#and that's a good distracting from the plague lmao

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: wise likes you, and just about everyone on sixth street knows. ❀ ˎˊ- wise x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 1.3k ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc wise idk im still lvl 26 okay ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: thanks you stellaronhvnters for plaguing my mind w wise. anywho this my mini break from the series LMAO wise. i love you king.

Wise can hardly focus, and for once, it isn’t because of you.

Not that he minds being distracted by you - quite the opposite. He could spend hours just watching you talk and getting lost in your eyes, occasionally nodding or agreeing with whatever you were talking about the day. He liked hearing your voice; it was soothing like a cool river, especially after a grueling day.

But this time, it’s him who’s being stared at, and to his disappointment, the one burning holes into him isn’t you (although he severely doubts he could handle it if it were to be you).

No, instead, General Chop stares at him from the corner of his eye as he prepares other customers’ orders, a hint of knowing in his usual smile. Wise can see the excitement in the chef’s eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.

“Wise?”

He seizes up, bumping his chopsticks. He’s quick to fix himself as you shoot him a nervous, but questioning smile.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he says smoothly (at least he hopes it’s smooth, he still doesn’t know how to talk to pretty people), eager to move past his minor mishap.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you laugh. “I was just saying that you have a little something on your face.”

Wise feels his cheeks warm. “Oh, really? Thanks for telling me.”

He moves to grab some napkins, but you beat him to it. Wise swears something in him malfunctions when he turns and suddenly you’re all too close to him, your hand reached out to clean up his face.

“Wha- Wait, what’re you-” he sputters, nearly falling off his stool as he lurches back.

“Hey, stand still,” you scold, your slight annoyance only serving to speed up his heart rate because who in the world said it was okay for you to be this cute.

At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming from his head, with how fuzzy his mind feels. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but just sit there, dazed as you dab obliviously at the corner of his lip.

As you pull away, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, mentally thanking whatever deities reigned above that he hadn’t fainted on the spot. That would’ve been embarrassing; Belle would never let him live it down.

His face feels cooler - hopefully it isn’t so red anymore. By the time he’s able to think coherently again, you’ve started chatting again. Wise nods along (he has no idea what you’re talking about), and goes to slurp up some of his noodles when he sees General Chop again.

The chef, obviously holding back a cackle, grins encouragingly at him and flashes him a thumbs up in support. Wise internally groans. Would it be a bad idea if he drowned himself in his noodles right now?

And this isn’t the first time either - Wise is pretty sure the entirety of Sixth Street is aware of his… ugh, crush on you (saying it out loud both hurts him and makes him feel warm inside. Which is a terrible feeling. He wants to throw up).

Just last week, he’d seen you at the Coff Café, and Tin Man, being both a gracious cafe owner and a huge romantic, had decided that that day was a good day to have a 50% off deal specifically for pairs if they bought two or more items.

Wise hadn’t questioned it at first, since it was normal for shops to occasionally hold discounts like these to attract more customers. Even he was guilty of it, being a business co-owner himself.

But then you had to call him out in the line, excitedly waving him over as you were at the cashier ordering. Tin Man was behind you, a smile in his eyes that Wise wasn’t sure he liked, but he begrudgingly made his way over.

He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled as you explained the discount to him. They reminded him of the stars he’d see at twilight, when he couldn’t sleep and would climb to the roof just to watch New Eridu’s nightlife.

Naturally, he had accepted your offer of buying him a free drink (no one refuses free food), but he quickly learned to regret it when he saw the mischievous gleam in Tin Man’s artificial eyes.

He still gets flustered thinking of it now - the heart-shaped whipped cream and the whisper of “good luck” haunts him, especially when he thinks about how confused you were at the impromptu decoration.

The amount of times he’s caught his neighbors playing matchmaker, he can’t count on both hands - and that’s not including what Belle has tried. It’d be funny if it wasn’t also incredibly humiliating.

“Master, if you were planning on drifting off, perhaps you should’ve stayed home to take a nap.”

Wise sighs. “Be quiet, Fairy. I’m in public.”

“What?” you blink. Wise blinks back before realizing he’d been a little too loud.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” he chuckles awkwardly, hands fiddling with each other - it’s a nervous habit of his. You smile understandingly.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, pushing your bowl towards General Chop to signify you were done with it. “You’ve been out of it today, Wise. Something on your mind?”

You, Wise wants to say, but he doesn’t feel like embarrassing himself further. “I guess I’m just tired. Long day today.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, the sound music to his ears. You hop off the stool after sliding your share of the payment to General Chop. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

Wise’s heart does a little tap dance at your offer, but he manages to keep his cool. He hastily pays General Chop before eagerly joining you in your short walk to Random Play.

“Bro!” Belle greets him enthusiastically as he opens the door. Her eyes light up when she sees you, and she raises her eyebrows suggestively at her brother. Wise shoots her a glare when you aren’t looking. “[Name], too? How was your da- mmghhifjk-”

Wise smiles innocently as he slaps a hand over Belle’s mouth. You can’t help but laugh at the two, and Wise admires the crinkle the corners of your eyes.

“Ignore her,” he says nonchalantly, wrinkling his nose as Belle licks his hand like the little rat she is. “Do you want to come in, or…?”

“No, I shouldn’t.” You wave your hands bashfully. “It’s getting late, so I should be getting back home.”

Wise nods in understanding. Belle pries herself free and he wipes his spit-covered hand on her sleeve, ignoring her sputters and protests (she chose this path. She will reap its consequences).

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

You nod, shifting your feet. “I guess it is.”

Wise’s brows furrow at your behavior - what’s on your mind. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long before his inquiry is answered.

You take a step forward, and Wise feels your arms loop around him in a tight hug. Suddenly, his senses are elevated, and it’s almost as if everything is enhanced tenfold. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sound of your breath, your hair tickling his face and the heat that radiates off of your body against him.

“I really enjoyed today,” you say, stepping back with a smile that could rival an angel’s. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Wise tries to formulate a response, but all that comes out is a squeak like a dying balloon. God, if his face was red before, it must be flaming now. You giggle at his response, before you wave both him and Belle goodbye and leave for your home.

It takes a good five minutes before he can speak again.

“Hey sis?”

Belle sounds as shocked as him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

He hears his sister sigh.

“Wise, you’re helpless, you know that?” she shakes her head exasperatingly. “And just when you finally made progress too.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[etanow]

Do you have any showtime monster labs headcanons? 👉🏻👈🏻☺️

OH BOY DO I HEHEHEHE

Caine was the last to realize Pomni was in his residency (He was,, otherwise preoccupied), and was absolutely flabbergasted that Jax did such a thing as raising the dead. Caine has a strict policy on not letting humans(dead or alive) that far down in the C&A facility unaccompanied considering how many monsters reside there.It was one of the few times anyone had seen him properly upset at something Jax had done. Pomni was rightfully freaked the fuck out at a giant pair of floating teeth and eyes saying he's a long-forgotten God, needless to say, their first introductions were confusing on both ends LOL

Understandably, Pomni has a LOT of issues with herself appearance-wise. She avoided mirrors for weeks, and tried her best to keep distant from the others. Caine didn't walk on eggshells around her like the others did as she adjusted and that was something she appreciated, at least provided a little sense of normalcy. He was easy to talk to and remembered EVERY little detail.

Caine can change his form at will, but Pomni prefers his big ol' toothy head because he said he was most comfortable appearing that way.

Everyone has their own unique smells; Zooble smells like brimstone, musk, and campfire, Jax always smells like hand sanitizer and chemicals that make your nose burn, Kinger like old earth and soil, Ragatha smells comforting like your favorite old plushie, and Gangle didn't have much but she liked occasionally putting perfume on her ribbons. But Pomni always has a hint of the smell of death following her. She tried Gangle's perfumes and all sorts of scented soaps but nothing could truly mask or make it go away. It was only when Caine gifted her a bouquet of flowers that the smell was almost forgotten. Hell, maybe the plague doctors with their floral and herb-filled masks were on to something. Since then, Caine often surprised Pomni with fresh flowers, herbs, and plants to the point of her shelves overflowing with vases and pots of flowers in all states. Eventually, she gets to pressing flowers between books as a memento for every flower he's given her.

.

Pomni sometimes needs blood transfusions as her body doesn't make blood anymore but still needs it- she hates needles. Caine and Ragatha alternate sitting with her during it since it can take a few hours at a time and distract her with books or idle chatter until it's done. Caine is an amazing storyteller, he's existed a long time as both a noncorporeal and corporeal being and has countless stories of battles and moments long lost to time. He hasn't really had anyone to share these stories with, and the only other being who was around during all of it, well he doesn't get the chance to talk with him much these days...

Ragatha and Pomni got together first, they spent a lot more time together in the beginning since Caine only popped in once or twice a week usually. He started hanging around longer after a while and I'm getting sidetracked now I'm just imagining Pomni bursting into Ragatha's room sobbing with a "I'M SO SORRY I JUST KISSED CAINE PLEASE FORGIVE ME-" And Ragatha doesn't miss a beat, totally unphased and unbothered, "Ooh nice! Was he any good?" And Pomni's just standing there like "Wait What"

They are all very bad at communication lmao but they're TRYING THEIR BEST OKAY

Caine is not used to the concept of resting, meanwhile, pretty much all Pomni does in her free time most days is nap or laze around- it took Caine a while to not see it as a waste of time and now loves it when Pomni rests her head in his lap. He likes playing with her hair and watching her sleep peacefully.

Pomni keeps her gloves on often because she doesn't like the sight of her skeletal fingers but absolutely MELTS with palm and backhand kisses.

Caine is very touchy-feely, he rubs backs when talking idly or loops arms together, floats a little closer, and matches their pace when walking together (even imitates walking itself with little bobs in time with whoever he's walking with). On some bad joint days, Pomni has a bit of a limp from her exposed bone leg and Pomni finds it absolutely hilarious when Caine unintentionally matches that movement.

Pomni misses facebook memes a lot :(

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 6.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, jungkook is a mess, swearing

☆word count: 4.4k

☆a/n: this can almost count as a full chapter lmao oop, I hope you enjoy reading <3

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook is excited. He hasn’t had his friends over in forever, and he and Jimin are already planning to get plastered even though Sera said they shouldn’t.

He’s been needing it, if only so that he can get you off his mind. So that he can forget how awkward things were this week, how you both avoided each other like the plague as if nothing truly ever happened between the two of you.

It’s been making him feel more bitter than he’d care to admit, so getting plastered has been sounding like heaven since Jimin suggested it. Or maybe Jungkook’s true goal is just to get Jimin drunk, if only so that he stops teasing him about you.

About that evening you watched anime with them, and Jungkook couldn’t resist but lean against you, far too close for comfort.

“Is she going to be there?” Jimin says for the thousandth time, wiggling his eyebrows.

They are currently setting up the living room, organizing all the alcohol they got. Sera is lounging on the couch, and she raises her head to look at them.

“Is who going to be there?” she asks.

“Tae’s sister,” Jimin explains, and then slides his gaze back to Jungkook. “They were pretty cosy-”

Jungkook interrupts Jimin’s teasing by punching him in the shoulder, clearly hard enough to hurt as Jimin immediately winces, massaging the spot he hit.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles. “We’re just roommates.”

“Oh my God, they were roommates,” Sera imitates from the couch, just like the Vine from years ago.

“Exactly my point,” Jimin says, mischievous smirk on display.

“You know I’ll kill you?” Jungkook says, slightly shaking his head as he clenches his jaw.

Jimin laughs, plopping down on the couch next to Sera. “That’s if Tae doesn’t get to you first.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore the comment this time around. It helps that his phone starts ringing with a call from Lisa incoming. He picks up to learn that she’s outside with Eunwoo and Jaehyun, and Jungkook walks over to the door, opening up for his friends.

Lisa smiles shyly as she meets his gaze, and Jungkook engulfs her in a quick hug before dapping up the two guys. As he follows his friends back to the living room once they’ve ridden themselves of their coats and boots, Jungkook glances towards the bend in the hallway, almost imagining you appearing.

But you’re not here at all. He heard you leave over an hour ago, while he was gaming in his room waiting for Jimin and Sera to show up with the alcohol.

He wonders where you went. If there’s a party on campus that you’re gracing with your presence right now, and somehow his stomach twists at the thought. He pushes it to the far back of his mind, focusing on drinking now that it is time to do so.

As he gets slowly tipsier with every passing sip, Jungkook can’t help but notice how Lisa is bolder than she usually is. Sitting closer, being touchier, and Jungkook would push her away if it wasn’t for the way Jimin is looking at them with narrowed eyes, suspicion painted on his features. 

Lisa could be a good distraction, Jungkook reckons. Not for himself - he wouldn’t have sex with her at all as she’s part of the friend group, and he’d hate to make things awkward. But she could be a good distraction for Jimin’s incessant teasing, so Jungkook seizes the opportunity, lying down with his head on her lap as the boys - Mingyu has now also arrived - are playing Smash on the TV. 

Jungkook feels the way Lisa stiffens for a few seconds, before relaxing as he offers her a quick smile. She melts then, and she starts playing with his hair, which feels way too good in his tipsy - or maybe drunk now? - state.

He sits up when it’s his turn to play, coincidentally grabbing a new beer for himself. He’s just barely won the game when the front door opens, a gush of cold air rushing in, and then you appear, cheeks rosy from the late winter outside.

The sounds fade around Jungkook as he meets your gaze, and his heart comes to a halt in his chest as a frown appears on your face. He hates the sight of it, and he’s too drunk to tell himself it’s not his job to take care of it, so he yells, “Peach!” at the top of his lungs.

He feels everyone turning towards him, and he quickly jumps up to his feet, wobbling slightly as he makes his way towards you.

“It’s freezing,” he says, closing the door. 

You meet his gaze, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re drunk.”

He can’t help himself. He flicks your nose, if only so that your frown dissolves. “Astute.”

You glance towards the living room, but Jungkook doesn’t look away from you. You’re a prison to his gaze after all.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth.

He leans against the door as you meet his gaze again. “Oh peach, sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Damn him and his drunk brain, because why the fuck would he say that? 

He hides it behind a grin, and then escapes by walking back to the living room, feeling your eyes boring into his back on the way.

Sera greets you, but Jungkook forces himself to listen to the conversation around him, laughing when everybody does. It’s a little forced, but it goes unnoticed, and the next time he glances towards the door, you have disappeared.

“I want to play with your hair again,” Lisa says in his ear, startling him. 

Sera gets up to head to the kitchen, and Jungkook glances at Lisa. “Huh?”

She pouts, her doe eyes innocent. “Like earlier?”

Right. He’s too drunk to refuse the offer, and he lies down, head in her lap, as she starts running gentle fingers through his hair once more. It doesn’t last too long - the second you emerge from the kitchen after Sera’s return, Jungkook pushes himself up, waving you over.

“Come here!” He narrows his gaze as his eyes drop to the bowl in your hands. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my shit,” he complains, and he gives Lisa the controller he was holding before standing up to walk towards you.

He tries to grab the bowl, but you turn away, offering your back to him. “Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook knows his eyebrows are almost touching over his eyes as he says, “No.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, which forces you far too close to his body for comfort. He feels the immediate reaction, his ears slowly turning red, and he covers it up by stealing the bowl from your hands. You try to reach for it, but you’re too small, and he whoops in victory.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” he says, looking down to meet your gaze.

Your face is so close he believes he feels your breath on his skin, and his blood heats up, turning to magma in his veins.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

Fuck you’re so pretty. It’s all he can think of, and he smiles, winking at you. 

“Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

You clench your jaw. “Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

“Please, Jungkook,” you say a few seconds after he’s met your gaze again.

Something’s wrong. He feels it in his bones, and he frowns, lowering the arm that was holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

“I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

Hearing that you went on a date does something incredibly ugly to him, and Jungkook takes a step back, handing you the bowl so that he can fold his arms on his chest. “Who did you go on a date with?”

Your answer comes far too quick for it to be normal. “It’s none of your business.”

It dawns on him that he probably already knows, and the sour feeling turns bitter. “Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

“Jungkook,” you firmly say. “It’s none of your business.”

The spike of anger and jealousy forces Jungkook to clench his fists. “He’s an asshole.” He lets out. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He isn’t, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You glance towards the living room, and Jungkook looks just in time to see everyone turning their head away from you two. 

The last thing Jungkook wants is for you to go to your room. Hell, he’d go with you if only to make sure you’re okay, truly okay, yet he can’t really do that, can he? So instead, he suggests, “Why don’t you stay with us? To cheer you up?”

You meet his gaze, scanning his features for a few seconds. Jungkook hopes you can’t hear his heart beating out of his chest, settling only when you let out, “Okay.” You pause, sighing, and then add, “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you, though he has to admit he’s relieved by your teasing tone. It’s much more like the Y/n he knows, and it stays that way for a little while as you move to the living room, and he sits right next to you.

Almost close enough to touch, but not quite touching. He tells himself it’s just to keep a safe distance, to make sure Jimin doesn’t say anything, yet when you joke about the food being too spicy, and Jungkook says, “We just have to build up your tolerance”, his hand lands on your thigh, like your thigh was the metal, and his palm the magnet.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but when you widen your gaze, looking like a startled deer, his mind zeroes in on the spot where he’s touching you, and he immediately pulls his hand away, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

And then someone nudges him in the back, and he glances over his shoulder for half a second, just long enough to notice Jimin looking at him, and Jungkook knows he fucked up. He fucked up bad, so he moves away from you, forcing himself to lie back down with his head in Lisa’s lap.

It hurts you. He can tell that it does from the way you stiffen, barely even eating anymore, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than right here. But you have to understand - he’s doing this for your good. Both his and yours, to make sure Jimin doesn’t tell Taehyung anything.

It lasts for a little while, you staring at the TV while Lisa runs her hand through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly - does she notice he’s tensed too? But then Jaehyun asks if you want to drink something, and all the anger and jealousy Jungkook felt earlier when you mentioned your date bursts out of him.

“Careful, Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

He’s been drinking more. Way too much, if he’s honest, and the words come out slurred. He’s too far gone to care, and he ignores what Jaehyun answers to focus on the TV, on the beer next to him and on Lisa’s fingers in his hair. 

He wants her to stop. He wants all of them to go, to leave you two alone, but instead Lisa leans down to whisper in his ear.

“What happened between you and Tae’s sister?”

The question hits too deep. Nothing happened, he should answer. Yet everything did. Everything fucking happened and it shouldn’t have because now he wants you, always. Can’t fucking stop thinking about you, and it’s driving him crazy.

He doesn’t answer Lisa’s question. Instead, he sits up to take a long sip of his beer, and that is answer enough. Indeed, Lisa sighs dramatically next to him before grabbing her own drink. 

After that, Jungkook just drinks, which gets him far too drunk. He knows he should stop, but you’re still right there next to him, way too close for comfort yet way too far, and his mind is growing dizzy. 

It gets worse when you get up to walk to the kitchen after you’ve done shots, Lisa following behind you. Jungkook knows he has to follow, yet he’s drunk, and getting up is a struggle, but he eventually manages to push up to his feet.

He walks to the kitchen, stopping right outside as he catches sight of Lisa’s back, and you standing in front of her. 

“Peaaaach,” he yells, a lot louder than he first intended to. He plays it off by leaning against the door frame as you meet his gaze over Lisa’s shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns. “Just talking.”

“Well then,” he lets out, cocking an eyebrow. “Why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

He wonders if he sounds as annoyed as he feels. He must, because Lisa frowns before glancing at you as you stifle a laugh. She sighs, shrugging, and then she’s walking towards Jungkook. He steps aside to let her leave, offering her a tight-lipped smile on the way.

Once she’s out and heading back towards the living room, Jungkook walks in, moving towards you.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he loses his balance for a few seconds, catching himself as he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

“You want water?” you offer, and it warms Jungkook’s heart.

Because of course you would take care of him. Which, he reckons, is another reason why he shouldn’t stop drinking, because his heart shouldn’t warm in his chest when it comes to you.

“Water?” He shakes his head. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and he steps closer to you, looking down at you where you’re standing in front of him, your pretty face tilted up to hold his gaze. You’re blocking the way to the fridge, and he clenches his jaw momentarily.

“Move.”

“Drink water first,” you insist, standing your ground.

You’re too pretty. Too addictive, and his hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. You shriek, pushing on his chest, but he doesn’t let go.

“Let me get a beer,” he says, and he drops his head to whisper in your ear next. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

But you’re so close, the lingering smell of your perfume inebriating, and Jungkook doesn’t want to let go of you... Doesn’t think he’d regret kissing you, holding you, though he knows that might just be drunk thoughts.

Sober him would hate himself.

“Listen,” you whisper, and you fall silent as he ghosts his lips on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

He does it again, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him better access, a clear sign that you want it just as much as he does.

Or so he likes to tell himself.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs, his blood like electricity in his veins. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

It’s the plea in your voice. It undoes him, reminds him of your brother, of every little reason why he shouldn’t be doing this right now. He steps away, horror itching in his heart.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

He stumbles to a cupboard, grabbing a glass that he then fills at the sink. He drinks it in one go, and then refills it, leaning against the counter to sip on it.

“What was that?” you ask as he meets your gaze.

He doesn’t know. He’s just insane - thoroughly, completely insane, and his body seems to think you’re the cure to the madness. 

He sighs, sucking on his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that.” You sound mad, and Jungkook’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Especially not when there are people around.”

He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek. “Sorry.”

Your features fall, eyes softening. “It’s okay,” you reassure, though he’s not sure you mean it. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He doesn’t like the sudden softness in your voice, the way it makes him want to cross the distance between you and kiss you dumb. So he does what he knows best, smirking lazily. “Liked it?”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath that makes Jungkook think you’re probably about to curse him and his entire bloodline. Instead, your eyelids flutter open, and he doesn’t miss the spark of mischief hiding in your pupils.

“So what if I did?”

Yup. He’s insane. He’s mad, crazy, a fool. All the synonyms in the dictionary are not enough to describe the insanity crawling in his blood, in his heart.

“Pretend, peach,” he forces himself to say. “What would your brother say?”

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say.

Maybe he needed the reminder. Because Jungkook feels the insanity slip away, clearing his mind. 

“Oh,” he lets out, chuckling. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says, meaning how he held you earlier. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, smiling softly. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

He pouts. “Ever?”

You roll your eyes, slightly shaking your head. “Stop. Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He wants to answer, wants to tease you more, but he doesn’t have time to as Jimin appears in the doorway, interrupting the moment. It pisses Jungkook off, and maybe that’s why he returns to drinking. Maybe that’s why the second everyone leaves, he wants you so bad he thinks he’s about to say fuck it.

Fuck what Taehyung would think.

“I told you,” you say to Jimin as he and his girlfriend get ready to leave. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, offense swirling through him. He raises a finger and says, “I’ll have you know.” He has to pause as everything spins around him, and he shuts his eyes. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and Jungkook glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

No. Jungkook doesn’t want to go to bed. He wants you, and he wants Lisa to fucking leave him alone. 

Why is he even thinking of her right now? You might be right - he thinks he’ll throw up before falling asleep.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that.”

The words are out before he can stop them, and Sera widens her gaze. “What?”

Jungkook frowns as he looks at you. Because you’re the answer to the question, but he can’t say that, right?

“I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin teases before bursting out laughing.

As he laughs, Jimin pushes Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook was already unsteady, and he loses his balance, falling against the wall. He lets out a surprised, “Oh shit!”, and a second later, he collapses, soon followed by Jimin.

They’re laughing, the kind of laughter only alcohol can bring forth, so loud Jungkook can barely hear as you and Sera talk. The only thing he hears is you saying that Taehyung can hardly count as a good influence, which is the most accurate thing he’s ever heard you say.

“He’s not,” Jungkook agrees, thinking about how Taehyung forbade him to be with you. “Your brother is an asshole.” He pauses, and then bursts out laughing again. You don’t say anything, so Jungkook adds, “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hands motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He frowns, sitting up to lean against the wall as Jimin does so too. Sera helps Jimin up, while Jungkook just keeps staring at you.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don't help.”

You smirk. “Alright, let’s see you try.”

Fuck. He glances towards your door, and then looks at you again. “Too far.”

You look victorious, your smirk stretching into a smile. “Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?”

You groan, rolling your eyes, but you step closer to him. Jungkook tilts his head back so that he can keep looking at you as you say, “We should have asked your friends…” You glance towards Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

Jungkook lets you grab his hands. “Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in.”

You help him stand, and though it’s a struggle, Jungkook is soon up. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm like you don’t want him to fall again.

“I won’t tuck you in.”

All Jungkook can think of is that you’re so, so beautiful next to him with that flush on your cheeks. He wants to touch you, to hold you, and he doesn’t have any inhibitions left. A second later, he cups your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes widen, surprise making them sparkle, and fuck, he thinks he’s about to kiss you dumb, to kiss you until he’s never said you should pretend nothing happened.

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

Jungkook blinks once, slowly, his surroundings coming back into focus. He turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. “Shit, you’re still here?”

He’s stupid. Inherently stupid, and he can’t focus on Jimin and Sera as they leave. No, the second you step away from him and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Jungkook thinks he becomes deaf. Or maybe he’s just deafened by the thunderous beats of his heart. He only comes back to reality when you step in his line of vision, Sera and Jimin now gone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook flinches as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be unto us!” You motion towards the door before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?” Jungkook bursts, only because he’s done.

He’s done being yelled at, done always being the one in the wrong because he can’t do a single fucking thing right in his life.

You cross the distance between you and him as he leans against the wall, smirking at the sight of your anger. Because that anger is something he knows, something he can deal with. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his face.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” he says as he tilts his head to the side.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook.” You shut your eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes. He plays with his piercings, his tongue then pushing on the inside of his cheek. “He won’t be. Why would he?” He blinks. “Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?”

You sigh again, your annoyance so stark he thinks he can taste it on his tongue and, damn him, it’s turning him on.

“Like we’re friends,” you say. “You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you liked when I’m touching you,” he says.

You stare at him unblinkingly. “Shut up.”

He raises his hands in defense, smirking. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

“Like what?” you ask, echoing his previous words.

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and he gives in to his desire, one finger tapping gently on your clenched fist, before slowly moving up your arm. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

It hurts. Jungkook doesn’t know why, but it does, and he feels himself growing bitter.

Feels himself needing to hurt you, too.

“See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it,” he says, and immediately hates himself for saying it as hurt flashes in your gaze. 

It disappears quickly, and you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest.

“Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered, your hand then resting flat against his beating heart.

Everything in him concentrates on that spot where you’re touching him, on the feeling of your fingers on him, of your eyes in his, and Jungkook feels himself leaning infinitesimally closer. 

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach.”

He doesn’t let you move your hand away when you try to, putting his hand over yours.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

He can’t. He really can’t let you go.

He doesn’t want to let you go.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers.

You step away, freeing your hand from underneath his. “Don’t ever tell me that again.”

He knows it’s going to happen. The look in your eyes tells him that you know it, too, despite the words said. 

“Why?”

“Just don’t.” You scoff. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-”

Jungkook grabs your face, crashing his lips on yours before you’ve finished the sentence. Because he can kiss you. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he can, and he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. Not when you reciprocate the kiss in all its intensity, pushing him back against the wall.

He hits hard, breathing out the air in his lungs. You’re quick to push your tongue in his mouth, and Jungkook wants to feel you, to taste every inch of you…

But you’re stepping away, and he can’t look at you. Not when you’re everything he’s wanted…

Everything he can’t have.

“Don’t kiss me again.” You say it like you mean it, and then you walk away. He hears your steps, and he only looks up when he hears the door of your bedroom closing behind you, putting finality into the words.

What the fuck has he done?

Read chapter 6 here!

☆☆☆☆☆

our favourite chaotic mess in all his glory lmaooo i hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think of the drabble<3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Notes:

The only thing that took so long about this is the title because fuck titles (genuinely)

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Probably would be my last (long) twilight post in a while since I've lost interest in the series for a while (give it like 3 weeks before I regain it lmao)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2294 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

A full year had passed since the Cullens returned to Forks, now acting as grownups instead of some teenager studying in Forks high school, minus Renesmee, to her dismay. Carlisle received a warm welcome back to the hospital, where he encountered new faces introduced to him since his departure.

“Good morning Doctor Cullen.” A nurse with red hair greeted politely to him, he was around his height and had brown eyes, a face that he doesn’t remember during his time there

“I’m nurse Sean, not the chief nurse but I think Eunice is getting her out now.” Sean informed him “You’ll like her I think, she’s professional as fuck.”

A girl with her chestnut hair tied up in a bun walked out of a room. At that moment, all Carlisle could think about was how captivating the woman was, everything about her screamed authority, he knew then and there that she was the chief nurse.

Time felt like it slowed down when they locked eyes, this woman has plagued over his mind. Carlisle subtly admired her face, she had eyes that matched the shade of her hair and pale pink lips that complimented her fair complexions.

“Celine Wright, chief nurse here.” Celine introduced herself with a prim and proper tone. She offered her hand in a handshake and Carlisle accepted it, feeling the warmth of her hand against the coldness of his

“Carlisle Cullen, former chief doctor here.” Carlisle introduced back, pulling his hand away from the handshake “Pleasure to meet you.”

From the stories that Carlisle has heard, Celine was 25 years old when she assumed the position and has demonstrated remarkable competence, excelling in her role for a year prior his return with unparalleled precision and skill.

But it was distracting him, she was distracting him. Despite her undeniable competence, it was her blood that proved to be the real challenge for Carlisle. The tantalizing scent of it often left Carlisle struggling to focus, forcing him to endure long stretches without breathing just to filter out the temptation.

But even after leaving work, her scent lingered in his mind, infiltrating every aspect of his life. Something as harmless as a report file with a hint of her scent could drive him to the brink of madness.

It’s been a year since Carlisle has been working with Celine, a year of extreme caution over his thirst. He was always making sure that he was fed before going to the hospital, making sure that there was always some distance between them. However, as the chief nurse, their interactions were inevitable, presenting a constant challenge to Carlisle's restraint.

It also didn’t help that Celine’s kind and caring nature was growing on him in ways that he didn’t expect that it’ll do so. Her smile became a source of motivation for him, brightening his day with a single glance. He found himself instinctively seeking her out upon arriving at work, drawn to her presence like a magnet.

Celine was growing on him, as a person, as a friend, as someone that he wishes he could pursue openly.

“She’s your blood singer and mate.” Edward concluded, having experienced a similar scenario before “You’re dealing with what I’ve dealt with when Bella was still human.”

“Great,” Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arm “Another human.”

“Carlisle won’t pressure her into something that she doesn’t want to partake herself in.” Esme assured everyone

“We would never know if he doesn’t pursue her.” Alice said, holding on from having another vision whether Celine Wright was in their future or not

“Would we rob Carlisle a chance to finally be with his mate?” Edward argued to Rosalie

“Would you rob another girl’s humanity for an uncertainty?” Rosalie asked him back; the tension was growing between the two

“Enough with the arguing.” Carlisle said, a decision set in his head

“I’ve figured out that she’s my mate. But I will not pressure her into anything.” He stated at once to everyone that was listening to him “Nor will I pursue her whatsoever. Let the future play how it has planned to be. Alice, Edward, no attempting to manipulate it to one of your visions.”

Just in time, his alarm has rung, notifying him that he has a shift to get ready for. He bids his goodbye, going to his office to get ready.

He was painfully slow, questioning whether his choice was the right one, plagued by uncertainty and the fear of denying himself a chance at happiness.

But underneath his own desires was the concern for Celine's well-being. He couldn't bear the thought of forcing her into a life she didn't want, no matter how difficult it was for him to accept the possibility of letting her go.

“Are you sure of your decision?” Esme asked him, walking into his office “Do you really want to just give up like that already?”

“She deserves a long, happy life.” Carlisle spoke softly, grabbing his briefcase with all the reports that he’s brought home “Not be damned for eternity.”

“And if she asks for a long, happy life with you, then what?” Esme asked him, making Carlisle ponder at her question. She was right, what certainty did he have that Celine wouldn’t welcome this life?

‘The risk is too high.’ He thought to himself

He left without answering her question.

It was another late-night shift that Celine accepted. Having heard another alibi from one of her co-nurses. Lying and saying that “they have some important matters to deal with,” only to see them by the bar as she drives by, drunk beyond their capabilities.

‘I have nothing to do anyways, so why not just earn more so I could leave this shitty town.’ She always used that to convince herself

In all honesty, Celine's financial status was not a factor in her decision. She had inherited a comfortable sum from when her parents died, ensuring that she was shielded from any financial struggles. But she’s heard that Doctor Cullen always took a night shift, working perfectly for their family’s set up of needing someone to be at home at all times.

What’s wrong if she was to indulge herself and the tiny crush that she had for him? After all, he wasn't married, a fact his hand had subtly conveyed to her.

“Nurse Celine, good to see you…again.” Carlisle greeted, walking in her office (which technically, is his office too) with a disposable cup of coffee “I thought your shift was over?”

“Yeah, Nurse Alex had to bail, said something along the lines of dealing with some personal stuff.” Celine answered “Made sure to give him the morning shift though, just as some sort of revenge.”

“I do not condone that behavior, but frankly, I would say that you deserve the rest.” Carlisle said, sitting next to her. It was dangerous, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“It’s a slow night.” Celine reported “Just one rush to the E.R. thinking that they were dying because of some spots they saw on their face. After doing some checking on it, it was just some questionably large pimples. Scary? Yes. But not fatal.”

“At least it has been slow so you won’t tire yourself too much.” Carlisle said, pushing the coffee near her

“Why don’t you just say to your sister that you don’t actually enjoy the coffee she makes? It just feels like a waste, giving away your coffee every time.” Celine asked, accepting the cup and drinking it

Carlisle was asked by Celine one time why he wasn’t drinking the coffee that he had, noticing that the cup was left untouched until he throws it away just after his shift. In panic, he fabricated a story, claiming that his sister Esme, who worked night shifts at her own job, often made coffee for herself and would give the extras to him.

He had offered it to her then, hoping that the coffee Esme made because she has missed the aroma of coffee was in Celine’s taste. Celine didn’t answer that time if she had enjoyed the coffee or not, but every time he would offer her the coffee, she would accept it.

This silent acceptance fueled Carlisle's hope that perhaps, in some small way, they were connecting through these shared moments over coffee.

From then, he asked Esme about the recipe and continued to make it from the comfort of his car before he walked in the hospital, using the coffee as a conversation starter, a way to engage with her, hoping to deepen their connection through these small interactions.

“You enjoy it.” Carlisle answered almost immediately. Celine looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“I mean, she always makes it at night for her work. Offers some to me, even though I don’t drink coffee, I’m just too shy to not accept it. And besides, you deserve some coffee yourself too.” Carlisle explained further, giving Celine the satisfaction of getting an answer

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Celine said, lifting the coffee and drinking some more of it “How do you even get the energy to do night shifts? Ever since you got here, you’ve like made it your thing to be the one for night shifts.”

“I sleep in the morning.” Carlisle answered, having prepared an alibi for when that question inevitably gets asked to him “Did kind of take a toll on my social life though, I’ll tell you. But I have accepted this way when I decided to step into the field of medicine.”

“Really?” Celine asked, piqued with how he was opening up “Why prefer night shift then? You could easily be transferred to morning shift if you’d just ask.”

“I prefer it this way.” Carlisle answered, Celine pondered if someone has asked him this question before “Besides, who will give you your daily coffee if I don’t join you with the night shifts?”

“I can get myself coffee, thank you very much.” Celine answered, fake insult in her tone and playfully rolling her eyes at him

“I know you can, I do enjoy it just as much to be the one to give you your coffees.” Carlisle said, a smile on his face

‘He looked like a Ken doll.’ She thought, looking at Carlisle and admiring his seemingly perfect features. His eyes was shining golden, a shade she never thought was possible for a human to have. The pale pink tint of his lips stirred a fleeting curiosity about their softness, though she quickly brushed aside any thoughts of how they might feel against her own.

“Some of the nurses are getting jealous, you should give them coffee sometimes.” Celine teased him. Carlisle looked at her, his eyebrows raised at her teasing. He did not want to give anyone else some sort of affection.

His undead heart was with hers before she even knew it.

“That’s if they’ll like 5 teaspoons of sugar and 3 teaspoons of creamer in their coffee.” Carlisle teased her back, watching as she finishes the coffee that he has prepared

“Well, anything that you would give to them, they’ll accept really.” She answered, before going back to reading some reports that the morning shift nurses has prepared for them

The night was long, the comforting silence joining them as they read through. Fortunately, there were no urgent emergencies demanding their attention. It wasn’t until Carlisle heard Celine stifle a yawn that made him check his watch, the small screen showing 8:17 AM.

“Shift over.” Carlisle announced, standing up and faking a stretch

He could have stayed there forever had she been able to do the same.

“Finally.” Celine mumbled, the aftermath of the coffee finally taking a toll on her as she slumps herself on the seat that she’s been on for the past 12 hours “So tired.”

“Need a ride home?” Carlisle asked, seeing that she wasn’t awake enough to go home on her own

Despite his declaration not to pursue Celine, Carlisle found himself engaging in behaviors that seemed to contradict his words. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was unintentionally leading her on, even though she hadn't explicitly expressed interest in him, neither through her words nor her body language.

“I’m fine, brought my car with me.” Celine murmured; her eyes closed as she rests her head on the chair “Just need a few minutes to close my eyes.”

“Okay then.” Carlisle answered, sitting down on the chair where he was sitting earlier, grabbing a bit more reports to read as he accompanies her

The few minutes became an hour. Then the hour became two hours. Carlisle then slowly realized that Celine was beginning to doze off in the chair she was sitting in. He looked at her with a small smile on his face.

He didn’t need to be a vampire or a doctor to know that she was in an uncomfortable position. Her whole torso was slouched down and her head was down, giving the look that she was uncomfortably bowing.

Carlisle moved his seat closer to hers, feeling the warmth of her arm against the coldness of his. With tender care, he lifted her head, cradling it on his shoulder. Though not as plush as a pillow, he knew it would be far more comfortable than where her head had previously rested.

As he sat there, Carlisle gazed at Celine, closing his eyes and synchronizing his faux breathing with hers, attuned to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Carlisle knew that it was temptation, being this close to her. And a sin to indulge himself in such temptation. But if he was to be damned today, he would be happy to have indulged himself with the existence of Celine.

[quinttyz]

Awooga,,i keep thinking of elliott stardew valley,,

What is he like when he’s drunk??? My personal headcanon is that his mouth becomes REALLY LOOSE

Instead of his usual flowery cadence he goes hog wild,, he is EXTREMELY FLIRTY!!!!! (And REALLY GOOD AT IT) drunken rizz for the entire night like do u get me..when he gets hangover the next day and learns what he did the night before he always dies of embarrassment. It’s why he always drinks in moderation ksksksmsmsks

I can imagine him and bernie sharing a bottle of wine made from her farm. She invited him to try the first bottle in honor of this new venture into this business lmao

Blud got drunk and told Bernadetta about some of his thoughts that have been plaguing him for a while now…ABOUT HERRRRRRR AGAHAHUWKWHA because one time he treated her to an ice cream while they were on a date by the beach :’3 “a sweet treat for the sweetest person i know!”

Little did she know he was getting distracted by her licking the ice cream lol,,even he wasnt expecting this.. so the entire date he felt flustered (this man has never been in a relationship in a long time ok he is PINING)

And bernie being bernie she was just like

“Huh?”

But Elliott refused to elaborate further

So when he got reallyyyy drunk at Bernie’s place he whispered in her ear and told her what he really thought of her during that one summer day and the things he wanted to do

And then immediately passes out 👍

LONG STORY SHORT ELLIOTT WAKES UP TO A HANGOVER AND A VERY FLUSTERED BERNADETTA TENDING TO HIM IN BED LANAIAJSLEYOSBSKS and his first thought immediately is “shit what did i say this time”

[birchbow]

CLOWN CHURCH THE COLLECTION

For the me and my readers both; my reference document for Clown Church nonsense. Compiled character ref, clown scriptures, fleet ships, saints, schoolfeeder names and specialties, etc. Subject to change and additions.

EDIT: nice lmao

--

Griefing Specializations

Subjugglator – frontline barbarian/tank, high damage low defense.  Not much concerned with stealth, not worried about taking hits.  Ex:  Feeder Rissan, Sungazer, Cisine, Khalse, Travye. 

Laughsassin – stealth and assassination, not good at taking hits but very good at infiltration.  Quieter/subtler weapons, or the strength and size to make one hit count.  Mime-inspired paint.  Ex: Rishet, Kurloz, Untoxxic, Hurrel

Contorturenist – field interrogation experts, armored, usually with long-distance weapons.  Clean-up crew for missions where information will need to be extracted during the process of the mission.  Ex:  Ianche and Verato Uderak, Yettah

Acrobatterer – frontline opportunist, experts in speed and evasion.  Many lighter, faster hits instead of one heavy one.  Better at taking prisoners.  Friendly rivalry with the subjugglators, because they’ll often use a noisy, head-on assault as a distraction to opportunistically whack their target on the head—sound tactics or cowardly cull-stealing depending on who you ask.  Ex: Ravell and Raywar Olemma.  If asked, some of the younger clowns would probably group Karkat here. 

Gymnabsolutionist – On missions, a form of field chaplain, praying for fallen faithful to make sure the messiahs took note of their sick-ass sacrifice.  On-fleet, spiritual council and advisors.  The oldest is expected to lay to rest the soul of the previous Grand Highblood and help the new one through their prayers/vows, although this role hasn’t come into play in a very, very long time.

Joker – Not technically a position you can train for, but colloquially a highblood who multi-classes or whose style and focus doesn’t fit neatly into a category.  Gamzee is technically a subjugglator (very big, doesn’t give a shit if he gets hit) but can rapidly flip to acrobatterer tactics. Travye's bonekind uses subjugglator style, but his bookkind doesn't fall into a category.

--

Saints And Martyrs

Saint Mortor the Defender — Burned alive to protect other purplebloods from lowbloods; like his giant salamander lusus, he proved incredibly hard to burn, and his execution pyre burned for a night and a day.  Saint of aspiring martyrs.

Saint Trasti — Prayed to the messiahs for vengeance as she was cut apart by lowbloods; when they burned her corpse, the messiahs listened and brought up a plague from her ashes.  Prayers to bring a plague on your enemies or for sick/poisoned faithful

Saint Ekorot — Patron saint of pupation and cocoons, and especially the faithful who die during pupation. One of the oldest saints, said to have hatched with the lower half of her body deformed/largely missing and survived a perigee before being found by the church, surrounded by dead lowbloods and wild animals she'd killed. She was sanctified on the spot because lo, it was fucking dope as hell.

Her bladekind became the Knife of Messiahs' Mercy, the weapon the Grand Highblood uses for ceremonial culling of the faithful (By the new Grand Highblood to finish off their predecessor after the fight is won, when church kin pupate too malformed to live or are so deeply wounded in battle they won't survive, etc).

Saint Jakill — Fought an entire army despite being ripped to increasingly brutal pieces. Refused to go down, until his skull was finally split with his own hatchet. Patron saint of berserkers, death-rages and suicide missions.

--

Schoolfeeders Of The Flagship Dark Carnival

Halore Travye — The Stædfast, advanced scripture and exegesis.

Separates his letters with an extra space, capitalizes nouns and the letter I. Square bracket smiles/frowns.

"sacredDidaction: T h e q u I c k b r o w n F o x j u m p e d o v e r t h e l a z y D o g . : o ["

Veneno Krelle — The Untoxxic, advanced mediculling, poisons/antidotes.

Doubles Xs and inserts them in place of similar sounds. X-eyed smiles/frowns. When speaking they tend to have difficulty finding and forming words due to a long, long career being exposed to all sorts of neurotoxins and poisons.

"abstersiveDetoxifier: If you axx me, the foxx has better things to be doing. X...X" (=uX, XnX XsX)

Ianche Uderak — The Inquirer, advanced information management/propaganda.

Hisses on S, ends all sentences as questions except the occasional Shocking Headline. Snake-tongued faces.

"mortalRigor: Sssso why wasss the fox with the dog at all? >:oY Ssscandal!! Quick Brown Fox Hass Torrid Pitch Affair With Ssslothful Barkbeasst?"

Arelux Stelos — The Sungazer, schoolfeeder of galactic navigation, omens and starcraft. 

Starts and ends with ~* and *~, replaces I and O with 1 and 0. Tends to trail out words and emphasize with capitals and multiple asterisks/punctuation when worked up, which is often. Smiles/ frowns have starry eyes.

"grandlyCosmic: ~*000h mess1ahs you w1ll **never** bel1eve what the STARS t0ld me t0day ab0ut the f0x's dest1ny!!!!*~ *u*

Belico Rissan — Warmaker, Combat/griefing, avid collector of various strife specibi

Largely normal clown syntax but will frequently phrase things with all-caps over-the-top violent language. Doesn't bother to capitalize or use periods but an avid user of exclamation points.

"sanguineEclectica: the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy barkbeast and landed in THE PIT OF A SPIKED AND BLOOD-PUTRID CULL-TRAP as a lesson to complacent wrigglers everywhere! :o)"

Karkat Vantas — Schoolfeeder of quadrantcraft, originally as a joke, but unfortunately for all the elder members of the church the new baby clowns don't know that and he's increasingly accepted and legitimized with every class he teaches.

Minera Tresor — Scriptural basics (deceased)

--

The Holy Holidays

TURNING NIGHT/DAY

The troll equivalent on New Years Night/Day; for most of the population it's a raucous all-caste night of celebrating that they've made it another sweep without dying. For the church it's their most sober holiday, a reminder that another sweep came and went without the promised Vast Honk and Dark Carnival. Faces are painted white (funeral paint) during the night, and in the morning everyone takes off their paint entirely until the new sweep is rung in at noon.

In the meantime, it's expected everyone will spend the night/day fasting from food and drinks, and tempting themselves with things they want or enjoy, whether that's making your favorite food and not eating it, or hooking up with a quadrant and then breaking off before either of you are satisfied.

Then at noon everybody goes buckwild and indulges until they're sick.

ALL COLORS WEEK

A very rowdy church-wide holiday. Work forbidden, only fun and capricious impulse. Copious colored clothes and decorations, painting, and powder dye are rampant. It’s traditional to stash little brightly-colored objects (and vials of blood) throughout the rest of the sweep and then hang them out a day at a time through the week so that the decorations get slowly more colorful and vivid.  They lump the seadwellers in with the rustbloods and the last colors to get hung up on the last day are the colors of the church.  

There’s also a different major saint for each day, which some people remember to pray to and some people don’t.  There’s a lot less quiet internal prayer at this point too--if you have something for a saint or messiah to hear, you probably shout it.  

Also; massive games of--essentially--capture the flag.  Teams are assigned according to age group, with the youngest/most numerous cohort starting on the first day.  They’re split in half into a team with a seadweller-color flag and rustblood-color flag, which they play for for the first day.  After that the next age-group comes in with their color, and all three teams try to collect the flags, and onward and upward until the schoolfeeders and generals come in to play, each with an incredibly high-point-value purple flag.  You have to challenge them to a duel to win one, in whatever area they teach/specialize in.  It’s pretty widely assumed that you won’t actually beat them, they just respect your attempt enough to hand it over, but if you do everybody is like !!!!!!! WOW HOLY SHIT DUDE and you’re a hero to the rest of your team.  The points system is pretty unofficial but the more flags you have, and the higher the blood color of those flags, the more you “score”.  Winner gets preferential treatment for the next two weeks.

--

Ships Of The Holy Fleet

Names of ships are subject to change when a new captain takes over, although they aren’t always changed—when Kurloz joined the fleet, the flagship was the Painted Disciple, and Kurloz changed the name to the Dark Carnival after he successfully challenged the previous Grand Highblood. 

The Blessed is intensely focused on prayer and meditation and prophesy—much less in the way of combat training etc.  You can get religious training anywhere on the fleet, esp. the flagship, but if you want to basically focus your life on spirituality the Blessed is full of like-minded trolls.  

The Orisoner is Just Straight Up Vibing to an extent that many trolls find unnerving, but the crew of the Blessed are absolutely ride or die with her/him/them/etc. His powers are 100% min-maxed into sucking hate/rage/fear out of people, and the resulting good vibes and soft euphoria are a powerful (and borderline addictive) combination. Secretly terrifying, because nobody wins fights against her--because very few people can even bring themselves to lift a hand against them in the first place.

irenicDevotion: no caps, sooo many smilies :o) and just like... emphasis extensions my duuude :oD copafuckincetic

The Sinner is a party boat, which is considered an act of worship in and of itself.  People just get rowdy and wild and live it up at all times.  If there was air in space, you would be able to hear it as you approached to board—when it’s landed, you can hear it, and it’s super eerie.  Lots of trolls whooping and honking and shouting in a big metal box.

The Libation's powers are addictive in a different way; he's physically intoxicating to be around. If he focuses, he can easily have most people, especially people who aren't used to being drunk/high, blacked out and pretty much incapacitated.

ecstaticEroticism: 8RO h'es. straiht up nightdrinking rn. look hers his 8onkinggourd. all teh 8s their 8s its little drinking gurds. motherfuckr this paryts LIT roflmao

The Joker is a pretty standard barrack ship, although it has the notable reputation that under the current captain if you’re cheeky enough to do something and do it well, you should be allowed to get away with it even if it’s against the rules. It takes the majority of mediocre-to-fair trainees every generation, and compared to the Dark Carnival, a much higher percentage of its graduates go on to live off-fleet on shuttles or colonies.

Sister Waspclaw is a walking test of ability to read a passive level of threat and calculate accordingly. Very talkative, encouraging and pleasant, with an extremely dangerous and unhinged core. Her whole philosophy is that you can get far in life by figuring out what the most daring trick you could pull and get away with is--but it's very important you don't try to take even an inch with her. She's tiny, but her claws are incredibly venomous and very few trolls in the entire church fleet can match her for speed.

toxicAudacity: wazpclaw'z zo excited to talk zhe can't even bother with the zentencez and ztuff like that and it all flowz together but if you pizz her off you're DEAD MEAT and you can tell if you've pizzed her off becauze when zhe's angry zzzzzhe zzZZTARTZ GETTING A LITTLE UNHINGED AZZZZZHOLE!!! >:o[

Elixir and Stardust are commercial centers; the two ships used to be separate, but the people living there had so much reason to cross between the two, they put boarding passages up and welded them in place, fusing them together.  People who handle the dark, mysterious and miraculous arts of financial management and resource acquisition work here.  It’s also the most common place for the few cult members who aren’t purple-blooded, one of the few places they’re comparatively safe.  Some non-church quadrants of purplebloods will also set up hive here.

The Abattoir is canny, sober, and calculating, a loyal ally until slighted and then a bitter enemy. The nature of her identity is a topic of fierce public debate, and he's certainly not giving out answers. Whether her consciousness is originally one of his bodies now inhabiting two, an amalgam of two minds indistinguishably linked, or some completely external force puppeting two bodies, everybody can agree she's damn good to have on your side, and that crossing him is a fatal mistake.

duelReactor: II speak clearly and concisely because II respect your time, motherfucker, and forsooth you will respect me similarly. II am busy today: I am on-ship and I am travelling to the flagship for work. II will be back in office by sunrise.

The Freakshow is a cesspit of violence and bloodshed. A very dangerous place, but also prime picking ground if you have strong conciliatory urges and are looking for your One True Diamond. People who want to settle shit once and for all can come here, and the winner will probably get a cut of the pot from the people betting on their death-match.  The bloodshed and rage are technically holy and irreproachable but most fleet faithful tend to give this ship a wide berth.

The Behemoth is the epitome of Alternian culture: take what you want through force of bloodcolor and unmitigated violence, and maintain it through merciless supremacy. Sharper than it likes to act, and with a blatant disregard for any power except its own monstrous strength, it's been butting heads with the Grand Highblood ever since it came to power, and only a surprisingly canny ability to judge the rare occasions it's outmatched has kept it from marching on the Big Top and trying to take the throne by force.

brutishAnnihilation: O- BIG MOTHERFUCKER, BIG LETTERS, ONLY LITTLE BITCHES BOTHER WITH PUNCTUATION -O

The Penitent is essentially church jail, for sinners and troubled faithful, especially/specifically those who don’t have any close mentors or quadrants to help rehabilitate them.  It’s also where prisoners under suspicion of church-related crimes are kept to wait for inquisition, as well as non-urgent/non-imperial messengers from outside the church who are waiting to be heard by the Highblood.

The Judgment is both incredibly stern and strict, and also surprisingly forgiving--her job isn't to decide who to cull, it's to decide which sinful highbloods can make their way back into the church, through a lot of prayer and ritualized punishment. In person, though, she's a terrifying battle-ax of a troll with zero patience for dilly-dallying or lollygagging or talking back or not talking back enough or failing to use her title or answering clearly and concisely!!! She has shit to do!

consecratedCourtroom: Very rarely embellishes. Very rarely ends sentences with anything but a period. Speaks CONCISELY to get her point across. Uses emphasis scaling that always seems a LITTLE passive aggressive and sarcastic. Occasional interjections of OVERRULED. GUILTY. DISMISSED. IRRELEVANT. Etc etc.

The Dark Carnival is a little bit of everything, but the clowns who work there are generally the best of the best in at least one area, or extremely promising.  Intensely-devoted cultists, genii of violence and/or interrogation, artists, artisans, the rare mechanics, geeks and scientists, navigators, or just trolls who show a lot of ambition and leadership, all get funneled into the Dark Carnival to be trained up as heads of their respective fields.  

Trolls are always coming and going from ship to ship for whatever they need or to visit other faithful, and there’s always the constant low level of kinship between any members of the church, but there is also a certain amount of distance between the microcultures of each different ship.

Outfitting is pretty consistent ship to ship, with exceptions; on the Penitent nobody but the sufferingmasters and the captain are allowed weapons, armor, or decoration.  On the Blessed clothes tend to be plain and austere by cult standard, but they are allowed to wear armor and carry weapons.  

--

Scriptures (to date)

Beginnings - a clown book of Genesis, of sorts. Creation myths and ancient church history.

“When it started we had fuck-all but dark. And so it stayed until Messiahs pulled back the curtain and said ‘let’s get this motherfucking party started’.  And they threw stardust down and it hit mud and it made dirtbloods, baked all dry enough like they could crumble if you breathed wrong.  And it hit water and it made waders; wet, cold, mirthless salty motherfuckers with too much eye for their own motherfucking sparkle.  But where it hit oceanside it made trolls out of sand, all capricious as fuck and changing with the water.  Trolls who could go hard or give when they had to.  All balanced on the universe high wire and not ever falling sea-side or ground-side but right there on their line like the acrobatterers they were.  From the sand were made the faithful; from the beachwood their horns, their goddamn bone snapped off from sea-floor stones on mountains under the water.  And what they made was Troll.  Only that.  Just that and no motherfucking more.  And when the last world was all fit together, messiahs looked on it and said ‘motherfucking money’.  

“Remember this story, faithful, and remember its lesson.  Change yourself always like sand in the water, you motherfuckers hand-shaped of surf and whimsy.”

“Urge of chaos and whim of change be ever on your skin like paint, in your pusher like blood, on your horns like a crown.  Mirthful, faithful.  Kickass and giving no shits.”

 (Book of) Colors - church policy on lowbloods, seadwellers, social order and painting, as well as the meat of the “Dark Carnival” scriptures/afterlife mythology.  

“You’re next.  You’re motherfucking next, give no mercy because the mercy of the messiahs is only as much as fits in their hands and what’s poured out on shitblooded scum will not be given you in the dark carnival gates and—”

“The Vast Honk will deafen and take from us, and all together we’ll head on up and get our dance on through fire and over skulls and horns—”

“No fear, brothers and sisters, no fear of the waders, the brine-drinkers.  There's no mirth in the sea and no painting the water doesn't wash off and you've got your hands on the righteous shit they won't ever know. No fear of the waders, for you're higher than them.  You're higher than anybody.”

“I fucked up, I fucked up, the fault's mine and there's no motherfucker I can share it with, I fucked up, forgive me.”

Sacrament - ceremonies, specifically related to new initiates and promotions within the church.  Naming ceremonies, promotions, priesthood bestowal, etc.

Suffering - Stories of martyr deaths and heretic executions.  Unique in that it is occasionally edited or added to if the church believes a story has been included in error or that a modern event needs to be added to the record.  

“…I am lost, kin.  My eyes see no colors I know.”  

The Cult of Flesh were a heretic movement deemed too dangerous to the faith of the readers to be included in the book of Suffering. Their belief that the Messiahs came to Alternia and were raised in flesh bodies by a troll acting as a lusus has been stricken from this record; their attempt to win over the current Grand Highblood, who they consider the descendant/reincarnation of the holy troll-lusus Brother Immortal, caused a schism and internal inquisition violent enough to be purged from the accepted imperial history.

Hilarities - Platitudes and words of wisdom, including the rules of comedy, the Great Unfunny Jokes, and some really quite good dating tips.

“It’s not a wise one who leaves the place of their motherfucking heart untimely.   No laughter in the suffering of those early lost of their quadrants so rest you with heart and spade and club and diamond and speak of the fucking Hilarity to each other.” 

“Fill the night enough full of holy deed and you’ll have no need of sopor to bless you with dreaming.”

“Ha ha, you salty motherfucker.”

“Let your spade burn hot, drive you up and make you great.  In this motherfucking way your kin will increase you and I’m not just talking about your bulge, LOL.”

“The wage of weakness is death; fear the only edge sharpened by waiting.”

“Take all you can grasp in your greed and your lust.  If something you want comes to your fronds, motherfucker, take it and run like it’s yours.”

Hot Shit – Letters from a historical Grand Highblood to his matesprit.  Considered by some to be a holy template of pity and matespritship, and to others a hot piece of smut that has been hilariously canonized.

(Hot Shit 1:1) "My sister in mirth, blessed in hilarity, peerless in holy rage; u up girl? :o?"

“Only let me hear you want me!  Hold me down and devour me, my love.”

“When my feet touch soil again I’ll make my way to you.  Take me as you like, heart of my heart; throw me down and fuck me under night sky and the Messiahs will only hear me sing praise out louder.  I’m hollow as a thunderstruck tree for you, sister.  I need you like starving needs food, like rage needs mercy, like sin needs forgiveness, like pain needs pleasure.”

"In grandest tradition of hot motherfuckers at the prime of their lives, fuck if I don't get mad stupid when I'm horny, sister. :o("

"Well the fuck I will reward you when you come back to hive. So well will I show my love for your thicc motherfucking ass, not for a night and a day and a night will you get feeling back in your motherfucking legs."

Revelries - Praises and adulation to the messiahs.

"I'll sing out my praises with wicked flow to the messiahs who saw fit to smile on me.  I'll praise and shout how I'm greatly blessed, I'll cry and weep how I'm not fucking worthy; their claws are in my soul, in the shape of my body, in the beat of my pusher.  Oh, my holy kin, we are color and light inside.  We are stardust.  Hands raised and faces laughing, spitting sick and delirious, together in glory.”

“…the halls around you will be painted bright and all the glitter and shine you’d want; get ye lit as fuck, brothers and sisters, let the beauty of their holy color and noise spin your pan like a motherfucking top.”

“Oh that I’m of use to you, all times and ways and places, my idle rest is to watch your show and my dreaming to hear the holy motherfucking noise."

“For not a troll was ever made, who didn’t fuck up nightly; never a faithful hatched who deserved their seat at the show.”

“Never will we be anything but loud, nitty-gritty dirty little freaks.  Lo, pour elixir and raise a glass.”

Conviction - The duties and trials of the church

“…leave ye not the dirtbound warm of blood to crawl and scrape, and waste offerings in vain.  They owe you penance and awe and what they give you are owed to take. A good ruler does the mercy of taking.”

“When your feet are unsure and what comes on you is un-fucking-funny, seek you holy suffering in penance.”  

“Dumbass, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“If fool-ass jokers fail to learn from looking, let their bodies learn it for them; scars teach best what a motherfucker’s too deaf to hear.”

“If your kin gets you sinning, cut them away, no true fucking family can they be. If the noise from your flap be blasphemous, carve it from you and stitch shut your filthy mouth, motherfucker. If your flesh leads to sin scourge it clean, washed in blood; cut away rot, and leave only what’s holy. Repentance by mouth never saved a soul; spill blood and flesh in price of forgiveness.”

Angels - Death, last rites, damnation/double death, hell, etc.

“[death] itself is not a glory; more glorious far to walk on and trail paint where you walk.”

‘I suffer pain, and want become need…I am allowed no motherfucking means to make resistance.  I wait for death, brothers.  Pour one out for remembrance of my soul’.”

“Why seek martyrdom when you could bring a hundred down with you?  Turn martyrdom to murderdom.  Paint the way; make them pay.  Shit, kin, let’s be destroyers.”

Devotions - Prayers, repentances and rituals.  (”Leader.”  “Congregation/faithful.”)

Repentance of sin (ending) - “Hail messiahs both.”  “Their works, their great motherfucking joke in the pits of the worlds they left and in the space in between.”  “Hail messiahs both.” “Your penance is paid.”

Reaffirmation of faith - “If I go false on promised devotions let messiahs grind stardust out my bones.”  “If you’d paint the face of flawed unholy troll with the shades of our holy messiahs, answer yes brother I will.” “Yes brother, I will.”“If you believe truly in what holy mess and bloody riot will come at end of worlds, if you plan on being full and motherfucking ready, make some motherfuckin’ noise.” “(Response, freeform).”“Have your ticket ready when you kick it, give me an amen brothers and sisters.” “Amen.”  “No mercy, faithful one.” “Amen.”  “No fear.”

The Dark Scriptures - only shown to religious sacrifices before their deaths. Readers must subsequently die. Contents are a mystery.

--

His/Her/Their Mirthful Majesty

King/Queen/Crown of Colors

His/Her/Their Holy Hilarity

Biggest brother/sister

The Ringmaster

[amybizarre]

Wings lol

Inspired by avian fantasy concepts I went ahead and designed wings for most of the Welcome Home cast. While doing so, lore and worldbuilding kept running wild in my head. So consider this as a bit of an introduction to an AU?

Yes, I know, there's quite a few winged Wallys out there already (all very cool!), but I wanted to make sth similar too.

Also, scopophobia warning for Home's wings, lmao. They're the first under the cut.

Home

Home is a seraphim like being. Half deity, of sorts. Yet they are very much part of the physical world. They are the ruler of the Featherfolk, who reside in their kingdom of floating islands. The Featherfolk has developed a rich culture and beautiful architecture. Sadly, Home isn't the greatest leader, with ruthless tendencies and only truly caring if something benefits them themself. Thus things like slavery and brutal punishments for breaking the law are still a thing. Not good- No one, not even Wally, has ever seen Home's face, for it is always concealed by a plague doctor like mask. Home's soldiers and guards are also required to wear such masks as part of their uniform.

Poppy

Poppy is a being very close to Home. (I just haven't made wings for her, cause she basically already has them). Personality wise she's the polar opposite of Home. Rumors have it she used to rule the Featherfolk before Home did something terrible to her and took her place. But Home quenches any rumors like this at the root. People spreading information about how Home took over the throne, are met with harsh consequences. Besides, it's been so long ago, no one living remembers the incident. What Home doesn't know, is that Poppy is still alive and hides from them.

Wally

Wally used to be an orphan on the streets. At a very young age, he was taken in by Home, who raised him as the prince. Despite Home's input, Wally is a very kind and easy going individual. He treats his subordinates with care and empathy. Barnaby made sure to teach him that. He usually mingles with the common folk and is the friendly representative face in public for Home. He has yet to learn that Home is flawed. But when he does, he will do what is necessary to ensure the best for his people.

Barnaby

Barnaby doesn't have wings. He used to be part of the Furfolk living on the groundlands, before slave hunters caught him. Back then Wally was still very young and needed lots of care. So Home acquired Barnaby to do exactly that and be his male nanny, basically. Despite Barnaby's social situation, he maintained his mirthful attitude, although his jokes have the capacity to be very critical and cut deep. As Wally grew up they became the best friends. To this day Wally holds the highest respect for his old friend.

Frank

Every growing child needs a teacher. This was Frank's role. He was the royal teacher for young Wally and still is his most trusted advisor. He much more serious and calculated than Barnaby. They used to get into arguments back in the day whenever Barnaby distracted Wally from schoolwork too much. Frank likes to display a stand offish and grumpy demeanor, but he means well. Married to Eddie.

Eddie

Royal messenger and delivery boy. Married to Frank. Eddie takes his duty very seriously, although he has a tendency of getting dragged into shenanigans and forgetting was his initial mission even was. Nevertheless he is protective of his friends and loved ones, even defending strangers on the streets, if he sees them treated with injustice. His only setback is his fear of heights, which renders him nervous and fiddly at the thought of flying. Which is... Part of his daily life-

Sally and Julie

Sally and Julie work and travel together. Sally performs as an actress and multitalent on any stage that hires her and Julie travels with her as her loyal musician and helping hand. Most of the time they perform together, delivering the finest emotional tension and entertainment. The emotional tension between them transcends the stage, but it's nothing official yet.

Howdy

Howdy has his butterfly wings in this AU. Not really part of the Furfolk, not part of the Featherfolk either, he doesn't really belong to any group, because his kind has become so rare. He makes the best out of the situation by being a traveling merchant. His wings aren't the best for long term flying. They're more something for short bursts of flight. Because of that, he owns a fluffy dragon, both to do the actual traveling and carrying the goods.

I'll leave ve it up to you, where your place in this universe is. My initial idea was that you're Howdy's apprentice or business partner or mercenary, who he hired to protect him on his travels,since it would give you the opportunity to explore the realm and meet all of the other characters.

[behoright]

prisoner (love countdown series) | a. svechnikov

i can't forget you, your love is the loudest/ i can't control it

summary: part 5! lovestruck andrei messed around with you a little too much at the game before the roadie. also, the whole canes team just acting like dorks (bc they are)

wordcount: 3.1k

warnings: cursing. mentions of boobies and boners (lmao) idk if that is 18+ but if it is I repel all minors DONT READ this. thank u all for reading :’) reminder that I am not good at this I’m just really horny. heavier smut IS coming okay I just need this to start off as pg13 as possible because the later chapters could literally get me institutionalized

p.s.: this is the bra I thought you’d wear but you let your imaginations run wild okay https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1404/8101/products/Daisy_Bra_Front_e196baa3-10f0-42bc-94c5-89ad1312821b_1400x.jpg?v=1660696818

♩  ◦   ₪ ˚ 🗝️ ︵

“What’s going on with him?”. Andrei’s teammates stared perplexed at the young player, who was continuously shooting pucks into the net, hours before warm ups even started. “I haven’t seen Andrei this nervous since he first started out with us.” Martinook said. “You think he’s nervous? About what?” Brady asked. The rest of the guys turned to look at him.

“Y/N”. 

Pyotr and Andrei had undeniably become closer, since the young player had joined the Canes. Andrei had missed having full conversations in his native tongue on the daily, and he was glad to take someone under his wing as well, just as Dougie had done with him. Pyotr was aware of you, and he just couldn’t understand why Andrei had never brought you around. He said you had come to games before, but Pyotr had never seen you, and the others didn’t even know your name, less alone your existence.

At first, the rookie thought he was just sleeping with her - not important enough to introduce her to anyone. Just another girl. But as time went by, Andrei’s attention began to slip. He would tell stories of his “friend”, mention how much you liked this and that, tales from your classes, and after much asking, Pyotr finally got a name. 

Y/N. He said it quietly, with a blush, and changed conversation topics quickly. Suddenly he realized why he had never met her. Andrei really liked this girl, and that couldn’t be brought up, in any way, shape or form. Andrei would shoot him down so fast, Pyotr couldn’t believe it. He sure would tease his fellow teammate constantly, but he could tell that something deep down made Andrei… uncomfortable. Or anxious, antsy. Not the typical Andrei that he was so used to. So he left it alone. However, he knew what was really going through his friend’s head. 

“Trip. Nervous about trip. With girl.”. The boys immediately understood what he meant.

“He likes her?” Jarvy asked.

With a nod, Pyotr did his best to explain. “He…no talk. But, uh, he likes girl. A lot. Too shy”.

“Svech? Shy? There’s no way.” Sebastian chimed in.

“I’ve seen him out with a million girls - I wouldn’t describe him as shy, particularly. Cocky is a better word.” Neci snickered.

Pyotr threw his hands up - “Different. You see tonight.”

All the guys looked at each other, but before they could say anything, their heads bolted back to the young player on the ice. “You guys are going to practice with me? Or what?” he shouted, banging his stick against the glass closest to them. “I bet you cannot win 3v3 right now.” 

The guys all raised an eyebrow at Pyotr - there was no way anything could have shaken Andrei’s steady smugness, much less a girl. 

“You wait and see. Then you tell me” answered the rookie. 

⁺ ⠀┄

Andrei knew he needed to get back to the arena as soon as possible. After his shower, he picked up some food and raced back. He couldn’t afford to get distracted before tonight’s game, and he needed extra practice so he would do his job properly and also wouldn’t make a fool out of himself in front of you. 

He spent a couple of hours alone, shooting into the net, trying to fight off the thoughts plaguing his mind. 

He was intoxicated, and hadn’t even seen you in days. 

He couldn’t quit dreaming about you running your hands through his hair, down his neck and spine, over his belly and down-

No. Focus on the puck. Focus on the puck. 

He wanted to do well tonight, and secretly hoped to not even see you before the game, in all honesty. Just the fact that he knew you were in the stands made his heart jolt already. Thankfully, he was able to see that the guys were early too; however, they were all standing around in the seats, watching him shoot. What were they talking about so much? Why was everyone acting so off lately? 

“You guys are going to practice with me? Or what ? I bet you cannot win 3v3 right now.” Yeah, perhaps some good old team practice would settle him down.

⁺ ⠀┄

“So, are you going to tell me what you were talking about before?” Andrei asked, getting his stick ready in the locker room. Neci’s head snapped up to look at the Russian. “Uh, nothing.” Andrei raised an eyebrow at his friend. 

“You just seem a bit on edge lately, that’s all. We hope everything is okay.” Martin wanted to know if Pyotr was right, but he knew better than to tease Andrei before a game.

“Everything’s fine brother. I want to play the game right.” 

Neci couldn’t help himself. “Yeah totally. Uh… are you sure it has nothing to do with our roadie coming up? You know, bringing your friend along and all.” 

Andrei tried his best to keep his eyes on the tape he was wrapping around his stick, hoping his friend wouldn’t feel his demeanor change. 

“What? No, not at all. It’s just a trip with friends right?” 

“Yes, but not once have you talked about this friend of yours. And we had to put up with Rod reminding you about the trip for weeks now. I mean, you never put off stuff like this.” 

Andrei’s heart sank - he hoped his teammate wouldn’t be able to notice the small sweat beads forming at his hairline.

“I just- I want her to have a good time. She has never seen this much of my job. I want it to be okay.” Martin patted his teammate on the back. “Dude it’ll be fine. I’m sure she’s going to love it…. Do you like her or something?” 

“Alright alright” Andrei said, rolling his eyes and standing up quickly, but he knew he couldn’t hide his blush and smile.  

“Oh, Andrei has a little crush!” Neci said, teasing louder. 

“Shh, no. I- I go and get my shirt now. Bye.” 

Andrei quickly walked into the bathroom with his head down, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. His worst fear was coming to fruition right now - he hated to lose focus. He dipped his face in his hands again, and when he looked up at the mirror, he saw Neci and Pyotr walking into the restroom.

“Dude, it’s fine. Just play your game and she’ll have a good time.” 

“Oh, you can make her have a good time alright” 

The three boys snapped their heads towards a closed stall. Pyotr smacked his hand on his forehead.

“Burnzie, shut up!” Andrei fixed his eyes on the ceiling as he nervously bit his lip.

“Chill, you got it. You do this all the time, almost every night. We will simply have extra company on this trip, that’s all.” 

Pyotr nodded and waved towards the stall - “Do not listen Burnzie. We have fun tonight.”

As embarrassed as Andrei was, as he took pride in being the one lifting up his teammates, he felt pretty thankful that they had his back. He nodded as they walked back in the locker room and mentally replayed their words in his head. Just a regular game, regular roadie, with a bit of extra company. 

⁺ ⠀┄

The familiar cheer of the crowd was able to calm down Andrei during his warm up routine. He felt really fortunate to be playing this game, and had to pinch himself everytime he saw kids wearing his jersey and asking for a puck. 

He was loose, happy to be warming up and messing around with his teammates, until he looked up, scanning the crowd once again, and saw you. Sitting on the bench, talking with Neci’s sister to the kids, who were waiting to meet the players. 

Be cool, be cool, be cool. 

He knew he couldn’t avoid this any longer. He reminded himself to act casual, as he always did around you. Nothing had really changed, not in your eyes at least.  As he skated towards you, he couldn’t help but stare at the way you so intently listened to the kids, who were basically bouncing off their seats. 

He came up and messed up your hair with his glove while greeting the little ones, which caused the usual smiley eye roll from you. 

“Hi dingus.”

“You’re here early.” Andrei answered, with a smile.

“Yeah, since we leave for the trip tomorrow I asked for today off. I came early to avoid the traffic and such. I met your coach by the way - Rod? He’s the one that got me down here by the bench in the first place.”

Of course he did, Andrei thought. He did his best not to scoff at Rod too hard in front of you.

“You are ready for the trip? It’s going to be a lot of traveling, you know.”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll be okay flying on your team’s private plane for a week. Am I going to have to play hockey or something? You know I suck at skating.”

“Oh trust me, I remember.” Andrei laughed at the reminiscence - you guys had gone to an ice skating rink a long time ago, and he remembers being doubled over in laughter at how clumsy you were. Another memory quickly took the player by surprise: the feeling of your small hands in his when he tried to guide you, and the way your eyes reflected the lights, or the snow caught in your hair-

No, no, no, Not right now, Andrei. He took a deep breath. 

“I, uh. We will know the schedule and all tomorrow.”

“Cool.” you replied, looking at him, hands in your back pockets. “You nervous?”

Andrei’s heart (and face, inevitably) dropped. 

“Nervous?” he said, perhaps too frantically.

“For tonight? The game you’re about to play? It seems like a big one.” you answered, looking around at the seats quickly filling up. 

Oh. That’s what you meant.

“C’mon now. You know I don’t get nervous.” he snapped back with a cocky grin. 

“Oh yeah, big man Svechnikov is never nervous because he’s sooo good.” Andrei laughed, but before he could say anything, he noticed your gaze change, staring now deeper into his eyes, and moving your body closer to his. 

“I know you’re lying, Drei. I can see right through you.” you teased.

Andrei took a sharp inhale, and felt completely paralyzed. He wanted so badly to grab your chin and push his lips against yours. So badly.

“Geez, Andrei, chill. Everyone gets nervous right?”. Seeing as she was only joking, Andrei upped the ante. 

“You know me - I’m just too good.” he replied, teasingly, as he grabbed his water and squirted some of it in his mouth, not breaking eye contact. 

“You’re so full of shit, Svechnikov.” 

This caused Andrei to roll his eyes, turn the bottle around and playfully squirt some water at you. However, instead of it falling on your head, where he was initially aiming for, the long stream of water covered your chest. 

Oh shit.

Your mouth fell open as you shoved him backwards. “Andrei!”

Your white bodysuit, with a cut that was already low enough, was splattered all over with water, revealing your bra. 

“Um…” Andrei knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. He tried to open his mouth but he genuinely couldn’t get any words out. He had sneaked a peak at your chest often enough, but this was wholly different. 

“I didn’t even bring a jacket and it’s freezing in here; this will never dry.” Andrei looked at the clock above. 

“Here, come.” He mustered up the courage to grab your arm and lead you to the locker room. 

“Can I even be in here?’ you looked around, concerned. 

“It’s okay. You can have one of my jerseys.” 

Your chest perked up: “Is this your locker?” you asked, head tilted. 

Even with your chest soaking and basically completely showing through, Andrei thought you looked the most beautiful when you gave him that look. Big eyes, looking up at him, waiting for his answer. God, he really needed to get it together.

Chuckling, he answered: “Yes, this is my spot. Now put this on before you get sick.”

He saw you grab the jersey and study how big it was; as you started to get the sleeves on, he realized: here comes the word vomit again. He didn’t even think about saying it, it sorta just came out. 

“You need to take your shirt off, silly. Because you will freeze - it will not dry in the arena. It’s too cold.” He hoped the redness in his face didn’t show as he said that. He couldn’t take back what he said now.

“Well duh, but how am I going to change here? What if someone walks in?” you looked around as you said. His eyes narrowed when he noticed you were blushing too.

“I turn around and cover you. We’re in a corner, no one will see. How long could you possibly take?” he said, with a grin on his face. 

“Fine - but don’t look, okay?”

“No promises.” Andrei whispered as he turned around. 

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, nothing.” he quietly laughed. 

His body was big enough that you noticed he actually did cover you as you changed.

“Um, I’m sorry Drei, my skin is really wet. Do you have anything I can use to dry myself off?” He could sense the trembling in your voice, and he started moving frantically to find a washcloth to give you that hopefully wasn't soaked in sweat.

When he turned around to hand you the towel, he made sure to look down - he liked you, but he didn’t want to be creepy. As they say though, old habits die hard. As soon as you proceeded to wipe the damp patch of skin, he couldn’t resist but peer his eyes over. Oh. He had never seen your breasts like…this. Obviously. Even though it was just a peek, Andrei noticed the goosebumps on your skin, how soft you looked, and the lace on your white bra drove him absolutely mad. He swiftly turned around again, feeling pretty lucky that his hockey gear covered most of what was going on in his pants, and the fact that you couldn’t see the huge smile on his face. Maybe she really couldn’t tell how flustered he was. 

A little laugh made his eyebrows shoot up. 

“Drei, you’re so big.”

If he thought his heart couldn’t beat any faster, and his pants couldn’t get tighter, he was wrong. What did she just say?

She appeared in front of him - his jersey looked gigantic on her. Her stature and the fact that she was wearing his number made him want to grab her right then and there and spin her around, just to hear that giggle again. He couldn’t even see her hands because the sleeves were too long.

“See? It’s so big on me!” she said. And there it was. That look again - the smile, the eyes and the head tilt. It took all of his strength not to grab both of her cheeks and kiss her right then and there. 

“Yeah, you’re so small.” Andrei internally facepalmed. He sounded like such an idiot.

“No - you’re the huge one, Mr. Hockey player.”. 

“He sure is, aren’t you, Svechy?” 

Andrei looked up, horrified. Jarvy had walked in, right on time for that joke. Your head whipped around, your long hair wafting perfume towards Andrei. 

“Hmm?” you said. A wave of relief washed over Andrei. She hadn’t heard. But your perfume, your voice, god, you were so sweet. 

“You working the merch stand, Svech? You better make her pay for that. It's exclusive.” Seth joked around. Andrei desperately started shaking his head at him. “Stop!” he mouthed to his friend, who just got closer to you. 

“I’m Seth. You must be Y/N.” 

“How’d you know?”

“Oh, you’re Andrei’s secret friend, we all know. The whole team is excited to finally meet you, and find out why he’s kept you so hidden for so long.” 

Andrei’s gestures to make Seth stop got more and more ridiculous - he wanted to tackle his friend to the ground, he was so embarrassed. Thankfully, you couldn’t see how much he was silently freaking out behind you. 

“Oh, I’m a wanted criminal - that must be why.” Your joke made Jarvis’ head throw back with laughter. 

“She’s funny, Andrei, I like it.”

You turned around to look at him, with a slight blush and shake of your head. 

“Don’t listen to Jarvy, Y/N, he’s not all there.” And you laughed again. He was head over heels for you. Big trouble. 

“You’re one to talk. We’re starting soon, little criminal, you’re going to have to get out of here. Don’t worry Drei, you’ll see her again right after.” Seth winked.

Andrei’s face had been completely flushed for the whole day now, but this one caused a whole different shade of red. 

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I was just leaving anyway, guys. Have a great game Andrei, and thank you for the jersey.” you said, and squeezed his arm, walking away. “Nice to meet you, Seth.”

Jarvy waved at you as you made it out of the locker room; he was staring at Andrei, who was completely still, unblinking, watching you strut away. 

“Man, you’ve got it bad.” Jarvy snarked, which made Andrei completely snap out of it, and immediately pounce on his friend. 

“You are such a dumbass, Seth!” the 6’3” player quickly trapped his teammate in a chokehold. Nevertheless, Jarvs couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Don’t ever do that again! I swear, Jarvy, you are-”

“Hey!”

Staal’s deep voice stopped the young players. 

“Let’s go boys! Save the hype for the tunnel.”

The guys quickly composed themselves and walked towards the rest of their team, only after Andrei gave his friend one last push.

⁺ ⠀┄

The game went a lot better than he expected - he was able to think clearly and really zone in. He did see you in the seats though, right when he was getting off a shift. Why weren’t you in the boxes with the other families? All of the girls he had brought to games before had always taken the most expensive seats. And he swore he saw you with the biggest smile on your face, and were you... biting your lip? Favorably, you were sitting way behind their bench, so when Drei caved in and tried to look behind him, he was met with his coach’s face, who slowly shook his head and handed him some smelling salts. Right, right. 

⁺ ⠀┄

The team celebrated their win, their stars and their fans. Andrei was feeling really good about this one. He could, after all, play with you so close to him, and still come through for his team. All the cockiness was woefully wiped away quickly once he saw you standing outside of the locker room, against the wall, waiting for him. 

He knew he was unfortunately staring again when you said:

“Ready for our sleepover?”

[softshuji]

omg hi i’ve been seeing ur account for the past few days and i love ur content honestly its pretty cool lol😻 and i’ve got something to ask… what do u think of hanma with kids yk.. i think it’d be wholesome even tho he hateess to admit 💀

hiiii!!!! thank you so much! welcome to my humble chaotic blog lol

hmmmmm hanma w kids? Thank you for this lol, I absolutely picking his brain apart lmao

I am so sorry for long this random analysis became

I think, if in all honesty, the idea of having kids scares him a bit at first. I think he's the type to say he doesn't want them, they're a distraction and he's not interested in what he calls 'brats' running around, but part of me feels like that comes from two things, and that is a) an awareness that there are many irresponsible parents out there and too many kids without parents too, and he is self aware enough to know (in his head) to believe that he can't be the type of parent that a child might need. Plus he likes the fast life and the concept of being a father terrifies him when he is very much a danger - or at least his lifestyle is. Besides, why give up what he likes? The cars, the danger of his lifestyle.

However I think the second reason he might be averse to kids at the start might have something to do with his own upbringing, or rather lack of. I have always hc'd him as the child of a mother who left him (this is something I minorly explored in my Coin Lockers fic here- it's a concept I absolutely adore thinking about and if you do get time please do go read Coin Locker Babies by Ryu Murakami which is where I originally got the idea from) but to me, his aversion to kids might come from both of these reasons. I feel like he tells himself often that he doesn't need 'any of that shit' partly because it's just easier than to admit he holds resentment that he assumes he shouldn't. He has virtually no ties to anyone or anything- to me this has always been evident in him hanging out with Kisaki despite him not being so nice to him all the time, a willingness to let himself be used for what he can offer if it means experiencing something- being kept around for usefulness because it is better than being left. Of course this is just my own thoughts, and lmao I do have a reallllyyyy particular version of Shuji in my head. He plagues me daily lol.

I feel like this changes once he meets someone he loves though.I think it would take LONNNGG time for him to warm to the idea of family and if i'm honest I think the whole kids thing would come as an accident rather than something him and his partner talked about, I don't think he would plan something like that at all. And I do think it would freak him the hell out to find out his partner was pregnant, scare the daylights out of him to actually be responsible for a whole 'nother human. BuT, I think he'd actually make a good father, and I think his willingness to try is why. He's aware that he's a danger, that there's tonnes he has to learn and honestly, there are habits he's not going to change and many mistakes he's going to make- but I also think he has the tenacity to keep attempting to do things. I think he makes conscious efforts to be gentler even though he's so rough around the edges especially with his partner. He's learned how to be softer and a bit more attentive, being observant by nature definitely helps here but there's also a lot you have to teach him about both partnership and parenthood. But he tries and tries, and that's the best thing about him. But don't ever tell him he's softened up a bit or he'll just deny it. Cutie pie.

Plus the idea of him with kids and as a dilf makes me want to eat my own arm lol so there's that too.

[withgreatpowercomesmyfuckingdick]

GENESIS CHAPTER!!! YESSSSSSS MY BOYY

Genesis is a hate-reader 🍷 Canon to me. I'm also glad you give him time to shine as a strategist, like, he IS a caster and one of the most proficient SOLDIERs in existence 💅stands to reason he does have to think things through on the battlefield and this isn't addressed nearly enough imo.

Zack "I'm not traumatized 😀" Fair is breaking my heart here. Both Cloud and Zack get to miraculously be together after losing the other, but the fear is fresh in Zack's mind. And unfortunately due to the rapidly developing situation (SCREAMS) he doesn't really have time to process and address it, and that's assuming he isn't avoiding doing so like the plague because Cloud's alive so everything's fine now right? 😀 Except it's super not and now Zack is the only one who really knows how not fine it is 💔

Speaking of not addressing emotions lol Angeal is in full repression mode and Sephiroth is isolatinggg 😬 I know how easy it is to withdraw when you're used to not having anyone there for you, when you have to figure out and manage everything yourself regardless of how unequipped you are for the task, but I also feel for Genesis here because it really does take a lot of work to gently coax people out of that over and over again. I like how you're addressing this in general, but especially from this pov! I really feel Genesis' frustration here. He knows it would get better if Seph just came home 😥

I really enjoyed the intel gathering scene with Bolin 👌👌👌 You're really serving up top shelf Genesis in this chapter and it's delightful to watch! But Camp 28 is stressing me tf out agagshshshshs Zack is somewhat reassured for now but even Kenny is worried about Cloud's lack of self preservation (physically and emotionally damn) and he doesn't even know how bad of a situation they're walking into! Though no one really knows and that's kind of the problem, but I love Kenny and I want him to survive this 😭 He needs to survive so he can be brave and trust Juvie with the kids!

Speaking of kids, CLAUDIA IS SO PRECIOUS I CANT 💕 I'm as bad as Vincent at this point. Claudia deserves the world (and she doesn't even exist anymore.. I will never be ok again 🫠)

I'm a little worried about whatever Genesis has planned to address the Camp 28 situation, because, well, it's Genesis lol but at the same time I love his constant rebellion against being told "no" 💅

Thanks for the amazing chapter!!!! Time to reread the whole thing again to distract myself from the incredible suspense of what's to come 😁🍿

HI HI HI THANKS FOR LEAVING ME THIS TO WAKE UP TO!!!

Genesis being a strategist just makes sense to me. Like. The man led a rebellion against Shinra that turned into a straight up war, waged it for a decent amount of time, and managed to not immediately get eradicated. That in itself says the man’s got SOME brains on him lol

Yeahhh Zack’s still in the “just happy Spike’s here” stage and honestly doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. The weight of carrying Cloud’s secret is kinda trumping his own emotions in importance, which miiiiiight not be good :/

It’s kind of sad when, to an extent, Genesis is being the most emotionally intelligent among them. I mean. Seriously. Genesis? Same guy that thought talking Sephiroth into insanity would make the dude help heal him? Yeah if he’s the smartest emotionally everyone needs some DIRE help.

But also guess what conflict is going to be resolved next chapter because I like making Seph suffer but not THAT damn much? Angeal’s repression might take a bit longer but gimme a second there’s five character arcs going on at once 😂

Camp 28 is, if you guys didn’t notice, another parade situation, except I’m dragging it out for effect LMAO. It obviously isn’t exactly the same but…well, you’ll see ;) Kenny’s just trying to look out for a buddy :( Cloud’s doing the same thing, just like…way more risky and possibly self destructive. Immortality went RIGHT to his head IMMEDIATELY

Cloud says it’s his daughter but that’s OUR DAUGHTER!!!

And like you said lmao—

Sephiroth: Genesis, no

Genesis: is that a fucking challenge

Nah seriously like, Genesis and ‘letting that slide’ don’t go in a sentence together. it’s just

Genesis, squinting at Camp 28: I don’t know what the fuck’s going on but TRUST you will be dealt with

Feel AWFUL for leaving this answer to you in my drafts for like…for fucking ever 😭 But thanks for leaving me this lovely!!! Always encouraging to read a lil smth from you 🖤🖤🖤

[loquaciousquark]

Okay, if I want to have any kind of a good time in this playthrough, I have got to figure out the differences between these two characters in my head. A bunch of character rambling under the cut.

Tavish: rogue, survivalist, starts the game off very self-centered not necessarily out of a desire to have more than others, but because she knows if she doesn't take care of herself first, absolutely no one else will. Grew up in Baldur's Gate in a loving family with a younger brother who all died (I think of plague) when she was about ten or eleven. After that she was sent to live with her mother's sister, who absolutely hated having a kid kicking around her place, and spent most of her time drunk as a skunk and scamming the tourists & hoity-toity in the city.

Aunt used Tavish pretty regularly as a participant/face/distraction in these scams & that's where she picked up her light fingers. Aunt was violent in her drunken rages, & when Tavish was about fourteen she killed her aunt in self-defense. Hid the body and lived alone in the tiny (slum, probably) housing for as long as she could, hiding the fact that she was alone, until taxes came due and the whole story came out. At that point she took off on her own rather than go to some city-funded orphanage and spent the next several years living on the streets and trying not to step on the toes of the Thieves' Guild. Definitely got her bell rung a few times for picking the wrong target and wasn't quite good enough on her own to get into the Guild on her own merit. Once tadpoled, has lots of imposter syndrome and has no idea why anyone's asking her to lead this group (obviously should be Lae'zel). Just does what she needs to for herself and lets the rest of them follow along with some bemusement.

However, discovers as soon as she has an ounce of real power/ability that she can't bring herself to be as selfish as she was, that she has a genuine interest in helping others she perceives as weaker and in need of defense. A lot of pity, a lot of "let me extend my hand back into the muck I just crawled out of." Still talking a big talk, still saying all the hard selfish self-centered out-for-myself things, but when push comes to shove does the right thing and doesn't really care if she's thanked for it. Good at the "big-picture kindness," lousy at the one-on-one right thing when she's got her hand in someone's pockets.

It's why the tiefling abduction in Act 2 hits her so hard--saving them in Act 1 was the first real big gesture of altruism she ever managed in her life, and it felt like suddenly it didn't matter at all. However, Karlach especially gives her a lot of guidance on what it means to be kind despite the pain, and it's something she actively works on and becomes a lot better at it through Acts 2 & 3. By the end of the game, a perfectly reasonably mostly well-adjusted person who has a good time and mostly does the right thing.

Relationship with Astarion: built on recognition of mutual artifice. She knows he's using her from the start, and he knows she's letting him do it--he's fully aware she just wants the distraction and she knows he's ingratiating himself & they're both fine making that sort of trade. There's definitely a tangible attraction that starts the first night he feeds; she's surprised at how into she is and likes knowing she was his first humanoid bite even though she straight-up dies, lmao. I think they both enjoy their mocking flirtations because obviously they don't need them, they're already getting what they want anyway: a good time, mind off bigger matters, assurance of mutual protection in a fight. Only much later do they realize they've caught feelings. His comes somewhere around the arrival at Last Light Inn when she's very upset about the tieflings, and he takes her out in the woods and uses sex to help her forget her troubles for a bit, and her genuine gratitude afterwards is what kind of flips that switch in him from casual FWB to something he actually cares about preserving.

For her, she starts really caring for him about the same time, but it's not until he says something in early 3 about wanting to protect her and keep her safe that she gets hooked for good bc she's never really had anything like that since her parents died. Struggles to recognize her worth in the group outside of her utility; probably struggled with having overlapping skills with Astarion and really tried to make herself charismatic and winning in conversations to distinguish herself from him. Ride or die by the Cazador fight and has no idea what to do with this certainty that they're not going to give up on each other anytime soon, but genuinely eager to have some kind of future to look forward to for the first time since her parents died.

Overall, symmetry in the initial fwb -> genuine care pipeline, affection expressed as needling sarcasm and insults, feral defense when one is injured or in serious danger. Parallels in one spending centuries trying to climb out of the shadows and the other trying to hide herself deeper and deeper in them.

Tavaea: I'm still very early in Act 1 (just ran through the owlbear cave and met the tieflings), but I think where I'm landing is that she's playacting good out of a desperate attempt to counteract the dark urges. Ferociously needs to be in control and has an unspoken expectation (which she doesn't know the source of) that everyone will fall in line behind her. Of course she's the leader--why wouldn't she be? Of course Lae'zel should stand down with Zorru--how dare she speak up in the first place? Genuinely doesn't understand that not everyone sees it this way yet & really is clashing with Lae'zel a bit here.

Not really interested in the altruism of the deed--more interested in that it feels like the natural counterbalance to her desire to slaughter. If she's good enough with her actions, she'll balance out her ledger, right? Basically reactionary goodness. Even though she doesn't necessarily believe in what she's doing, has an unquestioned expectation for everyone else to obey her anyway and doesn't understand why they keep having opinions. Definitely is so wrapped up in her own problems she's not noticing any other party members' issues right now--I think the vampire reveal is going to be a genuine shocker.

Expected arc: starts doing right things for the right reasons, I think probably towards tail end of Act 2. I've read just enough to know to expect some NPC death(s) with this background, but I don't know when they occur, so I'll have to see how this shapes the narrative (and is probably the single biggest reason I can't bring this to be my canon Tav). I'd like to use this death as a catalytic event but that'll depend on the timing.

Expected relationship with Astarion: a surprise mutual understanding of compulsion and dependence and the desperate search for freedom and real autonomy. I'm not yet sure how the first night happens motivation-wise; I don't think she's capable of being attracted to anyone as she is right now. I think honestly she's going to be bemused by him more than anything--why is he flirting with her when there are so many more important things to be worried about & focused on?--and I'm hoping she'll be surprised enough to not run screaming for the hills. I do think she feels the easiest around him so far, just because she thinks he's least likely to be repulsed by the urges in her head, so that might help her acquiesce even if she doesn't find him sexy yet.

Interestingly, I haven't found her willing to share the presence of the dark urges to any party members yet (I have everyone recruited but Karlach), and very interestingly to me Astarion is one she actually CAN'T talk to about the urges! So far only Gale, Lae'zel, and Wyll have options for her to confess, and she hardly knows any of them yet. She doesn't trust any of them to not try to do anything risky and definitely doesn't trust herself not to retaliate, so I'm not sure when she's going to get herself over that hump.

Okay. I think that can get me enough to start with. Playacting good in a desperate attempt to get control of her life and balance out the evil she's walking around with in her head. We'll see if she ever gets to the heart of things as we progress!

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: Nothing here, except language and ghost being a bitch and OC being a slut for him lmao. 

Chapter Summary: As Laura prepares for the mission that will put her a step towards home, she makes a dazzling realization. She might actually see Ghost’s face. 

A/N: Wow, this took forever. I am so sorry?????

Masterlist

Taglist: Open

Will be posting on AO3. IF ONLY I CAN FIGURE OUT HOW IT WORKS LMAO.

Chapter seven

He was blonde. I couldn’t get that out of my head, the way his sandy locks had turned a darker shade of honey under the water’s jet. His light eyelashes and his slightly darker brows. The blue of his eyes, the shade of a calm ocean tide. 

It was like staring in the mirror and not recognizing myself. Simon - that was his name - who could tear someone to pieces and take what he wanted from others and drain the blood from someone’s face with a simple look, was blonde. 

It was the one and only thing rattling the inside of my skull for the last two days. Not the fact that his fingers were skilled or one had been wedged between my thighs or that his mouth was soft and plump. Not that his body was perpetually on fire or that his teeth had left little half moons on the flesh of my shoulder. Or that he tasted like ash and something sweet. 

He was fucking blonde. 

I don’t know, honestly, what I had expected from Ghost - well, Simon. Maybe thick dark locks and black eyebrows to match with that awfully blank stare of his. Maybe even a light shade of chocolate brown. 

But not blonde.

It softened him, even if I knew what he was capable of. How strong he was. How fast, cunning, tactical he could be. The fact that his hair was just short strands, curling around his ears, and blonde! 

And not sunny, beach blonde. Not pastel yellow or close to white. He had a special kind of shade, somewhere between hot sand and honey coiling around my finger. 

I had only seen his hair for a very split second, distracted by the masterpiece of his body, but it had just stuck with me.

After Simon - oh, God his name was so sweet - and I’s encounter in the bathroom showers, I could barely bring myself to look at him. 

Yes, he’d culled the most luscious, lascivious sensations out of my skin, deep from within me, like a tide to the moon. But cumming for him, at his command, from his ministrations on my body, had felt like I was a marble dropped into water.

It was a failure to myself. 

Even if it had felt so good, so right, even if I’d initially ran and refused and been turned to putty in his hands. Even if he’d understood me so easily, so pathetically, and yet so perfectly - it was utter failure.

I needed to win. And I would.

Soap was walking me through the plans of this operation. The one they called Starlight. 

He’d been silent with me at training these past two days. Not silent silent, Soap wasn’t capable of being mute, but he was less chatty, less friendly. He kept a safe distance from me, as if I was riddled with the black plague and this was 1388. 

“Management isn’t roped in on this,” he said, going through his notes. We were sitting in the RV, night creeping and whispering around us with crickets and a far away, numb noise of a drone. “So don’t trust anyone. Keep your eyes behind your head.”

I snorted. 

“So to speak, pumpkin,” Soap muttered, head in his hands. I reached over and touched his elbow, summoning his gaze back to me.

His skin was soft, chiseled with hair, and he looked up between his fingers at me. 

“You doing okay?” I asked. 

I wasn’t blind. I’d seen the blue smudged under Soap’s eyes, the fatigue dragging Alejandro’s face downward, and even Gaz and Laswell were dragging their feet. This operation, this mission to catch an elusive criminal, was taking a toll on the team.

Soap’s mouth curved into a shy smile. “Yeah,” he said, yawning, poorly hiding it behind his hands. 

“Maybe we should sleep?” I suggested. 

For a moment, Soap just stared. We’d been at these plans for the better part of the night. No one had bothered showing back up after supper - some sort of ladies night happening at the bar that Gaz and Alejandro were really into. So Soap had thought it would be best to walk me through the plans, get me used to what I was supposed to do. 

But Soap was getting sleepy and grumpy, and the more questions I asked, the easier it was to get him angry. 

I moved my hand away, but he caught it, lightning quick. Slamming his hands onto my fingers and holding onto it. 

“Laura, I - I wanna ask you somethin’?” It came out as a question, but my head cocked with curiosity. His fingers were burning, wrapped tightly around mine, sitting numbly on the table. He bit the inside of his cheek. “What did Ghost do to you?”

I tried jerking my hand away, but Soap held on, bruising grip, forcing my entire arm to lay flat on the wood of the table. Although Soap let off some other kind of vibe, the goofy kid with a lopsided smile and an easy laugh, he was smart. He was the smartest person I’d ever met - and never let anything slip past him. 

Frowning, my breath almost knocked out of me, I said, “nothing.” As if I meant it. As if Ghost hadn’t actually done something to me.

My entire body lit up, flames licking up my sides, burning up to my cheeks, and Soap must have noticed because he grimaced and shook his head. 

“You won’t even look at him,” he continued. “Should... should I be concerned?”

“No.”

“Then why are you pulling your arm away?”

I fidgeted in my seat. “Soap, it’s no big deal.”

He laughed. The asshole actually laughed. “Then tell me.”

“No!”

“Are you a little prudish?”

I reached over with my other hand, my clumsy hand, and slapped him. And just at that moment, the door to the RV swung open, but I didn’t hear it, and continued slapping Soap clumsily on the side of the head. He laughed, barely evading my blows, holding me by my other hand. 

“You’re such a dick!” I exclaimed, grabbing onto that mohawk of his and trying to slam his head onto the table. 

I should’ve known I was not going to be satisfied with what came next.

I was yanked from the table, my hand snatched from Soap’s, and a pair of arms wrapped under my breasts, hoisting me up. I screeched, trying to kick Soap, but my assailant - and I had a good idea who it was - just pulled me right across the table, throwing Soap’s notes to the ground. 

I landed awkwardly onto the ground, butt first, heels scrambling on the carpeted floor of this fucking RV. I held onto Ghost’s forearms, nails digging into the fabric of his black hoodie. He hauled me up and onto my feet. 

I tried slapping Ghost, aiming my open palms over my head and at his masked face, but he just grunted and grabbed both wrists and trapped them between my chest and his. 

“Why are you assaulting my Sergeant?” he asked, his voice low, grunted through clenched teeth. 

Soap chuckled. 

“He called me... he called me prudish,” I spat back, trying to pull my wrists free but Ghost took a step towards me and I took one back. The edge of the counter came brushing against the base of my spine. Nice. Trapped again. 

Ghost was so immense in the tiny space of the RV, taking up most of my vision with the width of his shoulders and chest. 

I tried not to look into his eyes, into those baby blues, but he was just standing there. Looking.

So I did. I dragged my gaze up until he was piercing holes inside my face. 

“Well, you are,” he said, and I saw a glint in his eyes, as if this was amusing. I pulled but he held on. 

“No.”

“Prove it.” I turned, facing Soap, who’d just said that without humour, without a hint of a smile on his face.

I felt Ghost let out a chuckle against me. “She’d never,” he said. 

I opened my mouth to speak but Ghost’s hand shot out, grabbing my jaw painfully, holding my mouth open like a fish. I saw his eyes dart to my mouth, to my tongue. Then he dragged his gaze back to mine. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.” He paused, watching me struggle to close my jaws. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “Don’t tempt us.”

He let go of me and lazily walked back to the room. I watched, breathless, jaw aching, as his shoulders swayed, his form sauntering away until he closed the door to the room.

I turned, half expecting Soap to be laughing at Ghost’s cruelty. But he was just sat there, watching me with impossibly dark eyes, an impenetrable stare. 

“Soap?” I asked, my voice small. 

I wasn’t liking this. But I wasn’t hating this. My skin crawled with goosebumps as Soap got up, slowly facing me. Something akin to flames, like embers, was brewing low in my belly. 

Shit. 

“Let’s go get some sleep, huh, pumpkin?” He jerked his head towards the room, where Ghost was sleeping, where I was supposed to fall asleep as well. 

Numbly, I followed Soap. He opened the door for me, darkness greeting us both as we slinked in. I heard the rustle of his shirt coming off his chest, the sheets as he climbed into his bed. I listened to the creaks in Ghost’s own bunk, to the breaths of two men obviously not sleeping as I went to the corner and felt around for my pijamas. 

I listened to the dark, to Soap’s quiet but rapid breaths, to Ghost’s sheets hissing as he moved. 

I quickly changed, leaving my jeans and shirt on the floor, and quickly climbed into bed. 

I had trouble finding sleep, staring at the dark, pretending not to imagine what Soap would feel like. What Ghost would say if I touched him or Soap or both.

And something rang deep in my head, low in my belly, throbbing between my legs.

Ghost had said don’t tempt us. Us. 

Fuck. 

***

The truth about men was fairly simple. They were immortal beings until faced with the inevitable death of their hearts. They thought themselves painless, fearless until the sting of a blade kissed their flesh. 

Or until some bratty girl with midnight hair became the only girl on base to hold the entirety of their appetite. 

Ghost wasn’t stupid. And he wasn’t blind. He’d seen his own subordinates, trained privates, Navy Goddamned Seals battle hardened and insensitive, fall to their knees at the mention of pussy. And he’d seen them all give eyes to Laura, to the beautiful civilian American girl with black hair and a blacker stare. 

But she was his. And she’d remain his until he decided otherwise. 

“L.T?”

Ghost turned his head, meeting Soap’s gaze. The latter inclined his head. “Are we getting Laura for this?” he asked. 

Ghost shook his head. “All she needs to do is get in there and identify him,” the shadow said. Alejandro shook his head, leaning back on Laswell’s desk. 

They had gathered here again, a little after breakfast and their morning training. Laswell had asked them to prep her and brief her on Starlight. Only Ghost had a real plan. 

“We go in there as civilians,” he continued. 

“We can’t be armed,” Alejandro said. “They’ll check us at the door, perros.” His lip twitched on the last word. 

“We don’t need to go in armed,” Ghost said. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t arm ourselves inside.” 

Laswell prickled up from behind her desk, pushing away dirty, greasy bangs from her eyes. “We can’t let Laura bring in the guns,” she sighed. “They’ll check her too.”

And just the image of some dogs pressing their hands on her made Ghost suck his teeth. 

“We need to pull together a stealth operation,” he said. “We get some of our guys to go in during the day and stash the guns. When the club opens, we find the guns, let Laura identify Alvarez, and then we take him down.”

Soap shook his head. “His guys will have AKs if not automatics,” he offered. “We’ve got no chance if we can only get handheld guns in there, sir.”

“He’s right,” Laswell mumbled. 

“Then we get rifles in there,” Ghost insisted. 

Laswell sighed and slowly nodded. “Alright, Lieutenant, but please, do not add civilians to our casualties.” 

Ghost nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll have a team ready to go in this afternoon. We can have Laura ready for tonight.”

Alejandro pushed himself from the desk. “I’m still not fine with allowing a civilian girl into the crossfire, hermano.”

Ghost took a step towards him. “You want to catch Alvarez?” he asked. “You want to end this mission, go home, allow Laura back to her normal life?”

The other man took a breath in, calming the fire rising in his temples. “I do, but-”

“Then there’s no but, Vargas.” Ghost stood like a brick wall. “We get Alvarez, we shut down his entire ring, and we get the girl back to America.”

Ale nodded, even though Ghost could tell the man wasn’t happy with the idea, given his pursed lips. “She needs to be protected at all costs,” he said, silently, as if the idea itself was blasphemy. 

Ghost stiffened. “She is.” 

Laswell stood, knuckles on her desk. “Laura is our priority,” she said. “If she’s in any danger, it is your solemn order to protect and get her out alive. If anyone at the white house hears wind that we put an American girl’s head on the platter for Alvarez, they’ll have all our jobs.” 

Ghost bit into his cheek, suppressing the urge to tell everyone that she was his priority. And no one else’s. But by the way Soap, Alejandro, and Gaz all nodded solemnly, they’d made Laura their sole mission too. 

***

“Tonight?” I asked. Something akin to fear thudded, throbbed in my throat. Oh shit, I was going to vomit. 

Soap nodded, stepping into the RV, followed by the whole gang; Alejandro, Ghost, and finally, Gaz. I backed up, allowing them space to file in and take a seat at the table, or like Ghost preferred, standing and blocking the only exit to the RV. 

Soap was the first to talk. “We got guys stashing weapons in there for us.”

I turned to look at him. “As if that’s going to make me feel better.”

“You’ll be on comms with us,” he said soothingly. “All you have to do is well... identify Alvarez and get to the extraction point, where Laswell will be waiting for you. We’ll take care of Alvarez.” 

I was simultaneously feeling relieved that home was mere hours away, a mission’s breadth away, but also frightened to the point my bones became sour under my skin. Fear made everything impossible. 

I had opened the door to them; to these men who’d saved my life and asked one pitiful thing from me. And I had to deliver. I had to. For the sake of them and for the sake of my friends that had died.

I swallowed thickly. “What do I have to do?”

Soap smiled, something close to pride lifting his shoulders. “We’ll have you go in dressed as a civilian,” he said, pushing off the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a club, so wear something... nice.”

I looked down at what I was wearing; jeans and an army green tee. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Soap chuckled, and I watched in utter embarrassment as Alejandro raised his eyebrow with a cheeky grin and Gaz ducked his chin to his chest. Only Ghost had no reaction. 

“What?” I insisted.

Alejandro cleared his throat. “Mami, you look fine,” he said, reassuringly so. “But this club, eh how do I say this politely... it’s for people who want to go home with enjoyment, you see?”

I did see. I also saw Ghost stiffen ever the slightest from the corner of my eye. 

“Oh,” I mumbled. 

“And let’s just say that no one wears jeans,” Ale finished. “Or t-shirts. We’ll get the girls on base to hand you some things, yeah?”

I nodded, peeling away the sweat from my palms onto my jeans nervously. 

Ale and Ghost left to find my nighttime attire while I stayed with Gaz and Soap. They walked me through my engagements; walk in, blend in, get invited to the upper lounge if I could, and by all means, get eyes on Alvarez. 

I nodded, but really, inside me, I was running marathons around my head. I was trying to find any exit, any dark alley or corner to hide in, to pull into myself and disappear. 

Soap handed me a device that fit into the hole of my ear and told me that the entire task force would be able to hear me and I’d be able to talk to them. It gave me a little bit of relief to know they would be a breath away. 

Ale and Ghost came back, shuffling in cooling evening air and a pink plastic bag. Ale handed it to me as if the bag itself contained the most gruesome plague. I took it and walked to the bathroom defeated, spotting a tube of mascara in there. 

When I got a good look at the clothes they brought me, I yelled. 

“Pumpkin?” It was Soap at the door, but I put my back against it. When he pushed, I pushed right back. 

“You’re not seriously asking me to wear this?” I called, holding the garment between my nails. 

Soap chuckled. “How bad is it?” he asked me. And then, a few seconds after, his weight on the door released and I could hear him asking the same question to the others. 

I sighed, pressing the flimsy fabric against my chest, feeling my heart beating through my skin. 

I sighed, stripping out of my clothes and letting them fall to a puddle beside the toilet. Carefully, I undid the jean skirt and slipped into it. As guessed, it covered my ass and an inch lower, but I only had to bend over and the entire world would glimpse my Winnie the Pooh underwear. And the shirt, god the shirt, was only a thin black camisole with so much glitter that the floor was covered by the time I slipped it on. It left a nice slice of skin just over my skirt’s hem.

When I looked back into the bag, I found a pair of black Converse shoes. “What kind of bar is this?” I asked myself, lacing them up. They were a bit small for me, toes cramming into the tip. That would have to do, I guess. I reluctantly applied mascara and smudged a bit of it over my lid as eye shadow.  

But there was no way in hell that I was walking out that door to face four grown military men. Not dressed like this. 

“Soap?” I called through the door. I heard his footsteps come to the door, the weight of his shoulder press on the wood. “I need a sweater.”

No answer. 

“Please, Soap,” I fidgeted. “I can’t step out the way I am. I look like a cheap escort.”

“It’s just us.” But it wasn’t Soap. It was Ghost, and his voice trailed through the flimsy wood of the door until I stepped away from it, let the door slide open a little. Until I could see his eyes peaking above his balaclava. He didn’t take his eyes off mine as he opened the door with one hand and handed me a black hoodie with the other. “Cover yourself up,” he ordered, and slammed the door shut. “The others are waiting outside.”

I ignored the rage climbing up my throat and the embarrassment seeping into my skin as I climbed into the hoodie and zipped it up. It was so big that it skimmed my knees and I zipped it up to my chin. It was warm, as if freshly worn, and the smell that clung to the fabric was absolutely Ghost’s smell.  

It made me almost dizzy, to wear him like this. To slip my bare skin along the same fabric that warmed his. 

I walked out and followed him silently, watching the sway of his shoulders, the shadows dancing on the grey of his hoodie. He stopped before the door, turning to face me, staring me down through the slit in his mask. “You’re scared,” he stated. 

I nodded, trying to hide from his glare, ducking my chin to my chest. His fingers zapped out quickly, pinching my chin between his forefinger and thumb, tracing my eyes back to his. “Yes,” I breathed, a tremble beginning in my fingers and working its way up to my lip.

Ghost stared. Then he sighed. “If something goes wrong,” he said. “Just tell me where you are in there. Describe the walls, the floor, the people there. I’ll find you.”

I wanted to say that I had no doubt he’d find me. Hell, he’d find me in the dark. I had no doubt he could be ripped of all his senses and still manage to put his hands on me. 

“How are you getting in?” I asked, watching as his fingers fell from my chin. 

“I’m going in without the mask.”

My eyes rounded, looking up at him, almost reaching for his shoulder before he opened the door and a gust of warm, humid South Asian evening heat patted my skin. And Alejandro came into view, smiling up at me.

I couldn’t concentrate on the comment Soap gave as I shockingly stepped from the RV. Or the reassuring thing Gaz said in my ear. Or the way Ale was guiding me with a soft hand on my middle back. 

All I could think about was that Simon, Ghost, would be in that club maskless. 

[ffxiv-krhistia]

(Excuse me **I NEED** to make the Bio for Khit'li's Viera version for @midnyte-muses and I don't want to do an OOC post for it without just letting shit flow cause i got the hot iron and music lol)

Name: Khit'li L'ocar Aliases: Child of the Bun, Boi of the Bun, Pawface, CatBun, Khit-Tie, T'gan A'si So'ryn, T'gan L'ocar, Tit-Gan (Some of these are going to change hwen we formalize his name) Age: 20s Gender: Male, He/They Sexuality: SEX? I Got no time for that shit. Family: He has memories of otherworldly families, but largely knowing his mental health, it could just be "ALL IN HIS HEAD". He's seen things in his 'dreams' or 'memories' as he calls them, that elude to having kids, a husband and siblings. (hah, hah -- because Tiergan lmao. XD)

Height: around 6'2-6'4 Hair: Green with violet. Eyes: Heterchromia: one ice blue (nearly white) one blue eye Notable features: Viera ( the tan bishie kind - good god dont make me think) - X scar plus Viera facial marks. Also considered to be a half. breed Miqote/Viera. Bio: T'gan A'si So'ryn (Name is going to change soon lol) the son of Khit'li L'ocar, is struggling to remember what happened to his father. Did he die? Did he get caught up in the last unsundering that Emet Selch himself failed to prevent? A playful, but protective one, T'gan took up his father's name to avenge his downfall. Except, just like the books told him - he's seen his father's face before in the mirror. Suffering much the same from what seems to be a personality disorder, he sees another life behind the eyes. The blade in which he claims is to protect those he loves, serves as a mirror somedays and shows nothing more than his father's Keeper of the Moon face. Well versed in the crafts, the younger Khit'li has taken up weaving, gold smithing as well as weapon crafting. That's still not enough to distract him from what seems to be the memories that plague him just the way they did his father... Just once more with feeling can the room stop spinning? (We won't have an official bio on this one, lol just this is the base to work with and we just wanted to spam bnnuy lmao)

[majestic-salad]

I'd love to see your take on Magi Ruiz! She got to the team and immediately got to business, she pulled a sound child out of the speakers (Wyatt Mason X/MaX) and then raised Chorby Soul from the dead with the help of Layna. Queen shit. Also she could use some more art with her hearing aid

HI I READ SHES GOT A MAGIC BOOK THAT SLAPS

this was really quick but hiiiiiiii I love her actually ty so much for telling me about her!!!!!!!!!!!

[joelslegalwhre]

I can help

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.3k

summary⁀➷ Much to your fathers disliking, you not only serve a Witcher in his tavern, but you also leave with Geralt to find his child of surprise.

warnings⁀➷ people being mean to geralt and reader, soft!geralt, swearing, making out, kind of ‚fast pace' relationship, not a good father daughter relationship

a/n⁀➷ is the relationship of geralt and reader a little fast pace? definitely but we don’t care lmao (if I missed a warning let me know pls!)

sorry the ‘read more’ is still not working properly

The tavern fell silent as a tall man entered. His features were covered by the large hood that he had pulled deep into his face, but you could see the white, almost silver, hair that peeked out of it. The smell he wore told you everything you needed to know. Everyone knew who he was - a Witcher.

Geralt of Rivia, the butcher of Blaviken as some called him.

He took off his hood, revealing his amber eyes. It almost looked as if they were glowing. He came to the bar and sat down on one of the stools. The Witcher barely looked at you as he slid a coin to you and silently stared at the wood. You took the coin and placed a mug full of fresh ale in front of him.

"I don't serve witchers in my tavern, Y/N. That son of a bitch should find another place!"

Your father spoke loudly as he approached you.

"You don't, I do. He pays, just like the others."

Your dry reply made the Witcher raise his head. He looked at you. Studied you. You could feel his gaze on you like it was burning into your skin.

Your father stood before you, enraged, staring at you, then turning his attention to his unwanted guest.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

"One of the men back there asked for you. I'll take care of the rest."

The Witcher raised an eyebrow as he watched the whole scene from up close. You turned back to him, ignoring your father who, fortunately for you, only walked away in a huff.

"Can I get you anything else?"

As if nothing had happened, Geralt thought, and had to strongly suppress a grin. Much to his astonishment.

He wordlessly slipped you another coin.

And again you gave him a new jug in return. Curiously, you leaned your arms against the counter and looked at him. "Geralt of Rivia, right?" He looked up from his drink and eyed you again. "Mhm." was all he said.

"I heard you're looking for your child of surprise." His gaze was still fixed on you, something that wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I can help."

Geralt breathed out a laugh, tilted his head, and with a slow flutter of his eyelashes, looked directly into your eyes. "You?"

"Of course, it could all be a rumour, but I heard that a woman took in a young girl just a few days ago. Not far from here." He was still staring at you through his Witcher eyes.

"I know her, I can show you the way."

Still no movement from him. But it didn't surprise you, it was no special behaviour for his kind.

You still didn't give in and stared back.

Geralt knew it wouldn't be smart to take you with him.

You could already distract him too easily, make him forget what he had been trained all his life. But you were the first real clue to Cirilla of Cintra in weeks.

"How long will it take to get there?" he asked in a low voice that made your legs go soft.

"By horse, about three days."

The Witcher looked at his jug again, and his gaze lingered on it for a moment. Without you, he wouldn't get any further either, he had to try it at least.

"All right, then." he grumbled.

A grin formed on your lips.

As Geralt made a move to leave, you stopped him. "Oh no, you need sleep first. You look like you haven't slept in days. And a bath won't do you any harm either."

Your determination surprised him, and for a brief moment he wanted to go on looking for his child of surprise without you.

But you were right. He hadn't slept properly for days. The nightmares that plagued him made it impossible.

But he could accept a bath. Since he had killed that Kikimora, he stank of guts and blood.

„Mhm. All right.”

With a grin, you approached him, only to walk past him. "This way." You could feel Geralt's gaze on your body, as you had earlier. But now it was stronger, almost impossible to ignore. Goosebumps spread up your arms. His tall, broad figure towered over you as he followed you.

Geralt felt the eyes of the people and your father on the two of you as you disappeared into one of the doorways that lead to the guest rooms.

The wooden door opened with a creak, revealing one of the plain rooms.

"You can sleep here tonight, l'll go and prepare a bath for you. If you-"

Large hands gripping your hips softly, interrupted you. Geralts eyes looked back and forth between your lips and eyes. "I think the bath can wait." he growled and pulled you against him.

With ease, he closed the door behind you with his foot and pressed you against it in the same movement. His hands found their way to your back.

His eyes studied every inch of you, and again it seemed as if his eyes were glowing. Before you could think, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He seemed to like it, because Geralt grabbed your waist a little tighter, lifted you up and sat down on the bed, with you straddling him.

He had already left a few marks on your neck that would certainly be seen for some time. His hands roamed your body as your lips found their way over his chin to his neck to leave a trail of kisses. You noticed how Geralt was concentrating on something else as he tensed slightly.

He leaned over to your ear, „Your father is eavesdropping.” You stopped kissing his neck, a wicked smile spreading across your face.

Without warning, you leaned back a little in Geralt's lap, but held on with your hands on the back of his neck.

"Mhmm Geralt!" you moaned his name, loud enough for your father to hear. Geralt looked at you with this small grin that spread across his lips so rarely. With one swift motion, he grabbed you tighter and kissed you hard, which made you moan into his mouth in surprise.

This time without pretending.

When he parted from your lips, his eyes went to the door. “He's gone.” he grinned with his usual low voice.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good thing I'm going with you because they would hunt me down after this, him being in the lead."

"Mhm" Greralt grumbled with an evil smile. "Sleeping with a mutant," his eyes looked directly into yours, "Bad, bad girl."

"Oh, shut up." you laughed as you hit his shoulder but he already started kissing you again.

When the two of you left the tavern the next morning, the marks on your neck were still clearly visible. Geralt had made sure everyone would see it.

"Fucking whore!" some drunk men and women shouted after you, still drinking or already drinking again. But one look from Geralt was enough to shut them up.

Whatever they were ranting about, they were still more afraid of the Witcher than anything else.

"My horse is outside." spoke Geralt softly into your ear from behind. You looked up at him and nodded.

"Where are you going?!" your father shouted when he saw you and the Witcher. Without moving a muscle of your face, you answered him. “Finding his child of surprise.”

"I have not raised you to be a fucking whore for a fucking mutant." he shouted after you, as you were already making your way to the door. You would've said nothing and just left. Geralt, on the other hand, would not.

He slowly turned around, and you could see the fear in your father's eyes. Geralt didn't even have to say anything, he just turned back to you, put one of his big hands on your lower back and walked out of the tavern with you.

"We're leaving. Now." he murmured angrily.

He wouldn't be able to hold himself back for much longer.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[hypnomicimagines]

May I please have headcanons of Ichiro, Ramuda, Doppo, Jyushi, and Sasara (my tastes are very diverse, I see that now-) with an s/o who has the habit of stress baking? Sometimes they just wake up at 3 AM to noises coming from the kitchen and voila, it's s/o!

[P.S. I love this blog so very much! ]

(Your tastes are diverse but also 4/5 of these are the other admins husbands so you’ve got the same taste as her lmao)

Aimono Jyushi:

Jyushi is always a little worried about you and he had detected that your mood had been off for days. When the telltale sign of 3am baking strikes he knows with certainty that it’s you haunting the kitchen, making his way there to question you on what would get you to move on in peace. He tries to get right to business but you’re always quick to distract him by baking some of his favorites, pushing a plate in front of him so you could continue your baking endeavors in peace. Jyushi is only temporarily distracted, however, telling you that you’ll have to talk to him (as soon as he’s finished what’s on his plate).

Amemura Ramuda: 

Ramuda is always surprised when he suddenly wakes up to the kitchen being filled with baked goods, taking a bite out of a few of his favorite treats for energy (and luck) before he approached you. He didn’t ever judge you for it or even act like it was out of the ordinary, asking with a bright smile if something was wrong. He always cuddled up real close and told you that you should tell him the problems in bed, since it was late, with him fully willing to display his full strength and drag you out of the kitchen if he had to. 

Kannonzaka Doppo: 

Doppo is also, unfortunately, up and rolling around in his bed as he’s too stressed to get a peaceful nights sleep.  When he smells someone baking he assumes at first that it’s Hifumi until he realizes the bed next to him is painfully empty, leaving him to pull himself out to see if there was something plaguing you. You feel bad about potentially waking him up but he tells you it’s no big deal as his alarm would go off soon anyway, asking if there was something you’d like to talk about before he suddenly has a muffin in his face. At least he would actually have time to eat breakfast before work but he hoped the two of you could rest easy soon.

Nurude Sasara:  

That specific habit of yours is one that Sasara often forgets you have. Hearing someone clanking around in the kitchen so early in the morning puts him on edge and he grabs whatever object is nearest to him, often unplugging the lamp near his bedside from the wall to take it with him as protection. When he entered the kitchen ready to fight any intruder who might try to target you next you both scream in surprise at each other, thankful that the lamp is once again saved from shattering on the ground from your quick reflexes.

Yamada Ichiro: 

As much as Ichiro appreciated the baked goods whenever the sweet smell wafted through the house late at night, he worried about you. He always found it in himself to wake up and share a midnight snack with you as you talked about what might be stressing you out in the moment, finding that Ichiro was always a comforting person to lean on. He tells you he’ll clean up the mess in the kitchen so you can get to bed, hoping you can actually get some shuteye that night.