#burning to death and lashing out at his partners. do you ever think about how caleb is like. internally in his mid 20s.

[wizardnuke]

HE LOST EEELEVEN YEEEAAARS. LIKE THEY NEVER HAPPENED. HOW DO YOU COPE!!

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

4

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him.

There was an embarrassed silence for a few minutes before Sol decided to clear his throat.

"I understand the fear, but this time we'll be more prepared, we won't let him even touch you" I looked at him unsure, I didn't know what was worse, if I brought them there and he was there... even hiding my belly, being seen with the Jedi would be a death sentence, or he could speak out of turn and get me arrested while he escaped, the possibilities were endless and each worse than the other.

"Excuse me, I need... to wash my face" my hands trembled as I tried to get up, Yord beside me stood up worried before offering me a hand which I quickly took, with a nod he pointed me to the bathroom and I hurried there.

The door opened automatically and I rushed inside, closing the door behind me, the sterile light illuminating the small room burned my eyes.

When I rubbed them, I realized the problem, unshed tears filled my lashes, the burning sensation I was starting to feel was the familiar one of crying.

I turned off the light and turned on the smaller, dimmer one above the mirror, in the dark I took a few deep breaths, hands resting on the rectangular sink before placing one on my belly and gently rubbing it.

The dark atmosphere calmed my nerves and fortunately, I managed to hold back the tears, turning on the water I washed my face with my still trembling hands, my shadowed reflection in the mirror was terrible, like the night before, it was written on all my features how bad I felt, the almost sickly purple bags under my eyes, the reddened irises, a disaster that seemed only to worsen.

As I took more breaths, I realized there was talking in the background happening a few meters from me, I could hear them discussing even with the door closed, especially Yord who seemed to have a particularly loud tone.

I pressed my ear to the door to better understand what they were talking about.

"I'm just saying we could try another way" the rhythmic sound I heard was probably his nervous footsteps, I could imagine him pacing back and forth nervously. "I don't like doing this either, but it's our best way," Jecki replied calmly. "We can get an approximate direction and go—" "With the risk of being discovered?" Sol interrupted her.

"And if he's really there? Maybe waiting for us. He'll assume we've rummaged through his things and found his partner" Jecki speculated. "Ex-partner" Yord immediately intervened afterward.

There was a few seconds of silence, I could imagine them looking at each other grimly. "He could be waiting for us with traps, or see us coming and escape while we search for the way, in the best-case scenario he'll be there to retrieve the last things before disappearing, we must seize the opportunity while it's available. He was injured the last time we clashed but I doubt it will slow him down, we must keep up" more muffled sounds followed, and some words I didn't quite catch as they continued to speak in a more controlled tone.

"We should at least give her time to process and understand if she wants to—" Yord's tone was irritated, you could hear it a mile away, but again Jecki intervened. "We must act now. We can help calm her nerves, but we need her and now."

I pressed my forehead against the metal door, weakly rubbing my eyes, I took a deep breath.

I had to think clearly, now more than ever I was caught between two fires ready to explode in my face, what was happening to me? What was I doing? How many times had I already said the wrong thing without even realizing it?

Was this farce I was carrying on the problem?

Had I become too weak?

Had these months of calm made me more docile or was it just me wanting to be? After all, it had already happened many years before.

Sure.

It had already happened.

When everything around you is a lie, you adapt to it, believe you are part of it, accept it, and carry on that fairytale.

I was doing it again, I had adapted to that desire that had started growing in my chest.

To be a normal person, a mother, a civilian like everyone else.

But I had never been that.

I had never been a victim.

Even what Qimir did to me. I let him do it, because deep down, it was what I wanted.

To feel loved regardless of the consequences, of how it would present itself and how I would live it.

I knew what I had to do.

I left the bathroom after washing my face again.

Immediately everyone turned to me, so I gave an encouraging smile. "Sorry, I needed a moment to think. I'll do it... I just ask that you keep me informed of the plan, if something goes wrong I want to understand it. Especially to escape the danger if it arises" I announced with a deep breath.

The reactions I received were different, it was obvious that Yord was not happy about it, Jecki nodded impassively, but Sol was clearly happy with my choice.

"Certainly, we'll organize the plan this afternoon and let you know when we've decided" Sol replied. I nodded before taking a few steps forward. "If it's not a problem, I'd like to go home, especially if we have to leave early, maybe put some clothes in a bag, or retrieve my old blaster." The three nodded. "If all goes well, you'll be away from home for a maximum of one day, but it's right to prevent, thank you again" Sol replied with a slight bow that I returned.

"Wait, I'll accompany you" Yord offered me an arm which I took with a smile. "Thank you"

We left the ship at a slower pace, the city was fully awake by now, the streets were full of busy civilians, but they seemed to easily step aside as we passed, whether to help a pregnant woman or for fear of the Jedi I couldn't tell.

"You're not obligated if you don't want to" Yord suddenly said, I looked at him with a small smile on my lips, he was deliberately avoiding my gaze, walking with a rigid posture, eyes fixed ahead of him.

"It's okay Yord. I want to end this story. Maybe for real this time" the only response I received was a snort from his nose, it was a rather amusing reaction despite everything, although I didn't understand the reason, sure Sol and Jecki were also worried, but he seemed on another planet.

"How sweet, you're worried" I intoned teasingly as I slightly squeezed his arm, the muscle contracting under my fingers.

"Of course I am. We are putting a pregnant woman in danger, I know you're not inexperienced, but we're Jedi, we should protect you, not ask you to be on the front line" I exhaled a snort of amusement. "Well, I have my Jedi knight to protect me, don't I?" I gave him a playful smile, but I could clearly see a slight dark blush on his cheeks.

When we reached my building he accompanied me to the door of my apartment where I let go of his arm.

"See you then?" he nodded before crossing his hands behind his back in a rigid posture. "We'll contact you as soon as we're organized, I'd tell you to bring something you need so maybe prepare a bag, but I don't think we'll contact you before evening. So rest" rummaging in his pockets he handed me a small comlink which I put in my pocket.

"See you later"

I closed the door behind me, the comlink left on the kitchen table as I quickly headed to the bedroom.

I had to do things right if I wanted to get out clean, to kriff with the Jedi, Qimir, and this shitty life I had tried to get into, peace had never existed, all the notions that had been taught to me were dictated by hypocrisy, but I had come out of it and I would come out of it this time too.

Rummaging through the closet, I took a loose shirt to put on, took off my shoes for comfort, and quickly tied my hair in a messy bun on my head.

Sure, if he didn't answer... but at that point, I didn't care, I would make another plan and another until I freed myself from the problem.

I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, the shutters were still down leaving the room dimly lit, I took deep breaths before closing my eyes, hands resting on my legs.

Over the years Qimir and I had developed a direct bond in the force, which had helped us on many occasions, the more time passed the easier it was for us to use it and outside it was almost impossible to perceive us. In recent months Qimir had repeatedly tried to call me through the force, I had closed the bond as soon as I escaped into hyperspace, the first days were a nightmare, he tried to contact me in every way, dozens of times a day, forcefully. It was obvious he was furious, he immediately realized something was wrong, he was more the type to disappear without saying anything, I wasn't. I would have warned him, I would have told him what I had to do, when I would return, anything, I was paranoid by nature and Qimir was a companion, so it seemed logical to tell him everything.

Even when I had to keep a low profile, I found a way to warn him of the problem, that day 5 months earlier, however, was particularly calm, we weren't doing anything special, so when I took my things and left it took him less than 12 hours to realize something was wrong.

The first calls were calm but insistent, when he realized I didn't intend to answer him, he got furious.

It was absurd how, despite being equals, his presence made me uncomfortable. It was a change I hadn't perceived. It took me five months to realize that what was happening was wrong.

And now I had to reactivate the bond.

And talk to him.

The last time he thought it was a dream, and he still managed to hurt me. I couldn't let him terrify me.

I tried several times, taking deep breaths, trying to reach him through the Force, but between the back pain and the nerves, I could barely concentrate.

I needed to relax, to find his familiar signature.

I lay on my side and closed my eyes again. I had to find Qimir, I had to remember his presence. The night before, we had connected in a dream, more out of visceral instinct, probably. I had emptied my mind of him, had forced myself to forget him, but the arrival of the Jedi had awakened everything, and it would have been hypocritical to deny the truth.

I was worried about him.

Where he was, if he was hurt, if he felt lonely... because of me.

My heart tightened in my chest. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I wiped it away with my sleeve. I hugged one of the pillows to my chest, seeking comfort, rubbing my face against the soft fabric.

The truth was that I missed Qimir terribly.

No matter how much I lied to myself, there was a void in my heart that only he had filled. He would have been so happy to know about this child, would have been by my side, worried about my well-being, massaging my back, and cooking my favorite dishes every day.

I loved him.

And he loved me.

But... the dark side of him wasn't just due to what he had gone through. There was something more visceral, possessive, violent... something that he took out on me.

I thought we were on the same page, that we were equals. But he didn't see it the same way.

I tried again, my arms tightening around the pillow. I tried to imagine him there with me, his delicate yet strong scent, reminiscent of a rain-soaked forest, the warmth of his body, the defined muscles, the numerous scars felt under my fingertips, his soft lips on my forehead... and it was then that I felt him.

It was like seeing a house with an open door from afar. He hadn't noticed that I was searching for him, trying to reach him, but he had left the door open, waiting for me.

And that's how I reached him. The darkness behind my closed eyes was soon illuminated by a cold blue light. I rubbed my eyes from the discomfort before realizing I had made it. My physical form had projected through the Force near Qimir.

I immediately recognized the place, the one I had hinted at to the Jedi. I immediately knew I was right. He had returned here, perhaps for the map, perhaps just to hide.

Looking quickly around, I noticed nothing different from usual. In fact, nothing seemed to have changed at all. It was an old stone room we had turned into our bedroom, although at first glance, it looked more like a storage room. Scrolls, books, devices of all kinds were placed in every corner, on the floor, under or on top of furniture. The windows, usually covered with rudimentary curtains we had hung, were now open, showing the night sky outside.

Walking towards the back of the room, I noticed a backpack carelessly placed on the floor, his clothes haphazardly thrown nearby, and then I spotted some bloodstains but ignored them. I knew who he had fought with, and I remembered Sol and Yord talking about an injury.

And finally, there he was, lying on an old double mattress against the wall at the back, pillows and blankets messily strewn on top, surrounding his sleeping body. A small bandage wrapped around his arm, but apart from that, he seemed fine. He had his back to me, sleeping deeply, his hair tousled on the pillow. I wanted to approach him while he was still asleep, to watch him while he was still peaceful, but I couldn't risk it.

So I did what I had come for.

I approached the small table next to the bed where he kept a flask of some foul-smelling drink and began to hit the metal surface with an open hand, once, twice, three times until Qimir woke up, pulled the lightsaber to him, and ignited it in my direction, terribly confused even as he tried to stand.

"I leave you alone for a few months, and this is the result?" I started, approaching the bed with a flat tone.

I had to be confident. I had dressed specifically to hide the curves of my pregnancy. If I showed any hesitation, he would realize I was hiding much more than I was letting on.

The surprise on his face was almost endearing, his eyes wide and still a bit clouded by alcohol. It took him a few seconds of silence to fully register what was happening.

"Sabrina..." he began to get up from the bed, but I stopped him with a gesture of my hand.

"Let's skip the pleasantries. You're in deep shit" He slowly sat back down on the mattress before deactivating the lightsaber, suspicion clear in his gaze.

"What are you doing here? You disappear for months and then come back to do what exactly?" There was acidity in his tone. This wasn't the dream he thought he was having. He didn't know I was really pregnant, and he didn't see me crying or sad. This probably wasn't the kind of reunion he hoped for. It was just me, waking him rudely and treating him with indifference.

"I've come to warn you. The Jedi know where you're hiding and will be here soon" The surprise and then the confusion were clear in his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't let him start. "The idiot you were dragging along talked, but I guess you suspected that already. They found... our photo" I added the last part with a frustrated sigh.

"Wait, they found you? Were you captured?" He jumped up, reaching out a hand toward me, but I stepped back a few paces.

"No. I convinced them I was an unaware colleague of yours. But they knew too much, and I had to say some things"

The more details I added, the more confused he seemed. He tilted his head in that cute way I often teased him about, and I held back a smile. It wasn't the right time.

"I'll have to bring them here. We'll probably arrive in less than two days, maybe even sooner. So pack the most important things and hide them on the ship, especially all the Sith artifacts. I don't want those dogs touching or, worse, destroying everything we've recovered..." Without realizing it, I started pacing back and forth in front of him, lost in my thoughts. It was true that many of the things were scattered across the various hideouts we had, but what we wanted to study and analyze, we kept within reach.

Needless to say, between things to do, other... hobbies, and the undeniable laziness of both of us, a lot of things had accumulated here too.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Qimir suddenly grabbed my wrist. I turned quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, mentally cursing myself for letting my guard down so easily. I shouldn't have let him get too close. Yet in his gaze, I read none of the emotions that made my knees tremble. He looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"Are you okay? How did you reach me without getting caught?" I exhaled deeply before yanking my wrist away from his warm hand. I was sure he noticed my accelerated heartbeat, but it wasn't unusual given the situation we were in.

"Yes. I'm... in a hotel I rented. They left me alone to decide a plan. I hoped to contact you after knowing it, but I doubt I'll have time. We need to think carefully about what to do next." I cleared my throat before sighing. "If you just want to leave before they arrive, I understand. But make sure not to leave any traces. I told that Jedi about our map. If they don't find it, you'll have time to hide and heal," I continued, nodding towards his arm. He shrugged in response, making an irritated grimace. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

"And you? They know about us now. Do you really think they'll let you go?" he continued. I gave him a half-arrogant smile. "I was very convincing in my story. They think I'm just a former colleague and lover. They actually want to protect me from you" I said mockingly, but instead of smiling as I hoped, he lost every ounce of lightness he had. The rigid posture of his back and the darkening gaze made my toes numb from how tightly I was keeping them to avoid stepping back.

"A hotel? Is that what you've been doing for five months? Wandering the galaxy doing what? You left without telling me anything, cutting me off from the bond, and now you reappear, warning me about the Jedi" he began to slowly step towards me with a gloomy look. The anxiety gnawed at my stomach, but I had to keep the façade.

Attack was the best defense, after all.

"And you? I leave for a while, and you find an acolyte, get caught by the Order, and then what?" He stopped mid-step, fists clenched at his sides. I could see how tightly he was keeping his arms contracted. It was obvious he was furious, but my words had hit him at least a little.

"I was looking for you. But I didn't want to let the Jedi go. At one point, I even thought they had taken you, that you had run away to keep me safe... but it seems I was wrong" the last sentence was almost growled, as I raised my arm towards him and instinctively grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards me. With my other hand, I grasped the t-shirt he used for sleeping, forcing him to bend down to my eye level.

The unexpected movement left him silent as he looked back at me, confused.

"I feel like I've always been honest with you all these years. I've always told you everything. I've included you in my personal and non-personal life. For once when I needed my own space, you're angry? And how should I feel?" Both of us were short of breath, our gazes hard, too many things left unsaid, or at least, I was hiding everything from him and continued to lie to his face, since we were friends, an unspoken rule was that I was always honest with him, not because he asked me or some code imposed it on me, but because if there was something my past experiences had taught me, keeping secrets only led to disasters.

But this was different. I had to lie.

I pushed him away from me and he didn't resist. "I'm trying to help you in case you hadn't noticed."

Qimir snorted before crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles in his arms bulged with the movement. Had he become even bigger while I was away? I mentally pinched myself at the thought. It was really the wrong time to fantasize about those arms.

"I have no intention of leaving you alone with the Jedi. Maybe you've tricked them for now, but it's obvious they won't let this go so easily. If they decide to report this to the higher-ups, sooner or later someone will recognize you. And you don't know when or how. I'm staying. And I'm taking you with me," I swore I heard his voice grow huskier towards the end, but I ignored the shiver down my spine and cleared my throat.

"I know. But we have to keep up this facade until the end. At least as an emergency plan"

The silence that followed was tense, almost suffocating. I rubbed my eyes tiredly, and swore I saw him lean towards me for a second before dropping his hands to his hips again, probably bitter and disheartened by how this conversation was going.

"I could pretend to kidnap you" he hypothesized. "You said you're playing the victim, right? Tell me what you told them and maybe I could-"

"No. We want them to leave us alone, not to pursue us more aggressively" it was obvious things would only get worse if we pretended a kidnapping. They were bringing me there, pregnant, by that time they would have felt responsible and there would have been chances that they would call the council. "We have to make sure you slip from under their noses. They mustn't realize you knew about their arrival. But... you could hurt me" an idea finally flashed through my mind. "Of course, they don't know about my Force abilities, you have to attack me-" I began to pace the room as a plan formed in my mind. "No, wait, I don't want to hurt you—" "—as if you could" I interrupted with a mocking tone.

Maybe it was the fact that we weren't really in the same room, maybe it was the months apart, but I felt much less uncomfortable now in his presence, and having the upper hand gave me more confidence. Sure, Qimir wasn't stupid, but I had the advantage. And I needed to get rid of him like the Jedi.

"I told them we were engaged and that I ran away when I realized you were dangerous—" he rolled his eyes before making an irritated grimace "—we can pretend I betrayed you, you attack us in anger, I slip inside and reach the ship we have down here. While you fight the Jedi, I'll activate the doors to buy you time. They'll think a droid helped you, and we can leave on two separate ships" I turned towards him with a satisfied expression.

"Sweetheart. I thought we agreed not to play the kidnapping card" he whispered with an ironic smile on his lips as he took a few steps closer. I ignored the affectionate name he called me, not letting him get into my head and distract me with less important things.

"And indeed, we'll take two separate paths. They'll be too worried about chasing you, and in the meantime, I'll cut off all communication. We'll both have time to disappear"

He looked at me irritably before walking away, throwing the lightsaber casually on the bed as he started taking off his shirt. "This plan sucks" he hissed through his teeth as he continued to undress, calling his usual tunic abandoned in a corner with the Force and starting to get dressed.

"Do you have a better idea? I don't think so. And anyway, for all we know, they could come in four or twenty" I snapped irritably, raising my voice. "Do you realize how many things could go to kriff?" he ran his hands through his hair, frustrated, and I sighed in response, irritated. "I know! We'll improvise, as we always do, but it's better than nothing... Where's Sam?" I asked suddenly, looking around.

"I deactivated him, he kept bugging me because you weren't here and was blaming me" I rubbed my eyes once again before turning towards him and pointing my finger at him. "Reactivate my droid, get help, and keep your eyes open. If everything goes well, we'll drop off their radar for a while, and maybe we can shake them off since you decided to get caught" I snapped irritably.

"Sorry, but can't we just ambush them?" he replied, frustrated.

I swallowed bitterly before answering more calmly, "I can't. Not now. We need to get rid of them calmly" I saw him make another grimace, ready to protest, but I interrupted him again.

"Shut up. You created this problem. That's why I'm the master between the two of us. Don't forget that. You have orders. Execute them." My tone was hard. Disappointed. I sounded convincing. Maybe I was venting a different kind of irritation at the moment, but he couldn't imagine that. Fortunately, I struggled to read him just as he struggled with me.

Ours was more of a dance, armed with sharp claws and lightsabers, ready to attack each other for sport or wound each other out of personal pride. I could suffer as much as I wanted for his actions, be afraid of him, but I had no doubt that deep down, Qimir had the same fear of me.

It was a race to see who would break first.

That's why I couldn't allow him to see my weakness.

"Don't get yourself killed."

And with that, I looked at him one last time before severing the bond. Darkness returned, and when I opened my eyes again, I was still in my bedroom, hugging the pillow, as that forest scent faded from my senses.

[to-star-lake]

one & only

sanzu haruchiyo x f!reader { you're sanzu's one and only. }

18+ minors dni | murder, drug use, dark themes, rough sex, choking, toxic relationship, character death, bonten sanzu

a/n: sanzu's name { 三途 } is written the same as 三途の川 { sanzu-no-kawa, “river of three crossings” or “sanzu river” } which is the japanese buddhist version of the river styx.

sanzu doesn't call you his girlfriend. he'd never use such pedestrian language to describe what you are to him. soulmate is closer. but still, to take everything he felt about you and edit it down to a single word? it wouldn't be possible.

the best he could describe it is perhaps that you were made for him.

the day mikey introduced you to the other executives as bonten's newest advisor, sanzu stood in the back of the room, unconsciously biting his lip as he stared at your clean and crisp white tee shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks. your perfect skin. your shiny hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. your delicate hands. and the sharp glisten of your eyes. you looked so sincere.

a top scholar and graduate of the national university. your parents had been foreign diplomats. you spoke five languages. all this brilliance packaged neatly behind such a pretty face. oh, you were so perfect. so pristine. i'll make you regret playing with monsters, little princess. sanzu thought he couldn't wait to break you.

it didn't take him long to realize how wrong he was.

he'd stare at your hands, the ones he thought were so delicate, as they beat mercilessly into the skull of a traitor that lay limp beneath you. being a bonten advisor meant you never needed to get your hands dirty. but you didn't mind. and sanzu felt a trickling heat of excitement shimmy up his spine watching the blood splatter across your perfect skin, staining your clean shirt.

he'd listen in awe in the war room as your fingertips traced gracefully over blueprints of the city, and you'd describe plans for a new building downtown. a new shell business to run money through. a merger with a smaller, weaker gang simply as a means to procure disposable foot soldiers for mikey.

on one particular night, he'd sat back and watched you, transfixed, as he pulled the car up beside a dark tinted suv at a stoplight on a deserted street on the outskirts of shinjuku. you'd pointed your gun out the open window, so fast and precise on the trigger, taking out all the passengers in the car. he would've missed the shots with a single blink.

he couldn't recall all the details of the rest of that night. but he woke to find you in his bed the next morning, your naked body tucked comfortably under his sheets beside him.

his head pounded and he tried to remember what happened but all that he could recall were a series of blurred images. of the two of you leaving the war room together after receiving orders from mikey to take out the heads of a rival gang. a vision of your bare thighs, exposed under a short, plaid skirt as you sat in his passenger seat, and the quiet rattle as you attached a silencer to the end of your gun.

he remembered the sound of indistinct chatter and an image of you sitting across from him in a dimly lit restaurant. a vague recollection of a bottle of scotch, of him staring at himself in the restaurant's bathroom mirror as he wiped some white residue from his upper lip. of you, bent over the sink with a straw in your nose. a blurred reel of your legs wrapped around his waist, of him pushing you up against the mirror so hard the glass cracked and you moaned into his open mouth. you sounded as sweet as you tasted.

in the grey winter light here in his bed, he looked at the blotches of blue and purple bruises that lined your neck and chest. at the edge of your perfect lips, a little swollen and the skin a little cracked. at the indentation of teeth marks on your shoulder, red with coagulated blood under the surface.

your eyes fluttered open and for a moment he was afraid. afraid that the cold light of day would be too harsh for you. afraid that all that was mystifying and beautiful in the night would be destroyed by the light. afraid you would leave.

but you'd looked into his eyes for a moment, and your lashes fell closed and you'd snuggled into his side, languidly dragging your arm across his chest.

let's sleep a little more, my head hurts and we still have at least another hour before we have to go meet the others.

oh, your voice sounded so sweet, still raspy with sleep, a lullaby to his ears.

as bonten leaders, he knew a relationship with you was strictly forbidden. he knew what mikey would do if he or any of the others ever found out. and he knew you knew too.

but you simply shrugged your shoulders as you picked up your clothes that were scattered across the floor of his bedroom. like you knew what he was thinking, and said i'm not afraid of them. are you?

he'd laughed at himself then. just who was corrupting who? he wondered.

the time he had with you began to envelope his heart. and the love he felt for you; small, crackling embers at first, had grown into a fire so bright and wild and twisted it could not be extinguished.

you were his partner; his chosen one. he loved the way your knuckles looked when they were bruised and red; such a beautiful contrast against your delicate and soft skin. he loved the way your fingers graced the handle of your gun, the dead calm of your eyes when you pulled the trigger. he was intoxicated with the knowledge that you were watching every time he carried out his duty as executioner.

his infatuation with you burned in his chest when he'd glance up at you, standing in the distance, eyes fixed on him and you'd slowly drag the palm of your hand up your thigh; testing his willpower to not pin you to the ground and tear you apart right then and there in front of his men.

under the cover of darkness, the two of you came alive. going on sprees, speeding through the bright streets of tokyo, the lights around you a blurred spectral of color to your bloodshot, medicated eyes.

in the midnight hours, your bodies would be intertwined, and in your arms he found a sanctuary. your body was the most addicting drug of all. you made all the pain disappear.

the quiet hours of the early morning, when time teetered on the edge of night and day, he'd lay on your chest, and for just a little while, his world would fall quiet. the air around him felt still. he would be coming down from his high, and he could feel everything. but he didn't mind. these small hours of lucidity shone brilliantly in his mind. when he could hear your breathing. feel your heartbeat so vividly beneath your bones. smell the lingering and sweet scent of your skin on his.

he'd become so possessed by you, so possessive of you that one night when he had you laid out beneath him, your legs spread wide for him, and he thought you looked so beautiful like this. so perfect like this for him. your skin, slick with a layer of sweat, luminescent in the moonlight. your lips, parted and choking out shaky pleas for him, begging him not to stop.

he buried himself so deep inside you, nails clawing into your skin, so desperate to be one with you. and he thought no one, no one else would have you like this. he was so intoxicated by the medley of pills in his system, completely unhinged in the euphoria of being inside you, he'd reached for his gun on the nightstand and held it to your forehead, point blank between your eyes.

you didn't even flinch. he watched you knock the gun from his hands, and slide your fingers up his wrists, and pulled his hands to your neck, letting him wrap them around your throat. if you're gonna kill me, do it with your own hands, you'd said.

god, he loved you so much. he wanted you so much, he needed you so much. he'd closed his hands around your neck with the gentlest force and watched your eyes roll back.

say my name, he'd command. and when you did, he closed his hands more forcefully around your delicate neck so he could feel the vibration in your throat as you choked out his name over and over. you'd clenched down so tight around him and he came harder than he ever had, collapsing into you.

he'd slowly let go of you, chest heaving, and gently caress at the skin of your neck, red and starting to bruise.

y/n...if i died, would you die with me? he'd whisper into your skin.

mmh, yeah. you'd whisper back.

i don't want anyone else to have you. i want you to be mine forever. he'd kiss the corner of your lips.

he'd feel your fingers laced up into his hair, your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him close.

what am i going to do with you...i might really kill you one of these days.

he'd lift his head to look at you. and your expression didn't change a bit. your eyes held the same resolve they always did, and you said, then i'll wait for you by the sanzu river.

this was what flashed through his mind when he walked into one of bonten's warehouses late one evening for a meeting of the executives, and he saw all of them standing in a circle around you, bound and tied, blood streaming from your hairline, your bruised body limp on the concrete.

he fell to his knees then, watching mikey shove the end of his gun against your temple.

did you think i wouldn't find out? mikey's thumb clicked down on the hammer.

he saw your eyes flutter open and find his. you smiled.

the muzzle flash was bright, and the shot rang through the dark, open space.

he stared at the blood pooling from the side of your head into the dust. he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. shit, am i really crying right now? he laughed at himself.

WHO ARE YOU LOYAL TO, SANZU?! mikey demanded.

i'll wait for you by the sanzu river. your words echoed in his mind.

mikey may have been his king. but you were the redeemer, his messiah, his salvation.

the choice was simple.

he pulled his own gun from its holster and held it up to his temple.

i'm on my way, love.

[hpalways]

since your requests are open can i request an angst/comfort argument scenario with childe?? like he goes too far with his words and only after what he said finally sinks in he realizes his s/o might have left him for good?? while theyre just somewhere to cool down after having stormed off, ty <33

Note: hi, yes! ofc. thanks for the request

In the death of night laid the chance to let unknown truths be known. The darkness offered solace, but it also allowed anger to burn. And that was exactly what you saw on Childe’s face when he approached you, his friendly facade dropping from their usual joking smile. 

The two of you were dating secretly, for given his position, it would be too dangerous to let the cat out of the bag. He was trying to protect you -- no, save you from the evils he had encountered on his own, the same way he was trying to protect his siblings from the raw, ugly truth. That was where he was wrong. He wasn’t protecting anybody. He was protecting himself. He was selfishly afraid that if you were to see his true self, it would make you love him any less. 

Blue jagged crystals were narrowed for his pair of eyes, piercing through your heart in mirth. His expression was serious, accompanied by emotions of pain and longing. 

You supposed you did cross the line today, but you were growing tired of this routine. 

“[Y/N],” he breathed out, sounding cold. “What makes you think you could waltz into the Northland Bank like that?”

Unfortunately, while you tried to dig deeper, you were kicked out by the one and only eleventh harbringer, Childe himself. He was furious then, breathing out raggedly at your mistakes, but now, he was angry in a calm manner, which, to be honest, was a scarier thing to witness. 

“Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend’s workplace once in a while?” you spat out, returning a glare of your own. 

“You already know our situation,” he said. 

“And I’m sick of it. What is it that you’re so afraid to show me?”

He stepped up even closer to you, where you could see his clenched jaw and the glisten in his eyes. “I have nothing to show you. You had no right to dig into my life.”

Tears began to the prickle the corners of your eyes. “Are you serious?” you sputtered in disbelief. “You’re supposed to be my fucking boyfriend. Why is it such a crime to want to learn more about you?”

“I told you that it was to protect you, not me.”

“Oh, don’t lie now. I can see through your bullshit.”

“Don’t try to wring it out again,” he snarled. “I have no use for a nosy partner.”

A pang slammed you in the chest. You stared at with wide eyes, hurt spreading through your system. You noticed the way he stiffened up and knew he regretted his words, but it was too late by now. “I see. There’s no trust to begin with here.” Spinning around, you stomped out of the room and closed the door shut behind you. 

The ginger was left to his own devices, his head hanging low in pain. He was so angry, so terrified, so anxious all the time that the spitball fire came rushing out at once. He hurt you -- the one he learned to love, despite every obstacle that hurled his way. 

His gloved hand curled around the edge of the window sill, his eyes locked on the beautiful scenery of Liyue Harbor. The glistening lights and lamps were flickered on in the distance, basking the darkness in its glory. Citizens still milled around in this hour, always willing to make business. He wondered how easy life would be if he was a normal person like everyone else was -- not part of the Fatui, not having to resist bloodlust, and not having to hurt the people around him. 

It would be smart to let go of you, but he was selfish. He was selfish because he he loved you so much and wanted you by his side forever, but he could never let his horrid deeds come out to the light. 

If your face of disgust was ever aimed at him, it would be etched in his mind for eternity. 

The next morning he found you in the kitchen, eating a quick meal for breakfast. His eyes softened at the sight of you, hesitantly joining you at the table. He was surprised you were still here -- still having the patience to hear him out. 

“Comrade,” he murmured uneasily. “I’m really sorry about last night. You’re correct about everything. I’m... afraid of it all. But I’m most afraid that I’ll lose you if you learn the truth. I’ve done horrid things in my life, [Y/N]. There were so many sacrifices I had to make in this path I chose. So I understand if--” 

You shook your head, making eye contact with his sorrowful irises. “Do you really believe I would leave you that easily? I know you’re part of the Fatui and I’m still here. Have more faith in me.” He blinked at you in shock for a second, his pain replaced by utter adoration. His tall form maneuvered around the table until he found you. His arms wrapped you in a hug, his face snuggled into the crook of your neck. Your cheeks flustered at his actions, but you hugged him back anyway. “I’m sorry too,” you muttered. His face lifted, so close to your own that you could see his long lashes. 

“None of this was your fault.”

“Yes it is,” you protested. “I shouldn’t have tried to pry into your secrets for something you weren’t ready yet. I say trust, but I wasn’t being so trusting either.”

He smiled gently and kissed the side of your face, leaving you burning in embarrassment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, comrade.”

[sirenreading]

Reincarnation🥀

Paring: Vampire!Ezra x F!reader

Summary: Ezra spent years looking for his lost love whom the Gods promised would return to him.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: mentions of : blood and death, PIV, unprotected sex, biting, age gap (obviously) , no use of y/n.

A/N: finally able to post this after writing it for a week, was on such a bad writers burn out ugh anyways enjoy! sorry for any mistakes if i missed them while editing! (creds to @/cinewhore for the idea of vampire!ezra) (creds to gif owner)

You walked down the dark hallways of an unknown castle. Your black floor length dress dragging behind you as you finally see light coming from inside of a room, Quickly making your way in, Your met with a tall man, he's handsome with brown eyes; That stare right into your soul. And a smile showing you his white fangs. You begin to slowly back away as he slowly approaches you. “Don't be scared my love, I have finally found you. This will only hurt for a second.” As he grabs you by the arm, sinking his teeth into your neck.

You awake, Your whole body hot, Sweat coming down your forehead, You try to slow your breathing, throwing the blanket off of you to run to look into the mirror.

No bite marks.

“Sir Ezra, all the invitations have been sent.” A small voice said, Ezra stood looking out the window of his castle; that sat at the tallest hill a little outside of the village. “Perfect.” He said ”Thank you.” slightly turning his head, waving the maid away. She quickly made her way out before Ezra could change his mind and have her as an evening snack.

‘You are hereby invited to Sir Ezra’s Masquerade Ball’

You read the small note, Sent to you and every other woman in the town. Sir Ezra threw this party every 20 or so years, Some say out of pure fun, Some think he's searching for something, or someone.

You set the letter down and go hop in the bath to prepare to do your chores. Once you showered and done your hair, You put on a simple dress from your closet and made sure to pack your knife, That your late father gave you for safety.

On your way to the watering hole you saw women and girls of all ages making their way into dress and fabric stores, All getting ready for the ball. You didn't understand why everyone was so excited to meet this man.’ He stayed up in his castle looking down at all of us like ants.’ you thought

You looked up through the trees and could see the dark castle shrouded by fog, Shaking your head as you continued on.

Ezra sat up in his bed, After dismissing another maid, He barely gave her time to recover before sending her back to her duties. She pulled back on her clothes and whipped the leftover blood on her neck, Before making her way out. Ezra let out a brief sigh, As he stood and retrieved his robe, Wrapping it around his naked body.

He heard three knocks to the door and told them to come in. “How are we this evening Sir?” His butler asked, Obviously asking about the sexual encounter. “She was like the rest of them, Beautiful but, Not her.” Ezra looked out at the midnight sky, looking up to see the stars and the full moon.

“Sir, Your reincarnated love will find her way to you soon, just as the Gods promised; I’m sure of it.” Ezra wasn't sure at this point living as long as he had, Having all the women he had, Throwing ball and the one with the face of his love nowhere to be found. “Sir, The ball is tomorrow, You never know. She may finally turn up.

Ezra turned to him, “I hope you're right.”

That night you awake from your dream once again, You’d had this dream countless times, Never understanding why or what was happening. You would walk into a room, see the vampire and he would bite you, walking you up. You wanted to understand who this man was, And what he wanted with you.

Ezra also awakens from a dream or i guess this is more of a nightmare, The same dream he had since his wife, Elizabeta died. He would go off to war not before giving his wife a tender kiss, Telling her he would return, Only to return to his home, With blood all over him, Finding his wife’s deceased body. Picking her up and holding her against his chest as his tears fell, Yelling to the Gods asking why.

Ezra walked into the bathroom running water over his breaded face. He would have to get one of the maids to save it for him later seeing he couldn't do it himself.

The ball a mere hours away, But all Ezra could think about is having to spend eternity without his soulmate, He’d lost her once, But his future foretold him that he would see her face, on another , again. So he was patient.

You sat as your friend finished putting your hair up in a neat but tight updo. You looked in the mirror at your makeup, the curled lashes along with the dark red lip you had on felt out of place.

“You look perfect.” Your friend said as she finished with your hair. “Thank you.” You gave a small, fake smile. She sighed as she sat next to you. “Ever since I talked you into going to this ball you've been upset, What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm just nervous.” You looked down at your gloved hands. “Nervous of what? That Sir Ezra will take a look at you and Fuck you?” you both giggled.

“Of course not, But i've been having these weird dreams, I dont kn-'' Before you could finish you both looked to see her mother knocked at the door, Telling you both the ball begins soon and it was time to make your way up the hill. You both quickly put on your masks and run out the door.

As you both sat in the carriage your friend arranged for you, You stared out the window, As you gained closer to the castle the fog became more intense, You couldn't barely see, the mask was no help. The carriage made a sudden stop, You both got out hand and hand making your way to the opened door of the castle, Maids in dresses greeted all the guests.

You walked into the open ballroom, The room was crowded with people from your town, and even some who didn't look familiar. Your friend whispered that she was going to find a dance partner and you waved her off trying to not show how nervous you were. Something about this castle felt familiar, you couldn't explain it.

You watched all the people in the ballroom as they began a slow song and slowly stepped away to the garden outside. You found the garden to be peaceful. Hopefully it will help calm your nerves. You walked towards a fountain with a dove on top, the only noise coming from the drips of water.

“It's a beautiful night isn't it.” I deep voice said behind you, You gasped quickly turning to see a man, very tall, you couldn't make out his face, due to the mask that covered his eyes, but he could see his deep brown eyes, and tan skin with a little bit of stubble around his chin and mouth.“I didn't mean to scare you Miss, My apologies.” He nodded, as he was about to walk away. You stopped him.

“It's fine, I j-just very nervous, I couldn't even tell you why, Thought i’d just catch some fresh air.” he nodded understanding “may i?”

He said sitting with you on the bench, The two of you staring up at the sky.

“I also needed a break from the party.” Ezra said, breaking the silence. “No nerves, just tired of waiting.” You looked over at him. Something about him felt so familiar. “Tired of waiting for wha-” Before you could finish, A butler holding a tray, called for the man sitting next to you. Sadly only calling him ‘Sir’ so you didn't catch his name, He politely dismissed himself, telling you to enjoy the party before disappearing back into the castle.

After a few more minutes alone you decided to make your way back into the party.

You felt a sudden shiver go up your spine and cold air went across the back of your neck, You turned to see a dark hallway. Just like the one in your dreams, You turned to see if any other guests were experiencing it too, Only to see everyone dancing, laughing, and getting drunk.

You slowly walk down the hall,’ This is stupid’ You think to yourself, ‘You know how this ends.’

You opened a room far from the party and came face to face with something you’d never seen in your dreams, a painting of a woman, she was wearing a dated dress with her hair down her back in a braid.

You and her were identical, You couldn't believe it. You began to breathe heavily and took steps back to leave the room, before you bumped into the hard chest of someone behind you.

“Hello, mi amor” He said into your ear, You turned to see the man who had been haunting your dreams for a year. You wanted to scream but could barely make one out.

“Mi amor, I've finally found you.” He said, grabbing your face between his cold hands. You tried pulling away but he was too strong.

“Don't be scared. I would never hurt you.” You turned your chin up forcing you to look into his eyes. You noticed the small blonde hair streak. “It’s you.” you said whispered.

“You are just as beautiful.” He was lost in your eyes, he couldn't believe he'd found you after all this time. “As all those years ago.” He leaned in kissing your plump lips, You immediately fell under his spell. His lips had a faint taste of blood, but it didn't bother you. A tear fell from Ezra’s eye, He finally found the woman he would spend eternity with, His soulmate.

Once you two finally broke the kiss, you stared at each other once more before Ezra picked you up, setting you on the bed.

“I'll be back mi amor.” He said giving you one more peck on the lips.

Ezra made his way to the ballroom, whispering to the butlers that everyone was to go home at once and all maids and butlers were dismissed for the night. They nodded and Ezra made his way back to you.

While Ezra was away you looked around the room, seeing old photos, books all looked hundreds of years old.

You heard the door crick behind you and you slowly turned, Seeing Ezra put a smile on your face, You barely knew the man, But something about him brought you comfort. Ezra noticed you were lost in thought and asked what was on your mind.

“At first when I had all those dreams, I was scared, terrified of what they meant, I thought it was showing me my future… my death. But here with you, I feel safe.”

Ezra smiled down at you “It's because you are her” Pointing to the woman in the painting, “My wife, my soulmate , my Elizabeta. I searched for hundreds of years to find you, I almost gave up, I was told by the Gods, If I continued to search I would find you.” He stood looking at the painting.

“And I did.” He turned to you making his way towards you.

Taking your lips once more, Your hands tangled in his hair as he picked you up placing you on the edge of the bed. He began to unbutton his dress shirt, leaving him in only his dress pants.

He took in his chest, Everything about him was so familiar and perfect.

“Mi amor, May I?” Asking permission to remove your dress, You nodded eagerly. He unzipped the dress, letting it drop to your hips, before pulling it completely off, leaving you in a bralette and panties. He finished undressing himself , and crawled onto the bed to unhook your bra, throwing it across the room.

“May I taste you, mi amor?” He asked already sinking to his knees, you eagerly shook your head yes, He began trailing kissing from your foot all the way to you thighs, stopping before he got to your core, and slowly sank his fangs into them, you threw back your head in pleasure, you’d been nervous it would be painful but he’s taken all your worry away.

He licked the leaking  blood before moving onto your folds, he lapped at them, drinking your juices before taking his fingers and slowly fucking them into you, spreading your lips apart and attacking your clit as he did so. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. You told him you were close, he immediately crawled up to meet you face to face, “We're going to come together.”

Ezra kissed you as he slowly sank himself into you, you moaned allowing him to sneak his tongue into your mouth--His hands grabbed at the flesh on your hips roughly. “I've waited a thousand years for this mi amor.” He said as his hips barred into you, With his precise movements he lifted your thighs, “I could show you so many things.” trying to get himself deeper. “Just one bite and we can have eternity.” he said into your ear, the heat from his voice attacking your neck.

You were writhing beneath him. You were so close. “Ezra” you barely made out, your breath shaky. He starts applying sloppy thrusts as he tries to ride out his orgasm , you could hear the moans slipping from his lips into your ear, his warm breath behind your neck. Your hands gripping the white stain sheets on the bed.

“Mark me , Ezra.” You finally make out with a shaky voice, Ezra takes a quick look deep into your eyes, still deep inside of you, asking once again for permission to bite you and make you one of him. You nodded as well as you could before he sunk his teeth into your neck, making you let out a moan as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “ Te quiero mi amor, now we have eternity.”

****

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[forever-rogue]

It's a bit angsty but could also have fuff, what about if Javi and f!reader (who are fuck buddies) were both present when Carillo shot that kid and reader is more visibly angry/upset than Javi shows and he tries to comfort her instead of going to Gabi? And he recognizes that he has feelings for her beyond their arrangement?

Pairing: Javier x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: language, mentions of death

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier paced around his apartment as he tried to make sense of everything that happened. It all seemed like a blur; it happened so quickly that at first he almost hadn't been sure it happened at all. But the bloody aftermath that was at his feet had reminded him that it had all been very real.

Your visceral reaction hadn't helped either. The look on your face, one of pure terror and agony, along with pain and upset and had been forever burned into his mind. You had yelled and screamed at Carillo, lashing out in shock and outrage, although you all knew that it wouldn't change anything. What was done was done. 

Javier had been much calmer; in the moment anyway. Currently, he felt like he was slowly going out of his mind as he walked back and forth and tried to ground himself. If you were there he was sure that you would have made a joke about him wearing a hole into the floor. That was if things had been utterly different. But...they weren’t. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, reaching for the whiskey he’d poured himself. It had been sat on the counter, neglected and abandoned for some time; for once he didn’t have the heart to just down the alcohol. As he clutched the glass to his lips, which were trembling along with his hand, he decided against and set it back down. 

He knew what he wanted to do, even though that might not have been the best idea: see you. You were...in a weird sense, everything to him. You were more than his partner, more than his part-time-no-strings-attached lover, more than his friend...you’d come into his life when you were the last thing he wanted or needed. But you’d quickly become everything he ever wanted and needed.

But you were both stubborn headed and foolish, some would say to a fault, and remained at the stage where you were definitely-only-maybe-just-friends. The harsh truth was that both of you definitely wanted and craved more than the increasingly common just fucks, but neither of you had admitted it just yet. Maybe one day, maybe when life was different, maybe...but for now, this was enough. It had to be...right?

Javier ran his hands over his exhausted face and let out a heavy sigh. He was going to find you, whether or not you wanted him there. He shouldn’t have left you alone in the first place, he should have offered you his support then and there. The normally indifferent and collected man had been rendered speechless and shell shocked earlier.

He stuffed his keys into his pocket and quickly left his apartment, climbing the few flights of stairs to yours with hurried ease.

»»————-　♡　————-««

He paused in front of your door, unsure of whether or not he should use his spare key and come in or knock. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he heard some shuffling inside, followed by what he knew to be sounds of muffled cries. He’d heard that sound countless times over the years, becoming an expert in them, learning to become immune to them. Yours, however, he was not able to just tune out. 

Without a moment of hesitation, he slipped his key into the lock and came inside, finding you on the couch with tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared blankly at the television screen. The sound of his sudden entrance caught you off guard, and you turned to him with a frown.

“What are you doing here?” your voice was dry and cracking as you looked at him, hastily rubbing at your tear stained cheeks, “you really think I’m in the mood to fuck after today?”

“You really think that’s the only reason I’m here, cariño?” he closed the door and locked it, making his way over to you, despite the small scoff you afforded him. Javier sat down on the coffee table, not even caring that it was precariously rickety under his weight, “if that’s what you think, then you’re even more oblivious than I thought.”

“Javier,” something in how sweetly he looked at you, how tenderly he touched you with his calloused hand but still managed to be delicate on your cheek caused you to snap. You barely managed to choke back a sob before he got on his knees and wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, “Javi.”

“It’s okay,” he promised as you melted into him, tears already staining the fabric of his shirt as he held, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” it was a broken whisper that managed to shatter his heart as you clung onto him, “it’s my fault - today is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, cariño,” he kissed the top of your head while stroking your back, “none of this is your fault. Please...don’t carry this burden too. Let me carry it. I...I’ll protect you.”

“I feel so…” you paused for a moment and breathed him in, letting his familiar scent ground and calm you, “I feel like nothing I do is right, and it keeps getting worse.”

“I know,” he reassured, “I feel the same way a lot - so does Steve - but it’s okay. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but it’ll get better. I swear it. You’ve got me, okay? However you need me...I love you, okay?”

His words caused a chill to run down your spine as you stiffened in his arms. A panic rose inside of him immediately as he wondered if he had overstepped his boundaries, and said the wrong thing. Pulling back, you looked at him with wide eyes, a confused expression clouding your features. 

Javier remained silent as he touched the side of your face, prompting you to keen into his touch like a flower to the sun. Without saying a word, you leaned into him, your lips brushing against his, just not quite there. When neither of you pulled away, you closed the gap and kissed him; unlike your usual escapades, this wasn’t hurried or rushed, or searing - this was soft, and loving, needy in every sense of the word.

Only when rendered breathless did you separate, resting your forehead against his and studying his honeyed eyes. You weren’t sure what to quite say….but then again, you didn’t really need to say anything at all. You both knew. You’d always known.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered after a long bit of peaceful silence, “I’ve got you, cariño.”

“I know,” it was a promise of this and so much more, “I know.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[ktheist]

CEO!JK + - prompt list - + #47 “You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“you’re seriously like a man child.”

muses. ceo!jk 

genre. e2l / arranged marriage

word. 2.6k

warnings. implied smut

synopsis. your family legacy is falling into ruins. your father is on his deathbed and your mother and sisters have never worked a day in their lives. their only hope is the jeons - the family of the fiancé you abandoned.

x

it can’t be said that you know nothing of jeon jeongguk per se. for one, he was lightly nudged in your direction by his mother at the age of 6 because he’d been hiding behind her legs since the jeon’s arrived. clad in navy blue kindergarten uniform and gripping tightly onto the brown teddy bear he uncreatively called ‘teddy’, he’d stolen a glance at you for a split second and fixed his gaze to the ground.

“____, say hi to jeongguk, you’re going to be seeing each other often from now on,” your mother nudged you from behind, her voice awfully sweet in the presence of mrs. jeon and her extremely shy son.

you’d found out at 11 years old and him 13 years old, what ‘seeing each other often’ actually entailed.

“i don’t wanna marry you!” you’d screamed in his face when you were left alone by the adults.

“i don’t wanna marry a kid with snot running down her face 24/7 either.” jeongguk’s retort, though held no substance, still made you wipe your nose on your sleeve after you’d left him and locked yourself in your room.

at the age of 13 and him 15, you’d managed to escape the clutches of your family by proposing the idea of attending a prestigious boarding school in zurich where you’d spent most of your adolescent years skipping classes and crashing parties.

by 18, you wanted to laugh at your teachers’ relieved faces when your name was called to receive your diploma, marking the end of your great era in that school.

that was when your mother called you back to south korea, claiming that she’d missed her youngest so very much. but you’d continued to make excuses to stay in zurich, applying for a scholarship and getting into a local university there.

none of your friends knew anyone from home and you’d only passingly mentioned that ‘oh, i don’t talk to my family much’.

but just as you were finishing your degree, the news of your father in his death bed latched onto your limbs and had you hopping onto the first flight home.

“what do you mean? so we’re broke?” yuqi’s voice cut through the air like a knife. even her ray bans couldn’t hide her burning gaze.

to think you willingly walked into this mess of a family.

“yuqi, let dad speak,” miyeon glares.

minnie asks after a lapse of silence, “dad, what do you mean the company’s wounding up?”

your father, a man with greying hair and cheeks losing most of their fullness, stares at nothing but the ceiling, as if seeing the angels welcoming him.

“do you remember uncle jee?” even breathing seems difficult for a man that used to work out everyday at the private gym and always invited you to join in on his healthy lifestyle, “he transferred all the company’s assets to his name and fled the country. even his family doesn’t know-”

“oh, for heaven’s sake!” your mother cries, shooting up from the sofa farthest from the bed - you should have known something was wrong when a wife wasn’t waiting by her husband’s bed and took the seat that’s on the far end from her husband, “just admit that it’s your fault! you trusted him too much even though i warned you about him! you ruined this family!”

“i should’ve brought popcorns,” soyeon says from next to you, shooting you an unapologetic - heck, even entertained smile - when you craned your neck out of mild disbelief.

this family’s a little fucked up in the head.

but they call you the black sheep that got away.

“so what now? do we have to... work?” soojin asks, a horrified look spreading across her face.

those several inches nails aren’t made for work. that’s for sure.

“the jeons...,” he coughs, “jeongguk promised to help us rebuild the family business because my father - your grandfather, supported the jeons when they were starting out.”

all of a sudden, seven pairs of eyes turn to you as if you’re the rabbit in a cage full of wolves. the air turns chilly as if someone’s turned the ac to a minus degrees celcius.

“well, don’t look at me, i haven’t talked to him for 9 years,” despite your hands held up and your shoulders almost making your neck shrink into your body, all they see is a little gold piggy bank.

“what? what about the times when we talked on the phone? you sounded so close!” your mother’s source of rage shifts to you.

“well, i mean, he’s pretty active on instagram-” you couldn’t even properly finish your sentence when a hand lands on your shoulder and you’re staring into your reflection in yuqi’s ray bans.

“start talking,” her cherry lips curl as she holds out your phone that you don’t even notice she’s swiped out of your hand bag which, “hey, how did you-” you remembered was zipped shut.

x

“you got something to tell me?” the jeongguk before you wears a smirk that exudes confidence and billion dollar legacy backing him up.

no longer the shy kid that avoids the gaze of those he’s not used to and keeps his head hung low. if anything, his chin is looking too tilted for your liking. though you can’t say the same for the muscles that fill out his suit and wraps around his biceps a little too snug.

he’s finally foregone the side swiped bangs and grew it enough to have it tied back into a man bun, enhancing his sharp jawline and proving once and for all that puberty isn’t just for anyone.

the hesitant hum reverberates against your chest. you can only hope that it’s not audible for persons besides yourself, “you look great.”

his head drops as he chuckles but you can still see the way his jaw clenches, cutting off every humor that’s ever present before looking straight at you through his lashes, “can’t say the same for you.”

you resist the urge to shoot up, handle of your handbag tucked in the juncture between your arm and forearm and strut out of the restaurant without looking back.

“that rotten attitude of yours hasn’t changed i see,” allowing the smile to sneak up your face, you feel your nails digging into your palms underneath the table, rooting you back to your reason for being here.

“it’s the thinking you’re better than me for me,” he states, back leaning against the chair.

“oh, baby, i am better than you,” the words escape your lips as naturally as breathing does.

“i don’t know about that, i certainly wouldn’t bring an on-and-off boyfriend of mine to a restaurant where my potential clients usually go to,” there’s a gleam in his eyes.

but before you can dissect the meaning of his words, the sight of a familiar jet black haired man trudging from toward your table with a distorted expression and waiters hurrying after him from a few steps away - catches your attention.

“___! baby, i’m sorry!” if you look closer, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes when he spots you.

“eric,” the hiss under your breath is venomous, threatening, “what are you doing here?!”

“i’m here for you, baby. i realized you’re the only one for me,” he drops to his knees, pulling out a velvet red box from his pocket. the waiters that were chasing after him now freezing, looking at each other back and forth before eric proclaims his undying love and his desires to, “i don’t want to live a life without you- marry me, baby!”

“stop,” you say curtly, body involuntarily leaned forward to make sure your voice reaches him. the sight of a smirking jeongguk adds to oil to the flames growing inside of you, “stop it. you’re acting insane, right now.”

“...i promise, i’ll never cheat on you again...” eric goes on, tears freely streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders sag, “i even tattooed your name on my chest.”

the italic curls of your name is inked in black a few inches underneath his left collarbone, probably where his heart is supposed to be. but at the moment, all you can see is jeongguk’s leisure wine drinking, “oh my god, security. please, take this man away, he’s disrupting lunchtime.”

the two waiters seem to snap out of their initial trance, marching over to eric and gripping his arms with all their might before dragging him away at the manager’s instructions. it’s only then, do you notice the flash of camera from one of the tables on the farthest left side of the restaurant, its position allowing for a full view of your expression and possibly only a view of jeongguk’s back.

“you,” a whisper slips out of your mouth once you’ve assured the manager that everything was settled and you’d continue eating, “you planned this.”

“what an assertive deduction. i almost thought you would’ve missed it altogether,” he remarks, a look of pure awe spreading across his face.

“fuck you, jeon,” slamming your fist against the table, you slip out of your chair and march out of restaurant, fully aware of the eyes that follow you until you’re out of sight.

x

no word got out.

sns was oddly silent about the incident at the restaurant but your sisters know anyway. shuhua knocks on your door, fixing you one of her calming smiles before dropping the bomb.

“mother and elder sisters don’t know, i’m not gonna tell them but i think it’s better if you talk to jeongguk about it.” is what she suggests.

but she doesn’t know he was the one that orchestrated it, as if your life was a show and he was there for a good time. either way, to ease your sister’s heart, you make your way to jeongguk’s office.

he made you wait for a good two hours, having his assistant retell that he’s busy and can’t be disturbed at the moment. but once you’ve had enough, you barge into his room, nails digging into your palms at the lack of meeting partner and the man’s too casual appearance with his blazer draped over his recliner and his sleeves folded up till his elbow.

“i heard you were in a meeting,” you announce, making sure to glare at the secretary that stopped dead in her tracks when you managed to slip past her and through the door of jeongguk’s office.

“as you can see, i’m quite busy,” he nods, hands gesturing at the open mac in front of him.

“what are you playing at, jeon jeongguk?” a smacking sound echoes through the air as you slam your palms on his mahogany table, glaring down at him “because i swear to god, i will make sure you regret messing with me.”

but instead of the panic you hope to raise, a chuckle trickles out of his lips, “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

how the prettiest pairs of lips could smirk like that is beyond you. natural pink lips, curving deviously as his bunny lips peek innocently underneath. you don’t notice you were staring until his voice fills the silence, forcing you to tear your gaze away from those kissable lips and meet his gaze.

“you really do wanna kiss me,” there’s that gleam in his eyes - that of realization and something - something - you can’t pinpoint.

gone is the boy that used to tell you your pigtails are lopsided and proceeded to fix it for you - he made it worse but you didn’t really mind because it was the effort that counted.

but that was almost a decade ago.

“you’re seriously like a man child,” you shake your head, the initial reason of marching over to his office now shoved to the back of your mind. the last thing you want is to be in the same room with a man who seems to only be interested in making someone else’s life his own personal entertainment.

but before your fingers brush the metal handle of the double doors, another hand brushing on top of yours, feather-light fingers pleading for you not to walk out on him.

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t sound like the jeon jeongguk you’ve come to know within the short span of time - like a man stripped off his cards and games, “i went too far.”

you don’t - can’t - say anything but your body isn’t exactly listening to your mind’s instructions to move out of his grasp. out of his presence.

“i didn’t know the reporter was there - i made sure he’s keeping his mouth shut after you left,” his breath is hot against your neck and his front brushes against your back but not really touching.

“why did you do it? why did you bring eric all the way here?” you pray to thank the stars for the strength in your voice despite the feeling that’s slowly disappearing from your knees.

“i found out  you guys broke up because he cheated.. i wanted to make sure he knew you were mine,” his clicks his tongue, “i didn’t know you dated such a psycho-”

your world spins for the briefest moment before you come face to face with a wide eyed jeongguk.

“first off, you don’t own me,” you announce, arms coming to cross over your chest in show of protest, ���and second off,” the semblance of surprise and panic finally slips through his facade when your hands grip his collar, “kiss me.”

the last thing you remember is jeongguk nodding ever so slightly before his eyes flutter shut just miliscends before yours. you feel his arm band around your lower back, free hand digging into your hair and pulling you closer into the kiss. he tastes like mint and lemon candies that your nanny used to give you and you’d give it to him, saying something like “it’s my favorite candy but i like you so i’ll let you have one”. you don’t miss the small jar he keeps on the side of his desk full of those candies.

but the matter of this and getting married in order to save your family from falling into ruins are two different matters altogether.

and somewhere down the line, you find yourselves still arguing about the littlest of things.

“um, what do you mean that red roses aren’t romantic? it’s literally the symbol of undying love,” surprisingly enough, it’s jeongguk that’s fighting for the fiercer shade of the petal.

“you think fuchsia pink doesn’t symbolize love?” you roll your eyes.

then comes the time when your mother and magically healed father asking for a grandchild to which jeongguk grins, “we’re working on baby jeon.”

(you’re married and the petals themed in your wedding are both fuchsia and garnet)

“excuse me?” you turn to him, brows arching. that alone warrants a break of cold sweat on jeongguk’s forehead as he cautiously laughs.

“i mean, w-we’re not ready yet.”

rather, you’re not ready to forego your child-less phase in exchange for late night awakenings and learning cry-languages.

but you’re not exactly being careful either, what with the two of you finding the holes in time to slip away from your family and into your childhood room only for jeongguk to slam you against the wall and bend you over the vanity.

“jeongguk did you bring a condom?” you ask.

“i’ll pull out,” is all he says and you’re barely listening as you clasp your palms agaist your mouth, trying not to let out the moans pass through your lips.

when you go back to your family, jeongguk’s arm is around your waist and you both sit together as you joke and laugh with your sisters whilst jeongguk raises a glass to joining your dad at the gym.

x

note. hope yall enjoyed!

see drabble game! for how to request!

[pxnk-velvet]

Kakashi x Female reader, prompt list #2, prompt #14 nsfw please ❤️

ON THE RUN [NSFW!]

Kakashi Hatake x Fem!Reader

Prompt:

#14 - “Oh you can go to hell.” // “Stop threatening me with a good time.”

Word Count: 0.9k

Summary: After an intense mission, Kakashi tries to convince Y/n to calm down with him.

Warnings: nsfw!, semi-public (in the forest) intended for mature readers only, btw I got lazy with editing so sorry if there’s errors

Party Masterlist

This mission was not like any of the others she had been assigned before. Not ever had Y/n been sent out to play the part of the enemy and then purposefully target her own comrade. Who just so happened to be her boyfriend. But it was all for infiltration and espionage purposes. She had shown up last minute to the designated location after getting the information needed and then picked a fight with Kakashi. Faked her own death, only for her to have snuck off, shadow clown dissipating to nothing but smoke as Kakashi rushed to catch up with her in the forest. 

Yet she had just barely been able to slip away. Kakashi’s improvisation to their overly planned sequence threw Y/n off guard. Adrenaline quick to flush through her body as she moved to escape as quickly as possible before Kakashi struck a kunai through her chest instead of the shadow clown. It was all for the sake of the mission. Now she was still on the move, jumping from tree to tree until she felt it was safe enough to stop and catch her breath. 

Her chest heaved, lungs greedily gulping in as much air as possible, finally being able to ground herself. With her hands on her knees, hunched over with her eyes squeezed shut, still feeling the effects of what just happened coursing through her mind and body. 

“Are you really that out of shape?” A voice rang out behind her, a chill raking up her spine at the sudden presence. She whipped around coming to face her partner. 

“Oh you can go to hell.” She eased up, a glare burning in his direction. 

He smirked under his mask, running a hand through his wild hair, “Stop threatening me with a good time.” He played, taking a step towards her, earning a deep eye roll from his girlfriend and she scoffed. 

“You weren’t following the plan!” She barked, angry enough to yell at him but not enough to stay mad at him. Especially with the way he was looking at her. She knew what was happening, it was always a common occurrence between them.

The spark behind his eyes said it all. Glazed over with wanting and lust. The tell sign that he needed her as soon as possible.

Kakashi had always mentioned how Y/n affected him whenever she was angry. It was something about the way her demeanor flipped completely, all he wanted to do was put her in her place with her tight walls creaming around him. 

He towered over to Y/n’s bent frame, looking down at her, bringing his hand up to caress her face. The gloves he wore, rough against her soft skin as she peered up at him through her lashes. All better judgement went down the drain as she submitted to his gaze, the ache between her legs growing by the second.

The small voice of reason going off in the back of her head. They were in the middle of the forest. Not to mention the fact that they were also on the run from the enemy. Yet that voice grew even smaller as she gave into her desires. Pulling Kakashi by his wrist to a secluded area.

The heat spreading across every inch of her skin was becoming alarmingly noticeable by the second. Her chest rising and falling with quick breaths as she led her boyfriend to a spot she felt was comfortable enough to engage in what they were about to do. 

“Make it quick or else Lady Tsunade will have our heads before those guys do.” Y/n huffed, hands working to unbuckle her own belt. 

A giddy chuckle fell from Kakashi’s lips as he smiled in her direction, earning an eye roll as she let her pants pool at her knees. Just the simple action itself caused the tension in the air to grow thicker. Kakashi watched as she bent herself over in front of him, completely exposed as she placed her hands against the tree trunk in front of her. 

He was quick, as per Y/n’s request, entering her with a strangled grunt. Her walls clenched around his length, making it hard for him to move and stay quiet. Y/n’s teeth ground together in hopes of being silent as well, taking deep breaths from her nose as she basked in the way she stretched to accommodate to his girth. 

It all made her head dizzy, the fact that she was barely able to think straight at the pace Kakashi’s hips pistoned into her was remarkable. 

With slick, sticky skin and heavy breathing Kakashi worked fast to bring them both to their releases. Y/n tried to stay upright against the tree trunk, finding it hard to stay still with the pleasure she was enduring. 

Kakashi brought his hand to lightly clasp around her throat, bringing her upper body to press up against his. His pace not letting up whatsoever. His breath was hot against her ear as he grunted out quietly.

Just that simple action seemed to push her over the edge. Or maybe it was the hand that managed to snake around her front and draw tight circles against her neglected clit. 

Either way, within minutes Kakashi had been able to make Y/n finish as if they weren’t in the middle of the forest, running from the enemy. 

[sevi007]

Baltheir must've seen Fran go ballistic like that once, knows that Mist can have a pretty strong effect on Veira, so this is probably isn't much of a surprise for him now. But consider, first time he saw her like that, wide eyed and feral, he's trying to calm her down cause she looks like she's scared or in pain, hugging her close until she calms down not caring about the wounds she's causing. When she comes to Fran tries to apologize but Baltheir wouldn't have any of it. 1/2

once he's done dressing his wounds, and hers, they have a long conversation about how Mist can effect a Veira so they can be better prepared next time. And Fran apologizes once more for that "ugly display" and Baltheir scoffs, "Fran, dear, you're a lot of things, but ugly? Never." She stares at him in shock for a moment before she smiles. and then, "if anything, you were even more beautiful, now that I have a chance to look back on it, you're very pretty when you're mad" she pinches him. 2/2

@rex101111 is absolutely my greatest enabler, and nobody should be surprised anymore when I take one of the prompts he gives me and just write an entire One-Shot out of it. Like I did here. In a rush.

(It is not quite what you had in mind, Rex, but I really had only so much influence over where this story went. I think the FFXII characters just possessed me halfway through and wrote this themselves. I hope you still like it as much as I liked writing it!)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fran knows it was a mistake, following Balthier’s lead. It does not matter what treasures awaited them, or how sure of their success he was; the moment he had told her their next trip would take them to the fallen city of Nabudis, she should have turned heel and walked out on him.

And yet, here she is; breathing in mist rather than air, feeling it claw at her throat and her mind, while she follows the hume man through this laid-bare bones of what was once a glorious city. Because it is Balthier who asked, and Balthier who lead the way. And Fran always, always followed his lead, ever since they had met each other. This, she knows, is a weakness.

She should have known better, than to let herself be weak. The forest taught her that. Life taught her that. Weakness means death.

The thought thrums through her, clear like a bell. It is the last clear thought she has before the burning of the mist ignites inside her, explodes in an inferno, and her head feels like it is being split in two. She thinks she screams, but she cannot be sure; the next thing she knows she is on her knees, doubling over onto all fours, and she is burning alive as the mist rages through her, her world tinging red.

With blurry eyes she watches her fingers curl together and her nails elongate, and tries to choke out a warning, but it never comes. Her head tips back and she catches a glimpse of Balthier, whirling around towards her with his eyes wide, before she opens her mouth and screams.

It is every nightmare she ever had, combined. She has feared such a moment for several reasons, and only one of them being what will he think of me, seeing me so unhinged?

The other, much more potent fear, was for his fragile hume life.

She is Viera; hers is the strength of nature, of the very forest which gave birth to her. With the mist clouding her mind, there is nothing to reign in that strength. She is a storm, an earthquake, a beast let loose. Her nails are claws slashing, her limbs like whips clashing, and her power enough to shatter stone and steel, so, so easily crush bones into dust.

And Balthier, the brave fool, takes one look at her twisted features, at her trembling body ready to pounce and rip him to shreds, and does exactly what she feared he would do: He runs towards her instead of away from her.

Fran wants to scream at him stop, you foolish boy, stop, but all which comes forth is another heart stopping howl and then Balthier is already crushing into her at full speed.

Instinct moves her; her body bucks and rears and tries to throw him off while she snarls and hisses at him. His arms come around her and he holds on with all his might. To her, it might as well be paper stripes trying to hold her back.

Not that he is trying to hold her down. It is from far away that the tiny part of Fran which is still her, which can still think, notices this. He is not holding onto her arms, trying to contain her. He simply cradles her protectively wit no care for his own wellbeing. As if her claws are not at present tearing into his shoulders, cutting through cloth and skin alike. And he is talking; a low, gentle murmur which should have gotten lost in her own thunderous roars but somehow rings louder still in her ears.

“… this why you did not want to come here? Forgive me, Fran. I should have listened to you.”

Perhaps it is the proximity to him. Perhaps the surprise of him being the one apologizing filters through. Whatever it is, her mind clears, if only a little, even while her body is still wildly out of her control. The rush of blood in her ears takes second place to the horrible sound of cloth tearing, skin ripping, and her own monstrous roars.

And over it all, Balthier’s voice, right there. “I will listen better from now on, I promise on the Strahl I will. You won’t have to endure this ever again.”

The hand which finds her cheek, thumb stroking infinitely gentle and too close to her sharp teeth, is a glaring contrast to her own vicious movements. Even in her rage, her body stiffens in surprise at the perplexing kindness of the gesture.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Fran. But right now, I need you to come back, you hear me?” The arms around her tighten as if trying to hold her together. “I know you are still in there, Fran. I know you can come back. Come back, please.”

Please.

It is that little word, the tremor of it, which stills her completely then. Fran is still breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, a mutinous growl rumbling in her chest. Yet she is no longer lashing out against the hume in her arms, her claws lying uselessly against his torn shoulders.

There is two equally strong urges fighting inside her - to destroy, and to protect.

Hurts. Pain. Lash out, her body burning under the mist thrums. The warm body pressed against hers is a nuisance. A danger, in her state. An enemy. Rip. Tear. Crush.

No. No. This is not an enemy. Fran clings to the blurry thought, as viciously as her inner beast, refuses to let it go again. This is no stranger. This is not any hume. This is the boy turned man who had taken one look at her and decided to reach out and give her a place to stay. This is her friend and partner who always has her back, no questions asked. This is Balthier.

Her Balthier. Who would hold onto the beast she had become to comfort it rather than cut it down in self-defense.

He has seen me, and he has not ran from me.

I will nothurt him.

She howls once more, but this time there is another sound wrenched in between; a sob. A mixture of fear and relief. It is like a rain drop onto a wildfire, but it is a start. It repeats itself, again and again. Her hands loosen, relax into something more natural once more. She drops in Balthier’s arms, slumps over like a puppet with its strings cut loose. She does not even notice when the world tilts around her and her back meets the ground.

The last thing she sees is Balthier’s face above her, pale and horribly young, mouth moving silently; or can she simply not hear him? His eyes look red, she thinks and moves to reach out and do something about it – but her body feels far, far away. Her arm simply will not do as she wants.

She cannot even worry about it before darkness takes over her senses and she knows nothing anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am quite sure a potion would have done the trick just as well-…”

“Be quiet, Balthier.”

He tries, for her sake. Even from behind, Fran can see him try valiantly to bite back the words, jaw working, before he does finish just like she expected, “You should save your energy.”

They have been going back and forth on this for a while now, so Fran decides it is best to let it be and simply do her work. In the silence, she focuses on drawing the tiniest bit of mist from the air and spin it into the most potent Cure she is capable of at present.

Fran understands his worries, she does. After all, she had needed to be carried back all the way to the Strahl after her breakdown and even then it had taken several hours before she had come back to consciousness once more. She knows he caresand that that is why they had nearly started wrestling with each other when she had tried to get up at first, and once more when she had started to tear at his shirt to try and assess the damage shehad done to him while he protested and tried to wave it off as nothing.

Fran knows all that. But as is usual with them, Balthieralso understand that she needs to do this without needing to hear it, and so he lets her, despite his grumbled protests and all his eye-rolls. It is for her peace of mind that she spins the magic and pours it into his body. Each bit of skin which knots back together and smooths out is a tiny piece of her own heart healed, a weight lifted of her shoulders as she watches her sins be wiped away slowly.

Once she is done, her hand hover uselessly over Balthier’s back for a moment, torn between reaching out and touching the skin there. As if to make sure it really is healed and hides no further injuries.

Injuries I caused.

“All done?” Balthier’s voice startles her. Humming in answer, she watches when he pushes to his feet and stretches his arms over his head with a relieved sigh. “Ah yes, so much better. Remind me to ask you for white magick lessons again. We save a fortune on potions that way.”

“I will.” Her gaze follows him while he moves about, checking the range of his motions, shooting her a distracted smile as he does. She means it; it will do him good to know healing magic himself, should she not be around… or lose herself once more.

“Thank you. Now. How does it look?”

At the prompt, Fran instinctively finds her gaze rack one more time over his bare skin, counting blemishes which are not there anymore. A few shadows remain; places where a Curaga would have done more than a mere Cure. But those were mere bruises, and a lot less than pains Balthier was more than used to.

Still the knowledge of the source of these shades sits as a knot in her belly, and she clenches her traitorous fists tightly.

A throat being cleared snaps her out of it. When her gaze meets Balthier’s, his eyes are dancing with laughter. “My dear, you are welcome to look all you want of course, but I was talking about my shirt.”

Despite herself, Fran feels her eyes crinkle with her own smile. Somehow he had always had the ability to make her smile once more, no matter what. With only a little derisive snort at his peacocking – he never grew out of that one, did he – she holds up the stripes held together by mere thread, lets the remains of the shirt dangle from her fingers. “Beyond all rescue.”

Balthier pulls a disgruntled face as if, somehow, this is the worst thing that has happened to him all day, and sighs deeply and dramatically. “A shame. That was my best one.”

The knot in her belly tightens once more, but before it can get too much, Balthier already keeps talking with a flourish of his hand. “Well. Once we’re both well-rested again, it seems to be time for another shopping trip. What would you say if you charter the course after getting a good night’s sleep? I will follow your lead.”

Fran blinks, and feels her ears swivel forward, as if she has somehow misheard him. “… me?”

“Why, yes,” Balthier is already up to his shoulders in the closet he has pilfered as his wardrobe and his voice is muffled, but she can hear his amusement clear as day anyway. “Who else should I ask? Bless his heart, but I would not trust Nono to steer us right. He understands the Strahlwell enough, but reading a map, well…”

“Why not pick a course yourself?” Fran interrupts him without thinking, still baffled. This is unpreceded; it has always been Balthier who led, and she who followed. A role-reversal feels much more significant than Balthier is trying to make this seem. After all… “Are you not the leading man in your story?”

“Our story, Fran. Ours.”

Balthier is busy pulling on a new shirt – of much lesser quality than its predecessor– over his head once he resurfaces and thus Fran has an unobserved moment to school her features and make sense of this grand declaration, handed to her so casually.

She barely manages to get a grip before Balthier smooths down the cloth and runs both hands through his unruly hair to tame it. He is still not looking at her when he continues, voice suspiciously light and casual.

“I had time to think.” While you were unconscioushe does not say but it rings loudly between them. “I might be a master thief and an even better pilot, that much is true, but I do not seem to have a knack for picking the our next destination. So I will leave that honor to you, and no one else.”

He turns, then, and whatever astonishment she has not gotten under control must show plain as day, for his smile spreads easily over his entire face, chasing away first hints of apprehension there. He has the gal to wink, this man, eyes bright. “Every good sky pirate needs a good navigator, after all.”

Something settles in Fran’s chest then, and suddenly, she understands. Understands that this is not only him apologizing again, but also a sign of trust. A reassurance that whatever happened today has not shaken his faith in her.

Fran is not prone to great outbursts of emotions. No Viera is. And yet. Once the real meaning of this gift Balthier is handing her with a boyish smile truly sinks in, she finds herself looking down at the torn shirt in her hands, blinking rapidly and struggling to keep her breath even.

The decision is a laughably easy one. Once she feels more in control again, she does not hesitate to push the shreds of cloth aside as far as possible and looks up at her friend. “No need to charter a course. Let us head for Nalbina next.”

Surprise flickers in Balthier’s features before he is already smirking again, head tilting. “To restock, I assume?”

Fran smirks right back, gestures at him; at the shirt with the too short cuffs and yellowing from age. “To get you something proper to wear.”

His crooked smile blooms into real delight and he throws his head back in a startled, happy full belly laugh, just like she had hoped he would. The sound fills the room and unravels the knot inside her completely, and she finds herself smiling at him much less smug, much gentler than she had wanted to.

“Why, Fran, don’t tell me you don’t like what you see!”

“Not particularly. Once you look into a mirror you will agree with me.”

“Ouch. You do know how to pick your words,” Balthier presses a hand to his chest, his eyes still laughing even while he has quieted down to mere chuckles. “But fine, as the lady wishes. Nalbina it is. Now?”

“Nothing is holding us here,” Fran points out. Knows that he will hear what really means. Let us not stay here any longer.

Sure enough, his expression turns serious ever so briefly before he smooths over it once more and dips low in a bow, hand outstretched. “Shall we, then?”

“We shall.”

Reaching out for him is easy. It always is. This time, Fran takes a tiny moment longer to admire her long-fingered hand in his shorter one. Hers is so very different from his. So very dangerous. Now, he knows that all too well.

And still, he does not hesitate to take it, hold it gently, and draw her to her feet so they are eye to eye once more.

He really is a marvel, this Balthier.

She is smiling with her entire face when she teases, “Choosing our course… Will that not make me the leading woman, then?”

“Please, Fran.” There is too much fond warmth there to make it sound like a reprimand, and they both know it.

She laughs, and says nothing about it anymore. It is simply not necessary. They both know that between them, there is no leader, and no follower.

There is only them, together, moving in tandem wherever they went.

And Fran would not want it any other way.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Men who I think would be soft for their baby for no other reasons than because I want them to be, in no particular order but still numbered ten to one because I like countdowns...

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Part two —> part one here

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This one’s for you @activist-af​, no Finn and Kol erasure here Lottie

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10. Raleigh Becket

A really good man who is a little too impulsive at times and has pretty much no sense of self preservation and always seems to get himself into worsening situations

Is so fucking soft for his baby that it’s insanity

His baby is in no way the same kind of super soldier he is, she’s literally the softest baby in the world, and he’s just so careful with her

Like he follows her around the compound and just makes sure she’s okay

Eats every meal with her, shares a room with her, literally does pretty much everything with her just in awe

So many cuddles before and after a mission, lots of reassurance, kisses her entire face everywhere at least twice and has to get practically dragged away

Endures so much teasing from his partner

I don’t care if his character is suited for a dominant female you can’t change my mind on this one this man is soft as fuck

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9. Ambrose Spellman

A reformed radical warlock who has been locked in one house for a hundred years and is itching to go on a self-destructive bender after cleaning up his family’s messes for years

In absolutely no position to be in a committed relationship but I don’t give a single fuck

He would follow his baby around like a damn puppy when finally free of the Spellman residence 

Oh she wants to go to witch school? He’s tagging along

She wants to go travel? Lead the way

The park, carnival, movie theatre, cafe, literally endless places he would follow her

Would read to her as she falls asleep and tell her all his little bits of knowledge on things that he collected during his time stuck in the house

A soft man that is final

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8. Richard O’Connell

Cannot survive a normal, mundane life because it’s “too boring” for a man like him and would risk it all for a mummy invasion even if it means that he dies in the process

But by god he is so fucking soft I just know it

Keeps her safe at all costs even when she pouts at him and makes him take her with him when he travels

Refuses to leave her side when they go abroad because his track record with ancient curses is not great and there’s no way he’s letting some gross ass mummy hurt her

*dramatic gasp* HE ACTUALLY REFUSES SOME DANGEROUS MISSIONS FOR HER??? 

Does the thing where he leans into her hand when she touches his face and like kisses her palm

Definitely sleeps curled around his baby and wakes up at the slightest noise ready to hurt any intruders

I would literally do anything for this level of soft

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7. Finn Mikaelson

A one thousand year+ original vampire who has absolutely zero sense of self preservation and actively seeks death because of how much he hates himself and would gladly bring his family down with him because mommy said so

Doesn’t quite fit the full dominant image but I don’t care he fits the soft part 1000%

Would bring her with him when he goes to see his family and is always wrapped around her the whole time

Endures all the teasing that would come with that for her because she’s?? Just?? So?? Cute and perfect???

Literally a thousand years old and would still absolutely crumple for his baby in SECONDS

If she cried it would literally be game over

There would be two people crying 

He would be crying MORE than her

Epic date night planner, meticulously detailed, would pay so much attention to the things she likes and picks up on even the smallest clues

God he’s so soft I want one

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6. Clint Barton

Largely pushed aside Avenger who has been evil in the past and appears at times to miss the evil a little too much

This one doesn’t even need an explanation, I’m literally right and this one has proved himself countless times

This man is the love of my life so yes: I am biased

Badass, sarcastic, cold archer Avenger by day; soft, caring, gentle man by night 

Goes home, soaked with blood and sweat, and pulls his baby into the shower and just sags into her arms 

Lives for her fingers in his hair after a long day

And bubble baths with her 

Has gotten in trouble countless times for skipping important meetings but does not give a single fuck about it 

Teaches her archery and doesn’t yell once (which is a feat pointing to his softness because once he tried to teach Nat and they yelled at each other the entire time)

HE IS SOFT, CASE CLOSED

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5. Bellamy Blake

Incited a radical uprising in a highly dangerous and sensitive situation for really no reason at all other than the fact that he wanted to be the de facto leader of something

As per usual, I don’t care about canon characteristics this is my world I can do whatever I want

Every bone in this man’s body is a protective one 

Yes, every single one (No, I’m not sorry about this)

Does not take shit from anyone about her, has definitely shut an entire group of people up for talking about her badly

Gets so nervous when she does anything even remotely dangerous and when she does he’s stuck to her side like glue

He’s so touchy and talks so quietly to her, not because he doesn’t want anyone to hear him call her his baby but because he just literally can’t bring himself to raise his voice he’s that soft for her

Does everything in his power to make sure she’s comfortable which is by no means easy in the slightest

So many forehead kisses that it’s almost barf worthy but he doesn’t care because she loves it and that’s all that matters

The radical leader is a fucking puddle of softness for his baby and that’s final

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4. Loki

A trickster god who always teeters precariously on the edge of good and evil and no one ever knows which side he’ll favour at any given moment

Except when it comes to his baby then he’s good duh

Tiptoes around her because he would definitely be the type to go for a baby who jumps easily and he’s loud and kind of clunky so he’s always just slow and gentle 

So much gentle teasing and giggling like oh god it’s tooth rotting sweetness

He takes her hands and just puts them on him, like his chest and cheeks and jaw and arms

Anywhere he just wants her touching him all the time 

He rests his chin on her shoulder or head and reads whatever she’s reading or watches her go about her hobbies, kissing her cheek in between 

This girl would never work a day in her life she would be ridiculously well taken care of

Would burn down a city for her with little provoking 

As soft as butter for his baby

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3. Kai Parker

Bringing back the “needs a therapist, not a girl” but sprinkle in a touch of volatile daddy issues that has created a man so hyper reactive to every negative situation whose only solution is to lash out because he figures no one loves him anyway 

But sweep all that aside because fuck it, I don’t like it 

He would worship his baby 110%

Is the type of man to let her do his nails and put as many face masks as she wants on him

Can’t sleep without her literally on top of him 

He so clingy and touchy, loves when she grabs his hand, internally screams whenever it happens

Has for sure killed for her that isn’t even a question it’s just a fact 

“He didn’t do anything” “he looked at you” “but Kai” “but baby” 

Would do it again

I DON’T CARE: HE’S SOFT FOR HIS BABY

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2. Jasper Hale

A literal once upon a time confederate soldier who made child soldiers for his dom-vamp girlfriend because he was “in love”

This man has ripped so many heads off so many bodies but I don’t give a single fuck I know he goes home to his baby and just picks her up and does not put her down 

Face it, his family is rich, he doesn’t have to do anything, naps are definitely a big part of his routine and he’s always just snoozing with her on the couch, pulling her onto his lap and pulling a blanket off the back and they’re just asleep

Goes out for dinner with her, makes it through maybe twenty minutes, the entire time he’s waiting for it and then boom, the puppy eyes, game over, they’re home in minutes

Has skipped so many family functions 

Will make any excuse to just go the fuck home 

Sometimes he doesn’t even make an excuse he just fucking leaves

He’s touchy too I just know it look at that face the man lives for contact

The verdict is in-- 100/10 SOFT

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1. Kol Mikaelson

Perhaps the angriest, most volatile, I-hate-the-world-and-everyone-in-it, thousand year old+ original vampire who has been stomped on so much and died so many times that he has no true sense of the world, trust, and love left

Oh GOD this man, this FUCKING MAN 

THE SOFTEST MAN HOLY SHIT

I don’t even care what y’all think about this one Kol is so damn soft

This man is the inventor of cuddling 

And he doesn’t give one single fuck about where and when I just know it

Family dinner? The witch market? CHURCH?? 

It doesn’t matter, he’s pressed against her 

Oh god this man is protective 

Maybe a little possessive too

I don’t care

His family calls him unpredictable so hey he may as well live up to it and burn down a bar or two or twenty for his baby

Shows her all of his witch things and rambles about them all

Is always pulling one of his shirts or hoodies over her head 

AGAIN BUBBLE BATHS I JUST KNOW IT 

He likes washing her back and just getting to be alone with her 

He likes it even more when she washes his hair like he just sinks to his knees and closes his eyes and gives into it

GOD MY HEART IS BEATING SO FAST FOR HOW SOFT KOL IS

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[harlowsbae]

Always

This is my first ever Draco Malfoy Reader so please don’t hate me. I haven’t written a single imagine in years.

Trigger Warnings: self-harm, depression

Draco watched as the shell of the woman next to him tried furiously to keep up with Professor Slughorn’s directions. When Y/N first came to Hogwarts she was lively and bubbly. She was kind to everyone she met, even Saint Potter much to Draco’s displeasure. But during fourth year when the news broke that she was a half-blood Y/N slowly began to disappear inside herself. The rest of the Slytherins began to look at her with disgust. A half-blood Slytherin was just preposterous. Draco knew he was also to blame. He had joined in on the taunting and laughed at the jokes.  All his life, Draco was immersed in the pure-blood philosophy of things. Anything less was just unacceptable, his father had reminded him of that every day up to his departure for Hogwarts five years ago. 

“Excuse me” came a soft voice from next to him. 

Draco looked over at YN, noticing her long curly brown hair and chocolate colored eyes that peeked up at him nervously through long lashes.

“What?” Draco sneered at the girl.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..Professor Slughorn has partnered us up for the Draught of Living Death” Y/N said.

Draco felt his face soften at her nervousness, but he quickly shook it away and scowled again.

“Go get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron.” he ordered.

Y/N got up quickly knocking her stool over in the process. Pansy looked over and laughed, muttering about how half-bloods were just as pathetic as mudbloods. Draco felt his heart tighten as Y/N’s cheeks turned red and she quickly shuffled to the shelves to get the ingredients. She returned a few minutes later with her arms full.

“Start cutting up the Valerian sprigs while I juice these beans” he told her. Y/N nodded and began doing what he said. Her curls falling over face to hide her once again red cheeks. Draco smirked, the effect he had on the girl not going unnoticed. He could feel Pansy’s glare on Y/N. Her obsession with Draco was unwavering no matter how many times he rejected her. She was a short fling that meant nothing to him, simply something to cure his boredom last year.

Y/N began measuring the ingredients and putting them into the cauldron slowly stirring as she went. Draco looked over just as Y/N began to add the Valerian sprigs noticing that she was adding too many.

“Y/L/N stop you’re-” but it was too late, Draco quickly backed away as the potion bubbled and exploded splashing Y/N with the hot liquid. Her robes instantly had holes in them and her hands were covered in burns from shielding her face.

“For fucks sake Y/L/N! Didn’t your muggle father teach you anything about following directions before he offed himself?” Pansy sneered at her, other Slytherins quickly joined in laughing and smiling.

Y/N tried hard to hold her head up and fight back the tears, but Draco saw one fall down her cheek as she rushed from the classroom, wishing he could wipe it away for her.

“Well class I think we had better finish there for today” Professor Slughorn interrupted, “Put a small bit of your potion in a vial to be graded.”

Y/N POV:

You skipped classes the rest of the day. Too embarrassed to face anyone after Potions. You knew your professors would lecture you tomorrow and give you extra work but you didn’t care. You stared down at the picture of your father, silent sobs wracking your body as you hid behind a statue in one of the corridors. No one hardly ever walked down it as the classrooms sat empty so it was the perfect place to hide. 

He had committed suicide during your fourth year. You had found out when  you had gone home for the holidays. He had left a note but your mother had never let you read it. Instead she made you pack all of your things to return to Hogwarts with you. You hadn’t seen her since as she had decided you were too much of a burden without your father. You spent your summer holidays with your grandmother from your father’s side, but you weren’t necessarily close to her either as she was a muggle and tended to be afraid of you.

You had been extremely close to your father growing up, you were a spitting image of him and your mother often joked that she did all the work and had nothing to show for it. Your parents didn’t have any more kids deciding that you were all they needed. When you got your letter to Hogwarts they were so proud. Although your father was a muggle he loved you all the same.

Another bout of sobs wracked through your body and the pain became too much to bear. You had no friends at school and no one to confide in. You bottled up your pain and took it out on yourself as a way to cope. You knew it was foolish , but you couldn’t stop. You blamed yourself for your father’s death and had decided this was your punishment even though you hadn’t even been there. You took your wand to your wrist, reciting the same spell that had become your only comfort.

Draco POV

Draco didn’t see her the rest of the day. He couldn’t help but be worried. He checked the hospital wing but Madame Pomfrey informed him that she never showed up. He kept an eye out between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of her curls but to his disappointment they never appeared. When Draco still didn’t see Y/N at dinner he decided he had to find her. 

Draco spent the next hour combing the castle starting at the Astronomy tower and making his way though each corridor. Draco was just about to give up when he turned down a corridor that he didn’t recognize. Draco could tell it hadn’t been used in years as the classrooms had more than an inch of dust in them. Still, he opened each one desperate to find her now. Draco was nearing the last classroom when he heard a small noise. He paused, holding his breath to hear it again. He heard a sniffle and moved towards it. He stopped in front of a statue, peering around it he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally saw her curls. 

He knelt down cautiously so as not to scare her, reaching a hand forward he lightly touched her shoulder. Y/N whipped around, her eyes bloodshot and red and her cheeks still had tear streaks down them. She wiped at them furiously, her face hardening at the sight of the platinum haired boy in front of her. 

“What do you want” she sneered, “come to make fun of me some more?”

Draco’s eyes widened at her sudden hostility.

“No actually, I wanted to check on you to see if you were alright,” he whispered.

“Please” she scoffed, “Don’t act like you care Malfoy, you’re no better than the rest of your little friends.”

Draco hung his head, he knew she was right. He had done nothing over the years to make her think otherwise. He looked at her again, his grey eyes glancing over her hands. They were still red and blistered and he suddenly remembered she didn’t go to the hospital wing after Potions.

He grabbed her wrists hearing her wince as his grip tightened when she struggled to get away.

“Why the hell did you not go to the hospital wing are you daft?!” He said loudly. 

His grip tightened even more and she struggled furiously to get away. He looked at her hands examining them. His eyes fell upon her sleeve noticing the cuff was red with blood. He looked at her, her eyes begging him not to do what he was going to do next. Draco slowly lifted her sleeve up, as his eyes took in the fresh cuts mixed with the old ones his heart sank. He felt guilty for each one of those lines knowing they were a result of the torment he and his friends had put her through.

He grabbed his wand from his pocket, still holding her wrist he quietly uttered healing spells watching the cuts become scars and the blisters disappear as her hands returned to their normal color.

“Thank you” Y/N muttered.

Draco sank beside her putting his arm around her shoulder. This time she didn’t flinch and leaned into him.

Y/N POV

You felt as though you were dreaming and were tempted to pinch yourself. It didn’t seem possible that Draco Malfoy, one of your bullies, had taken the time to find you and heal your injuries let alone to now holding you. You leaned into him even more breathing in the scent of his green apple shampoo and pine cologne. 

“I’m sorry” you heard him whisper. You looked up at him in shock, his eyes made contact with yours and you could see the sincerity in them. “I don’t know why I said the things I’ve said or treated you the way I’ve treated you. My father has always instilled in me the importance of blood purity. I’ve never known any different, but for some reason when I look at you, none of that matters” he explained.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Did Draco Malfoy actually...like you?

“Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked, thumbing over the scars on your wrist.

You sighed, you didn’t want to sound like a freak. Draco tilted your head up, urging you to explain.

“When my father took his life, my mother never let me read the letter he wrote. She made me pack all of my things and I’ve been living with my muggle grandmother ever since. I haven’t seen my mother in almost two years.” You said, feeling your eyes tear up again. You felt Draco’s hand on your cheek as he gently brushed a tear that had fallen away. “The cuts..the pain, it’s my punishment. I couldn’t fathom why my father had wanted to leave me, so in the end I decided I must have did something, that him taking his life was my fault.” 

At this you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, you began to sob even harder than you had earlier. You felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable in front of Draco and you hated it. For years you had put on a brave face taking every insult that came your way and still holding your head high.

Draco shifted and pulled you between his legs wrapping his arms around you completely. You buried your head into his chest as you continued to cry. He stroked your and planted soft kisses on your forehead. You both stayed like this for what felt like hours but was really only minutes.

When you were done crying you looked back up at Draco, he was already looking at you, his own grey eyes reflecting sadness as he stared at the broken girl in his arms. 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore, Y/N”, he said. “I know I can’t take back how much I’ve hurt you, but from this day forward I promise to protect you.”

You smiled and leaned forward connecting your lips to his. You felt him tense up and then relax as he kissed you back harder tangling his fingers into your curls. 

You pulled away breathing heavy and so was he. Draco smiled at you planting another soft kiss onto your lips.

“Always?” you whispered.

“Always.” he said.

[chrysalispen]

pursuit/predation (zenoswol)

This was a lot of fun LMAO I hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing it! Commission for @noxi-lumi featuring their WoL, Raziela Undeni <3

NSFW under cut. CW for mildly violent imagery (it is Zenos, after all).

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Two and a half fulms below the angled opening of his makeshift bolthole, Zenos yae Galvus peered up at the sky with a borrowed face to watch the storm that had raged for two days. The levin-aspected aether in the northern hinterlands of Gyr Abania often lent itself to violent thunderstorms, with static bursts that rendered the escarpment too hazardous to cross. There were waypoints in the mountains to seek shelter from the weather but he had eschewed them, thinking that the fewer encounters to detain (and bore) him, the better. 

He had ever chafed at forced inactivity, but all in all, Zenos reasoned, this was but a temporary setback. Man was a beast bred for hunting, a pursuit predator, and he was nothing if not the pinnacle of that ideal. He would do as his ancient ancestors had done: bide his time and await his next opportunity. Once the storm had spent itself, he could go.

He whistled the opening bars of a parade ground march under his breath - a low and toneless sound like loch winds moaning around the corners of sandstone - and let his eyes fall shut.

Seconds and minutes passed as an age. Bereft of aught else to entertain him, his thoughts turned to his memories of the Eorzeans’ champion: that wild creature of sword and spell. Eikon-slayer. Saviour of the savages, so-called. Epithets overheard from idle barracks' chatter, although Zenos set little stock in the distinction between his own kind and the rest of the world as others did. Garleans bled the same, quailed in fear the same, and died screaming the same as any savage, and she had long since proven her mettle to his satisfaction. She strode the world as he did, towering above her fellows, a beast without peer. 

He still recalled with crystal clarity the day they had met. Then he had barely paid mind to her paltry attempts to halt his advance; countless enemies had attacked him out of fear or desperation to stave off the inevitable, after all. Even so, he had seen neither of those things in their hero's magenta eyes. A grim sort of determination, to be sure; the steely resolve he would expect of one well-versed in the path he walked himself- but no fear. 

There had been another emotion which he still couldn’t quite define, the faintest flicker of something. Curiosity, mayhap. His own exultation in the heat of the fight, mirrored in her mien. A reflection of himself, some alternate path he had never chanced to walk. 

Whatever it was he had seen that day, it had moved him to spare her life. 

And how right he had been to do it. She was worth a score of tribunes on her own-- fivescore, if the truth be told. Had she agreed to his proposal, or had he kept his word rather than indulge his lust for violence in that precise moment… 

How very different things might have been. 

Well, perhaps, he amended. They each had their parts to play. But upon the stage of his imaginings, anything was possible. There he could entertain to his heart’s content his fantasies of his friend returned to him, stronger still for her own tribulations. 

He meant to duel her again and had no doubt she would oblige him.  The prospect of it did not deter him; no, he yearned for the excitement of it. The surge of heat through the veins with each perfectly executed step, air burning the throat and whistling in the lungs, the ever-present specter of death looming over one’s shoulder-- what was violence, in truth, but a dance? Were not those dances with the most precarious, most intricate of steps best enjoyed with a partner of comparable skill? 

In the end that was what he had seen in her: a worthy partner, at long last. Whether to stand at his side or to test her blade against his, he would accept both, but to fight his most precious friend once more, to recapture that kindled flame-- that would be a fine thing.

Oh yes, that would be quite fine indeed.

Remembered delight shuddered its way across the surface of his skin, a delicious and almost delicate frisson that bored its way down his spine to curl and tighten in the pit of his belly. Zenos was no stranger to lust; since his majority plenty of his lessers had used their bodies to curry his favor for some petty reason or other, with naught in their hearts save ambition and fear. Carnal knowledge was both prosaic and vulgar, rutting the sole province of mindless beasts, and it had not taken him long to decide that such matters held little of interest or value to him. 

But this sweet and languorous warmth, like honey in a well-steeped tea-- he realized that he did not mind it so very much. It reminded him of the menagerie, and his last sight of her before he had opened his own throat and bled out into the flowers. Joy, pure and transcendent. 

Yes, he decided; this pleased him.

With a soft grunt Zenos shifted his hips. The motion left him keenly aware of the physical evidence of his arousal against the mild rise below his navel, where it strained against twin cages of cloth and leather for freedom. That spreading ache was not a sensation entirely alien to him, but it did strike him strange how very aware it made him of this borrowed body on such a base level. Heat and hyperawareness punctured the fine invisible layers of his detachment with the pinpoint precision of a sewing needle through linen.

His eyes fell shut once more in a series of slow and lazy blinks: a contented feline drowsing atop a fresh kill. 

He settled one hand over the seam of his breeches where the fabric was pulling taut and palmed himself, running his fingers lazily along the firm ridge his cock had formed beneath the thick weave. If he paid heed only to those slow and teasing strokes, he could convince himself that it was her, touching him so intimately---her hand dragging those sharp and immaculate nails he had glimpsed up and down his length. Scratching their points with calculated ease along the underside of his shaft, applying just enough pressure through the fabric to leave tiny trails of fire in their wake. 

A soft groan rumbled deep in his chest, and Zenos tilted his chin back so as to rest his head against the rock, thighs spreading to accommodate his girth. What would she do, he mused, should she chance to see him caught in the web of his own desire? Driven to distraction by the mere thought of her, the very picture of the animal in full rut which he had so scorned? 

The irony of it would amuse her, he had no doubt about that. Perhaps she might grin at the spectacle. 

Perhaps she would even laugh. He presumed to imagine it, a sight and sound he had yet to experience. A wicked, throaty peal of mirth. The toss of short sable locks, the tilt and swivel of long tufted ears, the stretch of her long and graceful neck as she tossed her chin. Grinned at him, feral and dark, that smile he so loved to see before her inevitable riposte. 

Savagery to rival his own, swathed in leather and crimson.

So thinking, Zenos’ fingers drifted upward of their own accord, straying from the insistent need betwixt his opened thighs to work at the waistband of his breeches instead. 

Lashes fluttered like a courtesan’s fan at the edges of angular cheekbones, suffused with color and dewy with a light band of sweat despite the chill within his shelter. In his mind’s eye, she straddled him as her clever fingers worked the buttons and laces that bound him fast, impatient to pluck her prize from its confines. He fancied he could feel the contained heat of her core against his leg even through the barrier of her smalls, burning as though the sun itself had branded him. 

When he raised himself to pull the offending fabric to his knees, it was she who closed her hand about his cock, grasping him just a touch too snugly. Her thumb stroked tiny circles over the foreskin as the shaft lunged eagerly within the cage of her palm; he could almost hear a hum of low-pitched approval. Each stroke she made eased the smooth, hot skin to retract and expose his crown: deeply flushed, its tip already glistening with precum. Zenos sighed, his borrowed body rocking upward to thrust into her hand, seeking friction to accompany that narrow squeeze. Anything would do, really. Except he needed--

Shallow breaths rasped unsteadily in the close space as he slicked his palm with his own saliva, grimaced, then took himself in hand once more. 

Wet heat and resistance alone nearly undid him. His startled inhalation made a sharp and rasping echo that he barely heard, lost as he was in his fantasy. She had shed her duelist’s garb, laid herself bare to embrace him with long and powerful thighs, like velvet-wrapped steel. He shuddered at the effort it took to control himself, to let gravity carry her down to sheathe him in her depths, to let her move atop him to counter his thrusts with her own: a beautiful beast with lips for kissing and teeth for tearing. She laid both to work upon his throat and his shoulders with each upward snap of his hips-- drank deep of him, and he of her, until his stomach ached from ribcage to groin with unrelieved tension. 

Violence in its own sense, he thought. A dance most intimate, and as real and as pure as the day they had parted.

“Yes, my beast,” he hissed aloud. The sibilant sound of his pleasure rose and reverberated around him, a chorus of empty whispers. “Just so.” His free hand fisted in a handful of loose gravel and his mouth fell slack and the spare limbs and lean angles of this unfamiliar vessel, all wrong, not his, arched like a bowstring. His heels dug into unyielding rock rather than bedsheets for purchase. Her fingers entwined with his, sharp nails grazing his knuckles, tiny cuts to blend with the myriad small scars left by 

(hunting. a pale silver-white web of scar tissue in the center of his left palm - his true vessel's left palm - where his fourteen-year-old self pierced it with a crystal. a parting gift to the first man he ever killed. its tendrils radiate outward between each of his fingers like the cracks made in a pane of shattered glass)

arrows and fletching. She was close; he fancied he could hear the labored rattle of her breathing with each small moan she made. Bracing her weight against his torso and balancing upon his thighs to bounce, sounds only he could hear tumbling from imaginary lips parted and glistening, her cunt flexing about him like a silken vise as she approached the edge of release and swept him along like an incoming tide--

--and the pressure in his groin dropped, at last, and when he spilled, his seed splashing over his frantically moving fist and locked fingers and onto the muscled slope of his exposed belly, it was her name which fell from his lips, not hero or beast but Raziela, Raziela.

Long moments passed before he opened his eyes, chest heaving and fingers numb and loosely wrapped about his spent cock, still pulsing beneath his touch. The syllables of her name seemed to echo in his ears, a mantra to recite to himself until he had locked it into his memory to recall at a whim. 

He waited in patient silence, willing his pulse to slow and his lungs to expand in an unhurried rise and fall. There was a low rumble from the opening of his shelter and after long moments, a flicker of lightning. The storm was passing and with it the levinstrikes. He would be able to move soon.

With movements as slow and languid as a sleepwalker’s, Zenos reached for the belt he had removed upon entering the cave and dug through its pockets until he found something that would serve as a washcloth. His gaze, as he wiped himself down and rearranged drab layers of linen and oilcloth into some semblance of order, was very far away, fixed upon the thinning clouds and the wheel of stars beyond. The moon hung low in the sky, bloated and orange.

I wonder where you are, my friend, he thought. If you have given thought to our meeting at all. 

“Raziela,” he whispered once more, as if testing the sensation of her name on his tongue. In the darkness of the cavern, his eyes glittered like a hungry cat’s.

It was only a matter of time before they were reunited; he would make certain of it. Once he had regained his true form, they would have their dance. A grand reunion upon a great stage, two stars to burn bright, and oh, there would be such a burning. To capture this bliss and relive it with her-- he would give anything in his power, and the very star itself would tremble at their union.

When he emerged from the cavern at last to clear skies and a still night, the moon hid its face behind a passing cloudbank like prey that had caught his scent. And within the bounds of his stolen vessel, Zenos yae Galvus smiled to see it.

[bookaboutabook]

dress by ts= rowaelin

this might be long but i thought of it and it has to be done :)

“our secret moments in your crowded room they've got no idea about me and you”

okay so literally in QoS they communicate basically entirely in silence, like they’re the only people in a crowded room, especially at arobynn’s party they are basically flirting without anyone knowing because at the time things are basically all platonic to everyone else. no one knows that they’re growing feelings or having secret conversations. 

“there is an indentation in the shape of you made your mark on me, a golden tattoo”

this is EoS and KoA energy-- the claiming marks, and the tattoos that rowan gives aelin. ALSO the choice of the color golden screams rowaelin because as we know thats the nightgowns color and i feel like it comes up a lot when describing aelin-- golden eyes, hair etc.

“all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation my hands are shaking from holding back from you all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting my hands are shaking from holding back from all this ”

QoS is almost entirely sexual tension so i think this is very self explanatory. they were both holding back the way they felt about each other when they both clearly wanted something more. this gives me vibes of rowan needing to cool down from aelin’s presence and taking forever to fall asleep with her so near yet so far away.  

“say my name and everything just stops i don't want you like a best friend”

um please so several points-- 1.) rowan is the first person that starts calling celaena by her real name, aelin ( if i remember correctly i don’t think he really ever calls her celeana?? only aelin and she gets mad, but i may be wrong bc it has been a while since i’ve read HoF) he makes her comfortable with her real identity and helped her come to terms with who she was and her name. 2.) fireheart. that’s it. it’s who she was to her family and its who she is now to rowan. ALSO “i don’t want you like a best friend” their relationship goes from basically entirely platonic in HoF to something more in the late books. in QoS, it took them forever to get together bc they had to break through the past definition of their relationship which was strictly friends, carranam, and fighting partners. but they obviously wanted more, and started feeling more comfortable with their past trauma and relationship baggage to face that. 

“only bought this dress so you could take it off take it off  carve your name into my bedpost 'cause I don't want you like a best friend only bought this dress so you could take it off”

ALRIGHT HERES THE KICKER. so this is obviously referring to the golden nightgown that rowan requests. i KNOW that he technically doesn't even take it off her and they don’t go there but she literally only bought it for him bc he said he would love that color. in conclusion it still counts and the sexual tension was there so.

“inescapable, I'm not even gonna try and if I get burned, at least we were electrified”

SO i feel like they both know that they are inevitable and i think it kinda ties into the idea of the mating bond being something that you can’t break or avoid. they subconsciously knew that being apart would not work. AND we have a reference to aelin’s fire... she might burn too brightly, but at least she burned.

“i'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about”

HAHA we have a little reference to aelin bathing rowan and washing his hair in that one scene. tbh this doesn’t really fit that well but it’s not too out of place-- i also may not be thinking of anything bc i havent re read them in a while. anyways, we also have another moment where rowan and aelin are kind of keeping what is blooming between them a secret from the rest of aelin’s court.

“flashback when you met me your buzzcut and my hair bleached”

their haircuts at the beginning of QoS... rowan cut his long ass hair and aelin had to dye her hair red to go undercover and not get caught... WHY DOES IT WORK SO WELL I--

“even in my worst times, you could see the best of me”

in HoF aelin was at the lowest point of her life. even though he was closed off was dealing with his own baggage, he saw the power aelin held. the light that had been snuffed out inside of her. he pushed her because he knew what she was capable of. and i forgot who said this, but rowan was never afraid of aelin the way chaol was. he saw every part of her and loved all of it. 

“flashback to my mistakes my rebounds, my earthquakes”

rebounds??? *cough cough* CHAOL AND DORIAN *cough* okay but for real these weren’t really mistakes but she had made plenty of other mistakes around that time. he helped set her on a better and clearer path. and i guess we could technically consider chaol a rebound...

“even in my worst lies, you saw the truth of me”

her keeping the mating bond from him? her keeping so many of her plans a secret? her pretending she’s okay and KoA and him seeing right through her? yea <3

“and I woke up just in time now I wake up by your side”

I think around nehemias death she was kind of in a trance where she felt like nothing mattered and her life was useless (the whole “i do not care” scene where she was lashing out is a good example), but he helped her out of that. she has that one quote that im gonna paraphrase about how he held her hand and walked back into the light with her. He essentially woke her up from the nightmare she was living and now she wakes up next to him. this literally also happens in HoF because he starts letting her sleep in his bed, which was a huge step in the right direction for their relationship. he started seeing her as a friend and he literally falls asleep with his hand over her heart bye. 

“my one and only, my lifeline”

mates are truly each others one and only and i think it’s beautiful that she says “lifeline” because that’s literally what it is to them. they are stronger together and even the forces of their existence are tied together <3

anyways if you read this whole thing thank u lol i just had to get that out:)

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."

[littlenekosfan]

i vagued about that several times, but i wanted to make a post alone bc i never actually dove into it i believe? im not really familiar with the emotion of anger since im rather irrational unlike bazz who... is just so familiar with it, anger, frustration or even hatred, he’s is good at keeping it silent or express it with a smile to not loose it... too good actually... bazz had unfortunately a lot of experience which left him scarred, traumatized, and he’s not the type to express his pain via melancholia but rather anger and his actions shows it pretty well.. and the thing is, its not out of pettiness, his anger is pretty rational, i can even call it determination, not a healthy one, but still rational

as a kid, he lost everything, i mean, literally... his parents, his home, basically everything that attached him to that life, the only thing.. or well, person left was jugram, who was his only friend back then (and ever was somehow), when he witness his home being burned down, he didnt cry or felt heartbroken like a child would, he was devastated yes, but to him mourning or coping wouldnt fix his loss, he took the path of revenge, the debt to his pain can only be repaid by punishing the one to blame, yhwach

so he trained, he trained day and night for 5 long years, he didnt just throw himself on yhwach to avenge his past out of hatred bc bazz is good at managing it, but he cant let go.. this is what i meant by determination, he couldnt let go what yhwach took from him after a year a two, the time he made a new life with jugram, his pain wont close until that man dies by his hands. (and obviously, its not heathly) and while i think he’s rational to feel that hatred, he shouldnt have let him consume him this much bc this is what made him even more broken

in FRIEND 3, he desperately tries to get yhwach’s attention, bc this is it, this is the endgame for him to finally live free, but what happens instead? he not only wasnt able to kill him but this time he truly looses everything and by the SAME person, yet, bazz doesnt wanna kill yhwach anymore after that... bazz' revenge was wanting to kill yhwach bc he took his everything back then, he did it again even there, but that second time seemed to scar him even deeper, not bc he has grown up (so his feelings are more developed as a teenager unlike a kid) but bc his everything had more value... 

its jugram

you can tell, you can tell how one scarred more than the other, the day he lost his home, he was able to get up and say what he was going to do next, with determination and certainty, where here, in FRIEND3, we see his face in dismal but nothing after that bc it didnt get better, he got so hurt he didnt even try to convince jugram to come back, he was too broken for that... now he has nothing, not even a shoulder to lay on, just himself and an empty heart... with a small flame...

unlike his first loss, yhwach didnt take jugram’s life, he took him away from bazz, which explains why bazz didnt target yhwach, he thinks jugram left him rather than he was taken away/kidnapped, and that’s a big factor bc this is why bazz’ hatred is now aimed to jugram, he thinks he deliberately left him, for power or even to hurt him (bazz wont think of jugram’s feeling when he left him, he really believes he did it for selfish reasons)

so for 3 long lonely years, he wasnt thinking about joining back the army to be the strongest quincy like his kid self was dreaming about, he didnt join to become close to yhwach in order to kill him, he did it because of jugram... that hatred i mentionned earlier isnt toward jugram himself, its toward what he became, he doesnt like “that jugram”, he hates it so much he constantly wants to fight it but never with the intent to kill and you can tell by how he provokes him, and still listen to him by not pushing it

some would think his hatred toward him irrational or unfair, but its not, its totally rational he feels like that, he shouldnt feel like that if he wanted things to change ofc, but he cant step back and recognize his own mistake bc he doesnt think he made any.. HE was the one left behind, HE was the one who was supposed to be yhwach’s right hand bc HE was the one who lost everything... he was the protagonist of his own story and jugram kinda stole it... but i digress

what i wanted to say is, his hatred, that rage, he is capable to contain it and control it so well, he doesnt lash out in a violent way on jugram, he only provokes him... if he really hated jugram, to the point there is no love toward him anymore, it wouldnt be hard for him to break the rule and try to kill him even if it kills him.. i mean, what’s left for him to even be alive? literally nothing...

yhwach was easy to wish death on bc he has no attachment to him, at all, only pure hatred and revenge, where jugram, he still has that bond, that bond of a friend and even if jugram broke it, he cant help but still see him as a friend, he still loves him

and this is probably why it scarred him the most, in his whole life, he has never cared for someone as much as jugram... and now he sees that person whom he loved the most hurt him...., and i think that's why he wants to fight him, he wants to show/express his pain, prove jugram he's on the wrong path, not for jugram's good, for his own, since jugram is his everything.. that doesnt mean he doesnt care about ju and his wellbeing, he was still disappointed in what he became under yhwach's wing, he promised him THEY would be the greatest.. bazz didnt use jugram like yhwach would say, he wanted to be his partner more than anything

i know what you’re thinking, why did bazz said he would kill jugram in 630 "ill kill yhwach and you along" bazz didnt want to kill yhwach for the same reasons as when he was a kid aka burned his village down, in 630 he wanted to bc yhwach did the auswahlen again, he betrayed him.. so he wanted to kill jugram for the same reason, jugram kinda indirectly betrayed bazz with yhwach there bc he knews jugram knew about it,, and he’s now a lost cause to him.. this was kinda the "deadline" to trying to fix whats was between them, if not at the first war, if not in a 1000yrs, do you really think things would change after a second war? that loop wont end as long as one kills the other... and this is what happened, i dont think bazz had the intention to kill bc he hated jugram, but the pain is too much to bare, seeing the man you loved and cared, who felt the same toward you just ignore you over and over is... too much, maybe death was the only solution... i already talked about that, but if bazz was to win (which im pretty sure he knew he had very very low chances if not none) he would be horribly heartbroken...

i explained it before but, their fight was the best way to end their relationship in "good terms" and yknow how bazz said "things dont always turn out like you wanted them to" it just shows how bazz didnt want to result in that, in that fight, in everything that happened between them was nothing he wanted....

he truly loved ju, he just wanted his old jugram back and be the greatest together...

[fallingappleshurt]

27 and 39 with mercenary techno and skeppy? and like skeppy is having second thoughts about their jobs? 👉👈

the miles and miles we ran ( and can keep in running)

“I don’t- I don’t think I want to do this anymore.” He said suddenly, staring at the ceiling.

“Do what?” Techno asked, lighting another candle.

“The jobs, the mercenary stuff, it’s not worth it- I don’t like it.”

———

TW: mentions of blood and death but nothing too graphic

Ao3 link: Hi!!

Para my beloved!!! /p I am sorry it took so long for me to get this out, burn out

Hope you all enjoy :>>>

————-

The rain battered against their threadbare clothes, speckles of blood flicked against his hands, the job was easy, in and out, it didn’t bother him.

But that was what was starting to bother him.

Techno brushed a few soaked strands of hair from his face, trying to push down the emotion swirling in his chest. They just had the final stretch then he could collapse and his emotions could settle.

But it was relentless.

His mind clipped back to the arena, the sweat running down his back, the howls of the crowd, the contorted snarl of the monster in front of him. He didn’t flinch as it launched itself forward or when he lashed at it with his blade-

Techno’s ear twitched against the wind as it pulled him back to reality, focus. Nobody was out now, too late and too cold. Skeppy stood beside him, rubbing the water drops off his goggles and sighing.

“So now what?” He asked, an unlying bitterness in his bored tone.

“What do ya mean?”

“Are we gonna keep doing this?”

“This job? Yeah, we need to report back so we can get paid.”

Skeppy opened his mouth to talk again but stopped and nodded, “Yeah- Yeah lets just go.”

They continued down the decrepit alley, the cracked ground dipped behind their feet and water flooded from the rusting gutters, some managing to slosh into his boots.

He and Skeppy ducked down a flight of stairs, fingers running along the rusted railing and entered the mildewy tunnels. Someone shuffled to their side, inspecting them with narrowed eyes.

“Are you those mercenaires?” They asked, lip curled, it was the only part of their face Techno could see, the rest cloaked by a hood in a vain attempt to look secretive.

Techno nodded, “Yes.” He said curtly.

“Did you finish the job?”

“This isn’t part of your affairs or I’d know your name, just show us to his room.”

“I’m not showing you anything unless you answer my question, freak.”

“Cut the shit and just tell him,” Skeppy hissed, “Stop dancing around the issue.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “We finished the job, however the details are not to be discussed with you.”

Their lips twitched briefly, a fleeting attempt at a smile, “That’s all I needed to know, this way.”

They followed, Skeppy leaning and whispering;

“Why are you always so on edge? Just give them a straight answer.”

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“Cause it makes everything take so much longer.” A hint of a whine in his voice.

“Soley that reason then,” He said lightly, then added, “I don’t want him reporting us, the more he knows the more trouble he could cause.”

“So paranoid,” Skeppy rolled his eyes,“Since when are you scared of the law?”

“Never, since the law doesn’t exist.”

Skeppy snorted, “In your little dream world.”

They had stopped by Hatchet’s office, the cloaked figure cleared their throat, “If you are done rattling about then The Master is ready to see you.”

Techno and Skeppy gave each other a knowing look then walked through, Techno turned and looked back, hand resting on the doorknob.

“The word is ‘prattling’.” He said, closing the door, despite it’s thick and sturdy nature he could still hear the others gasp of indiginence.

Techno didn’t fear many things, he didn’t fear many people, just what they could do if they had power. Hatchet was one of those people.

Techno had never seen his face, he was just a silhouette that would purr out orders and seemed to have eyes everywhere. Techno felt glad he and Skeppy weren’t in his debt, the term business partners was already too close.

Hatchet sat in a massive chair, intricate carving in the otherwise smooth wood, he was leaning forwards, elbows on his knees and hands folded, chin resting against them. He looked like a cat, bored of its prey.

“Is it done?” He asked.

“Yes.” Skeppy answered this time, Hatchet grinned.

“Very good, you two always do excellent work. Oh and do tell me, did he suffer?”

Techno frowned, “No.”

Hatchet’s face dropped slightly, “Aw,” He paused, “No matter, here.” He tossed an envelope at them which Skeppy tried and failed to catch and had to scrape off the floor.

“Alright, off with you two.” He waved his hand and after they hurried out of the room, feeling the man's eyes burning into their backs, marking them.

They walked home in silence, Techno could tell there was something wrong with Skeppy but wasn’t sure how to approach it. Thunder clapped above them again and candle lights flickered in nearby windows as they crept into their little back alley apartment, the power must’ve been knocked out.

Techno slipped off his boots and tested one of their lamps, nothing happened. He sighed and shuffled into the kitchen, looking for their matches.

He found them quickly and set to work lighting up the house, Skeppy flopped down on the couch after shedding his attire.

“I don’t- I don’t think I want to do this anymore.” He said suddenly, staring at the ceiling.

“Do what?” Techno asked, lighting another candle.

“The jobs, the mercenary stuff, it’s not worth it- I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either but it’s the only reason we aren’t on the streets.” Techno said, this was all he had ever done, thoughts of the arena pierced his mind again, this was all he knew.

“We can find a different way to make money.”

Techno raised an eyebrow in a sort of humored disbelief, “Not here! We’ll be recognized or reported or something- there will always be people who will want another corpse and they’ll come right back to us.” He added darkly.

Skeppy glared at him, “Look, I don’t want to do it anymore, you can but I no longer want to be a part of it.”

“What- are you backing out now? Is this it?”

“I want it to be! This is too much!” Skeppy snapped, a hand pulling at his hair, “It’s all too much!”

“Oh yeah, ‘the weight of your sins bearing down on your shoulders’, I see how it is.” Techno snorted.

“I thought when we escaped the arena that we’d get to be free! No more fighting, no more bloodlust! Now we’re just the same monsters under another name!”

“It doesn’t work like that, our fates were set and sealed in stone the moment we were forced into that place, even then we are wanted for that and wanted for everything we’ve done since we’ve escaped.” Techno felt a familiar, buried, grief in his chest, he didn’t know what to do. The facade was wearing thin and it almost felt like his chest was going to cave in.

“We should just run away.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” He cried, “We’ve done it before!”

“Everyone will know it’s us, it- it can’t be that easy.”

Skeppy was silent for a moment.

“This- this isn’t fair.” He stuttered out, a single tear of frustration slid down his face, running along the blue geode in his skin. “And don’t you dare say life isn’t fair, I know it’s not but that doesn’t mean I can’t be upset about it.”

“You can be upset about it but it won’t do much.”

“Helpful as always.”

“Look, a piglin and geode hybrid, we already stick out.” Techno rolled his eyes, “Do you even know where we’d go? I don’t have any other skills, I know my way around a blade but that can only get us so far.”

“Maybe if you tried harder you’d know more.”

Techno narrowed his eyes, “That is rich coming from you.”

“Sorry sorry, it was a cheap blow.” Skeppy rubbed the back of his neck and Techno sighed.

“I can’t really blame you, I don’t know what else to do, we can run but we’ve already run so far.”

Broken locks, bare feet slamming against concrete, hands tightly interlaced.

“We can keep running, the world stretches for miles and miles, there has to be something out there for us.”

“But what if there isn’t?” Fear simmered in his chest, he didn’t want to be alone again but he didn’t want to be trapped under someone else's heel again either.

The thunder clapped outside.

“Then we can make one, an actual home, just for us. We’ve sort of done it here, we can do it again.”

Techno nodded, a lump in his throat, “We don’t owe anyone anything right now, we can go whenever we want.”

“Yeah, we can leave first thing in the morning, there is nothing here for us.”

“So, are we really doing this?”

“If you’ll come with me.”

“Of course, on one condition.”

Skeppy frowned, “What might that be?”

“We take that dog from the alley with us, I don’t think anyone else will take care of it.”

Skeppy snorted, “Sure, sure.”

Techno knew the world was scary, he regarded it with caution for good reason, but he tried not to let it paralyze him. In this world, the only way you can make things better for yourself is by taking the first step, and it is better if you have a friend.

That’s how he got out with Skeppy.