything to protect you, including lying about a relationship if that's what it took." He would do it now even. It would mean he could not be with Gwyn in the way that he wanted, but he would protect Mor from her father until the end of time.

"I do love you Az. Just perhaps not in the same way." She grabbed his face to look at hers as she said it. He wished she would grab his hands. He let out a long sigh before pulling his face away.

"I love you Mor, but I don't think it's in that way anymore either." She gave him a questioning look that he only shrugged away, moving across the kitchen to put some space between them. He was starting to feel overwhelmed with this heart-to-heart without the comfort of his shadows.

"Really?" She gave him a look that said she did not quite believe him.

"Yeah. I always imagined this moment to be heartbreaking and instead I just feel relieved. Like I finally have the answer to life's question." It was true too. He thought he would never be able to love someone as he had Mor. He realized now that those feelings had been rather superficial. A fantasy he created in his head that felt safe.

"Probably helps that you are mated." She surprised him with that response. He lifted a singular eyebrow as she played with one of the bracelets on her wrist.

"Yes, Az. We all know." She rolled her eyes at this. "But you almost ruined the night courts reputation, risking Lucien's demand of a blood duel, so we figured we might as well let the Elain thing play out on its own." He scoffed at her terrible summary of his actions these past few months.

"I could have used your advice." He replied sarcastically. A single shadow curled around his ear before spotting Mor and disappearing once again. It made him sigh.

"You wouldn't have listened." She insisted. Part of him understood why his family allowed him to hide from his feelings. He was stubborn after all. Sometimes he wished they would push a little harder though. The way that Nesta did. It was why he let her get away with her comments about Rhys- she tried harder with him than any of them did including the high lord.

"I listened to Nesta's." He had already decided that Elain and him could not continue what they were doing after his kiss with Gwyn, but Nesta’s words helped him. Immediately after that conversation he went to talk to Elain, who surprisingly felt the same way.

"Yeah well Nesta and you are two sides of the same coin. Of course you listened to her." He rolled his eyes at that.

"Should I be offended?"

"Yes." They both chuckled. It was quiet for a minute or two before Az spoke up again.

"Thanks for telling me." She nodded before heading back to the library. Azriel finally let out a breathe. His chest no longer tighter with tension. He felt much freer than he had in these past few weeks. It was time to get his girl back.

[omniscientwreck]

Hello! For the imtimacy prompt list #30 for Shadowgast🖤💜

Hello! This was the prompt I was most hoping someone would ask me so THANK YOU for that! If anyone else would like to make a request I have one left in my inbox and am always happy to do more, especially for this list! Here is the post in question!

As a side note: welcome to the version of Caleb and Essek from my no rules no angst just right Carly Rae Jepsen song lyric inspired College!AU in a modern fantasy kinda setting. This just feels most to me like the version of Essek and Caleb that would do this and it gives you a bit of insight into the tone of my BIG work in progress right now! Enjoy!

30: doing beauty treatments, like facials or manicures, hair dying or face masks

Essek has long stopped knocking before entering Caleb, Beau and Jester’s apartment, but he still likes to call out his arrival though he knows Caleb is the only one home.

Jester and Beau have gone back home for a few days, visiting Jester’s mother in Nicodranas. Caleb elected to stay behind saying he had too much work to do, which is true. Essek finds him in his room, still as much a mess as it was the last time he was here. The small desk is completely covered in books all with several markers placed in their pages and the mess spills onto the bed. Caleb is ‘sitting’ on the chair containing most of his clothing and doesn’t appear to realize he’s come in.

He drops his levitation, trying to make noise so he doesn’t startle Caleb too badly as he approaches from behind and smooths his hands from his shoulders down to his hands. Caleb looks up as Essek’s chin presses into the top of his head, “Drogi, when is the last time you ate anything?”

Without hesitation, “Around elven, I’ll take a break soon I’m on the edge of something here.”

Essek sighs, “Darling it’s nearly six, I brought food, just take a break now with me?” He watches Caleb place a marker in the book to save his space and he finishes a few thoughts in the literature review before standing and smiling wearily at him.

“Ja, a break is probably a good idea. Thank you Schatz.” He stands and for a moment Essek lets Caleb distract him by wrapping strong arms around his waist and pulling him in for a kiss.

Essek has been looking forward to this particular date for a while and finally got the chance to suggest it, surprised when Caleb agreed with little hesitation.

It had started a few days ago when Caleb had slept over. He’d watched Essek’s skin care routine and had begun asking questions which led to the confirmation of Essek’s theory that Caleb has never so much as moisturized his face, much less done any of the other pampering that Essek considers central to his sense of well-being.

Tonight, Essek gets to show Caleb what it’s like. After they finish eating, they wind up in the bathroom. Essek pulls out a massive bag full of creams, ingredients, washes and all kinds of products. “Sit.”

“Essek, I need to see the mirror to shave.” He presses Caleb’s shoulders and sits him on the closed toilet lid shaking his head, “Caleb, you are taking a break. Let me.”

Drow are not immune to facial and body hair. Essek has never had much but Verin always has. One time when Verin was particularly injured in early adulthood Essek had to learn how to shave him during recovery. He has someone else for that now, so Essek transfers his knowledge to Caleb.

He gently spreads a soft cream across his partner’s face with the gentle touch of a brush and he pulls out a straight razor, the only possession he has from his father. Carefully and gently he shaves Caleb’s face, dragging the razor across tawny stubble while the man sits beneath him with closed eyes, completely trusting.

It doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would and he’s able to begin gently washing his lover’s face, humming as he goes, occasionally singing in undercommon. Caleb looks more at rest than Essek has every seen him, sighing every so often as Essek exfoliates, washes and tones his skin. He steps back and instinctively Caleb goes to touch his face. Looking in the mirror the main difference is calm and peace. “Okay now this is the fun part.”

Essek mixes up two small cups of ingredients, one is his proprietary blend for his own skin, one that he thinks will suit Caleb more, “Ok now trust me. We’re going to leave these on for 15 minutes. I’ll do yours, you can do mine. As revenge.”

Caleb’s eyebrows quirk in confusion as Essek begins slathering the face mask onto his pale skin and then grimaces at the cold unfortunate texture of the mask. “Ah ja I see what you mean, this helps? In some way?”

Essek nods, “It will help tone out some of the redness and smooth out other things. I promise it will be worth it.”

“I trust you.” Essek smiles and puts a dollop on the tip of Caleb’s nose and the fake scowl that follows is delightful and adorable.

“You shouldn’t.” Essek winks and flashes fangs at the other and Caleb grabs the cup of Essek’s mask and boldly smears it over his forehead in protest. A shiver goes down his spine, he hates this part but it’s more fun with Caleb.

They go into the living room and put on one of the old movie musicals Caleb is so fond of and Essek starts on Caleb’s hands. “I won’t do anything extravagant I promise. You can just do a top coat if you’d like, but I did bring most of my collection if you’d like to look.”

Caleb opens the deceptively small case and shakes his head fondly upon the realization it’s enchanted to hold more than one would expect. “All this enchantment for nail lacquer?”

Essek scoffs, “Of course, you don’t want to know how much room this would take up if I had to lay it all out in the apartment.”

Caleb hums along to the music as Essek works, taming and shaping the nail beds that have been left to their own devices for decades and Essek finds himself distracted by romantic songs and well choreographed dance numbers occasionally. Far more distracting is the beauty of Caleb’s baritone singing along to a style of music Essek is unfamiliar with, warm and low and full of love as he looks down at Essek’s meticulous work.

He ends up with an iridescent top coat, just a little bit of flair but subtle enough most won’t notice. Midway through they pause to rid themselves of the face masks and Essek removes the mixture for Caleb and then for himself so as to not mess up his own work. He smooths on some moisturizer for Caleb, ever patiently sitting with his eyes closed. “How does that feel perełko?”

“Good, it’s very cool, my skin feels… fresh?”

“Take a look for yourself.” Essek smiles, it isn’t a miracle by any means but some of the redness of Caleb’s face is brought down just a bit, giving more prominence to the scattering of delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose and it’s smooth and fresh.

“I can see the merits of this.” he says, in slight awe, feeling this skin of his face.

“Now, let me finish your hands so I can do mine.”

He finishes Caleb’s hands with moisturizer and a good long massage, and starts to work on his own, removing the customary black polish he usually keeps there, Caleb’s arm around his shoulders, watching him work. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Essek considers, “Well I’ll shape on my own. Would you like to pick a colour for me? I’m tired of black. You can do the last step as well.” Caleb is back looking into the nail polish case and, rather quickly, presents him with a deep burgundy.

“How’s this? I just think it would look good.”

Essek presses a kiss into his forehead, “Perfect, thank you darling.” He goes back to shaping his nails to fine points and applying a base coat. As he begins to apply colour Caleb watches him intently, focus on the movie lost. “Would you like to help with his?”

He blushes a bit, “I do not think I would be very good at it and I don’t want to ruin your hard work.”

Essek laughs, “You won’t ruin anything. Here, watch me do my right hand and you can do my left. It’ll help me immensely. Any mistakes you make can be cleaned up with little effort I promise.”

Caleb is better at this than either of them expected. Only a little varnish makes its way to Essek’s skin and that’s easily enough removed, he even flips Essek’s hand as he’d done his own to apply the polish underneath. Then, when it’s dry, he rubs the stress away from Essek’s hands and they share many looks as a second musical begins playing. They pay little attention to it, instead giving in to the quiet comfort of the evening, of learning to care for another and yourself. Caleb has all but forgotten his previous state of anxiety for the evening and Essek hopes he’ll let him do this again. “Thank you for this liebling I needed this more than I could have guessed.”

Essek is pressed to his side now as they drink tea and finish up a horror movie, “I am glad my love. Thank you for letting me share this with you. If you ever want it again all you have to do is ask.” Caleb nods and over time they both fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, waterlogged with the quiet, weighty bliss of love.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Come Back | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey Lovelies! I decided to switch it up and try something a little more angsty! Lemme know what you think (and if I should do a part two?) It's a little short, I started it before receiving all the requests that y'all have been sending in! I was in a little bit of a writers block and a slump and wrote this while listening to/crying to "My Immortal" by Evanessence. Anyways, enjoy my loves! Keep sending in your ideas! I'm starting on them presently! <3

Description: Elijah dies and the reader is falling apart in the shower, Kol and Klaus rescue her. Really just a short little blurb.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Kol and Klaus, Mentions of Elijah

Warnings: The reader in this is grieving and trying to feel something in some self destructive ways. Not self harm but not nice either. Mentions of loss and grieving.

Word count: 1764

Tags: ANGST, tiny bit of fluff

Part Two

(Pics aren't mine but the mood board is :) )

The water pours over your head with a fury. How it’s still hot you don’t know. Hell, you don’t care. You can’t feel it anyway, every inch of you skin having gone numb an hour ago. Was it an hour? Your fingers are pruned but it only feels like it’s been seconds. It doesn’t even matter anymore. You turn the dial further to the left, not flinching when the scalding water hits your face. You only hope it burns away every last trace of him.

When you close your eyes you can feel strong hands slip around your waist. They draw across your skin, tracing every dip and curve of your hips. Thumbs massage into your skin, delicately kneading your sensitive flesh. You sag into the touch for a second, allowing yourself a moment to memorize the feeling. Your heart aches dangerously, threatening to split apart in your chest.

You slam your hand against the wall, your wrist jarring where it meets the tiles, “let me go!”

The sound tears itself from your body like a second entity, the scream perhaps a banshee living in the cavity where your heart should be rather than your own ruptured soul fighting to be released. Maybe it’s the same thing, though. Water rushes in your ears, mingling with the crushing bang of your pulse. You can feel it throb in every vein in your body, singing the same song of agony over and over again.

You scrub your hips furiously with a loofa, avoiding the bottle of pine soap on the rack at all costs. You can’t feel the scraping anymore. You lost all the feeling in your body an hour ago. Or five hours ago. Or five minutes ago. You still can’t remember. You continue to scrub at your hips. The shower continues to steam. If your eyes weren't open you would wonder if you even had any skin at all left. But they are open, and unfortunately the skin is still there.

Lips meet your shoulder blade, laying soft kisses down your spine. Now the hands reach lower, slipping down your thighs with feather light strokes. Your head finds the wall once more, supporting you when your knees buckle beneath you. The lips find the side of your neck, nipping with soft loving bites. It feels like acid against your skin. You peel your eyes open again, the taste of salt filling your mouth like sand, gritty and sharp against your tongue.

“Leave me alone,” you choke on your words, the scream mingling with tangy bile, “please!”

The sound that rips itself from you is in no way human but it doesn’t matter, you can barely hear it. Water pours into your mouth, rinsing the vomit back down your throat. Your throat feels like it's blistering. Like someone is reaching down and snipping each vocal cord one by one. You can feel the screams as they fight their way out of your body, each one a knife being shoved in your ear and down your lungs. You still can’t hear them.

“If you’re not going to come back then get out!”

Your body convulses with each word. You turn the dial again, forcing the water as hot as it can go. Maybe it can burn your skin off. At least that way it'll take the memories with it. You sink to your knees, pulling them into your chest. All you can feel are the gentle hands on your back, rubbing up and down. It lulls you, like a tiger waiting to strike, your body becoming limp before squeezing in agony.

You rake your hands down your arms violently, clawing the feeling of his touch off of your body. You’re angry at him. You don’t want to be and that makes you even more fucking angry. It wasn’t his fault what happened. He didn't want to leave. You have to keep repeating it to yourself. Every minute of every hour of every day. He didn’t want to leave you.

You curl into yourself tighter, threading your hands through your hair and pulling until you feel something, “you promised. You promised me! I need you!”

You slam your hands against the floor of the shower, over and over again. You can feel the crack but you keep going. You can’t feel nearly as much as you want to. As you need to. You need it to hurt more. Your stomach heaves again and you can smell the acid more than you can taste it. Fingers rake softly through your hair.

“Come back, Eli. Please! I’ll do anything.”

Hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a strong chest. You choke on the sobs as they come, not fighting it anymore. Not physically, at least.

“This is cruel, Elijah!”

“Darling it’s me,” Kol’s voice is strained and tired, “It’s Kol. I’ve got you.”

You can feel more of him when he speaks. Not just the traces of touch but all of him. Every part of him is wrapped around you, holding you on his lap. His arms cage you in tight. You’re clinging to his arms, your nails digging in hard. Everywhere that your skin meets his you can feel yourself shaking. The water pouring over you is now ice cold. How long have you been here?

“Kol,” your voice cracks sharply, ripping a pain that you cling to down your throat, “I- when did you come in?”

Your senses flood back to you slowly, like molasses, creeping over you with sticky disdain. The bathroom lights sting your eyes. Your hands feel broken, if not close to it. Your throat to your eardrums feel raw. It all hits you at once, in full force, like a punch to the chest. You cough hard when the wind is knocked from your lungs.

Kol’s hand smooths up and down your back carefully but he’s not the one who speaks, “we’ve been here the whole time, love. We couldn't leave you.”

Klaus isn’t in the shower with you and Kol but he’s as close as he can be, kneeling on the floor next to the base. His eyes are red, dark circles laced below them. Your heart cracks more at the look on his face. You shiver as the water continues to pour over you, mixing with the tears pouring down your face. You can feel each one as they trace over your skin and sink down the drain.

“Let’s get you out of here, darling,” Kol scoops you closer to his chest while Klaus turns the shower off.

The silence left in the wake of the water is overwhelming. It’s too quiet. You can hear all the space not being taken up. There are no footsteps anywhere else in the house. No doors opening and closing, no muffled voices, no noise whatsoever. There are only three people in a space that was supposed to always have four and it fucking hurts. It feels like your soul is trying to fill every space he isn't in by tearing itself apart. The problem is there isn’t enough of you to do that. He took his part of your soul with him.

Kol passes you to Klaus who wraps you in a towel that still smells too much like pine for your liking. It wraps around you completely, clinging to your raw skin and melding into your bones. Your chest screams with every breath of Elijah that you take. You just want it to stop. You want it all to stop. You can’t breathe but you can’t stop at the same time. Every part of your body screams in agony.

“I- I can’t,” you cling to Klaus with everything you have, digging into his shoulders and drawing blood, “it won’t stop. Why won’t it stop? I- I can’t do this! It hurts Klaus!”

He wraps his arms around you as tight as he can, pressing his forehead against yours. He rocks you gently back and forth. Warm droplets hit your burning skin, mixing with your own. You lose track of which tears are yours and which are his.

“I know love, I know. Us too, we can feel it all,” he lays his lips against your forehead, pulling more strangled sobs from your chest, “everything you feel, we feel it too. I wish I could take it away, my love. I would do anything to make it stop for you. We’re doing everything we can to bring him back to us. You have to trust us.”

Kol’s hands find their way back to your back when he steps out of the shower, his lips soft on your shoulder.

“You need to sleep, darling. Elijah would want you to rest.”

The thought of sleeping makes you nauseous. Everytime you close your eyes all you see is him. It’s almost unbearable. Almost. Part of you clings to him while you still can. Holding tight to his memory before his face begins to warp and his voice fades. It already is starting to fade, sounding a little different each night. It's agonizing, like losing him twice.

Klaus squeezes you tighter, nuzzling his face against your head. Kol rubs his hands down your back, soothing your burning skin. Together they calm you enough to slow your sobs. They can’t make the tears stop completely but they manage to stop the panic attack you've been having for the past few hours. You can feel the spots Elijah should be taking up with painful accuracy. You have to push yourself to focus on the two Mikaelson’s you have.

“I can’t,” even as you say it you can feel yourself fading out, as if the mere mention of sleep reminds your bones of how exhausted they were, “I can’t see Eli. I can’t keep losing him every night.”

“We’ll get him back, darling. We will not stop until we get him back, but you have to rest for us,” Kol’s voice is rough but determined.

Your chest aches, each beat of your heart a reminder that his is still. For days all you’ve been doing is thinking about Elijah. Every agonizing moment spent thinking of ways to bring him back. You know it can be done. Scratch that, it has to be done. If he doesn’t come back you don’t know what will happen to you. You have to trust them.

Your words are too quiet, “do you promise Eli will come back?”

“I promise.”

Both of your Mikaelson's speak together but you swear you hear the third, whispering alongside them. For just a moment you feel almost whole again.

[joaquinwhorres]

Corinne has a close call with danger and Gideon becomes overly overprotective which confuses/angers Corinne, provoking an unexpected confession from Gideon about how he feels towards her. He sort of blurts it out.

Honestly I think you have like a window into my drafts or something, because even though this drabble took like 50 years to come out, your request is actually something I'd already been toying with as a potential part of the story. Also this may not be what you meant when you said "danger" buuuuuuuut here we are.

Corinne stepped out of the cramped and musty shop, tucking her purchases into her bag before proceeding down the dark and winding street. Despite the fact that she had spent a good portion of her childhood walking this alley, hand clasped in her mother's, she never felt fully at ease here. Perhaps it was the fact that her mother had always urged her to Marche plus vite! along these uneven and jagged cobblestones or her more acute awareness of the kind of things and people involved in business transactions here. Either way, there was a distinct briskness to her step, a purpose that propelled her back towards Diagon Alley.

"Corinne Berenger?"

While the tinge of fake surprise lacing his words might have been believable coming from someone else, instead the way he said her name felt almost like a taunt, a tease...a dare. As if he was certain she'd just continue on her way instead of turning around to face another person she'd been happy to leave behind at Hogwarts.

Corinne turned around slowly, an obviously insincere smile already pulling the corners of her mouth taut. "Mulciber."

He was smirking back at her, walking towards her shoulder to shoulder with a man who looked closer in age to Bellatrix than either of them.

"What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?" Mulciber asked, a sharp dark eyebrow raised at her.

"What you should be doing and minding my own business," Corinne responded, her voice light even as her eyes narrowed at him.

His smirk widened, shifting into an unpleasant smile as if she'd just told him a joke. He looked over to the man standing next to him conspiratorially. "She always did have a bite."

"As all serpents should." The man's voice was low and breathy, reminiscent almost of a hiss.

Despite the prickling feeling climbing up the back of Corinne's neck from the way his dark eyes seemed to stare into her, she rolled her eyes.

"Have you met, Antonin Dolohov before? He's done some...business with your father."

This seemed to pique the interest of Dolohov whose gaze took on a more appraising quality. "You're Lycus Berenger's girl?"

"Lycus Berenger is my father. I'm my own," Corinne retorted, her voice turning sharp.

Dolohov smiled indulgently. "These are times you wouldn't want to find yourself on your own in," he said. "A good lineage and pretty face aren't enough anymore."

"Speaking from experience, Dolohov?"

Corinne closed her eyes, breathing an exasperated breath out through her nose. Of course.

Gideon Prewett strode up behind Dolohov and Mulciber, jaw set and eyes blazing. He circled the two, coming to stand next to Corinne who had half a mind to take this as her cue to just turn around and leave. But if she left Gideon here with these two, they would kill him. And nobody in Knockturn Alley would even blink an eye.

"Lost, Prewett?" Mulciber asked, his voice acidic. "Blood traitors don't belong back here."

Corinne watched as Gideon's shoulders tensed, his hand dipping into his pocket.

"Unfortunately, this one does," Corinne said, smoothly. "He's on a court errand."

"Oh," a grin overtook Mulciber's face again, making Corinne's gut twist. "Lucius mentioned you worked with one of the Prewett boys. I didn't realize you two were friendly, though."

"We're not," she said with a roll of her eyes. "He's nosy and thought he saw a chance at being noble, and I'm not about to explain to my boss how sending us on a simple retrieval task ended up with my co-worker dead."

Mulciber looked between Corinne with her arms folded and a bored look on her face, and Gideon who was glaring darkly at him, hand still in his pocket. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You should be careful of the company you keep. Even if you are just coworkers, people may get the wrong idea of where your loyalties lie."

"My loyalties lie with myself. Not every Slytherin wants to be banded or branded property," she said coolly, her eyes drifting to the bit of red ink peeking out from under his sleeve.

Dolohov stepped forward in the next instant, and it took everything in Corinne for her to stay where she was and straighten her spine. Next to her Gideon stepped closer, his wand now out. Mulciber's was too, pointing straight at Gideon. "You would do well to learn the difference between a bite and a lack of respect," Dolohov hissed. "If you're not careful you could find yourself in more trouble than you're prepared for."

Mulciber sidled up to Dolohov's side, his wand still lazily pointed at Gideon. "I could teach her a thing or two about respect. Help her realized why it's better to be banded to our side," he drawled, his eyes lingering on Corinne as her lip curled in disgust "I may even get her to beg me for the lesson again."

Before she could so much as open her mouth to tell him that the only thing she'd beg for right now as for him to shut the fuck up, Gideon pushed himself in front of her, wand raised to Mulciber's throat. "If you touch her, it'll be the last thing you do," he snarled.

Mulciber smirked, his eyes narrowing at the red head. "You wouldn't even be able to mutter the spell before I--"

A flash of orange light zipped out of Gideon's wand as Mulciber dropped his and clutched at his face. The skin there began to puff up, as if it were boiling under the surface, swelling and reddening until he was barely recognizable under the huge welts.

Indigo light erupted from Dolohov's wand which Gideon waved away, causing a nearby jar of various creatures' eyeballs to shatter.

Next to them, a shop door flew open, banging against the front of the building. "HEY," the old witch shouted, her voice gravelly but strong as she towered within her door frame. Her hair was a wild main of grey curls, and while she had one lazy eye, the other looked so shrewdly at the four of them, Corinne was certain the witch could dispatch of each of them quite readily.

"Not in front of my shop," she growled, pointing with her wand down the alley. "Take it down to Eustace Crotchett's place."

Dolohov and Gideon both carefully lowered their wands, eyes on the other's movements, as they returned to their respective companions. Dolohov's eyes landed on Corinne with a vehemence she did not care for nor deserve.

"You may be under the Black Family's protection but there's only so much that even they can protect you from protect you from, Miss Berenger," he spat, takin hold of Mulciber's upper arm and turning to go back the way they came.

The witch at the door nodded, and let the door to her shop slam closed.

Gideon turned to Corinne. "Are you alright?"

Corinne let a frustrated sigh and spun on her heel, heading as quickly as she dared to Diagon Alley. Behind her, Gideon's quick and heavy footsteps thumped against the pavement.

"I'll take that as a yes, although a thank you might also be nice," he said, falling into step with her. Her head whipped towards him as she glared at him.

"I'll thank you when Gringotts starts handing out free Galleons," she snapped, turning the corner. Gideon still followed.

"What are you even doing back here on your own?" he asked.

"I'm a fully competent witch, and I can shop where I please," Corinne answered, dodging a drunk wizard stumbling from the pub at two in the afternoon. "Besides, if either one of us is out of place it's you. What could you possibly be doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"It doesn't matter," Gideon dismissed, and Corinne set her jaw. "I don't have a tendency to stumble into dangerous situations."

"No, you dive in headlong or create them," Corinne sniped with a sweet and altogether false smile.

"Create them?" She could hear the tension in his voice now, the frustration boiling up, and she felt oddly satisfied with herself.

"I said what I said." Corinne stopped just inside of the tunneling arch-way that led to Diagon Alley. She spun to face him, crossing her arms. "I had everything under control until you shoved yourself in."

Gideon scoffed. "Under control. It certainly seemed like you had everything under control while they were threatening you."

"People like them always threaten people they can't control," Corinne waved off with a hand. "But it doesn't change the fact that you had no right to involve yourself in that situation. It didn't concern you."

"What you expected me to just walk on by and ignore the way he was looking at you while he spoke to you like that?"

"Yes!" Corinne, yelled. "That's exactly what I expected, because it's exactly what you should have done. I don't understand your incessant need to insert yourself into my business."

"It's because I care about you!" Gideon shouted before catching himself and shaking his head. "I care about you a lot," he said in a slightly calmer voice. "More than a co-worker should. More than even friends should."

"That still doesn't give you an excuse for being an overprotective asshole," Corinne shot back.

"I'm not making excuses! I--" Gideon cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying to tell you something here, Corinne."

"You're telling me you care about me; I heard you. But I care about you too, and you didn't see making an ass out of myself over it. I was going to get us both out of there in one piece, before you went and tried to muck it all up."

He didn't say anything, instead staring at her with his brow slightly furrowed.

"What?" she snapped.

"We're just blowing past the fact that we both admitted that we care about each other?" he asked.

Corinne shrugged, folding her arms across her chest somewhat indignantly. "I planned to circle back after you apologized."

Gideon sighed, stepping closer to her. "I'm sorry if I overreacted," he apologized, his voice lower and slower than it had been.

Corinne sniffed. "You did."

"And I'm sorry I made you feel disrespected--like I didn't trust you to handle the situation."

The apology seemed genuine perhaps because he had not apologized for his actions at all, only their affects. It was rather obvious that he was not sorry for intervening at all, and she had to admit she rather admired the way he navigated the apology. It was quite Slytherin of him.

"I accept your apology," Corinne nodded curtly, and Gideon nodded back, his eyes never leaving hers. A tense quiet settled over the two of them as they stared at each other in the dimly lit archway, the bright light of Diagon Alley shining through the archway to fall across Gideon's face, illuminating his bright green eyes. She doubted the lanterns behind Gideon in Knockturn Alley did much to light up her features.

Gideon wet his lips, finally finding his voice again. "Circling back?"

"Yes, of course," Corinne nodded, taking the two quick steps over to him before claiming his lips as her own, pressing a searing kiss to them.