#being deadweight if only for one short while

[satellitedarling]

haha god listening to music and having scenarios in your head is so fun, yes the scenarios are about a hypothetical good relationship with my parents why do you ask

[write-here-n-now]

What to do when you've crossed a line?

C.(S). Jeonghan x Reader | WC. 1218 | G. Angst| Pt. 3/? | *Jeonghan's POV* |

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

When someone you care for deeply, tell all your secrets to and want to spend all your time with blurts out a love confession to you in the middle of the night, what possible responses could you come up with? 

You could tell them thank you. You could maybe get by with an awkward ��oh”. If you weren’t completely caught off guard you could maybe start questioning them. When? Where? How long? Why? And with just their luck you could respond with “finally” but none of those responses came out of Jeonghan when Y/N confessed to him.

Why? Well because…

Why? Why? Why? Because, because, because had been swimming around in his head for days. He didn’t dare to stop you from walking away or chase after you and he stood there, frozen and shocked, watching you walk away from him. 

You needed space, he reasoned with himself, so he walked away, towards his apartment, repeating your words over and over in his head 

“I’m in love with you” “You don’t even care”

He always had an answer for everything. His tongue short, witty, ready for any comment, but never had he felt like he had escaped the ability to think of words much less get them out of his mouth, only yours stayed, knocking around in his head. 

He was a coward, that much evident that he couldn’t even pick up the phone to press your contact. Fear and worry were holding him back but at the same time limiting him. How long can you avoid speaking to your best friend? His friends tried to pry why he suddenly became AWOL for the last three days; he couldn’t even give them an answer.

*Ping* “Where have you been the past few days?” - Mingyu *Ping* “There is a new restaurant near campus, I’ll pay” - Jun *Ping* “How long are you gonna be cooped up at home?” - Seungkwan *Ping* “Are you good?” - Hyungwon *Ping* “You haven’t been to class for a while…everything ok?” - Joshua *Ping* “It’s literally midterm season, are you studying or avoiding exams?” - Woozi

Not a single notification interested him, he knew none of them were yours. How had he taken your presence for granted and now all he wished were for you to message him, even if it was to curse at him, call him names; anything at all would have worked.

Jeonghan hadn’t been hurt in love. He’d fallen in love and fallen out. He’d had his fair of crushes and partners, but you can never prepare for falling in love with your best friend. Losing your most cherished friend comes with a feeling of hollowness, one that leaves you feeling restless and alone. He couldn’t lose you, not like this anyway. He hadn’t eaten, sleep wouldn’t come easy no matter how much he wished it to. He checked his phone despite knowing full well you would never in a million years reach out after the situation he had created for you two. 

Four days was how long it took for Seungcheol to bust down his door and drag him out of the house. 

“You can’t be inside for this long. You need to get out of the house…maybe even clean it up”

Walking up to his bed, Seungcheol pulls off the covers and grabs a hold of Jeonghan’s arms, pulling the man towards him haphazardly trying to get him to a standing position.

Seungcheol’s strength was unmatched, and the most Jeonghan could do was continue being deadweight and cause him enough resistance until Seungcheol let him be, but his friend was nothing if not fucking persistent. Any other time, Jeonghan would appreciate it but he couldn’t find it within himself to face the world, what if everyone laughed at him?

Letting him go, Jeonghan falls back into the lying position Seungcheol had found him in, attempting to sleep without avail.

“She’s on campus today,” Seungcheol mentioned in a tone so nonchalant, hands on hips as if Jeonghan wasn’t mentally beating himself up all week trying to figure out how he could see your face. “Don’t lie to me” “Why would I need to lie to you? I know you probably haven’t seen her in the last four days like a coward,” he replies as he walks towards Jeonghan’s closet. “I saw her as at the campus café after my morning lecture.”

Despite never properly admitting how enamoured he was by you, Jeonghan had spilled everything from the day of the party over the phone to Seungcheol two nights ago. From the dejection in his voice, yet the coolness of his words gave away the façade he was still trying to put up; he was only hurt that his best friend confessed and stopped speaking to him, which was also his fault for enacting by not even a weak effort to leave a voicemail.

The wheels were turning in his head, maybe if Seungcheol could get them to see each other there could still be some salvage to their friendship and perhaps a potential beginning to a future being something more.

Wide-eyed and frozen, Jeonghan’s face is met with a thump of the hoodie and jeans.

“Here, put this on and get down to the car in the next 15 minutes,” Seungcheol yells out walking out of the room.

Never in his life had he rushed to dress faster. He had to see you today and clear up everything, if he didn’t, he could kiss you and your friendship goodbye. 

Seungcheol had said 15 minutes as a courtesy, he hadn’t expected Jeonghan to surge into his car, 7 minutes later, hair a mess, shoes untied (were they on the wrong foot?), phone in hand, yet not even a pencil on him—if he hadn’t picked out the hoodie himself he would have thought a random stranger burst into his car. 

“Let's go,” Jeonghan breathes out, clearly spent from sprinting out of his apartment. “Whoa, hold on, are you going to go to campus like this?” “Nobody is going to care, just drive” “...ok…don’t say I didn’t give a chance to change,” Seungcheol reprimands as he starts the car and begins to reverse out of the parking lot.

The ride to the campus is silent save for Jeonghan’s fingers drumming against in thigh, then the dashboard, then the edge of the door, then again on his thigh.

“Can you maybe not use my car as a drum set?” “I can’t help it. What if Y/N doesn’t let me explain?” “What exactly do you plan to say?” questions Seungcheol.

He knew Jeonghan could likely talk himself out of a literal court case but if he hadn’t been able to face his feelings for you before…His hopes were low.

Pin drop silence. He had been planning all the possible scenarios and speeches he could utter the minute he found the presence of your face in his vicinity, promising himself to not let you walk away again.

“..i..”

The ever-infamous smooth talker Yoon Jeonghan was once again brought into debilitating silence, as if speech was foreign to his lips and thoughts vanished completely.

What was he going to say to you, could he even say anything to you that would make up for how he ghosted you since that night?

Worst of all, would you forgive him?

[pparadiselost]

command & master.

kageyama tobio x fem reader the best pet is one that's disciplined. warning(s): nsfw, femdom, bdsm, orgasm control, orgasm denial, analplay, male masturbation, petplay, commandplay, ruined orgasm, scentplay, voyeurism minors do not interact. author's note: inspired off of owaranai hibi by dhibi.

“good boy, tobio. you worked hard.”

there’s a weight that lifts off of kageyama tobio’s chest the moment you lock the front door behind you. a switch flips inside his head at the sound of his given name slipping past your lips, and his knees threaten to give out underneath him at the sudden shift in his behavior. his head feels foggy, and he has little recollection of how he even made it back home. 

It’s all a blur in his head. he can see snippets of you holding his hand and his ragged breathing going up the stairs, but he’s gotten home in one piece and that’s really all that matters to him.

“what’s wrong?” your voice has a softened, affectionate tone to it, but kageyama knows by now that underneath the honey and sugar lies a trap. you reach out towards him, and when your palm brushes against his cheek, he unconsciously nuzzles into the touch. “your face is so flushed… poor thing.”

his body feels hot. if he had to describe it, he would say it was similar to running a hot fever. he almost feels like he’s trapped inside of his own body. his mind and his physicality are utterly disconnected, with the scraps of his pride struggling to thrash around in his subconscious while the rest of him veers dangerously towards winning your approval.

and you know this. you know this all too well.

as if you can read his thoughts, the corners of your lips curl into what he can only describe as a sadistic grin. despite the way you carefully caress his cheek, the beautifully contained words poised as worry, your eyes are absolutely dancing with glee. he’s miserable, and you know it. you’re fully relishing the fact that you’re the cause and the cure of his inner turmoil, and it makes him shiver with dread and delight.

“oh, alright, alright. i’ll quit messing with you. you’ve been so good for me, tobio,” you practically purr the words, enjoying the way the syllables roll off of your tongue. the atmosphere is thick and heavy, like electricity hangs in the air waiting for the singular spark to set it all ablaze. “it must have been so hard for you. but you did it for me, didn’t you? you’re almost there, i promise. one last hurdle, okay?”

his legs are jelly as he wobbles after you. he’s never been this hard in his life, his cock actively choking behind the thin fabric of his athletic shorts, and he’s glad that his jacket is oversized enough to cover his crotch. he’s like a moth led to a flame, trailing after your beautiful silhouette as you lure him into your bedroom.

“let’s go over what we’ve learned.” you flick the lights on your way in, and the dim lighting casts long shadows across the walls of the bedroom. if kageyama was more coherent, he’d think they resembled ghosts. maybe one of them would be a whisper of the proud and unwavering man he once was, unafraid of the world and of anyone that might come his way. 

you plop down on the edge of your shared bed with him. he stands in front of you dumbly, staring at you with unblinking glassy eyes. his limbs feel heavy, like they’ve been filled with metal. he strips himself, and his cock hangs like a deadweight despite being so hard that he thinks he’s going to suffocate. his clothes crumple off to the side, in a lifeless pool of fabric and threading that oddly resembles him.

you click his tongue before he can get too distracted. he snaps to life as if he’s been zapped with a taser. 

“tobio, kneel.”

fuck.

his body reacts before his mind can, and his legs give away. he crumples to the floor in front of you with a dull ‘thud.’ some deep recess inside of his broken mind feels full, fuzzy, and happy in following your words blindly. his knees throb slightly from the impact, but the pain grounds him a bit. the warmth coiling in and out like a pulse inside of his stomach flutters for a split second, and kageyama swallows the saliva in his mouth, feeling it ooze down his esophagus.

he tips his head upwards so that he’s looking up at you. your legs are crossed, and you look down at him proudly. you’ve propped your face up with one hand, and you peer at him like you’re observing some kind of specimen. a lower being. someone no longer human and most definitely underneath you.

“good boy. tobio, stay.”

he swallows again desperately, and you wait a second to make sure he won’t budge before lifting yourself off of the edge. he follows you with only his eyes as you saunter over to where you keep your belongings, and he hears you tinkering with your things before coming back with a perfume bottle in your hands. it’s your perfume. the same scent you apply on yourself every morning whenever you go out, and the same scent he can make out lingering in your hair or your pillow.

you slowly uncap the bottle before holding it out in front of the air above kageyama’s sunken head. you spritz once, twice, thrice and watch the particles linger before disappearing. kageyama’s heart sinks to his stomach, and you must have seen the split second of lucid panic flash in his eyes. 

he debates holding his breath, but you click your tongue reprimandingly again.

“bad boy. tobio, sniff.” you chastise him, lips turning downwards into a disapproving frown. you’re going to be the death of him, but kageyama’s obedient if not anything else. he weakly lifts his head again, and he takes in a deep inhale of your scent.

it goes straight to his dick. the absolutely tantalizing aroma of your personal scent makes him feel crazy, fighting against every maniacal instinct clawing and burying its nails into his body to not leap to his feet and stuff his nose against your body. he wants to fuck you, wants you to fuck him so bad, to cut to the chase and quit turning him on so much that it’s starting to physically hurt him.

“that’s a good expression,” you giggle to yourself. you know he’s fighting to keep control over his broken body. you’ve seen him bury his head into the crook of your neck and inhale like a fiend one too many times to turn a blind eye to his not-so-subtle scent kink, and you think it’s magnificent to see him fall apart over a little bit of perfume. “okay. how are you feeling? i’ve forced you to keep up with this game of mine for… is it two weeks now already? gosh, time goes by so fast!”

you pause momentarily, and then you laugh, smacking your forehead gently. “oh! i almost forgot! tobio, speak.”

he croaks like a dying, wounded creature. “...‘t hurts. you’re torturing me. you’re going to kill me.”

“i won’t kill you. i care about you too much for that,” you hum with a satisfied expression. kageyama doesn’t know how he’s survived the past 14 days. he knew from the start that some of your fetishes were unconventional, but he still found it exciting to know that you trusted him enough to ask him to do these things for you. there was a part of his heart that fluttered when you first shyly pressed a cock ring into his big palms and asked him to keep it on whenever he could so that you could control every single one of his orgasms.

he still feels the drunken pangs of love intermixing with arousal and pain swirling in his head when he looks up at you with such broken eyes. his balls are heavy from not being able to cum for so long, but the unabashedly delighted expression on your face makes him think that it might be worth it.

“we still have a lot of work to do though,” you muse. “but i’m a person of my word. so i’ll let you have a reward today for meeting the two week milestone, okay? what do you want as your reward?”

tobio doesn’t need to think twice. his tongue is heavy and sloppy and uncontrollable, and yet he’s drooling and pushing the words out like a dam’s broken inside of his swimming consciousness. “please- please let me fuck you- let me fuck your pussy with my cock, please…! wanna put it inside you, wanna cum inside you, wanna have sex with you-”

you barely stifle a mocking laugh. you wonder where the bravado of one of the world’s most coveted athletes has gone. you can remember the rush in your heart when you first laid eyes on him, enchanted with the sheer charisma he had on the court, making each and every one of the players dance to his finely tuned beat. 

but instead, the man in front of you is no more than a starved dog. you’re lucky that you’re someone who keeps a tight leash. breaking his prideful spirit was no easy task, but you’re glad you did it. otherwise, you might not have been able to delight in his misery so openly.

“don’t be ridiculous, tobio. i said i’d reward you, not let you do whatever you want.” you lean forward, and your pussy throbs at the way the shock settles like the touch of winter’s frost in kageyama’s shattered eyes. you swear you can make out your reflection in his widened pupils, and like a lovesick puppet, kageyama veers shakily forward when you move in so that he can be a bit closer to you. you’ve got him dancing in the palm of your hand, and nothing makes your heart race faster than seeing him this ruined.

“it’s alright though. there’s no need for you to look so heartbroken. it makes me feel bad,” you pause poignantly. “almost. i have an idea though! don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. it’d be too much even for me to leave you hanging dry after you’ve been this receptive towards my training. good boys always get a fitting reward.”

you point your finger at the first drawer in the little dresser by your side of the bed. your smile is nothing but angelic, and had he seen you looking at him with such devotion dripping from your eyes in any other situation, kageyama believes he would have fallen in love with you all over again. 

“tobio, fetch.”

his thighs ache, and kageyama’s breathing is hot and comes out in short puffs. his cock dangles and bounces uselessly as he crawls over to your dresser. his agile fingers curl around the handle, and his heart pounds like a death march as he slowly pulls the drawer out. 

inside is a singular dildo. your smile doesn’t waver even once as he lifts it gingerly, and he turns to you as if waiting dutifully for your next instructions. it doesn’t take a genius for him to piece together what you’re going to make him do. 

sure, you’ll be merciful enough to let him cum. you just won’t let him cum for his cock. 

“you know what to do, don’t you? such a well-trained boy. you make me so proud. why don’t you do me a favor and put on a pretty little show for me with that? if i were you, i’d make the most of it. you don’t know when i’ll let you cum again next.” your deceptively gentle voice has pre-cum dribbling out of his straining length. 

ah, kageyama knows there’s something deeply wrong with him. this is humiliating in every sense of the word, and yet there’s something to you that has him hooked. you’re everything to him, a person for him to worship, for him to do anything for, have him hooked like a fish on a line veering towards its inevitable end, addicted to the illicit edge of having everything about him dangling at your fingertips. 

it feels good. it feels good when he plants the dildo down firmly on the floor in front of you. it feels good as he spreads his legs sheepishly. it feels good when you scrutinize him from head to toe like every inch of his flesh and bone and skin belongs to you. it feels good when he feels the thick head of the dildo prodding against his taut hole.

it feels so, so, so obscenely good when he sinks down on the toy, letting it stretch the pliant muscles of his ass out and the weeping weight of his poor forgotten cock straining in between his spread legs. 

you’re entranced immediately. he starts off slowly. it’s not the first time he’s taken something inside his ass, and yet, it feels so foreign and new each time he does. he rides the dildo with shallow bounces, carefully maneuvering himself up and down the toy’s length. if you also weren’t aroused out of your mind, you’d marvel at how strong kageyama’s legs were. it’s no wonder that he has the reputation of being prideful: every single aspect of him has been built up through a lifetime’s worth of hard work and tenacious dedication.

he feels the stretch deep in his stomach, the foreign ache in his muscles. he should feel any sense of shame, embarrassment at being this lewd in front of you, humping some plastic toy like he’s no better than an animal giving in to his most base instincts, but something about the scraps of attention you toss his way makes him want to grovel in front of you for more. you’re so strict, so harsh, not willing to give him any wiggle room for him to be selfish. maybe that’s why each word of praise, each little treat you’re willing to indulge with him feels so sweet yet so painful. he’s hard to work for every little bit of it, even if it kills him more and more inwardly.

“how are you feeling, sweetheart? talk to me,” you murmur. your eyes are fixated on his body. drops of sweat trickle down his forehead and the expanse of his beautifully sculpted torso. his chest rises and falls as arousal seeps through every vein in his body. tobio feels like he’s crumbling in front of you. 

“full- my ass feels full- it’s stretching me out- so big- such a big toy-,” the words come out so naturally, despite him knowing that he should be more hesitant. the dildo slides in and out of him as he moves his hips, and he whines loudly as his asshole flutters and stretches out on the girth of the toy. “wanna cum with my cock- wanna touch my cock- want you to touch with my cock, please-”

“nonsense, tobio.” you cut him off firmly. “see? even now you’re talking back to me. it means we’re not quite done with your training yet. i’m your owner, which means you have to listen to me. you don’t see dogs talking back to their owners, do you?”

your stern voice sounds like the most harmonious melody to him, even though you’re so hellbent on making his life miserable. he wonders just how hard and how deep he must have fallen for you, to get turned on by something like you telling him no. he shakes his head shakily. “n-no- i’m sorry- my ass feels good- feels really good! love having it inside me- love fucking myself-”

you smile at him again, and it makes his cock throb. you’re getting off on him fucking himself further and further on the toy, desperately moving himself up and down on its length chasing some form of release. he knows he’s not going to find what he wants, but he’s smart. he’s smart enough to take what little you’re going to give him, because without it, he thinks he might genuinely lose whatever string of sanity he’s grasping onto for dear life.

“ah-,” he mewls pathetically. every part of him feels heavy and sluggish. dull thrums of arousal claw at his stomach, the muscles in his abs tightening and relaxing before tightening again. he’s moving faster on top of the toy now, starting to take it deeper and deeper. the pleasure is shooting all throughout his body. his chest feels tight and his skin clammy, his brain clambering to fight through the fogginess behind his eyes to fully register everything he’s putting himself through. 

“does it feel good, tobio? does fucking yourself on a toy in front of me make you feel good? you look like you’re having so much fun right now…,” there’s a hint of amusement in your words, and you peer down at kageyama with such fondness in your eyes. you think he’s prettiest when he’s at his wit’s end. he’s bucking his hips wildly, going from the shallow thrusts to grinding and wiggling his hips lewdly, so dedicated to chasing his own high but also giving you a show worthy of your time.

he nods, head lolling on his neck. his voice threatens to break. “ye-es…! so good- my ass feels so full- love fucking myself on a cock like this… love it when you order me around… makes me wanna cum…”

“yeah? you like being treated this way?” you say, pretending to be surprised. “gosh, you’re flattering me… are you trying to be someone special to me, tobio? you know that you already are… i’m the only one who gets to see this sweet, sweet side of you. trust me, i don’t take that for granted.”

you know that he doesn’t have any other option than to give into the mindlessness of letting you have complete control, but at the same time, you don’t doubt that he’s being honest, given how red and swollen his tip is. there’s pre-cum leaking almost in nonstop rivulets from his slit, but there’s no relief to be found for his cock. no matter how much his heavy balls quiver and tense up, there’s nothing you’re willing to do for him. 

his ass hits the hilt of the dildo, and he lets out a loud, broken cry. your cunt clenches in on itself as he stays there for a second, savoring the feeling of fullness. the dildo’s head prods and breaches against his g-spot, enough to make kageyama feel like the wind’s been knocked out of him. it takes everything in him just to breathe as he sits there in front of you, eyes glossy with tears and pleasure poisoning the corners of his brain. 

“ooh, you managed to take it all!” you clap your hands together excitedly. “i can still remember when you’d struggle to get just the tip in… you’ve done so well. you’re so hot when you fuck yourself on a dildo like that… and i bet it feels even better to get to fuck it after two straight weeks of not getting any action whatsoever.”

he manages a shaky inhale. 

“keep grinding on it, tobio,” you command him firmly. you’re sure he’s fighting to keep whatever little control of his body he has left, his limbs melting into both pain and pleasure. the head of the dildo keeps fucking against his g-spot, and tobio thinks he’s going to faint from how good it feels. his stomach keeps twisting itself into tight knots, and heat flares up all over his core. he clings to your words, moving his hips back and forth, grinding down on the base of the toy. 

“so-o big-,” his words are slurring together into one big mush. his movements are growing sloppy, more animalistic, doing his best to chase his high without disobeying you. he needs your permission to cum, after all, and doing so without your approval is bound to seal his fate. “please- wanna cum- please let me cum…! ‘m so close- so close to cumming from my ass… it feels good, please- please, please, i wanna cum from my ass!”

“my, such a well-mannered boy,” you coo at him. “you remembered to ask for my permission. but i don’t know, tobio… i want to enjoy you like this a little longer. do you think you can do that for me?”

fuck. your entire body is crawling with heat, arousal pulsing throughout your senses. you breathe deeply, trying to keep yourself controlled so that you can continue pushing kageyama’s buttons. he’s actively falling apart in front of you. his legs are shaking as he rides the toy, going between grinding down on it and mewling uncontrollably as his orgasm threatens to push him over the edge. 

the lewd noises of him pleasuring himself and his sobs echo throughout the room. your mouth feels dry, and you lick your lips. he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering weakly, as he drinks up the tantalizing sight of your tongue dragging across your bottom lip. his cock feels like it’s about to explode, and seeing you in front of him isn’t helping him at all.

what he wouldn’t give to have those pretty lips on him, to feel you kissing the bare expanses of his skin, your soft mouth moving against his chest and abs, kissing up his torso and pressing your lips against his arms. maybe you’d kiss his delicate hands too, circling your haughty tongue against his calloused fingertips. his cock throbs an embarrassing amount at the thought of his fingers inside your mouth, and he has to ball his hands into fists to keep himself from touching himself in a way that would make you angry.

“please-,” his voice is barely a whisper, and he looks at you with watering eyes. fat tears threaten to breach his underlashes, and when he blinks, they glide down the unmarred expanses of his porcelain-like cheeks. “i can’t take it anymore- i can’t- can’t do it… gonna cum! my ass feels so good- my ass can’t take it- please, please, let me cum! let me cum… i wanna cum, everything just feels too good…!”

you purse your lips. it’s not like you don’t disagree with him. you know the past few days have been agony for the poor boy. you don’t know how he managed to perform his best in his games and practice while struggling to keep all of his carnal desires at bay, but at the same time, you wonder what he would look like when you’d crush any sense of hope for him. what would he do if you said he couldn’t cum? even though you said you’d let him? 

would he accept your cruelty without complaint? he’s so desperate to be your good boy, to have you acknowledge his unwavering submission to you. he might simply hang his head and accept it, letting you console him with a simple kiss to his forehead as you wrestle his swollen cock back into its imprisonment.

you tilt your head slightly. “you’re so needy… i didn’t say you could cum yet, did you? Begging like this isn’t going to get you anywhere. you’ll cum when i say you can. your entire body belongs to me, and that includes your ass. you can do better than this. i know you can.”

your words are like knives digging into his overstimulated body. his vision is blurry, and it’s taking everything in him just to keep up with his lewd display. his muscles are straining, aching all throughout his form, but the pain keeps egging him on. bits of drool slip past his mouth, frantic gasps emanating from the young man.

“i’m sorry- have mercy on me-,” the way he looks at you with such pleading eyes makes your cunt squeeze. this is your most obscene dream come true, and the wet sounds of kageyama working his ass up and down the now-slick toy has you curling your fingers into the bedsheets. “you said you’d reward me- you said i’d get a reward- that i could cum with my ass… you’ll kill me… i just wanna cum!”

“i don’t know…,” your voice trails off to demonstrate that you weren’t convinced of his desperation quite yet. kageyama thinks he’s going to go crazy with need. his body can’t take it much longer, and if he doesn’t get your permission soon, he knows he’s going to be in for a world of trouble. some masochistic side of him melts and flutters at the thought of you punishing him even more, breaking down every single one of his senses until nothing else exists in his world except for the thought of you completely monopolizing him. 

he swallows heavily, and his adam’s apple bobs as he frantically racks his brain. there’s not much he can do to appeal to you, but he’s willing to give anything a try. he’s on his last legs, and he’s willing to do anything to appeal himself to you. 

“i love you-,” he cries out, face all flushed and sweaty hair sticking to his forehead in splayed out strands. “i love you! i love you so much- please, let me cum! i wanna cum- love you, love you soooo much…!”

oh, this was new. gosh, he was just too pure-hearted. he was pulling on your heartstrings perfectly, his garbled sweet words in perfect contrast to the depravity you were pushing him through. he was too cute for his own good, digging his grave further and further with each word that he uses to bargain for his needs. so pitiful, so desperate, you just wish you can keep in this broken down state forever.

it’s hard not to be endeared by him. he’s staring at you so pathetically, imploring silently for you to grant him the release he’s chasing so ardently. there’s truly no room for anything or anybody else in his eyes right now. you’re all that matters, the only one who grants him a stroke of salvation in the darkness muddling his consciousness, a true paragon of dedicated domination in his eyes.

your lips quirk upwards into that smile he loves so much.

“oh, don’t beg like that. it almost makes me feel bad,” you laugh under your breath. the sound is soft and melodic, and the young athlete bucks his hips to your words. you gingerly extend a hand forward from where you’re perched on the mattress, and just like he did earlier, you let him slot his face into your palm. you nuzzle his blushing cheek, your thumb smoothing over the delicate skin of his face. “alright. you did well. i've had my fun too, i suppose. go ahead.”

you lean forward. you whisper softly, like a true lover murmuring a tender lullaby to their beloved. isn’t that what the two of you were, despite all the twists and turns, the corruption in its purest form? 

“tobio, cum.”

it’s like something inside of his mind shatters completely. he sinks down onto the base of the toy, and he lets out a piercing cry. pre-cum drips again from his swollen length as his orgasm grips him from head to toe. he buries his face into your palm, trying frantically to inhale more of your scent as heat rushes all over his body. his toes curl into the floor as he shakes and grinds down against the toy stuffed up his ass, milking and tormenting his g-spot.

you sit there, grinning like a predator closing in on its prey. it’s a rush you don’t think you’ll ever get sick of, both pain and pleasure swirling in kageyama’s wavering mind. he must feel so good right now, getting the reward he’s been deprived of for so long, and yet still not getting the actual thing he had been chasing this entire time. his cock hangs and flops around uselessly, straining in between his spread thighs. 

he lets out a string of incoherent cries and sobs, sniffling. you can feel his tears wetting your skin, but you let him have your hand at the very least. it feels like an eternity for kageyama to fully ride out the sickeningly addictive euphoria of his high, but when he finally musters enough strength to lift his head like an ousted prince gazing upon a forlorn throne, you think the joy is over far too quickly. 

“did you have fun?” you ask innocently. he doesn’t have the strength or the brainpower to properly answer you, and you don’t hold it against him. he nods feebly into your palm like the loyal lapdog he is. he practically collapses forward, and you catch him with your legs, letting him slump over onto the heavenly expanses of your knees and thighs. you comb your fingers through his hair, and you watch as the slick toy slides out of his ass, falling over onto the floor next to him without fanfare.

his cock is still rock hard. such a poor thing, you muse to yourself. you commend yourself for getting far along in his training that he knows better than to throw a fit after having gotten some semblance of an orgasm. you’ve been so patient, so firm with him, and you’re starting to reap the fruits of your labor.

“i’m so proud of you. you did so good for me. put on such a good show for me. i’m going to remember this for the rest of my life, you know that? remember how good and obedient and submissive you were,” you praise him gently, even though you know he’s too out of it to really take in any of your admiration. “tobio. do you know where your cock ring is? do you remember where you put it?”

he mumbles something into your legs that you can’t quite make out. oh well. you’re sure he’s stuffed it either into his pockets somewhere or buried it inside his athletic bag. it’s nearly romantic, just how dedicatedly he takes care of that ring, even if it’s a bastardized version of love that you bring to the table for him to feast on.

“good boy.” you let him lay there for now, taking a few minutes for him to catch back up with reality. you think this might be a slice of your personal heaven, enjoying the weight of him slumped over onto you, the lively spark in him snuffed out so breathtakingly by the weight of your sadism. “once you can, let’s go take a long, cold shower, okay? i gotta make your dick go back down so i can put you back into the ring. oh, honey, don’t be so sad. you’ve done so well up until now…”

you have full faith that he’s going to do even better for you in the future.

KINKTOBER 2024—la première semaine.

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to help ruba's family evacuate gaza. time is running out for her family, so if you ever had any thoughts about tipping or commissioning me, please extend that generosity to those in need.

[theamityelf]

Seeing your Kamukura au makes me sometimes think of all the potential angst if makoto was able to restore himself and then he sees what’s happened to Byakuya and Kyoko, that’s now made me feel about normal makoto now dealing with the new states of his lovers who have been kamakuraed

First of all, this goes perfectly in the Kamukura Wrangler AU, where Makoto is the only one in his class who isn't Kamukurized!

I think one of the most tragic things about this dynamic is that a lot of the foundation for their relationship was Makoto seeing more in them than they were initially willing to share or others were initially willing to see. He spent enough time with them to see more than the way they came across to casual observers. More than their cold exteriors.

And now he's meeting them again, and the things he saw in them before just aren't there.

Or at least they don't seem to be there.

No partiality in their newly-crimson eyes.

Like most of the other Kamukuras, they discuss Makoto like he's an object, a shared possession, to be used economically.

"When it comes time to escape, his deadweight might prevent Ishimaru from trying to stop us," Kyoko says.

"Provided he survives that long," Byakuya remarks.

"Indeed."

"Guys?!" Directly addressing them proves fruitless, in that moment; everyone except Taka is treating his interjections like the buzzing of a fly.

Another time, Kyoko asks him, "Do you have a family?"

He begins to hope that she's trying to connect with him; he answers from the heart about his parents and sister, and how he misses them and hopes they aren't too worried about him.

As soon as she has her answer, Kyoko just turns away from him while he's still talking, dryly observing with the others that his family means he has motive to try and escape them.

"He won't get far," Byakuya says flatly. "Though consideration should be made, lest he damage himself in the attempt."

Makoto tries to approach Byakuya, just to get him to acknowledge him as a human being, but Taka restrains him protectively.

"I think he loved you," Junko observes, with the first stirring of interest she's had in a while.

"I love all of you," Makoto says quietly.

"Good," Kyoko says. "That sentiment might make you useful. As will your memories." Her eyes hold his broken gaze without sympathy.

He tries to look at Byakuya again, but he's already crawled up onto the ceiling joists or something, just a shadowy figure perched above with bright red eyes reflecting the light.

In short, Kyoko and Byakuya now seem exactly how they used to be described by people who didn't know them well: cold, stoic, averse to social connection, relentless and compassionless in the pursuit of knowledge.

Now, Makoto is forced to see the difference between observation and faith, because he can no longer observe any evidence that they're capable of being appealed to, but he still has to try. He can't give up on them.

(By the time they return his interest, Taka has already attached himself inseparably to Makoto's hip. But they won't process their feelings about that as envy for a while.)

[marytunno]

-read below-

THE WOODS HER ONLY HOME

Hot Pie was practising the bird calls Kurtz had taught him before, before he had left them too, the wound on his shoulder taking him in a fever.

- Shut it!- grunted Gendry, he had been helping Lommy walk since a lance had broken and pierced his leg.

- I’m a blackbird…- explained the boy trying to keep up 

- Well, you just sound stupid!- said Arry, the little crying girl following him like a shadow.

Hot Pie bit his tongue and kept going, he didn’t want to fight with Gendry or Arry, they were the only ones that hadn’t left him or Lommy behind.

 In those brief moments when they forgot about their quite tragic situation it was almost nice being together. If they had met before leaving Kingslanding they could have been friends, he would even have given some of his mother’s pies to them… he didn’t even remember how those tasted like… the only taste in his mouth the foul one of acorn paste… 

A sound through the woods. 

- That was a good one, Pie! Were you trying to be a thunder?- spoke Lommy, his dirty hair sticking to his pale forehead

Hot Pie blushed.

- It was his stomach, stupid…- explained Arry

- Well, I’m hungry! If only you listened to me… we will die if we keep walking circles in the woods, if we go on the road maybe…- 

-No!- said together Gendry and Arry, sometimes it seemed they thought with the same one brain.

- But why? We did nothing wrong…- started Lommy - If only Yoren had yielded to the guards nothing bad would have happened! If we ask for help they will give us food or maybe…- 

Gendry stopped for a moment and looked at his blonde deadweight

- Maybe they kill us - he said more tired than actually annoyed 

- But my leg hurts and we are starving, there are wolves everywhere and we are probably lost!- continued the blonde boy

- We are not lost!- Arry turned around and looked straight at the others

- And if you are so hungry you could eat some bugs or worms, I could dig them up for you!-

Lommy made a disgusted noise, there was no way he would have eaten one of those disgusting little things.

- You can keep those for yourself wormbreath… we should look for an inn where they can make us real food! Ouch…- 

Lommy now sat with his ass on the ground.

- Why did you do that, Bull?- cried the boy 

-I’m tired and you are getting heavy…- spat Gendry 

- Maybe we can stop for a while to rest…- tried Hot Pie ready to let his body fall to the ground, he saw Arry and Gendry look at each other, one of their silent conversations.

- Fine…- said Arry - But we’ll have to walk some more before nightfall…- 

The sun was still high in the sky, its light piercing through the leaves turning the ground into a constellation of lights and shadows. Lommy had closed his eyes but kept complaining in his sleep, Hot Pie had placed a hand on his friend’s forehead, it was burning like an oven, that wasn’t good. 

- Where are you going?- asked Gendry, his eyes on Arry

- I’ll be back in a second…- he explained with an annoyed tone

- What about the little girl…- 

- Well she is not crying now… and she is distracted playing with that rock… she’ll survive a second without me!- said Arry hurrying away

- Where do you think he is going?- sked Hot Pie

Gendy had a weird expression on his face, he probably was thinking about something, he always made that face when he was thinking. 

- Probably needs some quiet and peace before having to deal with you all again…- he said flatly 

- But he is going to be back, right?- 

Gendry scowled and rolled his blue eyes.

- Of course… Arry doesn’t leave anyone behind… but if you keep talking I will and you’ll have to help Lommy walk yourself!- 

Hot Pied swallowed his next question and stretched himself on the ground for a moment, waiting for Arry to return.

Arya went back to the other as quickly as she could, a smile on her lips. 

- Fucking finally!- grunted Gendry, he seemed a little distressed holding the little girl from the ground, Arya almost laughed, it was clear he had never been around babies much during his life.

- She was eating dirt again…- he explained holding the girl toward her direction as if to say that now that was Arya’s problem.

Arya smiled as softly as she could at the little one, she must have felt so confused and scared, so young without her mother… 

Arya made the little girl spit on the ground what had been in her mouth, some dirt, a leaf, the rock she had been playing with before.

- Like that, little one…- she said, using her hand to clean the small face… The girl complained a little bit but in the end she left Arya clean her up. 

- You are good at this…- Gendry was now looking at them 

- I mean with babies and…- he continued his trail of thoughts out loud 

- I’m good at a lot of things…- answered Arya meeting his gaze, the sounds of the woods the only thing around them for a moment. 

- And you!- Arya went back to focus on the young girl - You can eat only what I give to you! No more dirt!- the baby just made a little shriek and hugged Arya as she often did. 

- You are being so loud! I need to rest!- complained Lommy, his face so pale he hardly looked alive. Arya felt too sorry for the boy to talk back at him… she had no idea what she would have done if she had got hurt… wounded wolves rarely survived for long.

- I have good news if you care to hear it…- she said catching everyone’s attention 

- Not much from here I found some trees… they had crabapples on them… if we go there we can have some…-  

Hot Pie jumped on his feet, the weariness from the long walk forgotten.

- You sure it’s not dangerous? Could be part of a farm or something…- started Gendry 

- I say we go!- stated Lommy 

- I saw no one there and there wasn’t a wall around the trees… sometimes the seeds just travel in the wind… I think it’s safe. - 

Gendry nodded, some food would have been good for them, it was worth the risk.

Arry had climbed barefoot on the tree making the green fruits fall to them, they were sour and in some they found some worms but for a moment they had felt like kings before a banquet. 

Gendry had helped Arry down from the tree, not because the small boy needed his help but like, he did it just to do something nice. Arry finding some food had been the first good thing happening to them in a long time.

- What?- Arry’s voice woke Gendry from his thoughts, he had been looking at the small boy cutting a crabapple in smaller pieces to help the little girl eat.

Gendry looked at him confused.

- You were looking at me…- he said, his grey eyes waiting for an answer, not many people had grey eyes in KingsLanding

- And? Is it forbidden?- he joked taking a bite from his crabapple, sour but still good. 

Arry just blinked and then shrugged.

- I just thought you wanted to ask me something, I don’t know…- the conversation died there.

Lommy knew a cool trick where he could catch a piece of fruit after he had thrown it into the air, Arya had tried to do the same but her crabapple had fallen on the ground instead… she had eaten it anyway and the little girl had laughed at it… it was nice… the sound of laughter… 

- You think she had a name?- asked Arya after a while looking at her little friend jump around the roots of the tree

- Maybe…- said Hot Pie 

- Her mum died without telling us tough…- continued the boy, some sadness in his small eyes 

Arya sighed, she knew that look, she missed her mum too… 

- We should give her a name…- proposed Arya thinking about the way Sansa had been so good at naming her dolls… Arya knew good names too… she had learned most of them from old Nan’s stories… 

- Why?- asked Gendry

- Well, she is not crying anymore… we can’t keep calling her crying girl…- explained Arya as if it had been obvious 

- To me, she looks like a little weasel, we should call her that…- said Lommy, his leg was now resting slightly raised on a stone

Arya frowned 

- That’s unkind! She looks nothing like a weasel!- 

- I can see it...- 

- Shut up Hot Pie!- continued Arya, she wondered if the little girl understood what they were talking about, it had hurt being called Lumpyhead or Wormbreath by Lommy…

- Hey Weasel, come here! I can give you an apple!- continued Lommy catching the girls attention 

- I think she likes it…- he said 

-Am I right Weasel?- smiled Lommy giving her the crabapple, she started sucking on the peel all happy

Gendry noticed Arya’s pout, she had been biting her lip too 

- Can you think of a better name?- he asked

Arya’s mind for a moment filled of names, names she had loved, names she missed, names she wanted to call again… 

-Err…- she started

-Then Weasel it is…- Gendry ended the discussion and then moved a bit on his right to leave some place for Arya to sit with her back to the tree trunk.

- Fine…- she said sitting close to him, Weasel was better than “crying girl” anyway.

After a while Arya felt Gendry’s eyes on her again, she gave him a questioning look.

He sighed and then whispered under his breath 

- I can’t keep carrying Lommy…- he seemed almost sorry about it.

- But, you are strong… you can! You are saying this just because he is annoying you!- whispered back Arya keeping an eye on Weasel walking toward them with some grass between her small fingers

-I’m not… at first he could at least walk a bit… carry his own weight… but now it’s getting worse…- 

Arya looked at him for a long moment 

- What are you saying? That we should leave him behind?- she scolded him 

- If he keeps complaining maybe we should…- answered Gendry, he wasn’t serious, Arya was sure he was just tired. 

- There has to be a way! We are not leaving him!- 

Gendry sighed, of course Arry was being stubborn about it, whoever had called Gendry bullheaded had never met Arry. 

- Why do you care? He called you mean names and he is never useful…- he said looking at Arry 

- Please! It’s just the right thing to do… Yoren would have wanted us to stick together… It wouldn’t be right to leave someone behind, he needs our help… don’t you think I know I would reach my… I’d be faster on my own? But we have to stitch together!- 

Gendry nodded at those words and looked at the trees around them 

- We could make a stretcher with what we find around… carry him like that… - he finally said, it would have been easier with someone helping him

Arry smiled so nicely and for a second a weird thought crossed Gendry’s mind.

The idea of the stretcher had been a good one and the next day they carried Lommy in turns, always walking north, under the sun during the day listening to the wolves howl at night. Sometimes they fought and felt hopeless but sometimes things could be good and in those moments they could let themselves hope that there was a good ending to their journey: that Lommy wasn’t going to die as Yoren and Kurts and too many had died before, that Hot Pie was going to taste his mum’s pies again, that little Weasel was going to grow up safe and with people that cared for her…

But it didn’t last for long, and now Lommy lied dead, his blood staining the grass, Arya, Hot Pie, Gendry walked toward death, a hopeless march under banners painted with dogs… and little Weasel ran, ran and kept running, the woods her only home.

Some missing moments with the gang... I love so much the way Arya protects little Weasel in the books and I really hope she is still alive somewhere being the little feral dirt eater we all love so much<3<3

[randomnameless]

Land 5 aka before the final boss done !

Albion...

Well, it has a city named Bordeaux !

Ça fait un bail que Bordeaux et l'Aquitaine ne sont plus aux mains de la perfide Albion !

What else can I say...

The final stage bgm was kickass, I loved the architecture and the "subquests" with goats and the character who turns ennemies green was... A thing lol. Still Nigel isn't a deadweight so that's something nice.

Plot wise...

Ugh.

If anyone got it better than I do then please help me lol, because from what I understood, the pope (hereditary title in this verse) got only one child (tfw your line is super special magical plot related but you only get one kid) and told both of his right arms, Nigel and Sanatio, that they should never speak of her to anyone, including themselves.

So... Nigel secured Scarlett far away (uh...) 6 years ago and didn't tell Sanatio, per the pope's orders, Sanatio knew Scarlett existed but since her existence must remain secret, per the pope's orders, he... Uh... Never knew where she was ?

So when the pope decided to fold against the evil empire, and subsequently later died (something Gharnef is pissed about, because the pope's line is the only one able to destroy mc guffins) Sanatio thought that he had to pretend the pope was still alive to make sure Albion and the Orthodoxy would not descend into chaos ?? Like, Nigel couldn't tell him that "I shipped Scarlett to parevia aka an island that is as far from Albion as the UK is from France, under her dad's orders some years ago, let's find her to both protect and mount a resistance against the empire ?"

I knew Albion was scrapped because bankruptcy and all, but damn if in a game where Gilbert, Virginia, hell Alain and to an extent Yunifi and Morad exist, this felt contrived as fuck.

Besides, I know you are technically able to go to Albion before doing bastorias, Drakengard or Elheim (Bastorias or Elheim must be done though) but damn if doing things in order paints Scarlett in a crap light, after Erigor and witnessing the elves zombies and learning about the occupation in both Cornia and Drakengard with mysterious plagues around, and we open Albion with Scarlett worrying about her dad (while she was there when Galerius told us he was dead !) and wanting to show Alain the place where she picked up flowers when she was younger.

Special mention to her former childhood friend Raelys (?) with whom she reunites and wants to go to their special flower field again... Only to be ambushed by Raelys because while childhood memories are nice and all, Raelys' younger brother was taken hostage and she wants to save him.

Then we have Fodoquia's backstory... And Scarlett looks like an ass, especially for someone who was basically supposed to inherit Albion, who never cared about her country and her people.

Still in the few subsequent chapters she expresses her desire to help the people of Albion and her care for them (with still the memetic "I always thought about you" to get childhood friend when a majority of her rapports so far where about Alain, her feelings for him and jealousy at the other female leads or fluff) so there's that.

Ultimately I believe this discrepency is both due to the game being short on money but also the writers having wrote Scarlett as the "ojou" archetype, when the elf twins, even with their 5 lines about the plot of their land, and to some extent, Virginia and Yunifi/Ramona are concerned about their homes and people and written as such.

Plot happens and it's revealed, the empire is actually full of body surfers who were banned to the shadow realm for having sacrificed an unicorn and their big plan is to transmigrate everyone in living bodies, Scarlett's line is special because her magical powers are the result of experiments on humans with blood/parts/powers (?) of an unicorn, the failed results were duds and gave birth to the feathered people (angels) but Scarlett's ancestor was a success, the Cornian royal line is also special because it was founded by a young woman who was the only one granted immortality and not banished to the shadow realm eons ago, so she got some magic powers but gave up her immortality, and the laguz were originally elves who decided to become laguz so their bodies couldn't be snatched, but they forgot how to turn back.

Anyhow, for all of the unicorn imagery Alain got, I found it cool that the "our line was founded by the Maiden in the Unicorn and Maiden duo" thing is/was referenced in Ilenia/Virginia's skillset, it sort of helped to lessen the "uwu Alain is the saviour and chosen one" thingie that hits especially hard after Drakengard and Gilbert's last convo where he confesses he and Drakengard in general have always been jealous of cornia, so learning only Cornia's king can be the "chosen one" to get rid of the evil ghost empire...

Also, since you can skip Drakengard to reach that point and ignore her existence, I guess the "Alain saviour bcs he descends from the Maiden and has the magic ring" feels even weirder when Virginia is also in the party, but she can't equip the magic ring (granted if Alain were to die, would Virginia be able to equip it plot wise ?)

Fwiw, even if Gerard's infinity +1 sword can be used by Alain, I gave his magic ring to Virginia, his other grandkid by beating his ass with the Tricorns, plot be damned.

I mean, I usually dgaf about chosen ones plots, but when the second arc was all about a potential claimant/heir accepting to stand down and let their sib/cousin run the show, the game saying "only sib/cousin can save the world" feels a bit like a slap lol

Alain gave the "totally not-engagement ring" to Joseph, his dad in all but blood, and I rounded up several rapport conversations (wtf was Fodoquia and Bryce's lol) and mini quests.

Units wise... Ramona works well with the angels who have their discharge skill lol, and Bertrand spinning with his hammer will never cease to be hilarious.

I'm sure I'm not using Berengeria well though, because now she keeps on dying (ffs you have a giant shield can you just use it for once ??)... But Bruno makes up by hitting like a truck.

[alphagirl404]

An Impulse Decision: Chapter 30

Fanfiction.net

AO3

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

****

Chapter 30: Crisis of the Conscious

*Shortly after Link & Co left the Sealed Grounds*

When Groose first heard of Zelda's disappearance, only two things were on his mind: Save Her. And prove to her that he was more worthy of a friendship with her than with Link. That's all he cared about. So when the opportunity came for him to follow Link and his friends, Groose took it and didn't look back.

This should've been the chance of a lifetime for Groose. Finally, after many years of Link outshining him, Groose would finally show once and for all to him, Zelda, and everyone on Skyloft that he was better. To show that he was tough, not weak. That he was an honest hard worker. To be seen as a hero. Someone to be admired, not brushed aside by a lazy bum like Link. He would receive recognition if he had found and brought Zelda back home. Except that never happened.

Rather than seek glory, all Groose had gotten was humiliation.

Everything changed when that monster, The Imprisoned, showed up. All his life, Groose imagined himself being the one who slays the evil monsters from stories he had read growing up. Yet when a monster showed up for real, all he did was get paralyzed with fear. The Imprisoned wasn't anything Groose had ever fathomed in his entire life. Never in his whole life did he feel such fear.

And somehow, Link, the boy Groose had constantly accused of half-assing his way through knight training, defeated that monster. While Groose, the stronger one, couldn't do a damn thing except almost get killed by it. Groose shudders when recalling hanging over mere feet away from the sharp, jagged teeth of The Imprisoned's mouth. He could still smell the stench of its breath. When he was sure his end would come, Groose's fear overcame him.

What's worse, Link and his friends saw it all. Bad enough Link took down the monster himself, but Fledge, of all people, was the one who saved Groose's life. Fledge, pipsqueak as he liked to call repeatedly, saved him. Groose couldn't fathom why Fledge went out of his way to do that. Especially since he had a tirade on how Groose was the worst person in the world only moments ago. Whatever his reasons, it didn't change that Groose had been rescued by him. And Groose wasn't sure if he should be thankful or mad.

Groose knew he was not a nice person, and he had his reasons why. Being nice never got him anywhere. To him, niceness was a sign of weakness. Meanness, on the other hand, equals toughness. And toughness earns him respect. That's what he tells himself. That's what he was taught. Groose convinced himself that matter how much everyone on Skyloft disliked him for how he was, they had some type of respect for him.

But Fledge's rant hit him with an uncomfortable truth. Nobody had ever respected him. And by chance, if at least a few did respect him, including Cawlin & Strich, they surely would lose it all for him thanks to that monster. Now everyone will know how Groose is a weakling.

By now, Groose was sure that Link, Fledge, Karane, and Pipit were gladly telling everyone on Skyloft that big tough Groose was nothing more than a weak coward. He probably would be doing the same if he were in their position. They are all most likely laughing about pathetic, useless Groose. After today, the illusion of respect that Groose had was gone.

Coming down here was a mistake. Silently, Groose cursed himself for foolishly following them. He should've stayed in the Dining Hall with his friends. The illusion of respect would've remained. Now all he got was his worst fear coming true: That he was nothing but a useless deadweight.

It had only been a short while since Link and his friends had left the Sealed Grounds. Probably hours for all he knew. But Groose didn't care. He was in no hurry. Not anymore. He can't go back to Skyloft. Not now, and he did not know when. After slamming his fist against the walls of the Sealed Temple repeatedly, he rested his head against the temple's wall, thinking about what to do now.

Eventually, the sounds of footsteps caught his attention. Standing not too far from him was the familiar old woman.

"What do you want, Grannie?"

"It was too quiet out here. I wanted to make sure that you were okay." The Old One moved closer to him. "Your arm."

Groose was confused by her statement until he glanced at his bicep. The cut that he got from his fall earlier remains. He didn't seem bothered by it.

"Just a stupid cut."

"If you allow me, I can treat it. I would hate for you to get an infection."

Under normal circumstances, Groose would have denied her request to appear tough. But after what happened earlier, that facade can no longer work. Reluctantly, he followed The Old One back inside the temple.

The Old One spends the next several minutes treating Groose's arm while he sits in silence. The only sounds he made were the small grunts from the stings of whatever medicine the old woman was using.

"That should do it," The One One wraps a bandage around his bicep.

"Thanks, I guess," Groose muttered, keeping his gaze away from her.

"Would you like some food?"

The Old One showed a large, yellow, delicious-looking fruit. Groose took the fruit without saying a word, giving it a big bite. The Old One watches Groose in silence as he eats. Groose had noticed her staring when she reached the fruit's core.

"There something you need, Grannie?"

"Link told you about the Loftwing Statue?"

"Yeah, he did. Whatsittoya?"

"I figure you want to head back to your home in Skyloft."

"I'm in no hurry. I doubt anyone would care."

"Link seems to care about your well-being."

Groose let out a scoff. "I doubt that. He and his friends don't give a shit about me. And I sure as hell don't give a shit about them and never will."

"Why do you disdain Link and his companions so much?"

"What gave that away?"

"The argument all of you had earlier when trying to convince them that you were better suited to search for Zelda. I can see there's an unpleasant history between all of you. Why is that?"

"What's there to tell? They don't like me, and I don't like them. Simple as that. They do not care about me."

The Old One wanted to press the topic further. But she felt she wouldn't be getting anywhere with Groose right now. So she moved to a different matter.

"What about your friends?"

"My friends can handle themselves without me," Groose recalls Fledge's statement about Strich avoiding him the past several days since the Wing Ceremony in his mind. It left a tiny sting in his chest.

"What about your family then? I'm sure your parents must be worried."

"They're…no around."

"I'm sorry for your loss," The Old One said sorrowfully.

"Not in that way!" Groose urgently stated.

"Oh?" The Old One gave a curious look.

"They, um…can't take care of me right now. They left me at the academy at Skyloft. They'll come back for me once things are settled with them."

"I see…" The Old One stated, unsure what to make of that. "Well, if you're going to stay here for a while, perhaps you can help me. I need some wood to make a fire. There's an ax nearby. Use it to chop down a tree and use the bark to make firewood. Would you be kind enough to do that?"

"I guess." Groose had never done anything like that of the sort. But he figured, why the hell not. Not like he has anything better to do.

The ax was heavy, but Groose's muscular build made it easy to handle. Chopping down a tree, which was more significant than the ones he's seen back on Skyloft and the other Sky Islands, took half an hour for him to chop down. Then he spends another half an hour breaking them down into smaller logs. A task like this Groose would've been done thanks to his strength. But he struggling. The wood that he broke down looked like it was done by a sloppy person. Someone like Link unless he was making one of his stupid wood carvings. That made Groose frustrated. Bad enough that his image is more than likely ruined, now his body had fought against him.

Night had fallen unto The Surface hours later. Fire from the imperfectly chopped wood inside brightened up the temple's interior. The Old One tended it too. Groose was sulking in silence not too far from her.

"Fine wood you got," she said to instigate a conversation with the boy.

"Took me forever to chop down..." Groose commented.

"There is nothing wrong with that. You got some, at least before the sun went down."

"I could've brought more. I handled weapons heavier than that with ease, I'm sure. But I struggled with that ax!"

"Nobody will always get perfect results."

"That's not how it goes for me. I'm tough! I could've brought five bundles of wood! Instead, my focus was all over the place. All I could think about was that monster." Groose tried to prevent his words from trembling. "I've never seen anything like that before. Not even in those stories I've read. And now, thanks to it, Link saw me at my weakest...After today, he'll never let me live that down."

Pure disguise riddled the teens' tone mentioning Link's name. The Old One took note of that.

"May I ask why you have such a disdain for Link?"

"I already told you, Grannie."

"You're not telling me the whole story. I may be old, but I am not senile." The Old One's brow grew firm. "Holding in your feelings is not good for you. I'm sure what happened between you & Fledge would be a good example."

"Fledge is too sensitive! If it were me, I would never let that happen! I'm not a weak little pipsqueak like he is!"

"And yet, that so-called 'pipsqueak' saved your life." The Old One declared calmly yet had a hint of sass.

Groose honestly did not have a comeback for that one. "I-Uh...Why do you want to know badly anyways?"

"There is no harm in wanting to get to know one another, especially if you intend to stay down here for the time being. Now may I ask again. Why do you have a disdain for Link?"

"You want to know why?" The Old One nods back to Groose. "Nothing! That's why!"

"Nothing you say?"

"Yeah! He does nothing! He sleeps in. He eats like a slob. And his head is constantly in the clouds! Yet somehow, he's the best in the academy! The best sword fighter! The best flyer! And he got promoted to Senior Knighthood before me, even when he barely practiced! And everyone somehow likes him. I can't go anywhere in Skyloft without hearing somebody saying how great he is! And I hate how he constantly rubs his friendship with Zelda in my face! The nerve of him after he stole her away from me!"

"Stole her?"

Groose glanced at the old woman. "Zelda and me. We were friends once. She was my first friend when I came to Skyloft. She was the only one willing to talk to me. Link kept her away from me any chance he could. Almost a year after I arrived at Skyloft, I told him how I felt. And you want to know what happened? Link escalated things, and I rightfully defended myself, but Zelda took his side and stopped talking to me after that! Link's stupid friends and everyone on Skyloft look at me like I trashed their house because of that. It's not my fault Link & I couldn't get along!"

"Denial is often the first step." The Old One stated, unswayed by Groose's argument.

"First stage of what?"

"Acceptance that you have a problem."

"I am NOT in denial about anything!"

"Is that true, or a lie you mask as truth to convince yourself?"

"Convince me of what?"

"That you are the misunderstood hero of the story. The behavior I see you display tells otherwise."

"It's called being tough. That's how I got people to respect me!"

"You call harassing and insulting people gaining their respect? Maybe things are different on Skyloft, but I'm sure that is how you get people to fear and hate you."

"DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY PEOPLE STAY OUT OF YOUR WAY?! NOT BECAUSE THEY RESPECT YOU! IT'S BECAUSE THEY HATE YOU!"

When The Old One said that, Fledge's harsh words from his outburst ranged into Groose's head. Groose wanted to argue back and give a case on how that isn't true. How she doesn't have the full context of everything. But something prevented him from doing so. Seeing that Groose did not respond, The Old One went on.

"You may think fear & respect are one and the same, but I promise you it is not. If you keep acting the way you are, you'll spend the rest of your days in loneliness and bitterness. Everyone that you tormented will not have your name in their minds. Unless you change your ways, you will spend your days alone."

"I don't need any change! My life is fine! So DROP IT!" Groose towered over the old woman. Glaring her down, his teeth clenched, and hands balled into fists to intimidate her.

"If you insist." The Old One, unfazed, let out a breath. "I plan to turn it in soon. I have a spare blanket. You're more than welcome to sleep wherever you wish."

It wasn't long until The Old One had fallen into slumber on the top of the steps where she likes to sit. Groose was far from here on one end of the temple where a patch of dirt lies. He figured it would be a quiet spot for him to relax, far enough away from the old woman's meddling. Long after The Old One fell asleep, Groose remained awake, thinking about today's events.

By now, Link and his friends probably told everyone on Skyloft about Groose almost getting killed and how they saved his useless ass. The reputation Groose believed he had is no doubt gone. Perhaps, he hoped, there could be a way to salvage it. Where there's a will, there's a way. How to do that, he has yet to figure out.

A loud yawn let out of his mouth. Planning would have to be a wait. He could probably sleep on it. Laying on his side, Groose pulled himself into a deep sleep.

****

Surrounding him were many trees. The sky is dark. No animals were around. Despite the darkness, Groose manages to navigate his way through this unknown forest. Groose stumbles upon a clearing. A familiar teenage girl with blonde hair stood in the middle. She turns to face Groose with a sweet smile on her face.

"Zelda?"

"Oh, Groose! You found me!" She spoke with joy.

"It is you! Thank the Goddesses, you're okay!" Groose ran to Zelda, giving her a hug.

"I was so afraid! I thought I would be stuck here forever! But now you're here!"

"Happy to help, Zel! Let's get you home!"

"Before we do, you deserve a reward for finding me."

"Like what?"

"I think you know…." Zelda places her hand on Groose's cheek, giving him such loving eyes.

Groose felt his heart flutter as Zelda slowly guided his face towards hers, puckering her lips. Groose closes his eyes, puckering his lips. The heat grew on his face excitedly when he felt his lips close to Zelda's.

"Oh, Groose…" Zelda stops within centimeters of Groose's lips, her voice turning dark. "...If only there was someone out there who loved you."

"W-What?" Groose stood flabbergasted, watching Zelda walk away from him.

"You think finding me would make me instantly love you? That I would suddenly forget the years of you bullying my friends? You expected me to jump on you just like that?!" Zelda laughed mockingly in a way that gave Groose chills up his spine. "And you call Link stupid! You are such a poor dumb brute. I would rather jump into a tornado than be anywhere near you."

"Zel…what's up with you?"

"What's up? I'll tell you what's up." Zelda marched over, pointing her finger like she did on the day of the Wing Ceremony, giving a cold glare. "It's YOU. You are the problem, Groose! You can't handle a single fact: Link is better than you in every way!"

"That ain't true! I am better! I found you, didn't I? And where is Link? Probably slacking off again! That proves I'm better, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Link emerged from the forest trees, strolling towards them. Lips curved into a smug smile.

"Link?! When did you get here?!" Groose was shocked to see him.

"Newsflash, asshole. I've been here the whole time. I found Zelda long before you."

"Then why are you both still here?"

"Because we wanted to see you make a fool of yourself. That's all you're good for." Groose was shocked to hear words coming from Link. "Don't look at me like that. You deserve it after the hell you gave me for the seven years we've known each other. This shouldn't be a surprise to you."

Link's face was close to Groose's. Glaring sapphire eyes burn right onto Groose's amber eyes. Groose attempted to not tremble.

"You better get out of my face or else-"

"Oh, else WHAT?" Link cut Groose off mockingly. "Your tough guy act can't work anymore. I know who you are for real."

"Not just me and Link. We ALL know who you are." Groose noticed how Zelda put the emphasis on 'all.'

"Cowering away at the sight of a monster does paint a good picture." Pipit leaned against a tree with his signature arms crossed pose.

"A sad little boy who projects his issues onto everyone around him." Karane appeared from behind the same tree Pipit was leaning on. "You DO know what projection means, right, Groose? We learned about it once in class."

"He probably wasn't paying attention. He must've been thinking of another elaborate scheme to get Zelda's attention away from Link," Pipit stated to her.

"Ah, right. It wouldn't be a big surprise. Groose displays lots of signs of possessiveness. Also, something we learned in class. Do you know what we also learned about possessive people? They have some…insecurity issues."

"Hmmm…Now why would Big Bad Groose have insecurities? This is the same person who acts like he's the greatest gift from Hylia and the Golden Three. What's there to be insecure about?"

"I may have the answer, Pipit," Link spoke up. "Groose here is jealous. Jealous of me."

Groose froze like a statue while Link stared straight into his soul. Link was amused by this state.

"Don't act so surprised. Ask yourself. Why do you always try to make me look bad? Why are you always competitive with me? Why did you try to cheat your way to beat me? Simple answer. You're jealous that I'm a better person than you. You tell yourself I'm a slacker undeserving of the love and praise I receive. You must be so upset when you saw how wrong you were today. You can't be better than me, Groose, because you have a horrendous personality. You know you can't compete with me."

"Except when it comes to me." Zelda stepped in. "You don't love me, do you Groose?"

"O-of course I do!" Groose argued, only for Zelda to respond by slapping his face. The impact left his cheek stinging.

"Don't lie! You don't genuinely love me! The only thing you love about me is that I'm a trophy. A trophy that you can show off as proof that I'm the one thing you have that Link doesn't! That's all I am to you. You don't care about my feelings at all! Because if you did, you would finally let it through that thick head of yours that I'm not the one for you."

"But I do care about you, Zelda! My first year on Skyloft was the best because of your friendship with me! I always cherish that time we had."

"Well, I regret it! If I could take that year back, I would!" Zelda hissed back harshly, stinging Groose's heart. "Especially after what you said about Link's parents! I should have never wasted that year trying to be your friend! You've always had it out for Link! For what reason?! Link was always trying to be nice, but you always such an asshole back to him!"

"You always blamed Link for Zelda ending her friendship with you," Pipit scoffed. "But we all know: You drove her away, Groose."

"You blame Link for all your problems to make yourself the victim of your misfortunes. A classic sign of narcissism, might I add," Karane added with a giggle that unsettled Groose.

"You hated me that moment we met. I never did anything to you other than be nice. All you ever saw is a threat to your fragile nonexistent ego," Link spat to him. "Maybe that's why you tried to murder me."

"Mu-murder you?!" Groose was shocked by that accusation.

"The Wing Ceremony. I almost fell to my death because you locked away my bird. I wouldn't be shocked if you were hoping for that."

"That's not what I wanted! I-I had no idea Zelda would push you off! Honest!"

"Cut the crap! You always accused me of being stupid. You were hoping I'd be stupid enough to jump off Skyloft, right? You always wished that I was out of the picture."

"I honestly did not know that! I don't hate you that much!"

"Could've fooled me." Link hissed at him. "Regardless, I'm sure everyone on Skyloft would've believe that you intentionally tried to kill me, whether you planned it or not. You're just that awful."

There was undoubtedly off about these guys. How they spoke in morbid tones. Also, their skin was pale, and their eyes were a vicious yellow with dark pupils. Eyes filled with malic. A voice in Groose's head urged him to run. When he tried, Groose was greeted with a fist in his face. The impact forced him on his back in a daze. When his vision cleared, Groose was shocked to see Fledge towering over him, fist clenched with blood on his knuckles.

Unlike the others, who had vicious glee on their expressions, Fledge stared Groose down with pure hatred. His skin was also pale, and he had yellow eyes painted with malice.

"Running away from your problems. And you call me spineless," Fledge spoke to Groose with utter disgust.

"Glad you could make it, Fledge." Link looks down to Groose. "Looks like you got him good. How does it make you feel?"

"It felt…good. But I want to hit him more. I want to hurt him the same way he hurt all of us!"

"He will soon enough, buddy." Link gave an affectionate pat on Fledge's shoulder. With a sneer on his face, Link crouches down to Groose. "You shouldn't be surprised by this. Aside from me, Fledge is the one you bullied the most. Now why I wonder? I mean, in my case, jealousy is the likely conclusion. But what about you?"

"I've been asking myself that for seven years."

"I think I might have a theory of my own," Zelda voiced.

"Do tell, Zel,"

"Well…Groose hates you, Link, because you have everything he doesn't. Fledge, on the other hand…is basically the opposite of Groose's desires. So he bullies Fledge just so he can feel better about himself. You get what I mean?"

Link's eyes brightened up when it clicked on what Zelda meant. "It all makes sense now." Eyes still glued to Groose, Link stood back up. "You hate me, Groose because I embody everything you wish to be. While Fledge…is the embodiment of everything you're afraid to be."

Pipit and Karane let out feigned gasps of shock.

"Goodness."

"Juicy stuff right here."

"Now, what we want to know, what do you think of this Fledge?" Link glances at the boy.

Groose waits anxiously for Fledge's reaction. For several seconds, Fledge is relatively calm while he processes everything. Groose might have had hope that Fledge was not taking it badly.

How wrong he was.

Fledge's lip grew to a sinister amused grin. Low chuckling escaped his mouth. The volume slowly rose until it erupted into full-out boisterous laughter. Not the laughing one might do when they hear a funny joke. The kind that sounded like it belonged to a person who was utterly psychotic. Someone that Fledge is not usually. Other sounds were heard in between his laughs said, like crying. That's what terrified Groose the most.

"Seriously?! That was the reason why you bullied me so much?" Fledge said to Groose amid his psychotic laughing fit. "You were afraid of becoming me?! That's some hilarious shit right there, you know that? Why? What about me you're afraid of, huh!?"

"N-nothing!" Groose got a bad feeling about where Fledge was going with this. Unfortunately, that answer upset Fledge enough to kick Groose's ribs very hard.

"Don't lie to me, asshole! What are you afraid of?! Afraid of being smaller than everyone else?" Another kick was felt on Groose's ribs. "Afraid to be weak?" Fledge stomped on Groose's face. "Afraid of letting everyone belittle and walking all over you?" Fledge pulled Groose by his pompadour, staring straight into Groose's face with his hated-filled yellow eyes. "After others making you feel like the most worthless person in the world LIKE YOU DID TO ME?!" Fledge punches Groose's face, sending him flying.

Agony aches over Groose's body as he lies on the cold hard floor. In different circumstances, he could've, no, should've fought back. An invisible force had prevented him from doing so. Groose didn't even muster up the strength to speak in defense. An invisible grip was letting the others do what they wanted.

"What?! Not going to fight back? Now it's clear who's the real pipsqueak!" Groose heard Fledge's voice filled with venom while he attempted to march over in his rage, only to be gently restrained by Pipit & Karane.

"Easy there, buddy. You got your message across," Pipit softly said to him.

"It's okay. Groose can't hurt you anymore," Karane assured before she and Pipit turned their cold gazes to Groose. "He can't hurt ANY of us anymore."

"That you're correct, Karane. Groose will pay for his sins," Zelda smiles darkly at Groose.

"A certain someone is eager to see you again. I think you would be perfect for each other." Link gave his own dark smile. "You might find that you both have a lot of things in common. After all, you're just about as big a monster as it is."

All five slowly moved closer to where Groose was. Groose crawls backward to get away. Arm up in a stop gesture, he pleads to them.

"C-come one, guys. Don't do this. I know you know that this is wrong!"

"WRONG?! If anything, everyone at Skyloft would praise us! They won't shed any tears for you! You bring nothing but dishonor!" Pipit proclaimed harshly.

"You contribute nothing! You do nothing for the benefit of Skyloft other than being a horrible person to everyone around you!" Karane jeered.

" You're a useless waste of space. Like I said:  No one respects you because you're a big, selfish, asshole!  You don't deserve to be a Skyknight! You don't deserve anything at all!" With all the hatred in his voice, Fledge then tells Groose. "You don't even deserve to live.  The world will be better off without you... "

Hearing that from Fledge, made Groose felt hurt. Hurt because Fledge said those words. or the fact that he was right?

"You're nothing, Groose. You will always be nothing but dead weight. You'll rot down here and be forgotten," Link said with sadistic glee.

Red energy swirled in Zelda's hand. "But don't worry. We'll relieve you of your pain…" She said with a haunting grin.

The red energy covered Zelda's body. It manifested into a red gooey substance. Outspreading onto the ground like a red puddle. As it spread, it climbed onto Link, Pipit, Karane, and Fledge. All five were consumed by it. They all turned into five hellish-looking hands with claw-like nails. The five hands hunched over. The red hands jerked upwards with the unholiest screech. One malice-filled yellow eye is in the center of all five of the hand's palms. All set their sights on Groose.

The teen tried to run fast, barely dodging one of the hands, grabbing him. Groose's luck gave out as he tripped in the woods. The Hell Hands found him. One by one, they grab hold of him. Their grip was so firm Groose felt his joints cracking. The hands said various things to him with a combination of distorted voices from the five teens Groose had wronged for seven years.

"You will not escape your fate!"

"Suffer for your sins!"

"You will burn! BURN!"

They carried him through the woods, maintaining their grip despite Groose's hard struggle. Their destination leads them to the edge of the woods. Groose's eyes widen to see a familiar temple with the spiral pit below.

Waiting in the pit was none other than The Imprisoned.

There was only one thing Groose could do in one final resort. Begging for his life.

"Don't do this! Please!"

Groose said with desperation. He had been reduced to tears. One of the Hell Hands turns to face him. Its malice eye stare right into Groose. The Lone Hell Hand inched close until its palm was a mere few centimeters away from his face.

"Look at you. Such a pitiful state. Pathetic." The hand spoke with all the collective voices. "No wonder why they left you at the academy."

The emphasis on the word 'they' gave a heavy feeling to Groose.

"Nobody in this world cares for useless trash like you. Trash must be disposed of. And the real kicker? You have only yourself to blame…."

The rest of the hands move Groose to the pit's edge while the lone one watches. The Imprisoned glances up in their direction. Its hideous jaw curved into a smile. Groose could feel his heart beating as he desperately tried to free himself. The Lone Hell Hand gave an evil laugh.

"May you burn in hell, Groose."

The Hell Hands tose Groose into the air. He helplessly fell straight to the pit, watching all the hands return to their human forms. All gave goodbye to him with sadistic smiles as he plummeted. Below him, The Imprisoned opens its jaw wide open. The last thing Groose could do before he was eaten by the monster was let out a loud painful scream.

****

Air desperately sucked into Groose's mouth when he darted up. Sounds of his hyperventilating echoed across the interior of the Sealed Temple. Cold Sweat resided on his skin. It took minutes for Groose to calm himself down before giving a sweet breath of relief when he realized that what he saw was only a nightmare.

Judging by the darkness, nighttime still lingers. The hole in the Temple roof allows a view of the stars. Soothing sounds of crickets chirping occasionally chirped. That alone should have helped Groose relax. But he could not.

Recalling the nature of the dream made him uneasy. Despite it being a dream, all of that felt too real for his liking. Groose has had nightmares before. None felt as real and horrifying as this one was.

"Are you alright?" The Old One's voice made Groose jerk. Once he realized it was her, Groose attempted to hide the shock & fear.

"I'm fine…Just a bad dream," Groose responded, trying to sound tough.

The Old One did not buy that answer. "That did not seem like 'just' a bad dream. You were tossing in your sleep. And I heard whimpering."

"You probably saw it wrong. I can handle a nightmare. Not the first time I got one. Why do you even care anyways?"

"It would not be right of me to leave you while you are clearly struggling."

"I can handle myself fine. I've gone through most of my life without needing help. I don't need you to babysit me."

"I am not babysitting you. I wish to help you."

"I don't NEED your help! I never need anyone's help. And turned out quite fine! Just drop it!" Groose barked back with intensity.

"If you say so. I will leave you be." She walked a few feet away when she stopped to turn her head back. "But know that if you need it, I will help you. Asking for help doesn't make you weak. I promise you."

"Goodnight, Grannie," Groose uttered.

"I wish you a pleasant sleep."

The Old One walked away from Groose. He laid back down on his side. No matter how hard he tried, Groose could not go back to sleep. All he could think about was his horrible dream. Thinking about it brought him to tears. It took all of his willpower to not cry, for he did not want The Old One to hear. Out of his stubbornness or fear, he wasn't sure.

"It was just a dream. It was only a dream. I'm not that bad…Right?"

All the negative thoughts swarm in his head. Images of the nightmare kept showing up. They were as clear as day. The words the figures in the dream spat onto him, the harsh words Fledge said to him yesterday, all the glares and whispering people back on Skyloft did when he walked by kept repeating. Over and over again.

Another image included two lone figures. A man and a woman, to be exact. They glared down at him. One sentence uttered from them.

"You are a useless child."

Groose didn't get much sleep that night.

*****

One of the perks of living in an old age is gaining a better insight. This gift allows one to catch on to things in the world around them better than those younger. These individuals can get a better understanding of certain people. More so better than the person. Some are so insightful that they can get a good deal after a single encounter.

The moment Groose barged into the temple demanding to tell him where Zelda was, The Old One had already got a good idea of the kind of person he was. Further confirmed when he and Link's group had their heated conversation. She could see that Groose was filled with arrogance, self-absorbed, and clearly stubborn. Not a good combination for a person to have. As she saw, Groose has negative feelings towards Link and his friends. Fledge's outburst is evident in what kind of person Groose was. Many would be understandable quick to dismiss him as a rude bully. When she was much younger, The Old One would've been one of those people.

But she is not young. Has not been for a long time now. She now has a better understanding of the world. While many wouldn't even spare a second glance, there is one thing The Old One knows.

Groose is hurting. He has been for a long time. And he won't admit to it. There is one proof that indicates that."

"You don't get far in life by being soft. You need to command respect."

That lone statement from Groose alone proved to The Old One that his tough guy act is all a cover to prove himself that he is useful. Due to his attitude, it was clear that Link's group, and possibly many others back to their home of Skyloft, would not think of him as the most helpful person. Again, Groose was blind to it.

Now the question remains that not even she could answer on the surface. Why? Why is Groose this way? Why does he persist in carrying this illusion of himself? Why won't he accept help?

Unfortunately, Groose did not seem open to accepting help. After witnessing what his nightmare did to him, The Old One sees that he clearly does need it. She knows the boy's potential and wants to show him that. But how can she when he refuses her help?

The following morning, she had spent thinking hard and long about her move when Groose went outside to gather more firewood. After hours of thinking, she had gotten an idea.

Her people have a ritual that might be helpful. The Old One had seen the effects of it once when she was young. She saw that it helped the person who participated in it, and they spent the rest of their lives as a better person than before the ritual. By the time they passed, they had lived a fulfilled life, passing away with warm smiles surrounded by those they loved. That may be the only key to helping Groose.

The Old One writes on a bit of note. When finished, she made a whistle. In flew a hawk, who let out a screech. She ties the message onto the Hawk's leg and then sends it on its way. Now all The Old One had to do was wait.

[pridepages]

eARC Review: Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

A HUGE thank you to Netgalley and Wednesday Books for providing me an eARC in exchange for an honest review!

RATING: ⭐⭐⭐

GOODREADS SYNOPSIS:  It’s been hundreds of years since King Arthur’s reign. His descendant, Arthur, a future Lord and general gadabout, has been betrothed to Gwendoline, the quick-witted, short-tempered princess of England, since birth. The only thing they can agree on is that they despise each other.

They’re forced to spend the summer together at Camelot in the run up to their nuptials, and within 24 hours, Gwen has discovered Arthur kissing a boy and Arthur has gone digging for Gwen's childhood diary and found confessions about her crush on the kingdom's only lady knight, Bridget Leclair. Realizing they might make better allies than enemies, they make a reluctant pact to cover for each other, and as things heat up at the annual royal tournament, Gwen is swept off her feet by her knight and Arthur takes an interest in Gwen's royal brother. 

RELEASE DATE: November 28, 2023

See my full review under the cut!

MY REVIEW:  I first became a Croucher fan with their first novel Reputation, a regency romantic comedy that introduced me to their gift for irreverence, high-speed banter, anachronistic plots, and lovable characters. While all are present in Gwen and Art Are Not in Love, this book doesn’t quite hit its marks as well.

What initially made me quite excited about Gwen and Art was its elevator pitch as an Arthurian novel with a queer leading cast. The idea of the ill-starred romance between Guinevere and Arthur being spun as a lavender marriage was delightful. Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that’s not what this book is. Croucher’s Camelot is one generations separated from the great Pendragon. The current royal children--heir Gabriel and his sister Gwendoline--struggle to live up to this great legacy. It prompts a storyline of struggle against internalized--and potentially externalized--homophobia. There’s no denying that’s part of most queer people’s lives. But that tale’s been told over and over again. We’re finally seeing a crop of authors who are telling stories unshackled by these expectations. This is a pseudo-medieval world akin to the 2001 film A Knight’s Tale, so did this Camelot really need homophobia?

Croucher’s characters here are also hit-and-miss. Their lead characters--Gwen and Art--are quite grating. Each is selfish, entitled, stubborn, and superior in different ways. Art does grow on the reader and seems to evolve the most over the story, but Gwen is quite difficult to love. Literature definitely needs more difficult women, so the issue is not that Gwen has to be particularly docile or sweet, but it becomes hard to root for her when she is constantly carping at everyone while being deadweight when it matters. Luckily, the supporting cast in the form of Gwen’s brother, Gabe, her lady in waiting, Agnes, her love interest, Bridget, and Art’s man, Sidney, round out the cast with more endearing personalities to cheer for. 

Another grating mesh is the B-storyline of the politics in this fictional England. Readers are repeatedly told that there are ‘cultists’ who believe that Arthuriana and legendary magic are all real. There are ‘Catholics’ who seem to represent the opposing ‘realists.’ We learn the ruling family is not long on the throne because there were threats outside their borders and internal unrest is further destabilizing them. The problem, frankly, is it’s all too much for the tone. Firstly, this is a romantic comedy, not a history lesson about this fictional country. Secondly, if you’re going to introduce that much background world-building, then it has to conclusively tie to the plot. But the reader is left baffled: we’re teased by the idea the cultists might be right, but there are only brief brushes against magic. We never do hear about the threats that border countries pose after the first introduction. Infighting between contestants for the English throne could have been pared down without the multiple vague parties and plots. Ultimately, this book feels like two different stories that were stitched together, but not smoothly. Sometimes a plot thread would be abandoned for large chunks of the book and then return quite suddenly, jarring the reader into memory and then making you wonder why it was there in the first place.

However, Gwen and Art Are Not in Love remains an enjoyable read. One of its most endearing qualities is the friendship that springs up between Gwen and Art. The world could use more books that show solidarity between men who love men and women who love women. So here’s to Croucher for giving us a good one!

[todayimgonnaplay]

Today I'm Gonna Play: Baldur's Gate 3

Welp, it's finally time for me to try this one out! I've been wanting to try a DnD-esque video game for a while now. I've played an irl session a handful of times albeit short, but it was pretty fun! So I was curious to see how a CRPG would hold out.

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I'd like the game or, at least, feel motivated to play to the end. I did play a little bit of the Dragon Age games on Game Pass, but it seemed like I needed to be in the mood to play this kind of genre. However, I've been utterly proved wrong. Long has it been since a game would get me so hooked, I'd jump on it every chance I get, spending all my free time, depriving myself of sleep while being completely immersed in another world.

Although a number of games that have released over the years that have been choice focused, I haven't found much of them have really nailed how they impact the characters and world around you. A common complaint is that they tend to just impact the endings you get. I didn't mind this, as choice-based games were a fresh experience for me and are still fun if I want something traditionally non-linear. BG3 really showed me how much choice can actually cause consequences, to the point that sometimes my analysis paralysis would come up and I'd sit and REALLY think on what my character should do. The best part is, all of this creates a unique playthrough, leaving you to a treasure trove of what-ifs for future playthroughs. I find that quite commendable!

Another great aspect of this game is the overall story and characters. I'm weirdly not into traditional fantasy settings for some reason?? (although I loved them as a kid) But after playing this game, I can see the appeal of having different races, classes, and having a myriad of systems and concepts in this type of fiction (maybe that's why I couldn't get into the Dragon Age series?). Each character you party with (companions) have personally crafted stories and personalities that I felt emotionally connected to, wanting to see their stories to the end. Admiteddly, I didn't care much about them (except Astarion who drew me to the game for being the supposed ''poster boy'' I guess?) at first when everyone was acting distrustful lol, but over time I gave them a second chance, finishing the game like I went on an adventure with friends. I noticed that each of them had some heavy themes of their own, it was really nice to see how the game treated it with such nuance! Now feeling more intrigued, I'm hoping to dive into these settings more often in the future with an open mind. My only gripe is that the romance aspect seemed to come up a bit too early for some companions but I think I'd chalk this as a programming issue. And although the companions are designed to be playersexual, a sexuality filter would also be beneficial to suit player preferences/playthroughs better.

Another aspect I love is the music! Again, I weirdly don't get into medieval style music much for some reason, but Borislav Slavov really knocked it out of the park! I didn't find a single track to be annoying or boring, even the ambient ones. Each track really helped fit the mood of what was going on and would play in my head even after a session. In fact, I'd love to attend a live orchestra if I get the chance!

I don't have a lot of gripes with the game, other than just minor visual and UI bugs. Overall, I'm really happy I got to finally try out the game. It definitely deserves all the praise it gets! I'm already on a second playthrough via co-op and found so many things I didn't see in my first playthrough. I hope that future games can put in this level of care to make their worlds and characters much more immersive to be in. Also I chose Bard in my first playthrough thinking I'd jokingly be a deadweight, it's now my favourite class. I can proudly say I'm no longer a ''bardcist''.

[noyzinerd]

Revisiting this post now that its heyday has long passed because seeing it again reminded me of the things that didn't make the cut, which I will briefly go over:

One symptom of Adderall abuse I found was fainting spells

The reason why this is important:

When Stiles needed to cut off Derek's arm, Derek asked if he fainted at the sight of blood, to which Stiles said no (but he might at the sight of a chopped off arm). When Scott gets a tattoo, Stiles faints, but later that same episode, he has no problem holding down Scott as Derek sears his flesh with a blowtorch to get him a tattoo (in fact, he stares right at it).

We also see, when Stiles is looking into the deadpool murders, he has gruesome crime scene pictures strewn all over his desk (to which Finstock calls disturbing).

In an episode where Melissa needs to inject Lydia, Stiles predicts that he might faint at the sight of a needle being used, but then Liam faints while Stiles is still left standing.

This proves that Stiles doesn't actually have a problem with the two potential triggers of fainting he (as well as the audience) originally thought: gore and needles. However, the two times he does faint (at the tattoo parlor and right after they kill the Nogitsune) do go hand in hand with the idea of the Adderall abuse steadily peaking around the time the Nogitsune preyed on Stiles' deteriorating mind.

Why it was cut from the original post: I tried diligently to find the article again for screenshots but couldn't find it (because I had found the article 4+ years prior to the original post and it was now buried under mountains of data), so I left it out because I felt like no one would believe me without evidence. Since then, I have however found it again:

Another symptom of Adderall abuse is shortness of breath

The reason why this is important:

In season 2, Stiles treads water for two whole hours while holding up 200+ pounds of Derek's deadweight. In season 1, Stiles manages to outrun an Alpha werewolf chasing him down the halls. He also plays an entire game of lacrosse and scores the winning goal later in the season. However, much later in the series, Stiles is heavily winded after a short training sprint. His stamina has severely declined over the seasons despite, arguably, becoming more active in terms of dealing with baddies and running for his life and lacrosse training.

Why it was cut from the original post: the 'being out of breath' scene takes place after 3B, indicating that he's not getting better (and is in fact getting worse) and might still unknowingly be abusing Adderall into an early grave, unlike the positive outcome I posted originally. The thought made me sad and I didn't want to end on a downer (although we don't see him having anymore breathing issues after a particular point, and I did write a mini-fic explaining it that I might post later, but nothing tangible).

Bonus: PTSD Symptoms that differentiate from ADHD

Recently found this while researching this topic again and the startle response made me remember how easily startled Stiles is all the time. And the avoidance of thoughts/memories/feelings reminds me of when Stiles once said he was a big fan of ignoring a problem until it went away.

Having persistent negative beliefs and a persistent negative emotional state could easily be seen as hyperfixation until you think about how Stiles only really hyperfixates when he thinks something will go wrong and he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And having exaggerated negative beliefs explains why sometimes he can take things too far when upset/stressed (like when he got Scott beat up after the sheriff was hurt at the PT meeting, or when he threw Scott to the ground when the sheriff was in the hospital, or when he asked why Isaac was not over his abuse yet, or saying they should let Derek die). It's because a singular event (Scott ignored his messages about the Alpha, Derek's pack wanted to kill the kanima/Lydia) gets overblown (i.e. it's always Scott's fault his dad gets hurt, Derek's pack will always have ulterior motives).

The Misdiagnosed Tragedy of Stiles

(How Adderall Summoned The Nogitsune)

Time for me to really stretch out that Psychology degree, folks. I've also taken the liberty of quoting several different articles.

Stiles Stilinski does NOT have ADHD. He actually has PTSD and has been misdiagnosed since childhood.

Let me explain:

In season 5, we see Stiles reliving a memory he repressed, when he was 10 years old, of his mother attacking him in the late stages of her dementia.

This memory had been so traumatic and so deeply buried that it had taken SUPERNATURAL means to uncover it.

As stated by these two articles, PTSD and ADHD exhibit many of the same symptoms:

The reason children are more likely to be diagnosed as ADHD is because no psychologist/therapist expects a child to be experiencing something commonly plaguing war veterans, especially at such a young age. It's not the first thing to come to mind and children being violently attacked isn't normally the conclusion you jump to when facing a kid that's fidgety. Also, as stated in this article, mental health professionals just don't have time to learn a child's whole backstory.

Stiles' misdiagnosis is just the tip of the iceberg, though. Because of this, he is misprescribed Adderall.

As you may have noticed in the previous scene, Stiles is hyperactive and all over the place. This is actually a very bad sign. According to this article:

We actually see Stiles showing quite a number of the following side effects, mostly the psychiatric ones.

Panic attacks in particular should really catch your attention. I know it caught mine.

In season 3B, the Nogitsune alters a brain scan to make Stiles think he has frontotemporal dementia. The Sheriff and Argent later theorize that, by doing so, the Nogitsune weakened Stiles' mental defenses by destroying his hope. This shows that the weaker Stiles' mind was, the easier it was for the Nogitsune to take control. The poor mental state years of Adderall abuse had left Stiles in may have been the reason why the Nogitsune had chosen him as a host.

The irony of it all is that the Nogitsune said that it could save Stiles if he let it in. Surprisingly, it probably did. When the Nogitsune was controlling Stiles, it would make sense that a 1,000 year old chaos spirit wouldn't bother to take Stiles' Adderall every day. Not only that, we also see Stiles go without Adderall during his whole stay at Eichen House and when the Nogitsune took over the second time. From season 3B onward, Stiles' hyperactivity is way down and (correct me if I'm wrong on this) Stiles isn't seen having another panic attack after that. During the entirety of the Nogitsune arc, Stiles was too preoccupied fighting for his life to remember to take his pill and it seems he just never bothered to pick it up again, thus ACTUALLY saving his own life.

[sukirichi]

closer | gojo satoru x reader

a/n: aaah my first ask and it’s a request! thanks so much this is so kind and sweet of you 🥺 and here it is! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! 

summary: in which Gojo has the need to be closer to you after a long day of hard work

pairings: jealous! Gojo x reader

warnings: none, other than this isn’t proofread! (This is just a fluffy domestic short fic!)

masterlist ! 

The best part about being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the power (although Gojo basks in that too) but rather the fact that he allows himself to completely tear his walls down and be putty in your hands once he comes home from work.

Gojo would never say it out loud that the best part of his days is waking up next to you, pressing kisses in your still sleepy face and you whining for five more minutes, then watching as you wobble like a penguin to the shower so you can start your day. Although he doesn’t really ask much from you, his heart still swells every time you make him a sandwich, kiss it and claim that it’s “made with love” before he proudly shows off his ‘breakfast’ of the day to his students.

Even in work, he still thinks of you. It’s quite impossible for this man to stop thinking of you; you and him never left that honeymoon phase even after two years of marriage and a much longer time of dating.

He could be exorcising a curse then get distracted afterwards after seeing an Italian restaurant that he just knows you’ll love. Next thing you know, Gojo flicks his wrist and exorcises the curse in a flash before hopping into that restaurant to look at the menu. Loving is knowing; Gojo takes the time to see if the restaurant would be respectful of your allergies every time before booking reservations.

It’s no secret that this man is completely enamoured with you, if his sappy good morning kisses accompanied with light, teasing touches down your legs is not an indication already. Gojo is confident and feels safe in your relationship and he’s never the type to get jealous because Gojo is Gojo – who else would be better than him for you?

Or at least that’s what he used to believe, until he comes home with a bag of pumpkin spice bread for you, arms wide open and a “Darling~” about to leave his lips when he sees your current predicament.

Nanami is leaning against one of the chairs in your cafe downstairs from your home, the usual stoic man’s lips and cheekbones slightly raised in laughter as you tell him something about your day. Gojo can’t exactly understand the worse falling from your lips because he’s too focused on the way you’re leaning forward, eyes absolutely crinkled into half-moons while you share a strawberry tart with him. Gojo sees the cups of tea have already been emptied, meaning Nanami has been here for a much longer time than he is welcomed.

Gojo clenches his jaw. He’s told you many times you should get a bell so you’d know when a customer comes in, but now he’s thankful you’re stubborn and refused to have one because he can hide in one of the propped up tables and chairs hidden in the darkness.

He can’t help the sigh he releases. He’s late – like he always is.

You’re a regular human who isn’t able to see curses. You’ve only ever known about their existence ever since you started dating Gojo, but other than that, you’re completely unaware of how these things work. It doesn’t bother Gojo. In fact, he quite likes that he can be just a regular man around you, and he basks in the comfort of not having to worry about your safety if ever you were also like him.

He met you when you were just still a barista who helped your boss bake from time to time. Gojo was only a student then who hopped from one cafe to another in search of the best delicacy, but he got more than what he bargained from when he met the fresh-faced and bubbly young woman standing behind the counter whose smile was sweeter than the most sugary dessert you’ve ever made.

As the two of you grew older, Gojo supported you in building your own cafe since you’re so passionate about it and it’s been your dream since childhood.

He still remembers how you’d spend hours in the kitchen trying out new ingredients, so much so that you forget to eat on most days. Gojo is left with the task of literally hauling your ass up upstairs and force you to shower with him. You lie that you’re not really tired, but the moment his skilled hands roll the tension out of your shoulders, a contented and grateful sigh paints those lips he loves to kiss.

One of the things Gojo loves doing with you is taste-testing. He’s not around the house most of the time when you work since he’s a busy man himself, but on the days he actively chooses to annoy Principal Yaga and go AWOL, he’d sit obediently on the counter and let you use him as your own taste experimenting dummy.

When night falls and you’re just about ready to head to bed; satisfied and proud of another day of hard work, Gojo comes home early to help you clean up the cafe and prop the furniture so you don’t overstrain your muscles.

Or at least, he wants to come home early to help you. It’s just that he often gets carried away on his missions and stays behind a lot longer than he’d like because the world of curses is extremely demanding. After seeing that you probably already lifted all these heavy chairs and cleaned up everything by yourself even when you’re tired, and you still have the ability to smile and laugh like that in Nanami’s presence when he should be the one on the receiving end, Gojo is unable to fight back the twisting feeling that pools in his stomach.

Forcing a huge grin on his face, Gojo loudly smacks the paper bag in the table between you and Nanami, his hands resting on the blond’s shoulder who only groans at his presence. “Yo!” He greets, winking when your eyes gleam brighter now that your husband is home.

There’s no trace or hint of anything that could indicate you’re upset with him because he didn’t come home early. Instead, you bow and excuse yourself while picking up your cups and the small plate where remnants of your signature tart had been, and Gojo watches with longing eyes as you disappear in the back room.

Now that you’re gone, Gojo drops in your seat, takes off his blindfold, and glares at Nanami. “Nanamin,” he drawls out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here – getting chummy with my wife, no less.”

Gojo knows he’s being petty and childish. Of course he is. This is Nanamin we’re talking about; the man is as frigid and stone and he’s as interested in romantic relationships as much as he respects Gojo Satoru. Plus, it’s you, and you have eyes for Gojo and Gojo only, but it’s also Gojo Satoru who’s mixed in the formula, and he’s not the least bit ashamed that he’s being immature right now.

Of course he’s jealous. Of course he’s possessive.

You’re his sweet, little wife – of course he doesn’t like it.

As if reading his mind but couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, Nanami slides an envelope across the table. “Ijichi took a sick leave so he couldn’t give this to you. I was tasked to hand it over to you instead so I came around. It’s not my fault you come home late and your wife insisted I have a short meal before I came home,” Gojo opens his to retort something stupid when you emerge from the back, pretty face tired yet still patient as ever.

“Leaving already, Nanami?” You smile up at him, hand slipping through Gojo’s bigger and rough ones. He doesn’t know why the gesture leaves him stunned, especially when you step close enough that he feels your heat on this sudden cold night. He’s so entranced by everything about you he doesn’t even notice the blond bidding his farewell.

Gojo watches as you turn to face him, smaller hands reaching up to caress his face. Now that his blindfold is gone, his hair falls down to forehead, your dainty fingers brushing them away from his eyes so you could marvel in its beauty.

Like a little kid, he melts into a puddle when you do that exact eye-smile he’s seen you do with Nanami, only this time, it’s reserved, private, and intimate.

Gojo shuts his eyes in the process, nearly stumbling forward, which he doesn’t really let happen with anyone because he’s the Gojo Satoru; strongest jujutsu sorcerer. But you don’t mind, you never do, and if anything it only makes you laugh when he pretends to be deadweight by collapsing into the crook of your neck.

“What a big baby,” you tease with your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, all the tiredness and exhaustion from his day disappearing into thin air.

“Yes,” he concedes as he follows you up the stairs where you both change into your pyjamas and settle in for the night. “But I’m your big baby.”

The nickname makes you laugh, head thrown back as giggles erupted in your chest. You’ve already removed your makeup, hair down from your work hairnet and flowing in loose waves. Gojo stifles a gasp then, because you’re in his arms, in his bed, smelling like him, and you’re so soft, so free, so vulnerable and the way you lean into his shoulders while he rubs his cheek on the crown of your head makes him feel like he’s falling in love all over again.

He’ll never get tired of this – of you.

The mere thought of seeing you with someone else that isn’t him doesn’t sit well with Gojo. Now he understands why he’s so jealous and immature – it’s because he hasn’t wanted anyone or anything as much as he loves you.

He can’t imagine a life where he’ll wake up to his mornings without your limbs sprawled across his longer ones, or how he may never hear your sleep talks about birds and butterflies; which is utterly ridiculous, but because it’s you, he finds it adorable. Sometimes Gojo wonders how he ever even lived before meeting, but of course, those were days filled with nothing but him doing weird stupid shit.

Not that he’s stopped doing that, but now at least he’s doing those weird stupid with you.

And he only ever wants to share those with you, so he doesn’t and will never allow anyone else to take what’s rightfully his. You’re his wife, the love of his life, the sunshine in his mornings and the sunset of his beautiful dusk.

He doesn’t care if he’s petty – he’s got every right to be jealous because Gojo Satoru never shares what’s his.

When his mind races back to the way you smile for Nanami again, his hold on you grows tighter. You don’t complain when Gojo suddenly presses his lips into yours, a breathy moan blessing his ears once he finally moves on top of you. Gojo runs his hand under your – his – shirt, letting those talented hands of his roam upon the expanse of his skin like an artwork he’ll never get tired of looking at.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in between the lip-locking, leaning closer when your nails start to scratch his scalp as a way to soothe him from the night. Nothing about the kiss is hurried or fervent; rather, it’s calm and steady, slow and passionate, much like how everything he feels for you is similar to a calm, rainy day where he’ll stay in with a hot cup of chocolate.

You’re home – warmth and comfort – and you know you’re his just as he knows he’s yours, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you like he wants you to never forget that.

You shiver when Gojo’s fingers tickle your ribcage, that spot always having been sensitive. Your husband swipes his tongue over your lips that still tastes like strawberries from your lipbalm, and he groans, falling forward when you allow him access into your sweet, sweet mouth. Meanwhile, you travel down from his hair into those broad, strong shoulders that always seemed like a fortress to you.

Gojo was so big and strong compared to you. There’s no denying he could easily break you if he wanted to, but he’s nothing but gentle – perhaps a little eager – when he holds you like this.

There’s no memory of how you end up on top of his lap that night with the covers barely strewn across your bodies, Gojo’s back pressing into the bed frame that’s witnessed endless nights of passion. His hands then run over your hips, squeezing it a little too hard until you rut against his hips.

“Hmm,” you moan into his mouth at the friction, while Gojo only smirks at your reaction. Even after years, you’re still so sweet, sensitive, and responsive – he just can’t get enough of it. “Satoru,” the way you say his name is so breathy, almost as if it’s a secret only the two of you should know, so he listens intently at your next words. “You’re a little needy tonight. Did something happen?”

“No,” he lies, smiling to himself once he sees your lips are red and bruised. He’s sure he looks the same, but your eyes are glossed over with love that he can’t resist you pulling you to him as if the space offends him. He trails his lips down to your neck to leave red patches of marks that claims you as his – not that the gold wedding band on your fingers wasn’t doing the job already.

Like the good girl you are, you tilt your head and allow him to do as he pleases. He sucks, licks, kisses and nips at the skin, all the while careful to not hurt you or push you over to the edge since both of you are too tired for the day to ever do anything.

Your head drops to the crook of his neck then, arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as if you trusted him to catch you whenever you fall – and you know he will. He always will.

Later on, you grow sleepy at the way he starts to pepper kisses into your skin that addictingly smells like cinnamon and vanilla all at the same time. Gojo chuckles to himself at how peaceful you look in that moment, draped over him like a tiny puppy who lives in a world too big for themselves, but that’s not true.

You’re bigger than the universe itself, larger than the vast galaxies he held beneath those eyes, and Gojo finally stops being jealous.

There’s no need to be, after all, not when he’s the one you trust wholeheartedly to tuck you in bed while your soft breathing lulls him into slumber as well. Gojo flicks the lamp off with his finger, not wasting another second before he scoots closer, closer, closer until there’s no more recollection of where you begin and where he ends.

He stands corrected in his statement.

He’ll never get tired of this, of you, for you’re bigger than the universe itself and there’s still a lot of space between the two of you that he can’t wait to cross until your worlds crash and burn.

“Next time,” he promises before kissing your eyelids, “I’ll come home earlier.”

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hello, if you can, could you do a V x Vergil’s previous lover reader scenarios? (The reader is gender neutral 😊) unless if you already did so

I only do scenarios for event base stuff however I think I can make this work as a headcanon blurb! Hope you enjoy! ☺

Note: reader can be Nero's other parent I left it vague enough for the reader's interpretation/preference I just ask just because of that not to tag it as fem reader or as "Nero's mother" when/if reblogging, the work is still gender neutral with absolute no references to being afab.

(This work includes gender neutral!reader)

V reuniting with Vergil's past s/o

It's certainly... a hard pill to swallow when he finally sees you again after all these years. How long has it been? He isn't sure, time is a ficky matter for him to comprehend given, well, everything that's happened to him - what happened to Vergil.

He feels guilty, what he did all those years ago, leaving you behind and not making the most healthy of mindset decisions. But here you are now, however long it's been, working along side the Boy and that Nicoletta woman for apparently his brother's demon slaying company. No matter how hard he tries he can't help his thoughts to drift on exactly when you must've met Dante - how that conversation must've gone - however he shakes it off before it ever gets too far, he's on a evermore ticking clock and time grows shorter and short each moment he ponders over the regrets and outcomes of his mistake filled past. He must bring himself and Urizen back together before it's too late.

However that doesn't stop his eyes from wondering each time your around. You look just as heart swellingly beautiful/handsome/gorgeous as the night he left you behind for his own goal; power, power his heart frantically needed in order to quell his inner child and trembling desire never to loose anything ever again... you were just took much in the way of that, he told himself at the time, too much of a distraction - but deep down he knew: he didn't want what happened on that day happen to you as well and every step you took with him down that dark path was endangering you to that fate. It became unbearable he had to force himself to flee from you that night while you were still asleep because he couldn't have possibly had the strength to tell you while you were awake, not when you meant so much to him - not when you cracked at his broken heart in ways no one has ever had touched before. Weak and cowardly, his younger self deprecated, but in his gut it necessary to push himself forward.

Those few days before the fall of the tree in Redgrave, in between and even sometimes during fights his familiars has with the raging hoards of demons on ruined streets, he thinks about you again quite often - he thinks of you, bloodied and suffering from possibly a concussion from your own scuffle with Urizen, with an arm wrapping around Nero's shoulder and his only arm around yours keeping both of you balanced but rocking back and forth almost teeter totter-like as alternatively your legs both shake to struggle to stay upright as you three make your escape back through the tree to leave - more importantly your scolding to the younger man looped around you as you express an almost parental like anger of him coming here, with a missing fucking arm and only just barely out of a coma, expressing how worried Kyrie and Nico must be of him coming all this way barely on two legs from Fortuna to get involved with this mess Redgrave finds itself in followed by the small "Yeah, yeah"s that feel so much deeper under the surface, probably still hurting from the Deadweight comment from Dante, but it's oddly still genuine knowing you're just as worried about him just as much as Kyrie, Nico, and the foster kids will be. It reminds V how you would act just as much of a similar manner when Vergil would come back from doing reckless matters, how you would scold him for hours on end and he would just... let you even if he thought your worrying unnecessary, as he is a son of Sparda afterall and no minor demon is going to cause him much hassle, he did find your concern a bit heartwarming, even if this was something he'd absolutely never admit to you out loud instead just usual finding the gentle embraces he would snake you in speaking all they'd need to.

Maybe it's his own fault for thinking of you so much that once the Redgrave meet up operation does commence he does give you the cold shoulder, only answering questions in simple responses if asked and tries his best not to make himself stand out, although not just you but to everyone in the crew, again he is here on a mission and any connections he could make in his mind are nothing but fruitless wasted time when he finally does return with Urizen... at least this is his thought process of the beginning of that day. His time spent with you and Nero in particular as you three keep running into each other and fighting together begins to complicate that.

I'm going to say there is a point you two run into each alone, however, surrounded by demons crawling out of the allies, sweeping down from the sky, jumping down off buildings, crashing through walls, summoned via Judecca, ect that gets the two of you fighting back to back and I think that's when this just begin to click for you personally. The way he taunts his enemies, the way he trick plays, Blake's poetry, the hair swipe back, the summon fucking canes... it just makes sense but doesn't for you at the same time. But you don't say anything, maybe it's just your imagination but... something is just very unsettlingly familiar about him that you're fearful to yourself to even give it more thought, just push it aside and dodge the next wave of attacks coming your way.

But in the mist of this you do accidentally get yourself injured a bit, not too much that a bandage from your supply stack can't treat but enough to knock you off you feet a bit. Leaving V's brain to almost kick in haywire as faint traces of past mate protection instincts kick in where he's at your side treating and wrapping up your wound really before he realizes it - you, on the other hand, absolutely do. His breath all in one moment catches in his throat as he looks up from where his hands are occupied wrapping around the quickening damp blooding wrap around your thigh to your face. Your eyes, so (color) and so nostalgic for him, look at him with such a tender softness that take him back, twenty years or how ever long it's been, makes him forget.

He's not V, he's not a broken man crumbling apart at the seems, he's not Mundus' sword... he's Vergil, still as young and as strong as when he was by your side.

Your eyes widened and flutter as you suddenly look away from him, almost as if you were doing the same reminiscing he was, with a loud clearance of your throat you manage a small: "Thank you, I - um - shouldn't have been so clumsy." followed by the sweet sound of your embarrassed laughter. It shakes V out of the state he was in too, everything reverting back to the way it was and remembering everything once more. He's silent but he gets up before offering you a hand to pull you off your feet, oddly enough the whole situation noticeably missing some sort of the usual snark commentary from a certain bird, however Griffon only hovering above you two in silence - most likely picking up the tense engery in the air. Anyway, you two should go catch up with Nero anyway.

The day grows further and further into the afternoon and V's mindset is more... desperate than it was much earlier. Each step he takes his body flakes away, crumbling, and that guttural fear Vergil felt making his way to reunite with his childhood home becomes more and more adamant as it sets in the man's soul for one objective and one objective only: he needs to get to Urizen before Dante. It's all a similar feeling he known all to well on that day as a child; fear. Fear and desperation to survive. He doesn't want to die, not like this, not after everything he's done. All the harm he's caused to thousands others from civilians the cities of the place that the Temen-ni-gru was raised and now here in Redgrave, all the wrongs towards you, Dante, Nero. He just - he has to survive and make his atonement. It's only right.

But when he's been carried by Nero through the rest of the Qliphoth with you trailing behind, V knows it's coming maybe an hour at most? He's tired and no longer he cares to keep up his "secret" anymore, he answers Nero exactly what is question of him - telling the story of Dante and Vergil, their conflict and Vergil's downfall and everything in between. He knows you can heard him. He knows this confirms you're earlier suspicions and in away as he's telling everything to Nero he makes a point to be mentally addressing it to you as well. His way of a "confession" if you will, though he's too ashamed to look at you. At any moment he expects you to say something but it never comes. You stay silent. You stay trailing behind. This is the last time "V" directly in a way speaks to you.

It only lasted a couple of seconds to you, Dante, and Nero from the outside. The moment V gave Urizen the finishing blow and the harsh blue light scorched the area, knocking both Dante and Nero back - but not you as you hooked your feet seemed to be cemented to the ground and you could only dead blankly stare out at the scene folding in front of you, every falling in slow motion as the glass of the facade created but the fruit shattered around your surroundings. To V - no, to Vergil - it lasted much longer than that where both his demon and inner child comforted. Yes, things felt mighty different the moment Vergil reopened his eyes... much different. For the first time since he was a child he felt whole. Brief flashes surge through his mind the last few moments the facade glass reflecting of his childhood home crashed to the ground around him; him and Dante as children playing in this very yard the illusion faded, the moment he laid eyes upon you followed by your warm touch to his face and how your head tilted and just the warmth and love matched in both your eyes and your smile, and finally something only happened recently but the first few moments as V when he arrived through the younger man's window that night and got a closer look at Nero - the boy whose arm he ripped off causing all of... this.

If he turns around he'll be able to see all of you, with his own eyes and with his own body. There will be resentment, he knows that he's equally wronged all three of you. However, he might at least get a decent fight out of all of it and he has severely missed fighting with his brother afterall. Everything else with making matters right for you, Nero... will come in time. He'll make damn sure of it.

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[oh-mydarling]

Tender is the Touch

A little fluffy sickfic I wrote for the lovely @lanawinters-ily because she deserves the world <333

It was gone five when Lana finally left her office, having spent the majority of her afternoon writing up her next story. She had had a busy week, researching and interviewing and finally writing up her new exposé, but she was most excited to spend the weekend with you, unwinding in your presence after a difficult few days of work. 

After her short commute across town she turned off the engine of the car and stepped onto the path, walking up to the door as she fumbled through her bag for her keys. She retrieved them and put the key into the lock, immediately frowning when a dark silence greeted her in your place. Throughout her journey she had bene imaging you at home, what you might be doing; perhaps you were curled up in the arm chair with your current read, or in the kitchen preparing dinner. Maybe you were perched against the window ready to pounce the minute you saw her car pull up. When she entered the house, you were doing none of those things. 

“Darling?” She called out to you, placing her bag down next to the door and kicking off her heels. She flicked on the light in the hallway and walked further into the house, brow furrowed in confusion as she sought out her love. She poked her head into the lounge and upon seeing it empty, ventured into the kitchen, looking for at least a trace that you were home, close enough for her to gather her up in her arms the way she had been dreaming of all day. 

You had been much less productive with your time than she had, being inflicted with a severe headache just a few hours after she left. You had tried to push through it, moving around the house to clean it up and finish the dishes from last night, but eventually you relinquished, tumbling into bed like a deadweight as the pain blurred the day around you; minutes turning to hours and before you knew it the front door was opening. 

“Sweetie?” She called up the stairs when she began to make her way up, hoping she would find you in the bath or perhaps distracted by Netflix while you laid on the bed. When she finally reached the threshold of your bedroom, she let out a little sigh, leaning against the doorframe to observe you, nestled in the centre of the bed with a frown stained across your face. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn, indicating to her that you were having another one of your headaches. 

“Oh my little flower,” she sighed, coming to perch on the edge of the bed near your feet. She rested her hands over your legs wrapped up in the duvet, stroking your calf over the fabric. “Darling how long have you been up here, hm? She cooed, shifting closer to brush some hair away from your face. “Don’t know.” You grunted, the effort of articulating yourself already causing the pounding in your skull to intensify, making your eyes squint with the pain behind them. 

“Okay little love, I’m going to go and get you some water then I’ll be back up to stay with you, okay?” She cooed, already leaving the room to retrieve a drink and some painkillers for you. In her absence you shuffled further down into the bed, pressing your face into the pillow in an attempt to abate the pounding if you just forced it out of your head. 

You were unsuccessful however, whimpering in pain when Lana had returned and helped you to sit up in the bed so you could drink and swallow the pills. “Good girl,” she mumbled, kissing the side of your head, “now will you eat something for me? She pleaded, having brought up a sliced apple, knowing that when you felt unwell it was one of the only things you could stomach. 

You whined at that, shuffling to lay your head on her chest but you nodded against her, opening your mouth when she held a piece to your lips, letting you chew it slowly as you made your way through the fruit. 

When you were finished, she got up to wash her hands and got changed, throwing you gentle smiles each time she caught sight of you watching her every move as she floated around the room, taking out her hair pins and hanging up her blazer, brushing through her curls and changing into her pyjamas. 

“Time to lay down, baby love. I’m not going anywhere.” She whispered as she pulled back the duvet and slid in next to you, immediately opening out her arm for you to lay on her chest; she had picked up on how easily you fell asleep whenever you could hear her heartbeat, and your cheeks flushed when you realised just how well she knew you. 

“I love you darling, did you remember that while I was gone?” She spoke into your hair, referring to her constant need to tell you whenever she was in your presence. “I love you too, Lana,” you hummed, closing your eyes as your pain began to subside. Your journalist brought up a hand to run through your hair, smiling lightly at the way you groaned slightly at the relief she brought with her touch. “Close your eyes, now, I’m here.” She cooed, pressing featherlight kisses to your hairline. 

Although the last thing Lana wanted was to come home to you in pain, she couldn’t deny that she was grateful for the opportunity to slow down for a moment, to simply just be with her love, her little angel. She would never voice it, knowing you were worse off right now, but she had been in need of comfort today; she had been picturing your arms wrapped up with hers all day, and despite the circumstances, she felt her heart flutter at the weight of your head on her chest and the tickle of your breath against her skin. Her reminder that you were here and you were hers, forever and always. 

taglist: @loverofallthingssarah​ @imstacysmomtm​ @lanawinters-ily​ @commanderspeach​ @goodegrrrl​

[lilac-5ky]

Today is a sad day for me, it's the birthday of my best friend who passed away 6 months ago... I'm trying to remember our happy memories but it's still hard...

But I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a scenario of takasugi comforting his s/o on their deceased best friends' birthday ? I just need some tender stuff in this sad day

A/N: First of all, I'd like to say that I'm really sorry for your loss. It's always sad to have young people pass away and I can't imagine what it must be like for you. I haven't really lost anyone close to me so it's not as if I can channel that feeling, still, I decided to write this right after receiving your request. I hope this is enough to comfort you in the slightest and hey, if you want to talk to someone, I can listen.

Uh side note, I may need to be a bit vague or a bit specific while writing this considering details might be required.

Takasugi comforting S/O after the death of a friend.

Six months, half a year, that's how long it had been, you realized looking at the calendar. Six months had gone by since that fateful day, since the day your cherished friend, your comrade, the one person that tied you to your previous life, had fallen in battle. She had been the one person who'd been with you through it all, the happy moments, the sad moments, the war, pretty much everything. If you were to be honest with yourself, she had even been the reason behind your joining the Kiheitai. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have considered Takasugi's offer, you wouldn't have forsaken everything to go on what appeared to be a suicide mission. Yet here you were, while she...

In all these months following her absence, so much had changed that you had no time to look back, no time to reminisce, no time to mourn. To follow Takasugi meant to look into the future, to drag your feet if needed forward. Allowing yourself to hesitate would only result to you becoming deadweight to everyone, including him, especially him. To even think that if it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have joined him, you wouldn't have met him, you wouldn't have fallen for him and he wouldn't have fallen for you. Words couldn't describe how grateful you were for her, to have been her friend even if it was for a short period of your lifetime. No matter what, the debt you owed her would be one you needed to carry on, a debt you'd make sure to repay whether that was in this life or the next one.

And so, six months had passed with you carrying on, refusing to shed a single tear for her, no matter the pain. Yet something about today was different, it was her birthday after all. Usually, you didn't care much about birthdays, always nagging when your own birthday came around. She always tried to make things into a big deal, forcing you to try to repay her kindness in the form of gifts during her birthday. No matter how small or grand it was, she always appreciated whatever it was that you got her, while you insisted that there was no need to celebrate getting older like that. Still, now that she wasn't around anymore, you longed to celebrate just one last time with her, just this once.

This is a mistake, you mumbled out loud, clenching the gift bag tight against your chest as you walked through the port, looking around you just to make sure you weren't followed. You walked frantically through the crowd, making your way to the city. There was no telling how long you'd been walking, each step bringing you closer to your destination, the only thing indicating how much time had passed being the sun setting behind you.

Soon, you reached your old neighborhood, the familiar rows of houses standing there stubbornly against the passage of time. No one lived there anymore, everyone having either moved away, evacuated or...

Your steps became heavier as you looked at your own house, a reminder of a forsaken past, a bygone era. Walking through the ruins, you found yourself standing before her house, the place where you'd spent the majority of your childhood at. This is where you played together, where you ate together, where you had planned each and every of your shenanigans together, a house that felt more like home than your actual home.

"Y/F/N, I'm back. I'm home." Pushing the heavy iron gate open, you took a few steps in. The house, although ravaged, was in a better condition than your own. The pillars stood ever so proudly, gatekeeprs of your childhood memories, the floors welcoming your feet with each thump.

Once you reached the porch, you sat near the edge of it, your feet dangling back and forth against the dirt while you placed the bag next to your side.

"It's been so long, hasn't it? I remember the last time we were here, it was back then when you first told me about the Kiheitai. I thought you were crazy, you know? Joining a man whose sole aspiration was to watch the world crumble beneath him. You must have been crazy to follow him yet, maybe, after all I was the one who was crazy enough to follow you." Reminiscing that night, you couldn't help but chuckle softly. "You barely knew how to keep your sword up back then. If the old man knew, then he'd definitely scold you. Really, you are lucky that he passed away first or else..." Pausing for a second you sighed. That's right. Neither her father nor her were around anymore. You were all alone, the only thing keeping you company being the ghosts of the past as you watched your own memories unfold before you.

"Y/F/N, you know, you are really cruel. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten through all this trouble. Look at me now, I'm one of the most wanted people in the entire Edo and all that because of you and you... you aren't even here to see it, are you? Are you even listening to me?" Words started to strain your throat, each time your voice came out sounding like a croak. There was no point holding on anymore. No one was around to see, it was okay.

Reaching to the bag next to you, you fished out a bottle of sake. It was one of the many objects you had brought to her, most of them being her favorite snacks that you had managed to obtain while traveling. Balancing the bottle between your legs, you popped it open.

"You stupid drunkard, I even brought this to you and you won't come drink it. Why aren't you taking it? Why aren't you getting all flushed, begging me to pour you just one more drink, huh? Tell me, Y/F/N, why?" Before you knew it, tears were falling from your eyes, cold rain staining the ground below you drop after drop. Bringing the bottle close to your mouth, you took a sip in an attempt to drown the pain away, the warmth of the alcohol setting your insides ablaze. Once you had enough, you twisted the bottle slightly, angling it towards the ground to pour her a shot, when a hand got in the way, slowly pulling the bottle away from you.

"Such a waste." At the sound of the man's voice, you looked up, finding no other than Takasugi himself looking down upon you.

"Shinsuke? What are you doing here?" Wiping your eyes with the back of your palm, you looked at him. You hadn't even heard him approach you, his steps as quiet as the wind.

"Bansai told me. If I knew what you were about to do, I wouldn't let you have a day off." Taking a seat next to you, he toyed with the bottle between his fingers, peering at the ground. You had promised yourself that you wouldn't let him see you cry, the loss of your friend being a private issue. You had pledged to him that you'd be his ally before his lover and the last thing Takasugi needed was a hesitant and frail blade. However now that you were here, away from prying eyes, you couldn't help but wish that just this once, you could stop being that person for him, that just this once, he would comfort you the way only he could.

"You know, Y/N, this was what she wanted. I've seen many fall in the battlefield, from farmers to renowned warriors, from men and women, to children, even, and I've come to realize that, death makes no discrimination. But, people who join the Kiheitai all have a thing in common; they are well aware of the fate that awaits them and they still choose it over everything else." Bringing the bottle to his own lips, he took a sip, his eye stealing a glance at you. "The point is, no matter how unfair or cruel her fate was, she had braced herself for it the second she joined me. It's the same for her as it was for the ones before her. The ones who have to suffer through a crueler fate, are us after all, don't you think?"

"What... what do you mean?"

"No matter how many die before us, we need to keep moving, using their bodies as a bridge if it means that we'll reach higher. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for their sacrifices. Mourning them, letting sorrow get to us, that's all useless. Instead of letting such bothersome feelings get to you, use them. Fight against this world no matter what it takes, even if you have no blade in your hands just keep fighting. Destroy everything until there is nothing left, until no injustice remains, until we reach the end. This is the life your friend chose, the life you chose. "

Hearing him speak, you knew that he meant well with his words but right now, they only served as a reminder of all the horrible things you'd seen with your eyes. He was right, he was speaking nothing but the truth, yet rather than comforting you, his words only managed to scratch that lump in your throat.

Bringing your hands to your eyes, you buried your face between your palms. God, you looked so pathetic, so weak, yet you couldn't help it anymore. All the suppressed emotions, all the pain, the anger, the guilt was pouring out of you.

Crying to your heart's content like that, you felt Shinsuke moving closer to you, his hips nudging yours while his hand traveled all the way up to yours, taking hold of it. You were forced to look at him, tears getting in the way, blurring his form out. Although you couldn't be certain, you noticed his lips curling into a half smile, a reassuring one at that. Hesitantly, you leaned closer to him, nesting your head in the small of his neck. You knew that Takasugi wasn't the one to appreciate physical contact to that extent, yet you couldn't help it. When it felt as if the earth crumbled beneath you, he was the one stable thing in your life, the one thing you wanted to cling onto and to your surprise, he didn't seem to pull away from your touch.

"How did I let such a fragile woman entice me." Takasugi whispered in your ear, as you felt his hand on the back of your head, caressing you softly as he kept you pressed against him. "Weep all you want today as long as you fight back tomorrow. Even if the world comes to an end, I'll make sure you'll be the last one to see it. Let's reach the end together, Y/N, for your friend, for... Shouyou sensei, for everyone." And with that, you allowed yourself to get lost in his touch, his embrace being enough to mend your broken heart, even in the slightest.

A/N: I HOPE THIS DIDN'T SUCK OKAY, I reall wanted to write something for you ASAP, didn't even have enough time to proof read and change things or to like give it a proper read. Uh, Takasugi isn't the most comforting person, I felt like he'd try to see is "reasonably" and to justify it before giving in a bit so yeah there's that. Once again, I offer you my condolenses and I hope this was close to what you, at least had in mind.

that being said, I'll go through it later and will correct any mistakes and whatsoever, really rushed through it to have it ready by today

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

My Liability, My Deadweight

Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick

Collection/Series: My Liability, My Deadweight

Pairing: Richard B Riddick x Female Fat + Glasses Wearing Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T (Swearing, Riddick is Riddick, violence)

Warnings: Swearing, violence towards deadly alien creatures, violence from deadly alien creatures towards the reader

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Notes: So I guess this is going to be similar to Western AU Din in that i’ll probably write some stuff in the same sort of world/vein as this. I’m just interested in the idea of Riddick with a reader who is the opposite of a survivalist, who isn’t fit or strong, who is scared. The idea of Furyans having mates or soulmates that they don’t really get to choose and the idea of Riddick having to come to terms with the idea that the person he wants to protect so bad needs his protection more than most is interesting to me.

This is probably such a niche thing to write, not only because the fandom is tiny, but also because people tend to write Riddick fanfic where the reader or OC is extremely capable, but I wanted to write it. So self-indulgent fic coming up.

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Kratos is a horror show of a planet. It’s the sort of planet you’d never thought you’d end up on, the sort of planet that you saw on horror vids and read about in the tales of survivors of tragedy. You weren’t supposed to be on it. You were just on a short trip, just supposed to go to a stupid holiday planet, at the insistence of your boss that you needed a break from your desk, that you worked too hard. You were a city slicker, an urban citizen, not an outdoorsman or an adventurer, certainly not the sort of person who’d come to a planet like this. But, your pilot had needed to make a stop, said there was a problem with the fuel cells that he needed to check out. So you’d made a pit stop on a barely charted planet. Nothing good ever happens on a barely charted planet. 

Covered in dense, muggy jungle, the planet would have been beautiful had it not been trying to kill you and your, for want of a better word, companion at every turn. It was covered in vibrant green forest, tropical plants, exotic and brightly coloured flowers (many of which, it turns out, were deadly themselves). There were brightly coloured bird-like creatures and primitive mammals that scurried through the trees and across the ground. It would have been beautiful, except for the limp in your walk from the burning claw marks deep in your thick thigh, except for the blood that followed in your wake, the dead bodies of the crew you’d left behind, and the yellow eyes that seemed to follow the two of you under the dark canopy.

After a stupid decision by your group to go out into the jungle to try and find a settlement of some sort, just because it had seemed like (as if there was any real reason to leave), you’d been picked off one by one. You could only describe the beasts as fucked up panthers. Two tails with stingers at the end, sharp spindly spines along their backs, an elongated neck, venomous fangs and sharp teeth and claws. They were hard to spot, silent in the underbrush and decidedly and most definitely deadly. The only reason you were still even alive was because of Riddick, because for some unknown reason the man, the murderer, had decided to stick close to you, like glue. You weren’t complaining.

At the time of boarding the ship for your trip it had seemed horrifying, to know that you were travelling on the same transport as Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, known murder, predator. He was the sort of man your parents whispered about, the sort of man that you never wanted to meet. He was someone from your worst nightmare. Now he is your saving grace and surprisingly not what you had expected of a notorious big bad. While he meets many of your expectations, crude at times, harsh, and physically intimidating, he defies them too. He is at times oddly gentle with you and, the mere fact he cares about someone’s survival other than his own, is in itself a surprise. A fortunate one for you. 

“Are we nearly back to the ship?” You ask because your leg is killing you, because you so desperately just want to get off this planet even if it means being stuck in a confined space with a convicted murderer. You hate this planet, you hate the constant feeling of fear and of uselessness. You hate the truth of it all, that you are weak, vulnerable, prey not the predator. It has you realising your many weaknesses, many vulnerabilities, many failings. 

“Shhh…” Riddick raises his hand out in front of you, a universal sign to stop, while the other comes to his lips in a shushing motion. If he were a dog, his ears might very well have pricked up at the slightest sound. 

To you nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unusual sounds or movement in the brush. You couldn’t see anything out of place. Just as you begin to notice the silence, the lack of sound, that is the moment everything goes terribly wrong.

“Riddic-” You were cut off by your own scream. 

Things happen so fast that you don’t really have time to process them. One minute you are standing behind Riddick attempting to get his attention, the next a dark shape crashes into you and you’re on the jungle floor a heavy weight pressing on your chest and stopping your breathing. Your hands reach up instinctively, pushing against the creature in an effort to keep sharp gnashing teeth from your face, but you’re not strong and you’re not a fighter and you can feel your arms beginning to collapse already. Can hear yourself screaming for Riddick even as part of you thinks he’ll leave you there, abandon you to be eaten alive. There is a deep fear that this is it, this is the end. That it shall be painful, terrifying, lonely, and unfamiliar. 

Claws scratch at your arms, blood runs over your skin in rivulets as you scrabble in the dirt. Then as suddenly as the weight came it was gone, hefted off of you with an angry roar and the sound of a knife hitting flesh over and over again. You don’t look, can’t bring yourself to look, just lie there and breathe, in and out. You don’t want to see him do what he’s good at, don’t want to see alien blood, a dying creature, the parts of him that are less than gentle. So you stare up at the canopy and catch your breath, feeling the blood flow down your arms, the bruises that ache over your stomach, hips and legs. Feel the relief flow through you, combat the shock, as you realise you are not dead, you are alive, and he did not leave you to die. 

You’re rather numb in truth until you hear him muttering above you, “goddamn liability, deadweight…”, it shouldn’t upset you because it’s true. But it does, it upsets and angers you because you didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want any of this and you didn’t ask him to hang around, didn’t ask him to help you. You had no say in this. This was not your idea of a holiday, your idea of fun, or your fault. 

It forces you to your feet, forces you, despite the blood dripping from your wounds, to stand and face him, despite the bruises, despite the pain, despite the fear. You find yourself planting your feet even as you sway unsteadily, standing with hands on your wide hips and a scowl aimed at a man that could kill you easily. For the first time you’re too angry to overthink your actions towards the man. For a moment you stop thinking and start acting. 

“If i’m such a goddamn liability, then just leave me here! I didn’t ask for you to stay, Riddick! I didn’t ask for your help! If it’s such a fucking chore to have me along, if i’m really dead weight then leave me! Go!” You didn’t normally scream at anyone, it wasn’t your personality type. You were quiet, shy, retiring. A wallflower. You didn’t scream. You didn’t start fights. You didn’t do any of that. Anger wasn’t your natural response to anything. Fear was. But after being hunted down, time and time again by giant alien cats with venomous fangs and an uncanny ability to hide on a jungle planet, all while being called a liability, a dead weight by the one person you had to rely on, well, you were finally at your wits end. You were in pain, you were upset, frustrated and ready to just go home. 

You didn’t understand it. Why Riddick even bothered with you, practically a stranger. You knew you were a liability, that’s why it hurt so much when he said it. You were soft, emotionally and physically. You were a slow runner, a poor fighter, had terrible eyesight that required glasses, you weren’t light on your feet or graceful and you certainly didn’t know much about survival. You were overweight, unfit and unsure on your feet. You were prone to panic and tears, you were easily emotionally and physically unbalanced. Until this trip from hell you’d been content in the inner rim, working a normal job, a safe life. Your day to day had been comfortable, safe. Easy. You weren’t cut out for this, for danger and potential death and had Riddick, this known criminal, one of the most sought after murderers in the verse, not decided to stick by your side you’d have died at least ten times already. It didn’t make any sense and your frustration at yourself, the situation and at him had tears pooling in your eyes. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“I can’t.” He’s so impassive, so calm, that it pisses you off more. It pisses you off how hard it is to read him, how he hides his eyes behind black goggles that stop you understanding him. How he hides all emotion from you so easily. How is he okay with this? How is he so calm when everything around the two of you wants to kill you, when he could have left this goddamn planet already if you weren’t slowing him down at every turn? How could he stand there above the body of some hell spawn creature and just stare at you like that, like everything was just fine, just normal? Like he wasn’t covered in it’s blood. Like you weren’t dripping in your own. Like you hadn’t almost died. Again. 

“I..I don’t get it…? What do you mean you can’t? You could walk the fuck away right now. I can’t stop you! No one else is here to stop you! If you want to leave, leave! No one’s holding you back, Riddick! No one is going to stop you! I can’t bloody well can’t! Look at me!” You sound hysterical even to your own ears but you can’t help it. You are so scared, so confused, so frustrated, so panicked by all that’s happened, all that could happen. You gesture down to yourself, to the bloody coating you, the way you protectively hold yourself off of your hurt leg, the sheer stature different between the two of you. All the things that make it very abundantly clear that if he chose to simply walk away you couldn’t stop him. 

“Listen, princess, it’s not that fucking simple!” The snap is almost relieving, that he’s not as cold, not as impassive as you thought. That he could break too. That he could be angry, that he could be upset, that this wasn’t just normal. Even as his steps closer cause your back to hunch, cause you to second guess your antagonist behaviour. 

“I don’t understand!” 

With a growl he’s crowding you against a tree, thick arms caging you in. He’s imposing, large, a head taller than you and the action has him taking over every one of your senses. He never touches you in anger and while the display is intimidating, it oddly enough doesn’t scare you. It almost feels secure. Perhaps because not once has he done anything to suggest to you that he would hurt you, every move he’s made has been to keep you safe. Every time he’s touched you has been to pull you from danger or bring you back to your feet. Despite his harsh appearance, his foul language and the deadliness that he displays at every turn, he has never once given you cause to fear him. To fear how he would treat you. 

“You’re my mate, got it?! I don’t get to choose, I don’t get a choice! I can’t leave you! I just fucking can’t, so you’re a fucking liability and dead weight, but you’re my dead weight, got it? I ain’t fucking leaving you, we either both get off this motherfucking planet or we both get eaten by these fucks, princess. There’s no inbetween, understand?” Silver eyes flash at you as he tears the goggles from his eyes,  his brow furrows and the muscles in his thick neck and broad shoulders bunch and move with every piece of tension that bursts through him. You are distinctly and sharply reminded that Riddick is a predator in every sense of the word, while you are prey. You are on two separate ends of the spectrum. 

“Mate…?” Your eyes flit across the landscape behind his head, trying to process all those words and all their meanings. You don’t understand, you don’t understand any of it. But, those words soothe you in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t going to leave you. For whatever reason, for whatever this is, whatever he means, he isn’t going to leave you.  You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. He’s not leaving, even if you’re a liability, a deadweight. Even when things get bad, he’s not leaving. He is, at this point, your only chance at getting home, getting away from him, of surviving. The panic in you begins to soothe, calm and settle. 

“We don’t have time for this.” You’re startled by the sudden display of affection as the man cups the back of your neck and presses his forehead into your own, “Just trust me.”

“I do, Riddick, I trust you” It’s hard to explain, the trust you feel for him, the safety as you let him lead you once more through the jungle. You are bleeding, in pain and still ever so aware of the dangers around you, but you have an implicit belief that with Riddick you are as safe as you can be. That if there was ever a person to carry you through this it would be him. 

You might still be confused, might not understand what he means by you being his mate or by his obligation towards you, but you know that he isn't leaving you for dead and that is enough right now. That is more than enough.

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

                                                   All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat  @gabile18 @beccaboo929​  @trasheater

[mirror-juliet]

Not so silent night Remastered

Pairing: Yeosang X reader

Summary: Y/n has a drunken night out with her friends and calls her night in shining armor to come rescue her.

This imagine was very short the first time I wrote it and it was simplified in the feelings that I wanted to portray through y/n and Yeosang and I added the info about y/n's issues that didn't make it into the original version of this.

Warnings: Drunk reader, Clingy reader, Third person limited Yeosang Pov, Reader uses alcohol as an escapism, slight angst, Yeosang takes care of reader, Fluff mixed with angst. Yeosang is bitchwhipped.

Word count 2287

Genre: Angst, fluff

Taglist:

@seonghwaskitten​

"You're being too rough Yeosang! You know how delicate I am~" Y/n whines, not liking the way Yeosang throws her around so harshly "Well maybe if you decided to walk I wouldn't be so clumsy walking up the stairs. God how are you this heavy?" He boosts Y/n up on his back for the ninth time since climbing up the stairs and she went deadweight on him, refusing to walk any further once they made it up all of two steps. He curses at her once she almost falls off of his back. "Why are you going limp?" Yeosang boosts her up again before finally reaching to the door of their shared apartment, Letting her down gently and sighing as he slouches down the wall he steadied her on while he fumbles with the keys. Y/n's fallen asleep. "How much have you had to drink?" He watches her light snoring wake her up and cocks his eyebrow at her when she pouts up at him

"Just a few." Her slurred words and the call he got an hour ago from the bartender who cut her off tells him she had way more than a few on her little girls night out. She always has this problem of going out once a month and getting shit-faced with her best friends and calling him at outrageous hours of the morning to come get her after she's been cut off.

"You're lucky that I didn't leave your ass there till morning and go back to the blankets." Yeosang grumbles, pulling her to stand by her armpits and pushing her through the threshold. Y/n stumbles over to the couch and drapes herself across it dramatically. "You love me too much to leave me alone in a bar YoYo." She gives grabby hands to him, wanting to cuddle and go to bed finally after six hours of being out drunk. "Yea, and you're lucky about that too." Her getting drunk is only half the problem though, the other half is her whining and getting overbearingly clingy; resulting in drunken calls at three am for him to come get her. If he learned any lesson from the last time he went to go pick her up and she was crying topless in a bathroom stall, he would leave her there to find her own way home. But being the boyfriend and person he is, he goes every time to pick her up, not being able to bear the thought of her trying to either drive or walk herself home and end up getting hurt in the process. He makes his way over to her after taking his shoes and coat off, pulling on her arms to try and get her to stand. "C'mon love, you know sleeping here will kill your back in the morning." His soft voice rings through the apartment, falling on deaf ears because y/n's already momentarily fallen asleep. Opting for a softer approach he crouches down next to her and places a hand on her thigh. He doesn't really care if she sleeps on the couch because maybe then she'll learn to not get so drunk but he knows he needs to at least try and clean her up. For his own sake of avoiding a breakdown in the morning. "Wake up sleepyhead, we need to get ready for bed." A softer approach always helps to get her to cooperate even in a pouty mood. He even takes her high heels off for her because lord knows she wouldn't be able to get the ankle strap off right now. She groans as he helps her stand up, stumbling terribly even as Yeosang steadies her on the way to the bathroom. He is eternally grateful to whatever god is out there that she isn't one to puke while she's drunk, so surely she'll be fine with him leaving her alone for a moment. Though halfway to the bathroom is where they run into a problem. "Yoyo. I'm tired. Just let me sleep~" Y/n pouts out and stops moving, digging her heels into the floor surprisingly well. Making it nearly impossible for Yeosang to drag her any farther."I know love, but we have to get you cleaned up before we go to bed. It's just a little further." He tries to gently nudge her along, hoping to at least make it to the bathroom when she throws herself onto the ground like a toddler. "M' sleepy." She tries to fall asleep sitting up but it doesn't work and Yeosang clicks his tongue at her. "Stop being childish Y/n. It isn't classy." Yeosang crouches down again, going to poke her side before quickly pulling it out of her grasp in slight pain. "You bit me!" She giggles and that sound alone annoys him even more. He knows that she is overly apologetic in the mornings but god does he hate waking up this early on his morning off. "Are you really not going to get up?"Y/n shakes her head and crosses her arms mimicking her niece during a tantrum. He cant help to think if this is the side of the family her niece got it from. "Well it's a good thing I've been working out here lately." Before Y/n can ask why Yeosang grabs ahold of her waist and slings her over the shoulder as if she was a sack of flour. "Ooh! We got a big strong boy here~!" Y/n sings out as she smacks Yeosang's butt, making him flinch at the unexpected contact. Inappropriate tendencies are slowly making it's way onto the drunk habit tracker it seems. "I'm not even gonna bother with it right now." Yeosang sighs out, having finally made it to the bathroom where he can place her down on the toilet seat. And she begins to whine again. Loudly. "Why do i have to get ready? I'm sleepy enough for bed Yoyo." Yeosang calms Y/n who is already on the verge of tears and he begins to take the bobby pins out of her hair, Surprised with the amount keeping her hair up. He knows dep down that he should leave her to take care of herself after she wakes up in the morning. But he also knows that when she wakes up and makes the trek to her morning bathroom break, that she'll finally see herself in the mirror and cry. That thought alone making his strange heart hurt. And if making her any bit happier about herself in the long run will bring him an annoying night once a month, then a little bit of discomfort is worth it for her. "You have to get cleaned up for bed because I don't want to sleep with a messy drunkard." But she doesn't have to know that. He smiles genuinely as he shakes her chin gently and a string of giggles leaves her mouth. Thinking in his head, "Cute" After getting all twenty bobby pins out of her hair he decides to brush through her tangles to hopefully brush most of the hairspray out without actually giving her a shower. He lets out shushing noises as he tries to get the tangles out as gently as possible but her little whines of discomfort prove it to be not working. When her hair is finally tangle free and in a low pony tail Yeosang realizes he doesn't have anything to change her into. "I have to go get you pajama's baby. Will you pretty please stay here for me?" Yeosang asks after kissing her forehead, prepared to leave and come straight back before she locks her arms around his neck. Not letting go when he tries to pull away. "Love, you need to let go." He tries to reason and pries her arms from off of him, resulting in her to cry out. "No Sangie please don't leave me I love you." He's shocked to see actual tears falling down her drunken cheeks and face becoming red in frustration and stress over him going to the bedroom for a moment. He coos at her and gives her a kiss on the lips this time, wiping some of the tears off. "I'm not leaving you Y/n. I'm just going to get you clean clothes. I'll be back." Him walking out of the bathroom begins a chorus of pathetic cries which slightly breaks his heart but he makes his way down the hall to the bedroom anyway and gets her one of his shirts and a change of underwear. Though when he makes it back to the bathroom his heart absolutely melts. Y/n sways lightly on the toilet seat as her quiet snoring fills the room. She looks absolutely peaceful even with her smeared makeup and messy clothes. Yeosang cant help but to walk up to her and run his hands gently over her face. But that serenity doesn't last long as the gentleness of the touch is enough to wake her up. Enough for her to look around and start crying once she lands her eyes on the only person able to make her feel safe like this. "I'm so sleepy." She pushes her face into Yeosang's stomach and wrapping her arms around his torso, crying a little harder than she had before. If this was anyone else, Yeosang would have left them long ago after endless nights of her getting drunk to the point where she cant remember what happened the night previously. But because of who it is and what shitty life she's been handed, Yeosang sticks around. He understands what it's like to hit rock bottom after something major in your life. He knows how much she's hurting and he wants to help her truly, but he cant start until she is ready herself and not just running to alcohol for an escapism. So he helps her in the only way he is able to, and sticks around through all these shitty nights that are covered up by the rose covered glasses of a "girl's night." And he makes sure she is okay by morning so that maybe they're one step closer for her to get better. Yeosang cups her face with his hands and starts to wipe the tears off of her face, just another minor obstacle he'll have to face with the makeup wipes. He grabs the wipes and starts to get the job done, letting her cling to him while he removes the caked on makeup that's become gross from the sweat and now the melting of the makeup remover. Her arms never leave his torso and it seems to calm her down enough to small hiccups but enough for him to help her out just a little more. Every time she would get restless he would send affirmations of his love and of how gorgeous she looks, settling her down just enough to make his job easier with the wipes. He's always baffled with how Y/n manages to remove the hour worth of makeup in just a few wipes with the cloth, while it's taken him three wipes and fifteen minutes to get just half of it off. Though, the crying is now over and she stares blankly at him every time he would swipe with the wipe, flinching every time the cold material touched her even after Yeosang says it wont hurt her every time he wipes at her face. Y/n's also gone back to making inappropriate comments about Yeosang and his butt, which she's managed to grab several times in the process. And while finally she has her pajama's on he carries her into the bedroom to settle her into bed, replacing his own body with a plushie when he's sure she's fallen asleep to change into his own set of pajama's and finish up a quick nighttime routine. The whole way back to the bedroom he hears her crying again which makes him slightly nervous as to what could have caused her sadness again. It's not until he settles himself back in her arms in the bed, covering both of them up until she stops crying, being met with the most adorable glare from Y/n. "What's wrong baby?" He smiles gently at her, pushing back pieces of her hair that she's taken out of the ponytail. But y/n isn't amused and pushes against him harshly, nearly falling off the bed if it weren't for Yeosang's fast reflexes catching her and pulling her back flush to his chest. "Don't run from me baby. You always get hurt when you do." Y/n's now turned away from him, Yeosang's face nuzzling into the back of her head while she pouts at the alarm clock that now reads Four am. "You left me Yoyo." Yeosang is all to familiar with the slight waver in her voice that signals more tears to come and he is quick to hold her tighter and rub over her arm with one hand. "Oh no my love. I didn't leave you, I promise I didn't. And I never will because I love you more than anything in this world. You have a lot of baggage but I'm all too familiar with heavy baggage. So nothing is going to scare me off from loving you Y/n." That's the way the two of them slept the rest of the morning, holding each other as they both begin to doze off into a safe lull. Happy and content. Breathing in her scent and holding her like this makes Yeosang sure of many things. the most important being, One, Y/n covers up her sadness by getting drunk, Two, Yeosang is her only safe person it seems. Lat but not least, He loves her terribly and unconditionally, enough to suffer so that she doesn't any more than she already has to.