#but I literally cannot get this scenario out of my head so fic it is

[cookiebelle]

I had a fever dream about Shayna Baszler fucking me in the bathroom at a party so uh fic incoming?

[deathbxnny]

Oh yeah, raising literal childish soldiers canNOT be good for one's conscious 🥲

But, I'm glad you're eager for more of that succulent emotional hurt, though this one will be... different the previous ones. And without further adieu, let's get into it 😈

So, I've noticed how, in this series, any harm sent mother's way has always been somewhat second-handed, and psychological in nature. Physical arm has always gone to the Children of The House. So, what if for this scenario, "Mother" is the unexpected one coming to harm?

Now, I could definitely write up a scenario of "Mother" getting hurt in some drastic way, and Arle and the House Kids retaliate in grand fashion, but that would be... kinda generic, no? Rather, I'm thinking of a scenario where "Mother" is hurt by the one thing that not even The Knave herself can protect her from.

Herself.

Or more specifically, her own body. Lemme explain.

So, "Mother" is in a position that can be IMMENSELY stressful and emotionally draining, so imagine one day, it's about as normal as life in the Hearth can be, "Mother" is at work, performing or assigning chores, or maybe prepping a meal for the kids, with some their help. When suddenly, she's hit with immense chest pains, as though her rib cage is squeezing around her heart, it becomes hard to breath, hard to focus because of how dizzy she's become. That's right, Mama suffer (or very nearly suffer, that detail is up to you) a literal heart attack, give everyone in the House a good scare, if you would 🤭.

And so, after this incident "Mother" is pretty forced to "take it easy" so that she can recover (which according to some brief searches I've done, can take anywhere from a couple weeks to a few months). And, considering how "Mother" is definitely seems like she'd be something of a workaholic, someone who feels she needs to be present and contributing to be a "worthy" mother, suddenly being forced to take a break from all her usual daily tasks must make for an absolutely miserable experience for her.

So, in the meanwhile, Arle and the kids try to figure out some things to cheer her up and keep her mind occupied while she recovers.

X Anon

Heartfelt devotion. | Arlecchino x Fem!Wife!Reader

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three) (Part four) (Read more parts under Arlecchino's name in my Genshin Masterlist!)

A/N: Hello X Anon! Thank you so much for your request. I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, this turned out to be a bit of a personal piece due to me having had the experience of an immideate family member suffering a heart attack, so I put some of that into this fic, which is why I took a bit of a different approach to your idea. Either way, I hope it's to your liking X Anon!!<33

Content: Heart attacks, comas, angst, hurt/comfort, wife reader, mentions of Curcabena, reader becomes a bit delirious, trauma, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

The will of the Tsaritsa never rested for anything.

The expectation for everyone to continue until nothing was left of them always weighed on your shoulders, but it did little to ever make itself noticeable in the ranks of the Fatui. Exhaustion? Sickness? Death? None of that was an excuse enough to stop. You were all motivated by the goal ahead, even if uncertainty of what exactly it was often lingered in your mind. It was inspiring to work hard even in the face of pure agony and hell. It's just how things were. That's just how you kept going for so long as an organization.

The Tsaritsa's gentle kindness was ultimately not enough of a reason when the cold, icy snow and wind of your home ripped at your skin hungrily for more of your soul to take.

And you especially, as the wife of a Harbinger and "Mother" of the House of Hearth, felt that deeply.

Day in, day out.

It was all the same in the house of Hearth that forever kept busy no matter the occasion. You were unofficially the head of it all. Your wife often had better things to do as a diplomat and therefore entrusted you with your family from day one. The title and duties of the "Mother" weighed on you painfully, just as expected from you. And whilst you've spent endless years attempting to repair the relationship between that title and the family, you still didn't feel like it was enough. The woman that raised you and the 4th Harbinger haunted you with every step, always looking over your shoulder with that sinister smile of hers. You could feel the scrutiny in her gaze, see the rage in her grin, hear her venomous words in that sweet, gentle voice of hers.

Arlecchino had moved on from her by taking on the title of "Father," but you remained cursed. You remained in the past where you belonged, fixing connections that died for a reason, yet you were stuck with due to your own doing. There were no regrets in your actions initially, but now, after seeing the carnage and death you had caused to your own children by sending them off to the grim reaper yourself, you realise that over time, your mind and body has become worn down dangerously. You were beginning to fall apart, yet tried to keep yourself together just enough to continue every day. Like everyone else here.

It was getting hard to move and sleep lately, however, something that should've unnerved you when it was first starting to become noticeable. But you waved it off like everything else, your mind focused on your daily tasks and responsibilities instead. With your wife abroad back in the motherland for a Harbinger meeting, you were stuck shouldering absolutely everything again, not that you ever protested or cared much. You saw it as a necessity, perhaps even an honor to work at her side and take care of such an important part of the Fatui. If only the glamor and patriotism didn't melt away every time you got a new death report regarding more of your children. Crucabena used to read them as though they were the latest fashion magazine, a content smile on her lips every time. You, on the other hand, shed endless tears, finding no enjoyment in what you've become.

How did she do it? How was she able to be so indifferent and cruel to you all without feeling a thing? What was the secret to absolut absolvation from the guilt and shame? Years later, you still find yourself asking these questions in the shadows of the night, your blurry reflection in the water of the cold bathtub mirroring her image. You wonder if you even were any different than her ultimately. You felt like you did the same things as her, just less cruel, less callous. Was your care and love for the children enough to make a difference?

"Of course not. You and I are one in the same, my dear child." You often hear her voice whisper to you in those painfully sleepless nights, and you wished Peruere was there to keep her quiet again.

Taking a deep breath, you let out a weak hum when you felt someone grab onto your shoulder with a gentle shake. "Mother?" Lyney asked carefully, brows furrowed in worry at your near catatonic state lately. You barely seemed alive at times, your blank stare staring through everyone, some of your tasks even neglected seemingly unbeknownst to you. Your movement was sluggish, slow, and clumsy. Everyone noticed this, and the worry was beginning to seep into all the children belonging to the house. This was nothing like you. And yet, you didn't seem to be aware of it. Or maybe you were ignoring it.

Either way, Lyney had enough of just watching you suffer, his gaze becoming stern when you gave him a tired look. "Have you... slept or eaten properly lately? You look ill." The answer was 'no' to both, of course. You haven't been able to eat much due to the sudden huge workload you were confronted with ever since their Father left for much longer than usual. Sleep was out of the question due to the odd pain and pressure in your chest whenever you laid down. This led to you often sitting in a chair instead in front of the fireplace in hopes of getting some sleep that way... but unfortunately, that didn't work either.

Gently shaking your head, you mustered the strength to give him a shaky smile in hopes of calming him. "I'm alright, dear, don't worry about me. It's just a little stress, nothing more." Ever so perceptive, you sighed when you saw his eyes narrow. He didn't believe you, and you certainly wouldn't believe yourself either. Something was terribly wrong, but you had no time to deal with it. You didn't want Lyney to take on any duties he didn't have to yet, even if he'll most likely be your wife's successor one day. The pressure was too much. You didn't want him to feel the way you did.

Behind him, you saw two agents enter the kitchen through the backdoor. Masks obscured their faces, but the aura they let in was grim and cold. One you were so awfully familiar with, including the documents in their hands. A red envelope peeked out, a silent sign of more carnage and death raised by your own hands. The pressure in your chest suddenly increased once more when the guilt crept back up your body and whispered those evil words of self-doubt into your ears again. "How... How many this time?" You breathed out, a hand pressed to your chest in pain. Lyney grabbed onto your arm in surprise as your body nearly keeled over. Your mind was ringing, and you couldn't even hear the response to your question anymore.

It was all too much. You couldn't take it anymore. In the forefront of your mind, the woman that raised you gave you a "proud" smile, like she always did. It sickened you, for it meant that you've done something that once again proved that your title was cursed.

"Mother!" Lyney yelled out in panic, quick to alert everyone around them to your collapsing form. This has never happened before. The Lady of the House never fell, never faltered. And yet, as you now laid there on the floor, hands pressed against your chest as you heaved painfully, unable to breathe, you realised that everything you've done in your life has led you to this point. This was karma. This was the pain you deserved. Your children's terrified faces faded away and swirled into your mother's dark, sinister gaze. She reached out to you, her gloved hand pressing against your sweating forehead and tearstruck eyes, but you didn't feel any comfort. You felt like another death report, her favorite and one she has been waiting for forever.

If this is how you died, then so be it. One thing about Curcabena was that she'll always find a place for you to sit next to her no matter what. This time, you supposed, it would be in hell for the hurt you've caused.

How fitting.

"... Is she going to ever wake up?" "Not for a while. The doctors said the coma is necessary for her recovery. The reanimation took too long and... it's on her now to awaken." Lynette took a deep breath, her voice coming out in hushed whispers in fear of being overheard by their stressed Father. When Arlecchino came back come after an emergency letter practically crashed into the meeting room through a panicked Fatui agent, she found herself in the middle of a near warzone. You kept the house together at all times. But with you being in a medically induced coma now, everything fell right onto Lyney's shoulders. The one thing you never wanted.

The Knave had yet to say a thing, her lips pressed into a thin line at all times, as she silently moved to reorganize everyone and ease the pressure off of the young man's shoulders. Not even three days of taking on everything, and he was done emotionally and physically. How did his mother do it every day? How was she able to function? How was she able to keep everything in mind, do every task with perfect precision? He had so much to still learn, and that's what your absence proved him so painfully.

But hope still remained. If you woke up soon, then things would get better. Then, no one needed to be so terrified anymore.

Freminet nervously leaned against the doorway to your room, red eyes casted downwards to his shoes in silent shame. Guilt was eating everyone in the house up, their hearts aching with the question, "Could we have done more?". Yet their father wasn't keen on answering anything, her reassurance coming in the form of stern orders and a call for strength from them all.

"I see... in that case, I'll stay and watch over her for the night. You should go rest, Lynette." The young man spoke, watching as his sister exhaled a deep breath and nodded reluctantly. No one was getting any sleep lately, but it's the thought that counted. Passing by him with a short hug they both needed, Freminet watched her disappear into the darkness of the corridor, the moonlight filtering in through the windows leading her way. Stepping into the room with a soft sigh, he closed the door behind him and approached your sleeping form. His father hadn't stepped into this room much due to how busy she was with the chaos that broke out with your absence... but when she was in here, he saw the way she'd just stare at you, the pain in those stern eyes melting the ice and leaving behind a worried, foreign gaze that was rare to see on her.

Pulling a chair to the edge of the bed, he leaned his head against your slowly rising and falling chest, his eyes fluttering close in hopes of catching the tears that threatened to fall again. He wanted you to wake up so badly. It hurt to see you in this broken, weakened state. You were so pale and looked hollow, like all the life had been taken out of you. It was a terrifying sight that he could only barely comprehend. You have never looked like this before. You were always so strong and domineering.

He just couldn't believe it.

Fingers running through his blonde hair calmly is what made him flinch back to reality, his body reeling backward in surprise, yet the hand kept him there firmly. "Calm down, child... don't be afraid. It's just me." It was your voice, yet it sounded raspy and defeated, a slight slur to it from the lack of using it. Freminet froze and stared into the white covers of your bed, his tears dampening the soft fabric. But you didn't seem to notice his plight at first. He wanted to stay still, in case this was a dream. He was afraid that a single sudden move would make you fall back into your coma, the irrational thought plaguing him painfully.

"Mother..." "... Is this... heaven, after all?" You whispered, mind returning to the woman that haunted you. Surely, this must be the bliss before the storm. You imagined that soon flames and the hands of the children you've sent to their death would reach out and drag you down with them. And yet, all you got was the blonde boy pulling himself back again and grabbing onto your hand. "N-No! You're... you're alive." He stuttered out in panic and confusion, wishing someone else would help him, someone else could be here with you and take care of you much better than he could.

But once you processed those words of his, your heart skipped a beat in panic. The emotions finally caught up to you, and the surge of emotions made you attempt to sit up. Letting out a small yelp, Freminet attempted to hold you down and comfort you, knowing how you were about the house and your duties. The doctors had warned about this happening, too. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer strength you demonstrated despite everything that happened. Something which could prove deadly soon, if you didn't relax immideatly.

And as though the heavens had heard his prayers, the door to the room creaked open, and in came his Father, an unreadable expression on her face at the sight of your struggling form. You were alive and somehow filled with energy, which unnerved her a little deep down. This certainly was going against your bedrest orders. "Peruere, I... I'm sorry for disappointing you- I'll get back to my duties as soon as I-" Her hand rose, and your deafening silence came with it. Taking slow steps towards you, her hand came down to rest on top of her trembling son's head. A silent absolvation from his duties for tonight.

"It's okay. You have not disappointed me in the slightest. Now rest." Her voice was stern and cold like it always was, but beneath the icy surface, you could feel the warmth and worry spread through her like a wild fire. She didn't want you to feel this way, and you could tell that the state you were in hurt her deep down. You and your family were her only weaknesses. Wanting to ease her pain, you leaned back into the soft pillows, eyes not daring to look up at her anymore. Why did you feel so ashamed? Perhaps because you should have taken care of yourself better. If you had, then maybe you wouldn't feel like a burden now. As though she was reading your mind, Arlecchino gave her son a curt nod, which he immideatly took as his sign to reluctantly leave.

Silence now overtook you both until she sighed and took a seat in the chair Freminet was in earlier. The moonlight filtering in through the open window illuminated the side of her tense face, her unique eyes near glowing. It was a peaceful moment, despite the pain that now raked through your entire body and especially chest. You closed your eyes weakly in relief when you felt her clawed hand carefully caress your sweat drenched face, your throat feeling so awfully dry as you gulped.

"I... I need to get up... I need to go back to work." "Not for a while." "... For how long then." A week maybe, you hoped. It was more than enough. It was all you allowed yourself, and even that was pushing it. Your restless mind was spinning in circles at all the tasks it still had to complete, and you felt yourself at a loss for words when she shook her head with the faintest frown. She knew you too well. You were an open book she had read many times over and couldn't get enough of. "Six weeks. Perhaps even longer after, depending on your state-..." She stopped herself when she saw your body trembling, and in the dimmest moonlight, she saw tears glinting in your eyes.

"Please don't cry. This is for your own good. I was... afraid when I heard of what happened. In fact, I'm grateful that you are alive, my songbird." Oh, how delicate her words were. Her honesty was forever going to be proof of her undying love for you. The ache is your heart lessened at the gentle warmth that spread through you from her touch, her tone lulling you into the safety you've craved ever since you fluttered your eyes open again. If only the guilt left with it. "What of our children? I must've scared them terribly. Especially my poor Fremi'..." You whispered after a moment of contemplation. Arlecchino watched your sick, tired form with kind eyes that were only reserved for you.

She figured that you'd feel this way. You were always so desperate to prove yourself to absolutely everyone. Whether it was to her, your children, or even the entire organization, you wanted to show everyone that you were better than Crucabena. Yet no matter how many years past, and no matter how much you achieved, you were never able to realise the truth. You had always been better than her from day one. The moment you rebelled and refused to take her side on the day, Arlecchino defeated her was proof of it.

"Do not fret over them. The children are strong. It is you that we need to worry about now. Just take it easy and sleep." Her words were comforting, even if short and to the point. You trusted them with your life. And yet, the feeling of being a burden just creeped up your body until you fell into a restless slumber once more.

The next few weeks were filled with nothing short of attention and borderline spoiling from all children in the house and beyond. Whether young or old, they all took care of you in the same way you cared for them. Something you could only barely handle. You felt like you should be doing that for them only, never the other way around. Yet under your wife's iron gaze, you were left with no choice but to accept your fate and stay put in bed or, on the rare occasion, in the living room near the fireplace. Lyney and his siblings especially took charge of your care, and you couldn't help but feel guilty at what you've put them through. You had attempted to apologize to the young man plenty of times for simply collapsing the way you did in front of him, but he'd always wave you off with a gentle smile. One they all attempted for you to mirror again.

The magician and Lynette would perform small shows just for you, knowing how much you enjoyed their tricks. Freminet, who was practically glued to your side, would read books with you about sea animals, whilst the other children brought you tasty pastries and food. The house was kept spotless by everyone, and you didn't have to lift a singular finger. And your wife was more affectionate with you in her own special way. Gentle kisses and careful, early morning cuddles were the norm, despite her reluctance for physical touch beforehand. You could tell through her actions that the state you were in had hit you deeper than she was most likely aware, and it didn't help the small guilt that was still left in your heart. All she had left from her old life was you. The woman she considered her wife and the mother of the house.

And by the time you've mostly recovered fully, you realised that the past wasn't haunting you anymore. Crucabena's strict hold on you had faded away, even if you knew that she was simply waiting for your arrival in hell one day. But your small revenge would leave her seething, absolutely enraged for years to come first.

In fact, it felt so good to be alive now.

[suzukiblu]

Do you read much fic yourself? and if u do, do u have any recs?

I kinda read fic in fits and starts, to be honest? Like it ebbs and it flows, pretty much, hah. So sometimes I read a TON of it and sometimes I pretty much don't read any at all. So like, currently not really, but previously enough that I def DO have recs, haha.

Not an exhaustive list of my faves, just some random Good Ones I can think of off the top of my head ( all some variant of DC or DPxDC ).

( also def read the tags on these, there's def some tags on a few of them that at least some people would wanna know about before reading. )

Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire ( YJA!Conner gets Super-adopted, interdimensionally-speaking. Fully the inspo for that "the last son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" WIP of mine, for the record. )

I Want It That Way by WynterSky ( Tim/Kon but make it 90's and also an emotional rollercoaster. )

Stress Relief by daemoninwhite [ nsfw ] ( Kon goes to a sex club in space for some free-use/stuck-in-wall-style stress relief and gets exactly what he wants. )

Jasmine Luthor by Die_Erlkonigin6083 ( Jazz finds out her biodad is Lex Luthor and literally does not care until she finds out CONNER Luthor exists. )

The Unnecessarily Dramatic Death of One Jasmine Fenton by Rowan_the_Escapist ( Jazz and Jason meet at a party and it all goes to shit pretty quick. fyi I will chew on this worldbuilding and also this version of Jazz/Jason until I ALSO die. )

Lazy Sunday by Faeriekit [ nsfw ] ( . . . I did not think I'd be so into Jason/Tucker but uhhhhh turns out I'm real into Jason/Tucker and especially into Jason getting consensually hypnotized into a househusband while absolutely desperate for his boyfriend Dom to fuck him, go fig!! )

The French Mistake by Vamillepudding ( The wrong Bruce is in this reality but he's a much better dad than the right one, so is that really a problem?? )

Buy One, Get One by iselsis ( Incubus!Jason gets rescued/surprise-adopted by Batman and then tries to figure out if it's safe to ask Bruce to save his succubus!mom from his shitty dad. )

Catherine/Bruce Medieval AU by iselsis and PotatoLady ( I am not emotionally well about this whole entire concept, hahaha. Omegaverse medieval AU where Bruce beats Willis in a fight and therefore wins whatever belongs to him. Which in this scenario includes Catherine and Jason. )

bystander by greeneyedfirework ( Batfam omegaverse where alpha!Jason finds a messed-up Robin!Dick in heat and it is a Problem(tm). One of the specific genre of omegaverse-Robins-in-distress that was inspo for the "Robin gets nested" WIP. )

Eyes Like Kryptonite by dragonez ( Lena Luthor gets a strange Kryptonian on her balcony who doesn't know if he's from an alternate reality or time-travelling and wants specifically HER help. Kara/Lena. )

your ghost i will gladly bear by merils ( Interdimensional Timkon featuring two Robins on a rooftop while they're both dead. THIS CONCEPT, I LOVE IT. )

This isn't how things are supposed to go. But we've always been unorthodox. by RenkonNairu ( Please and thank you for this slightly niche and highly interesting omegaverse take including omega!Kon, bless. Also Tim/Kon and Bruce/Clark, accidental and deliberate and deliberately-AVOIDED bonding, and the shitty version of Lex/Clark. )

Fairy Godbrother by envysparkler ( Batbrothers accidentally-on-purpose decide to meddle in another reality's version of themselves in quick succession, or over the course of several years, depending on how you timestream it. )

. . . . . . like, just go check out thebodydies and Briarwitched, I cannot effectively narrow down the options there, haha, just gooooo.

[andauserene]

Can i request shattered glass reader that is an autobot, and the normal version are good friends with the normal autobots, and shattered version meet the normal autobots and decepticons?, i really dont mind which characters, i like whoever :)))

( I love your oshi no ko reader fic btw :33 )

No pressure lol!!

A/N : Hello anon! I've seen your request but unfortunately, I'm pretty busy and cannot find time to properly think of an idea, butttttttt now I can and sorry if this isn't what you wanted. :) And also, I'm very happy you're willing to reach out to me and asked. I'll answer everyone's submissions and requests, but it'll take time. My active hours are mostly day time, or afternoon, and probably Friday to Sunday. Thanks again!!🫶🏻

Warning!! : A little bit OOC. Maybe not related to the main storyline. Mostly hcs and mini scenarios. Gore, mentions of blood, murder or death of minor characters, mentions of abuse (mentally and physically), dark themes, me being a bit suggestive in this story. *wink wink* ;)

Shattered Glass x Normal AU

Optronix Prime (SG)

You were Optronix's most trusted righthand bot, often comes out with a very effective and efficient plan that makes the merciless Prime always praises your skills, and makes a you a role model to the other Autobots.

"Do you see how [Y/N] took down that Decepticon alone? That is how you all must do in the battlefield."

You of course follow his rules and orders, often carrying out important missions he couldn't just tell someone else to do.

And you'll return to him with nothing but victory and glory. And some of the cons' heads.

It's soon becomes clear to you that due to his darker side, he's very manipulative and possessive of you.

It was quiet scary, Optronix never thought he'll find someone he could rely on without having a processor ache just from thinking what could possibly gone wrong.

He adores you with Words of Affirmation, Gift Giving, and Quality Time. That are his love languages for you. :)

As for your love languages? May be vary, but he appreciates them.

But shhhh, one thing I'll tell you ; Optronix absolutely adores Acts of Service and Physical Touches from you.

Your servos and digits caress and massage him so good that he swore he will literally have you as his Conjunx Endura.

Don't get it wrong, he's very sore and have pained wires and coils, to the point you sometimes let out an inaudible wince at how hardworking the Dark Prime is.

When facing dangers, your opponent or archenemy is probably Soundwave.

The kind, loyal, and patient 'con whom take care of the humans really well. Thinking about him makes you feel sick.

And don't worry, Optronix will annihilate him. After all, what's a good Conjunx if not helping their Sparkmate?

Just be careful though, when it comes to berth, safe to say that he'll take all parts of the bed and you. ;))

Goldbug (SG)

Do you even know him? Now you do. :)

He thinks you're cute as hell, but says or shows nothing about it.

When Optronix paired you with him, he just nods and then walks away, expecting you to follow him.

Bonus if you look like a clumsy, cutesy lil' bot and maniac, sadistic, psycho the next.

Goldbug doesn't show it, but he clearly likes how you're so small compared to him. I mean, look at the second pic of him! If he's small in normal AU, then he's def taller in SG.

Will try to impress you by showing a bit of his personality, which he very rarely shows to make you feel honored.

Once he's sure about it, he will comm-link you out of blue and make it as if he's in need of help.

Bumblebee is a mischievous mech, so I don't think Goldbug is different. He's just good at hiding his personality.

So when you panicked, thinking he's dead, he will suddenly woken up and kneel in front of you.

Goldbug is surprisingly gentle as he holds both of your servos and asks you tp be his Conjunx Endura.

Now, there are two scenarios :

One, you accept and jump to his servos, but not before you slap his arm quite harshly as your cry errupts. Goldbug wouldn't mind, knowing you're caring towards him.

Probably into saying things like, "Oho, scared of my death, aren't you?" and "Don't worry about me sweetspark. How about worry for your lil' self? 'Cause I ain't leave that beautiful frame of yours unclaimed." :>>

Two, you will stare at him dumbfounded before you turn around and walk away, making Goldbug stares at you in disbelief and hurt before-

-you jump at him and say "Yes!" multiple times. And "Please don't do that, my Spark almost jump out of my Sparkchamber..." as you sniffle in his arms. :'^

From that day on, as you fight with a few Decepticons, Goldbug secretly talks about you to a barely alive 'Con that you're his Sparkmate for life, Conjunx Endura forever, and not a single soul should be bless with her affection as he does.

Eh, nevermind, he thinks.

You'll always be his, now and forever, this life and another life. Nothing will separate you and him, not even time itself.

Optimus Prime (TFP)

You're an Autobot, yet... why is the insignia purple?

Oh scrap that, you're awfully evil for an Autobot! Optimus thinks to himself.

Even when he confronts to you about your acts, you bite back at him by saying "You're so soft and gentle for an Autobot leader, just like Megatronus!"

Hold up- Megatron? Gentle and soft? What?

"What do you mean by that? Megatron is nothing but conquerer and destroyer!" --Optimus to you, in disbelief.

"Optronix, what're you talking about? Megatron is the softest 'Con ever! His loyal Decepticons are fake ambassador of peace and coexistence!" --You to Optimus, thinking he's Optronix, just in different paintjob.

"What?" --Optimus to you in a neutral yet bewildered expression.

Oh, this is interesting. A Decepticon in Autobot's facade, this will be juicy~

When he thinks you're a threat to other Team Prime members, Optimus will definitely catches and arrests you.

Not like in a jail, but in a special room where only the Matrix of Leadership can open. He designed it by himself.

As you grumble about "Let me out!" and "Frag you, Not Optronix!", he will slowly consoles you, distracting you from your distress.

Optimus is very very very patient and gentle mech, often asking your opinion and mind so he can understand you better.

As the time past by, you realize one thing ;

"Scrap. I fell in love with a fake Optronix." --You to yourself, faceplate bright blue in realization and embarrassment that rarely surface.

And Optimus too, in fact, realizes he fell for a fake Autobot.

"I never recall an Autobot awfully evil like her... yes, I will fix her." --Optimus thinks, recalling and planning to fix you. Literally.

When the time is right, when he definitely fixes and changes you, he will request your presence.

With wary eyes from other Team Prime members, especially Arcee, you begin to drive to the destination Optimus asked you to.

"Will you be my Conjunx Endura?" --Optimus kneels in front of you, asking this out of nowhere.

At first, he is a bit shaken by your unsure expression.

But then, he loves it when you actually smile sheepishly and says "Yes, I will." in a cute, quiet tone.

Team Prime is a bit... shocked about this, to say the least, but hey, as long as the Big Boss is happy, they're happy too. :)

Your habits of slaughter, genocide, suicidal, and such have decreased a lot.

And yes, Optimus did changed you. Literally, and... metaphorically. >:)

🍫

Note : I'll divide this to two parts. Part one with SG Optimus and Bumblebae, part two with Original Bumblebae and Autobots. I think I'll use TFP for ori!AU, bcs it's a masterpiece.🫶🏻🧸

❄️

Do not copy my writings! Tag if inspired! Transformers and all related characters are trademark of Hasbro. All rights reserved.

♡~ @sereneisstillhere

♡~ @soundwave-is-far-superior

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 13

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

I Need A Hero by @theroyalsavage

The "Nico is a superhero, Will is a med student" AU nobody asked for or wanted.

OBSESSED WITH THIS AU OBSESSED WITH THIS AU OBSESSED WITH THIS AU. I AM LOSING MY MIND AND HAVE READ IT SO MANY DOZENS OF TIMES. genuinely one of my top faces like its so fucking GOOD!!! the romcom romance of it all!! makes me lose it!!! the angst of loving someone who is constantly putting himself on the front lines!! the fear of not knowing if he's coming home!! being his healer, holding his life in your hands because he doesn't trust it with anyone else!!!! what if i rioted!!! what if i chewed clean through my ceiling!!!!! what if i swallowed my phone!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what if i clawed my way out of the pit of despair!!!! i am!! gonna!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!

2. As If His Hands Were Enough (to Hold an Avalanche Off) by @theroyalsavage

Nico di Angelo has been through enough to know life doesn't always work out the way you plan. But fate is a funny thing, and, in Nico's junior year of college, it hands him salvation in the form of freckled cheeks and a smile like the sun.

OH dude this author is actually everything to me. prepare for an onslaught of their stuff bc i am OBSESSED, but this one especially....oh it's special man. this had me LOSING MY MIND. seph’s acceptance made its way into my devotion scrapbook. never be ashamed of loving anybody….what a fucking thesis. i also ADORED how a) story didn’t end with them getting together, went thru them learning each other too and b) nico didn’t get fixed by dating will. he got fixed by loving himself, something he learned to do by loving will. crying.

3. Of Gods and Men by @theroyalsavage

There is something profoundly strange about the forest behind Will Solace’s new house. The trees, it seems, breathe magic. The truth is this: there are things that the forest hides that humans cannot understand. Nico di Angelo is one of them.

I LOVE PARTICULAR AUS!!!!!! AND I LOVE YOU ROYAL SAVAGE!!!!! dude god nico and mortal will is always gonna knock me flat bc its so canon, you know? will is going to be a consort of a god one day. and to read it in fic has me HOWLING but this one in particular....OH the ending is gonna knock yall flat fr!!! if you like percy refusing immortality for annabeth youre gonna LOVE this!!

4. Kitchen Nightmares by @theroyalsavage

Nico is the owner and head chef of an upscale restaurant in Hell's Kitchen, New York City. There's nothing easy about running a business, especially when you have to juggle an overprotective father, a college-age sister, and a staff about as under control as a stampede. The last thing Nico needs is a rival in the form of the ugliest food truck on the face of the planet. And yet, that's exactly what he gets. Of food fights, fledgling friendships, and Nico di Angelo's stupid little soft spot for Will Solace.

i know ive literally said it like five times now but NO ONE does an au like theroyalsavage idc. dude romeo & juliet but food truck and fancy restaurant?? hello!!!! omg!! i literally sat my ass down and devoured this i could not stop myself. and then i hit the end and started it right back up again. the love without having the space to establish anything….inherent homoeroticism of rivalry…..my heart!!

5. don't wanna be lonely, just wanna be yours by @theroyalsavage

Will Solace, café manager extraordinaire, just wants to coast through their monthly open mic night in peace. He definitely is not banking on meeting a handsome stranger with the voice of the gods and the death glare of a high-ranking member of the KGB. And yet, that's exactly what he gets.

telling someone you’re not even dating you’re in love with them after like five months is insane behaviour will solace i get you 😭😭 he is so real in every scenario all the time like he is genuinely perfect for nico who is equally as insane and deserves someone who is fully obsessed with him. god.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[moonlightdancer26]

I have a confession to make

I’ve been starting to love Snack (Snape x Sirius) more than Snupin. I’ve been feeling this way for around two months ever since I read my favourite Snack fic, and I genuinely cannot get them out of my head. I’ve always loved Snack, Severus and Sirius are some of the best HP characters (in terms of how well-written and interesting they are) in my opinion, but I’ve always loved Snupin. It’s been my number 1 favourite HP ship for years, and no other ship has ever rivalled it, until now.

I feel like this post is going to come off as random and not a big deal at all, but it really is to me. 😭 I feel like I’m betraying Remus with my love for Severus and Sirius together, especially since the fanfic I read portrayed Remus in a realistic but somewhat unlikeable light, which genuinely gave me an entirely different perspective on the Marauders’ friendship and Snape’s relationship with each of them. I think this fic shocked me so much because, in Snupin fics I’m used to the authors bashing Sirius for the prank and for the way he treated Remus and Severus, and Remus ditches Sirius and James and goes to be with Severus. Therefore, in Snack fics I was always used to the authors treating Remus well (because if Snape can forgive Sirius, he can definitely forgive Remus), however in this fanfic, the way Remus was treated was pretty blindsiding and is honestly an interesting way to look at things. He wasn’t mentioned much, yet he still managed to leave a presence in my mind.

Not only that, but the fanfic made me love Sirius as a person so much more, my heart ached for him throughout the fic and his extremely complicated relationship with his family hits too close to home. And it made me realise just how much potential Sirius and Severus had, that fanfic explored said potential perfectly and nailed both of their characters. They truly would’ve made an amazing couple, or at least a hilarious duo, in another universe.

Anyway, that’s just how I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks, now I literally cannot go a day without my brain being flooded by thoughts and scenarios of Snape and Sirius. I actually cannot get enough of them now, if any of you have fanfic recommendations PLEASE tell me. I am not okay.

[P.S. For all the curious people, the fanfic is Turmoil by Metalomagnetic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41189520/chapters/103257384. I totally recommend. Slight TW for the first chapter (I was slightly put off myself), but I promise it immediately becomes amazing.]

[dilutedconfusion]

I love the way you write! I love Kid! I need Kid!! 😩

Anyway, happy to rewad whatever you write, but if this request inspires you, by all means, I would LOVE to read it.

I'm thinking about some protective, possessive stuff! Reader gets kidnapped and subdued. Or gets beaten, life hanging by a thread.

And Kid just goes ape shit. NSFW obviously because Kid is going to rip some troaths and all that protectiveness makes reader a little crazy.

Does this tickle your fancy? Writer's choice on everything, really. I would just love a crazy protective Kid.

Kudos for all your work and thank you for sharing your talent! 👏🏻❤️

I’M SO DEEPLY SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME. I don’t know how long this request was sitting in my inbox but I APOLOGIZE and I hope this fic makes up for it 🧎‍♀️

OKAY besides that you didn’t have to be that nice 🫵 Like seriously making me blush and stuff you’re so sweet ilysm🤭 And since I literally cannot control myself I went a little overboard. I wasn’t planning on writing so much and I wasn’t planning on making it so intense I suppose. But you asked for possessive, life hanging by a thread, kidnapped scenario so here you go! I should’ve made it more NSFW in the more sexual way less gore way. But alas this request is more horror and fluff than anything. Oh and I also made the pronouns gender neutral because you didn’t specify so I hope that’s okay with you! I need to write more gender neutral readers anyways so it was a good excuse. I hope you enjoy it!

Shades of Red

Eustass Kid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You got kidnapped by bounty hunters. Suffice to say you and Kid aren’t taking it very well. Kid goes a little crazy and does some particular bloody things. It has a good ending though so no worries👍

Horror?? And Fluff I suppose.

Warnings: LOTS of explicit gore and blood.

Word Count: 8.1k

Water was thicker than blood.

Well, you had always known that. From your first cut as a child that was an otherworldly sting. It had felt so foreign from your previous non-existence. Pain was juvenile to you. Something to be feared in its unknowing nature. Something that would stain clothes. Stain water.

There was specific soft vignette of red reminded you of the way light looked behind your eyelids. Warm with light yellow tones around the edges. The tingle of your smooth skin left you to almost sparkle. A man adorned in all shades of red as if it was the only color that fit him.

As if it was the only color you ever wanted to look at. A color you desperately tried to view positively despite what was happening. Despite the splatters around you.

You hadn’t felt the sun in a while. Skin growing paler and colder with each passing night. The sun was a mere sixty feet above you since the earth swallowed you whole. An insistent dripping against your scalp made you want to snap your jaw in half. Digging into your skull to rip out the part of you that could still feel.

A puddle of water lay at your feet. The water from the unstable ceiling would constantly drip downwards. Drifting onto the chains that held up your arms to keep you on your knees. Swirling down your bruised wrists and dripping from your elbows. Going down your spine with a consistent cold shiver running through you. Your eyelashes dripped like crystals as your head hung low. Watching the water drip off your chin or the tip of your nose.

The puddle of water beneath you was stained red. Letting you watch as your blood swirled in its mirror-like gaze. Face to face with yourself until another drop landed and ripples formed.

The same sight over and over again. The same pain over and over again for what felt like weeks.

But you knew it hadn’t been that long despite how the hours crawled forwards. It took a lot of work being captured but at least the water kept you clean.

Your kidnappers wouldn’t want their little plaything any other way.

There was no enjoyment in watching you bleed if you were already bloody. They liked to start a fresh slate to give the blood some contrast.

Nothing has been explained to you. Not a single peep of why you were here, what they were trying to achieve, and why they decided to keep you alive. Any person who walked through the iron door in front of you stayed close to silent. Only opening their mouths to give orders or berate you. Those orders were always just to eat your food under the watchful eye of a guard. To get up and follow them to the bathroom during scheduled times. Not another beaten to near-death person in sight. It seemed like it was just you and them down here surprisingly. Either that or they wanted to make it seem that way. There wasn’t even a request made or some form of labor being put onto you.

You always listened because frankly, you had no other choice. These chains were tight and you were always guarded. As strong as you were, you were still weak. And as smart as you were, you had made the horrible decision to venture off on your own.

Some stupid fucking idea Kid would’ve called it. You could hear his yelling and screaming over you now. Pacing the tiny cell and telling you how much of an idiot you had been. How he had ordered you to stay with your assigned group on this last mission. That he expected more from you and he’d never seen you act this stupid. How he would leave you behind next time because he didn’t want to deal with your shit anymore.

Yet he cried the first time you got badly injured. Held you like a baby and took you to the infirmary just to scream and break an innocent chair. You never took his fits seriously because underneath it all you could feel guilt coming off him in waves. You could see the fear fermenting in a supposedly fearless man's eyes.

You supposed that keeping you captive, keeping you docile enough to not try anything, was a way to lure Kid into some kind of trap. He was a man with a high bounty and a lot to lose. And they must’ve guessed his lover was something worth fighting for.

But it had been too long and your throat grew tired of screaming and cussing out the world. They had you locked up tight, underground, on an island you traveled to by boat with your head stuck in a sack the whole ride there. Every box was checked off when it came to the perfect kidnapping. Nobody had even seen it happen so they had to have left some sort of cryptic note for the crew to find.

Or at least you hoped so.

There was a slim chance that they had no idea what happened to you. That this place was just a pit stop until you got sold to the Celestial Dragons. Or maybe until they worked out a deal with the navy for your head.

You desperately pleaded and hoped that these people were greedy. That whatever amount of money the dragons would pay or the small sum of your bounty wasn’t enough for them. They wanted Kid and all his other higher-ranking members so at least they would know where you are. They would be coming after you.

Yet thinking like that kept you in a whirlwind of guilt.

I fucked up. I deserve to die here. They shouldn’t…no…they can’t get involved in this. Their dreams are too important to get caught right now. Right when we were so close.

At some point your pain, your suffering, and self-loathing almost became…comical.

The mirth of it came out in crazed laughter. Looking down at yourself in the puddle's reflection as your laughing permanently bounced around the stone walls. A big smile on your face yet your eyes were screaming. Leaving an ominous, nearly insane echo to be heard throughout the facility.

The room was small and enclosed around you. Your eyes were dizzy as the world spun. Before the weight of reality struck you again, bringing you down from your manic high. Heart beating in your ears as you gasped for air, tears streaming into the bloody puddle once again.

Pain wasn’t juvenile to you anymore. But the more you lost yourself, the more you started to wish it were.

—————

This pain was juvenile. New and fresh despite being torn from an old wound. As if someone had dug into Kid's brain just to remind him of exactly how it felt to lose. Exactly how it felt to be hopeless once again.

He thought he would’ve known what to do, how to handle this. And for the most part, he did.

But in the empty cold spaces when no one was around. Whether that was the bathroom, his room, or the silent deck in the night, he broke.

There was no more sucking it up, no more biting his lips, no more anxious scratching of his skin or grinding of his teeth that could save him from the way he felt.

It should’ve been me.

Oh, how he wished he was angry and dare say he was. When Dive had informed him that you weren’t with her. That during a raid in your small group off in the safer corner of the fight, away from him you, had disappeared.

Just poof into thin air without informing anyone of where you went.

He had lost it.

That village burned that night. Warm fires in every inch, every crevice, and every person mauled. Each one of them did not know what happened. Not a boat spotted leaving the island. Not a single trace of where you had gone.

That anger hasn’t stopped. It’s still just as potent, just as ferocious and terrifying. More blood-curdling and scream-inducing than hell itself. Kid had felt more people's bodies go cold in his grip in the last few days than he had most of his life.

He wanted to feel it. He wasn’t killing for convenience so an annoying crowd surrounding him would break. He wanted to hurt people, to kill the right person as brutally as he could in case they had any chance of being involved with your disappearance. He took down that village of thugs, burned and quartered every man on a passing ship, and started bouncing to all the nearby islands looking to do just the same.

But so far he’d come up empty. Not a sign, not a note, not a welcomed reunion between the two of you. He’d walk into a building or down into the deeper levels of a ship screaming your name. Eyes blurring to find no one but the dead. All that hope in him snuffed out to embers. His crew watching little parts of him die.

So amid silence, when the pain that he should’ve been handling, that he should be familiar with resurfaced, he cried. He’d kneel over on the floor or press himself against a banister to weep. That low rugged voice gasping for air as he struggled not to choke. Wiping his eyes, his hands reaching out and grasping at the air for childlike comforts. The remembrance of your soft skin dancing along his fingers. Your soothing voice told him that it was going to be okay. He could nearly see you in front of him. Those eyes of yours filled with so much love for a fool like him. His chest hurt so bad he could feel bile building up in his throat. Swallowing it down through wet sniffles and snot-covered lips.

He was a mess. If he didn’t find you soon…he didn’t know what he would do. He wondered if you left on purpose. That you didn’t love him anymore and left without saying anything. Without taking any of your belongings because you were so utterly desperate to get away.

Finding his touch disgusting, his love suffocating, and his personality exhausting.

He wouldn’t have blamed you if that was the truth. It took a lot to love someone like him which is why it's never happened before. At least not in a romantic way.

He never told anyone that he thought this. Because he knew that they would all brush it aside. Saying that you would never leave him and you were far too in love with him to do something like that. But the idea dug in like a lobotomy through his eye. It was piercing him until he tore apart into someone he wasn’t. His face just shards in a broken mirror.

He needed to know what had happened even if you did leave on purpose. Because on the chance that you didn’t, that someone had hurt you, then there was a price to pay in blood.

And Kid intended to squeeze out every last drop of it.

—————

It had been a normal day underground.

The newspaper was in his hand as he slumped slightly in his chair. The hallway is just as cold as ever. The watch on his wrist ticked and the camera's persistent red light monitored the area.

He knew he couldn’t doze off. After the captives' recent round of hysterical laughter, he knew they were on edge. Of course, he had solved the problem as was ordered. Bringing earplugs just in case the laughing kept going on but the brass knuckles seemed to do the trick. But of course, he and the other men had made a bit of a mess. The whole room smelled of copper from the blood and could nearly smell it oozing out of the cracks of the door.

It was as if it was still painting his skin with that lovely shade of red. Darkened and dried into the cracks of his hands as he washed it off. Now leaving him without a trace, hoping to chase that high again despite this person being ‘precious cargo’.

Though you couldn’t have been that precious considering they were pawning you off to the navy. They usually wanted all bounties dead or alive. But this was a special case where the navy wanted you alive for questioning. And that no matter how much his boss wanted to, they couldn’t question the captive under certain terms. They were bounty hunters, not pirates, so any shred of information about this big-shot Eustass Kid was like gold to them.

I don’t know why we’re not interrogating them anyway. They already look like they're losing a couple of screws, might as well dig deeper and see what pops up. It's not like the navy will figure it out.

He let out a little grunt of anger, flipping to the next page with a grimace. His boss was a careful man with very specific plans. Finding this little victim perfectly alone and ripe for the taking was a strike of luck. But because his boss was always prepared for an opportunity, they snatched you up while on the run off an island. Taking to sea as a raid ensued and followed suit to their hideout so hidden not even the town uptop knew about it.

They had done this before and they would do it again. There were even a few other inmates locked up in different sectors. They were never allowed to see each other just in case they tried some kind of revolution. So they all roamed the halls and went to the bathrooms at different times. It was the perfect kidnapping scheme. Letting them slowly rake in the big money without putting themselves in danger.

He heard a rattling of chains from inside the room. Starting slow but slowly getting a bit louder. A light rumbling came from it as the unstable ceiling pinned with metal to hold up the chains groaned.

He slapped down his newspaper in his lap, turning his head towards the door with a yell. “Shut the fuck up in there! You need something, you're going to have to wait for it!”

He turned back to his newspaper letting out a little groan as the rattling stopped. Not a single word came through the door so clearly it was for nothing.

Goddamn, I swear they just do this shit to mess with me.

He shifted a bit in his seat to get more comfortable. Smacking his lips as he eased down. Taking a quick look at his watch to check how long it was until they were given another scheduled bathroom break.

An hour? I swear if this motherfucker pisses themselves again I’m going to hose them down till they bleed.

Another grumble of annoyance rose in his throat. Rolling his eyes a bit as he scratched at the back of his head. Suddenly he heard the same stupid chain rattling. This time much louder and quicker as it scraped and groaned at the ceiling. Cracking his jaw before slamming down his newspaper on the floor and getting up. Opening the small slot just at eye level to look inside.

“I swear to fucking god if you don’t quit that shit right now say goodbye to food for a while you piece of shit!” He watched you with a burning in his eyes. Your face tilted downwards towards the floor like always. Unresponsive and half-dead looking from all the wetness crawling over you. Like some sort of bog demon rattling at the chains and tugging on them incessantly.

He slammed on the door trying to gain your attention. The loud metal banging didn’t make you flinch in the slightest. “Hey! Do you hear me right now you crazy bitch? If you don’t stop I’m coming in there and you know what that means.” He nearly growled, his voice presently hungry for another beating session.

You didn’t stop, if anything you made it worse. Flinging your weak body a bit as you gripped onto the chains. Putting your weight into it so the metal slammed against itself. The stone ceiling crumbling a bit as a rumbling ensued.

“God fucking damn it!” He screamed, his slightly sweaty hands gripping the key on his belt. Ripping it off him, he undid the latch and pushed the door open. His feet walked over blood stains and wet puddles as he latched the keys back on. Cracking his knuckles as he hovered over you. “Is this what you want?! Wanna feel my fucking hands beat into you?!” He quickly grabbed you by the hair tugging your face up to look at him. Your face vacant and almost lifeless.

You finally stopped rattling the chains and pulling at them. Hands falling limping and racking against the cuffs. He held his fist in the air ready to punch you. Looking forward to that sweet silence he oh so craved. But for some reason, the rumbling didn’t stop.

Your chains had already stilled. The ceiling still shaking slightly and sprinkling dust. A crescendo of rumbling shooting across the floor and up into his bones.

He looked up and around the room. Still holding onto your hair tightly as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Is that an earthquake?

But the rumbling got louder. Nearly chattering in his skull. His grip loosed slowly, letting you set your head down but you didn’t. You stayed looking up at him. Sweat was building in his palms when suddenly the lights went out all at once. Sharp static flickers and fuses snapping in time.

But then rumbling stopped. Filling the room with a dark silence so thick he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Grabbing onto his flashlight at his side he felt this horrible feeling of anxiety growing in his gut.

I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We’re prepared for an earthquake and this power outage is probably just part of it.

His thumb traced over the button to turn on his flashlight. But through the open door, he heard it. His body freezing in place as if he was frozen in ice.

It was screaming. Not just a light yell of panic or someone barking orders. It was true blood gurgling screaming coming from somewhere in the facility. Echoing off the stone walls as he slowly turned his head around. Pointing his flashlight at the cell entrance before flicking on the light.

It quickly filled up the space with a warm circle of light. But instead of the light shining onto stones in the hallway, it hit something else.

A wall of blood in the shape of a man.

Bright and rich in color it reflected into the guard's eyes. It was visibly dripping and he could nearly feel the heat coming off of it. Not a spec of skin or clothing was visible from how thickly it managed to glob onto his wide demeaning chest.

The guard blinked as if caught in a dream. His mouth moved to say something but it was far too dry. As if all the life had been sucked out of him at that very moment.

He saw some sort of metal arm on the monsters left-hand side. His eyes carefully tracing down it in the dark to spot the shiny glimmers of blood of what looked like a human spine in its grasp, half of it trailing off onto the floor. The bones cracked loudly under his grasp, making the guard flinch backward, almost stumbling into you behind him.

The man sucked in a gasp of air. Tears filled his eyes at the horrid monster in front of him. Tilting the flashlight upwards until it reached the monsters face.

If he knew any better, he would’ve never done that.

His face was equally covered in blood. Slightly smeared around so bits of his pale skin shot through. His shiny scars and pinned-up goggles on his head gleamed light back at him. Damp hair from all the blood lying down onto his skin.

But the worst part was his eyes.

That burned into the guard's mind. So horrid. So piercing he felt his breathing stall. Almost choking on nothing as he felt himself passing out. The darkness around him turned darker but the monster wouldn’t allow that.

The monsters body bounded forward. His metal hand letting go of the spine as he dropped it with a wet thud on the floor. The wall of blood came closer with each loud thundering footstep. He grabbed the guard by the head, fitting his entire skull into his metal fist. Picking him up off the floor easily and clamping down around his skull. Feeling it splinter and almost cave under the pressure. The guards screams were muffled as he clawed at the metal arm. Kicking his feet in the air and almost hitting you in the process.

The monster turned towards the door once again, away from you before the final snap ensued. A loud deafening crack and then nothing but the sounds of warm blood sputtering on the floor. The man's flashlight fell to the ground. Rolling across the stone to cast an eerie light across you.

The room stayed silent for a while before he dropped the man's body to the floor carelessly. Blinking tirelessly to spot the monsters shadow in the dark with tear filled eyes.

“K-Kid?” you murmured. Your voice was so rasp and weak he could barely hear it. Turning around to face something he could hardly stomach to see.

His eyes traced over you like he almost didn’t think you were real. Soaked from head to toe in water, you kneeled in front of him in a pool of blood. Dark deep bruises on every visible limb. You’re lip cut and swollen as it wobbled from the tears. Tears coming out of a very prominent black eye with red lacerations all around your face. Your clothing torn and in shambles, as they stuck uncomfortably tight to your wet skin.

Kid had seen the inside of many men but the sight of you nearly broke him apart.

Your disheveled features and colorless lifeless skin made his breathing hitch. Tears instantly flooded his eyes just to drip down his face. Mixing in with the blood now drying on his skin. His heart tore in two as he nearly fell into you. His large knees hit the hard ground and splashed up the puddle of blood. Wrapping you in a warm gooey hug he gripped his hand into your hair, shoving his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’m s-sorry…I’m so sorry…I’ll never let this happen again.” He croaked out into your ear between sniffles. Your hands were still bound so you couldn’t grip him. Just tugging at the chains helplessly as you let out a wry whimper of pain.

“K-Kid…” you mumbled, the crying getting even worse, “I thought I was dead…I-I missed you so fucking much. I’m so sorry I fucked up…I..” You trailed off into a whimper. Words escaping you as reality became as sharp as a knife, yet comforting as his touch.

Hearing your voice caused him to let out a weak gasp of pain. Trying to be gentle as he gripped his flesh arm around you a bit tighter. His metal one at your side, both arms desperately trying to not put pressure on your wounds. With a little flash of purple lightning escaping his hand and tingling the back of your head, your chains came off. Bruised weak wrists getting an instant relief as your arms swung down to land weakly onto his shoulders. The blood rushed back into them as you gripped him tightly, pressing your chest flush against his despite all the blood.

Without a word, he tucked his metal arm under your legs. Scooping you up easily, he kept your face pressed against his chest. Walking out into the hallway as his feet dodged the guard's body and left over spine.

“I want you to keep your eyes closed okay baby? Just stay up against my chest until we get out of here.” He mumbled to you softly. Listening to your staggered breathing as you cried on him.

You barely even heard him. Just shoving your face further upwards until you reached the crook of his neck. Closing your eyes as you tried to take deep breaths. Fingers nearly clawing into his sticky blood-stained back as if he was going to disappear.

Kid traced his bloodied footsteps back from where he came from. Finding a few splattered bodies along the way. The worst of it was at the entrance. Clasping onto the back of your head a bit tighter he dug his hand into your hair. Glancing weakly over at the piles of dead bodies still warm and oozing onto the floor.

Every single person in this underground facility was completely slaughtered and he made sure of it. The rest of the inmates the crew found in separate cells set free. Running out into the night with a smile and urgency like never before.

Honestly, he didn’t even realize he had gone so far until it was over. Having slashed every single person that came his way into loose mangles. Usually, he’d move on to the next person when a deathly slash was inflicted on them. But he couldn’t stop, rumbling the whole underground facility as he tore into stone and bone. Effectively splattering his entire body with a thick layer of blood.

A part of him still hadn’t calmed down since then. His eyes were still jumpy as he used his haki to check his surroundings. There was no relief for him until you were home, safe, and healing. No amount of blood could quell how his heart clenched for you.

His crew, who was guarding the entrance for any extra visitors, saw you curled in his arms. Some opened their mouths to say something but Kids eyes stopped them. Your sniffles turned to silence as you stilled against his chest. There would be no grand reunion until you were home. Exhaustion covered you like a blanket as he walked you out into the warm air of freedom.

—————

It was an aching feeling. First at the crux of your back on something far too stiff then into a plush embrace. Your head lulls backward into something to catch you. Tight itchy fabric fumbling you awake. Peeling your slightly crusted-over eyes open and expecting to see that same blinding light from before. To hear only the muffled voices of those around you as you barely stayed lucid. But the world had cleared and surprisingly you weren’t somewhere sterile, you were somewhere warm.

The rafters of the wood above you creaked as the boat shifted on the sea. The room was dark and drafty as a window nearby blew in sweet cold air. That familiar scent of the briny seaweed lapping at your nose. You tried to sit up and immediately were met with a warm hand across your chest, pushing you back down.

“Quit moving.” With a turn of your head against the pillow you saw Kid lying mostly naked on his stomach beside you. His hair was loose and hung a bit over his eyes and the back of his neck. Soft and relaxed and not spiked like most people saw it. One side of his pale face squished against the maroon pillow. Blinking at you tiredly in the low light of the dark.

“Shouldn’t I be…in the infirmary?” You mumbled, softly touching his hand now laying on your chest. Feeling along his fingertips and the deep scars on his skin.

He immediately grimaced at that, letting out a gruff groan as he sat up slightly to roll onto his side. Now facing you more directly but keeping his hand softly over your chest as if to feel your heartbeat. “I’m the Captain and I’ll put you where I want you. You didn’t need to stay there anyway. The worst is over and I’m watching over you. Like that doctor could ever take care of you like I can…”

He rolled his eyes, knowing damn well no one knew you like he did. He may not have the medical experience but he was going to take care of you, it's the least he could do. You watched him silently for a moment, chewing your otherwise slightly split lip tenderly. Your other free hand feeling at the bandages around your hips. The doctor seemingly left you only a roll or two away from being a mummy.

“I don’t…I don’t remember what happened.” You said a bit hesitantly. Everything after him saving you felt like a fever dream. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Kid could see the uncertainty written deep into your brow. Taking his hand and running it up to swipe his thumb over your cheek.

“I brought you home and patched you up. You mumbled and cried the whole time in the infirmary. Clinging onto me and whimpering like a dog through all the stitches,” he said with a slight huff of a laugh before mellowing back down into something solemn, “but you’re okay. Nothing severe.”

A little part of you eased into that knowledge. His hand against your cheek feeling like perfection.

I’m okay. You repeated in your head. Your eyes fluttering slightly as they became more foggy with tears. Wet crystal like droplets in the corners of your eyes.

Kid saw this and slightly panicked. Not wanting you to cry anymore, your eyes still puffy from all the tears you had already shed. He slipped his hand off your face and started to sit up. His big body making the bed shake a little as he started to stand up.

“I can go grab you some food. They put you on a IV from all the blood loss so you must be feeling shitty.” He mumbled, the cadence of his words a bit hitched and frantic. You quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging on it slightly to bring him back down.

“No…no it's okay. Maybe in a bit but…” you paused, his head turned back towards you as he watched the tears well up even more, “Kid I-”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He had cut you off. Leaving you to nearly let out a whimper of pain. You’re chest swimming with guilt as he lets you ease him back into bed. Sitting up and looking down at you with his legs crossed.

His face was starkly stiff as he watched you. Those golden globes of his muddy with feelings yet you barely even noticed. Having trouble looking right at him as you stared down at the bed. “But I fucked up. I mean I badly fucked up. I put all of you at risk and I acted so selfishly thinking I could go out on my own-”

“Baby it's fine.” You let out a shaky huff of air when he cut you off again. Not feeling at all comforted despite his version of ‘fine’. With your face becoming a mess of lines and reddened cheeks he could see you were hanging off the edge. And no matter how much he wanted to drag you off of it, no matter how much he didn’t want to see you cry, he let you talk. Your voice coming out in barely composed gasps.

“But it's not though. I just…I want you to know I’ll never do that again. I won’t go against your plans. I won’t be overly confident in the face of battle. I got myself in that mess and I can’t imagine how hard it was to try and pry me out. All that time wasted…” At this point, a tear had already slipped down your cheek. The side of your face pressed deeply into the pillow as if you were trying to burrow your way out of this. Not looking at him once. Just curling yourself up into a ball of shame in front of him.

He hated every second of it.

“Wasted? It wasn’t a waste because I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. Every person I killed and every single moment spent towards finding you instead of going after my goals was worth it. I’ll set aside days, months, years-shit my whole fucking life to find you. So stop that.” He paused, looking around the room for a moment to gather his thoughts. Your whimpers had gone a bit quiet. Looking up at him almost a bit anxiously from his annoyed tone. Not feeling any better despite how passionate he was about saving you.

You still were curled in a ball with tears in your eyes and he wanted anything but that. So taking another deep shaky breath he continued in a softer tone. “You can do whatever you want during a battle and we all know my plans aren’t foolproof. If I didn’t listen to you, if this whole crew didn’t listen to you on occasion, this boat would be 100 feet under. You didn’t put us at risk, we’re always at risk.” His voice was stern but sincere. Looking down at your gorgeous face despite the tears just hoping and wishing you understood how he felt.

“Quit making it sound like you did something wrong…” He grumbled, scratching the back of his head lightly.

You didn’t say anything right away. Letting his words stew and ferment in your mind. They eased down into something more manageable. The silence between you is a bit uncomfortable but necessary. Kid eyeing you with a worried expression as you slowly composed yourself. Using the back of your hand to wipe your tears as you sniffled lightly. Unfurling yourself a bit and un-shoving half your face out of the pillow.

“Did they leave a note or did you just find me?” You murmured out, voice weak but more steady. Kid didn’t expect that to be your first question, he wanted to hear you forgive yourself but he supposed seeing you calmer was enough. His fingers fiddlingwith the legs of his boxers a bit to distract himself from how nervous he felt.

“There was nothing. I went to all the surrounding islands before I landed on the one you were at. The ‘boss’ of that so-called operation was planning to give your head to the navy. Spineless slimy fucking bastard should’ve never touched you. Shoulda never left you out there.” He didn’t look at you much as he spoke. Chewing on his words a bit and thinking it over. He could still see that boss in front of him. Spine ripped out clean as he lay there on the floor. His little spineless joke had made a few crew members laugh, but he held himself back from trying it on you. It wasn’t the time.

“Kid, you were busy fighting the big shots. That’s how it always works. I’m the idiot who got swept up when no one was watching.” Your voice came out more pleading. Not expecting Kid to be talking bad about himself for what happened. To you, it seemed like it was completely your fault, but clearly, Kid thought differently.

“First off, you're not an idiot. Smartest damn person I know.” He exclaimed, pointing his finger at you. His eyes meeting yours in a much more serious tone. “Secondly, I’m keeping you closer from now on and we're making you a vivire card. I don’t know why I haven’t until now. What a fucking idiot move that was.”

You watched as he swept back his hair again. The very soft-looking curls of his hair becoming more fluffy as they sat in a cute-looking wave on his head. You eyed him a bit, eyes narrowing as you regarded yet another way he was putting himself down. “Well if I can’t call myself an idiot then you can’t either. So stop that. You…thought you were enough to protect me. To keep me by your side at all times. That’s not an idiot move because you do protect me. You always have.” You tried to say that with so much certainty that Kid could feel it. But of course, he still seemed a bit pissed. Looking away from you again and back down at his lap.

“Well, aren’t you being too kind to a guy who let you down…” You frowned at that. Knowing for a fact Kid wasn’t the kind of guy who liked talking about his feelings you didn’t decide to dig deeper. But you still wanted to know what happened. Why Kid seems so bummed despite you being safe.

“You…you were covered in blood when I saw you down there. What…happened?” You asked quietly, picking together parts of your memory to try to make sense of it.

He hesitated. Swallowing thickly before giving you the only answer that wouldn’t make him out to be so…horrible. “I did my job.” It was a good enough answer. He could see by the way your eyes squinted it wasn’t quite what you wanted but you didn’t say anything more. “And don’t worry. The crew hosed me down before I got on the ship. Didn’t want to stain the tub. I knew you woulda clawed my eyes out if I did. But I washed us nice and clean. Under your nails and behind your ears and everything. You just conked out on my chest…which was rather cute by the way.”

The idea of you asleep against his chest as he washed you made your heart skip. Feeling a small smile quirk at your lips imagining him taking care of you so well. “I…I missed bath time? Dang it. I can never convince you to take a bath with me usually.”

“Well, you can put me in another one of those death traps soon if you want to.” Kid let out a sigh, feigning annoyance but smiling down at you regardless.

“Good because I was going to guilt you into it again anyway.” You quipped, your smile becoming more mischievous as you gripped onto the blanket near you and hid part of your blushing face.

Kid couldn’t help but laugh at that a little. Eyes narrowing as he watched you, his voice coming far out more smooth and sweeter. “Of course you were.”

“Oh and umm…thank you for cleaning me up. I wasn’t going to claw your eyes out necessarily. Getting covered in blood wasn’t your fault or anything.” You mumbled, fingers now tracing the texture of the blanket as you spoke.

Kid watched you for a second before responding. Chewing the truth and deciding to ask just in case you did remember too much. “It sorta was…I mean I overdid it. You don’t…remember too much of it right?” His voice hitched a bit at the end there. Eyes more wide and expectant as if he knew you were going to nag at him for how…extra he had been.

“Too much of what? I mean…I remember the guard getting…crushed. I don’t think I could ever forget that. And seeing you all covered in blood is still pretty vivid in my mind.” You said innocently as if even that didn’t bother you. You knew Kid could be a cruel man in battle and had gotten used to it. So you didn’t get what he seemed so worked up about.

“Well…that’s not exactly ideal but better than nothing.” Kid stroked his hair again, a nervous habit that always gave him away. The corners of his eyes tightened and his gaze went anywhere but you.

“What? Did something bad happen after you saved me?”

“More like…before I saved you. And it was all over the ground. Lots of guts and gross shit I don’t need you seeing.” Kid's answer rolled off his tongue awkwardly and slowly as if he was cringing the whole way through it.

“You saying I can’t handle gore and stuff? You know I can.”

You piping up defensively instead of in utter disgust for him was a bit of a shock. Kids lack an eyebrow raised in confusion. Looking over you and seeing that in fact you weren’t barfing in your mouth a little.

Well then clearly they didn’t see it. They weren’t lying.

“Well it was especially…gross this time. Even Killer complained that I accidentally splattered him.”

Your eyes widened at that. Finally putting it together just how far Kid must’ve gone when battling that crew. You looked him up and down a bit more carefully and still didn’t see a single wound. Which meant it wasn’t for fighting reasons, it was for you.

“Really? Well…shit. Killer is like…the king of being chill with a bunch of blood on him. Must’ve been bad.”

Killer really was the king of being okay with blood and gore. It's one of the reasons Kid had become so proficient in handling it himself. So for Killer to complain despite being the very man that taught Kid how to rip spines out cleanly was unexpected. Dare say concerning.

“It…was.” Kid swallowed a bit thickly, still almost ashamed of how he acted despite how good it felt. He was mainly just worried about your opinion of him. He didn’t want you knowing how brutal he could really be but from the light smile on your face, he realized you took it more as a compliment than anything.

“Then um…thank you for protecting me and my soft little mind.” You reached out timidly and touched his knee in front of you. Patting his thigh softly before mindlessly tracing little patterns on his skin. It made sparks fly up his spine feeling the soft pads of your fingers on him. His cheeks turning red as he watched your hand. Not at all interfering with the little ways you showed him you cared.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He said quietly, pausing for a moment before chewing on another thought. It made him nervous to say this. Hell, he would rather talk about anything else. But with a feigned layback attitude, he let it go. His heart far too heavy to keep it inside anymore. “Ya know…for a second there I thought you mighta left me. Got tired of the whole pirate life. Found some other man…to wash behind your ears.”

You listened to his soft mumbling, eyes hazy with tiredness now turning sharp from the shock. “Wah-Why would you ever think that Kid? I’d never leave you. Even thinking about it is making me uncomfortable.” You stopped tracing his thigh. Instead, planting your hand firmly onto it. Your head perking up out of the pillow to look at him more.

Kid half expected you to say something like that. You were always the more vocal one about your feelings compared to him. Whilst you were screaming at the tops of your lungs how much you loved him, Kid would only croak it out in private. Pale skin always cast in an embarrassed flush despite how long you two have been together. “I know I know. I bet the crew woulda said the same thing if I had told them. That you’re too smitten and in love with me to just…leave.”

“Well of course I am! I’m pathetically in love with you and if I ever did leave, which is never happening in a million years, I would have told you beforehand. I’m not some sort of…cruel person to just slink away like that.” That last part made you both frown immediately. Your face strewn with pain and Kids full of guilt.

“I know you’re not, I know. I just got…scared that maybe…I was the one who made you go away.” He could feel his stomach drop saying that. Immediately regretting that he even brought it up. You were back and safe and telling him you loved him yet he still felt like he was the problem.

You could see that look of unsureness written all over his face. It made your voice go firmer, hand gripping his thigh a bit tighter as you leaned your body upwards. “Kid I got captured and nearly beaten to death. Why would I ever choose that over you?”

“I know that now but when I was looking for you…god, I don’t know. This conversation is stupid.” Kid flopped over onto his back. Bouncing the bed slightly as he pressed his head into the pillow. His eyes closed yet his lips tilted into a twitching frown. As if he was trying to tackle something going on in his head.

You’re brow furrowed and your heart ached. Bridging the gap between the two of you as your chest softly pressed against his arm. He popped his eyes open, feeling you move around and press up against him. His mouth immediately opened in complaint. “Stop moving already you need to-”

His words were cut off as you tucked his lips into a deep and needy kiss. Propping your elbow up and laying your chest against his wide one. One of your hands tracing up his pec, the other going up to softly play with his hair. Usually, he always took the led but you beat him to it. Lapping your tongue against his unpainted lips before slipping inside. Drinking him in with slow languid movements that were slightly rough from passion. His rigid body relaxed beneath you as his hand made its way to the arch of your back.

Biting softly on his lip as you pulled away, a surprisingly soft loving smile adorned your rosy cheeks as he stared up at you, nearly bewildered. His sharp honey eyes were wide and glassy. His sweet-smelling skin a beautiful shade of pink.

“I love you, okay? I won’t ever stop loving you. No amount of pain or mistakes or anything you think is wrong with yourself would ever deter me. You bleed for me, you bleed others for me, and you are the reason my heart's still beating. And even if you didn’t do any of that, if you were the most unsuccessful and incapable person on this planet, I would still love you. So please stop making up reasons why I wouldn’t love you because it's an insult to how much I do. Which is a fuck-ton if I needed to say it clearer.”

You simply smiled at him as he took all of that in. Blinking in surprise as a little gasp of air came out of him. The kind of breath that he was probably holding in. But as soon as he did he softened even more, a light smirk on his lips as his hand ran up your back to touch your hair. “Did you have that speech prepared or does being perfect just come naturally to you?”

You let out a little giggle at that. Kid always had a way of turning even the most intimate moments into something sweeter. “Well it was originally supposed to be a part of my wedding vows to you but I tweaked it a bit to fit the moment. Did I do a good job?”

“An amazing job. Though you thinking about marriage already is going to give me heartburn. But if I had any feedback to give, I would say keep the fuck-ton part in. Lays it on thick ya know?”

“Will do handsome.” You mumbled through a smile. Easing yourself into a more comfortable position and laying your head on his soft chest. His hand immediately pressed against your lower back. Rubbing his rough yet warm calloused hands across you. Staring up at the ceiling as he let out another deep sigh.

“I love you.” He whispered. Voice a bit more rasp and his face full of bliss.

“I know ya do dummy.”

[swampstew]

UNI REVERSE I LOVE U

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with up to five favorite fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAndie! I can't believe you've done this. Well, I did one version of this where I talked about my pretty much all my fics - however, this will go a little more detailed with other things I've done :)

Captain Kid's Fiery Passion - !Yandere Kid. I really enjoyed exploring a darker, crueler Kid that would take reader with no hesitation. I know I only scratched the surface of 'dark fic' with this one, but part of me is entirely too hung up on Kid being an actual cinnamon roll to his beloved that I can't really imagine him being mean mean. That doesn't mean the inspiration isn't there. I have plenty of questionable scenarios I'd like to write out, and my only fear is accidentally triggering myself XD

Spoiling Killer - this is my guilty pleasure. Subjecting my comfort characters to simple pleasures. I can't help writing rottingly fluffy stuff. It's my nature. And I'll do it again too. I won't stop until every crew member is given the pampering they deserve.

Meet the Kid Pirates series - Heat the HR Director and emotional support human! - We know SO LITTLE about this crew and their roles so I decided to make up roles and titles. IF we ever get canonized information, I will update these. However, this was meant to just be fun head canonning :) I was going to do every crew member but after...THAT...chapter, I was too depressed to continue. Still kinda am. BUT FRET NOT - I DO INTEND TO FINISH THIS! and also do the Straw Hats section. In time in time.

Ok, I know I said I was gonna limit this to the drabbles, BUT I JUST REMEMBERED, I also have a WIP book that's part of the What's the Magic Word? universe. Rowena's Future Vision! This is gonna be composed of just drabbles, thoughts, and ramblings of things I wanna see for my ship. Nothing is canonized until its written in the official book(s). This is my sacred space for adding more to Rowena's lore, her relationships with Kid and the world around them. It can kiiiinda be spoilery if you're not caught up to the main fic. Inspired by @abysscronica 's standalone fic "Emperors (dad!Kid x mom!Reader)" which is SOFCKING GOOD but also gave me the courage to write beyond my main fic and explore other themes and tropes that would not otherwise fit in WTMW? NGL I'm inspired to do a Stampede book too cause my mind literally cannot shutthefuckup about Kid and Rowena and making Kid stressed about showing off that he's a better Captain than Luffy, but I have too much on my plate already. I hope that's not stepping on your toes Abyss!!!!!

Ending on a collaborative note, it was a DELIGHT AND HONOR to host this collection of stories for Halloween 2023 with some of my dear moots. SUPER SECRET HALLOWEEN PROJECT was so much fun from conception to execution. I had so much fun envisioning the theme, and hearing from my friends how much they enjoyed being able to do something low-pressure and just for funsies. Plus being able to include fandom by voting on the best costume was really cool - and I'll take any excuse to commission @yamiyamiart ;) Shoutout to my crew: @quinloki @zoros-sheath @sanjis-all-blue @writing-yarn-goblin @icy-spicy @mewiyev @bulle-d-bulliver @leakyweep

[rinhaler]

Rin had you sprawled out on the expensive boucle couch he helped you pick out when the house was still being built. He gave mercy on your thighs, his usual iron grip replaced with feathery fingers gently keeping your legs spread, one hand caressing the soft skin of your leg, the other splayed across your mound with a skilled thumb teasing your clit back and forth. Soft, breathy moans bleed from your spit glossed lips, lifting your hips a little of the seat, his head that rests on your other thigh follows the movement.

“Please Rin, pleasepleaseplease, more baby, I want you so bad,” you couldn’t help but to be a pathetic, desperate mess even though he was barely toying with you. It was just already too much and not enough at the same time. You finally had your closest, most dear friend right where you wanted him.

Rin’s so fucking lost in your dripping cunt he can barely make sense of your pleas, but the better, more intuned half of him takes hold of your words and musters a reply. “I know you fucking do, hang on, honey, I’m getting to it.” He chuckles, so damn cocky, and you can’t stop the smile from taking over your face. Any type of laughter he ever grants you is a gift, something he really only reserves for you. His lips place a wet smack near the crevice of your thighs, so close yet still so far away from where you need him the most.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, before bringing it up to cup the underside of your breasts. “You had me drooling like a fuckin’ dog,” he begins, meanly twisting one of your nipples, trying to catch his breath and not look pathetic, “before I even had your panties off, so I’m gonna make sure you’re begging and crying until I give this pretty little pussy what she wants, you understand me?” Keeping his dominance, he spanks your cunt once, then twice, earning a high pitched whine from you.

You dumbly nod your head, “Yes, sir!!” The words leave you much too quickly for your liking, trying so hard to keep your regular cool composure, but let’s be honest, that went out the fucking window as soon as he gave you the right wrong look.

-

Hehehehehehehe I’m drunk n high I literally just wrote this in ur ask box lmfaoooo, I love writing under the influence it’s so nice 🤩 question/ statement: I totally think Rin would be a stoner if his gf was, like he can’t NOT participate with you when u get even more giggly and touchy than usual….thoughts? Luv uuuuuuu :D ‼️‼️ 🧋

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH THIS IS SO GOOD MY TOES ARE CURLING MY HEART IS POUNDING I'M SPEECHLESS HELP MEEEEEE omg I cannot wait for the full fic I'm DYING

also the fact that you wrote this in my ask box is making me think of when you'd let a friend doodle on your arm during class 😭😭 so cute

I'm so in love with this man and you're FUELLING ME LIKE CRAAAAZY omg thank you so much for the food.

In regards to Rin smoking I think obviously it depends on the AU or circumstance or whatever but whenever I think of Rin having a girlfriend I like to think he's really possessive and controlling. (This is very specific to me and my desires so please take with a pinch of salt). But I don't think he's a smoker and I think he'd actually be very against it and demand you not to smoke either. I like the idea of him punishing you for disobeying too 😏😏😏 I just think him and Sae are from a quite well to do family and I think he takes his career as a footballer too seriously to dabble in smoking.

Anyway that's just one scenario, obviously skater boy loser boy stoner boy would be way more into it than my iteration!

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

this is such a fucking stupid question but. do you have any advice for developing a good understanding of characters? like i wish i could put those guys into situations but it's like there's a mental block and my mind goes blank as if they're Unfathomable Real People Who I Cannot Possibly Hope To Ever Understand.

no not a stupid question! actually a really good question. it's such a good question in fact that i don't have a simple answer so i'm going to. word vomit onto the page and hope something sticks. i ramble like crazy so have a read more :)

precursor: i have to note that i feel like armand and daniel are the two characters i've like. Understood. more than any other characters in my life. i think that's because i relate to them both in very distinct but separate ways (we'll discuss that later) but i think it's also because. part of anne rice's writing and the show's adaptation is so determined to break these characters down to their fundamental parts. that's kind of the thesis statement of the books, even, that when you live forever you're no longer a "product of your time" but rather just you, yourself, and you kind of have to spend the rest of your eternal life figuring out who that is. so that to me gives both a flexibility and a set of basic building blocks for each character that you can play with.

that being said, here are a couple of ways i maybe go about building understanding:

option 1: the projectorrrrr (this is me most of the time)

if you like looking at your character and going "ha ha i do that" then that's awesome. do that! figure out what parts you relate to and think, okay, if the vampire armand was me, how would he react to my coworker saying this. alternatively, if i was the vampire armand, would would i do if i'd just broken a 500 year vow to myself?

this is where, like, critical thinking comes into play of course, because you are not the vampire armand and the vampire armand is not you. but 1) you're allowed to play around in the sandbox and have fun without constantly going "He Would Not Fucking Say That" because uhhh. this is fandom and we are doing this for fun and 2) once you to get to the point where you're kindly going "He Would Not Fucking Say That" you can then be like oh! well what would he say? because the contrasts are often as fun to explore as the comparisons

option 2: that's my friend

i also think you genuinely can view characters as Real People — but you can hope to understand them!!! or at least you can understand Your view of them, which doesn't have to perfectly match mine or anyone else's view.

this is going to sound crazy and part of the reason why i feel like i don't have a good answer to your question, but genuinely my best writing happens when i uhhh. hear them speaking. in my mind. this is literally a developed skill because like 4-5 years ago i was terrible at writing dialogue and it frustrated me + i never had good ideas for fics because i just wanted to write meta posts. so i was like. i'm going to get good at writing dialogue if it kills me. imagine you're talking to them or they're talking to someone else. look up writing prompt sentences (like on roleplay blogs if nothing else) and think about how they'd respond. i'm at the point where i'll decide on a situation and will sit in silence for a minute, imagine them like dolls in my head, and go "SPEAK!" and wait to hear what they'll say.

my final tip is to please please remember if nothing else that this is supposed to be fun and that at the end of the day it is just playing with dolls online with your friends. you're allowed to be wrong. in fact you probably will be. but that's okay! you can start small and be wrong and as long as you're having fun and enjoying putting your characters in scenarios it's all worth it

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.��� Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Hehe hiiiii! I have a thingy for ur bday month ! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ I feel like skz as a whole r justttt...like, sickeningly sweet. with each other, and especially in regards to lovers. Gods, can you imagine? I can see any of them being this way, but you gotta wonder if it would amplify an already emotional being- like Felix. No but Lixie would literally be the sweetest bf ever :( waking up early in the morning to pancakes with him, giggling and laughing as you dance in the rain together, crying a lil as he leaves for the airport on tour. Okay, maybe crying a lot...(╥﹏╥) But it would pay off!! Sending your pretty boy away for the whole world to see would always suck, but you nearly felt like it didn't matter at all when he'd get home. The sweet bby would practically dive between your legs, an absolute mess of whines, sobs, and begs, tears slipping down his face as he damn near buries himself into you :(. I can 100% imagine him hiccuping and whimpering out a quiet apology as you let out a quiet gasp of "Lixie, 's too much," only to be met with more force on his end. He'd be buried between your legs, damn near suffocating between your pretty thighs, but fuck, wouldn't that be a way to go out?? N maybe you'd whine, and try and push your needy boy off you after four or so orgasms, buuuuttt...he'd just cry and beg until you'd let him start again!!! Honeyed, innocent boy who has no thoughts in his head on tour aside from getting back to you and getting drunk off your sweet slick. And when he's finally done? You best believe he's going back to making the pancakes ! ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ heheheee sorry this got a bit long n isn't exclusively smut but I js CANNOT get the idea of needy, sweethearted lix out of my head. he just. he just. he exist.. Anywayyyyy, I hope u liked it lmaoooo , i've been debating sending this in for a few days now and I hope it's okay ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

part of #sorshas birthday month submissions

I may love my filthy smut, BUT I’m a sucker for cutesie, romantic, fluffy, lovey dovey things too. Lixie would definitely be going back to make his darling love pancakes.

Swoonworthy 😍🥰😍

read more submissions here: #sorshas birthday month

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IT'S MY BIRTHDAY MONTH - DECEMBER

Hey my beautiful friends! I have an announcement / request.It's my birthday month, and I am opening up the ask box (even though it was never closed), for something a little bit different.

Instead of you sending in fic / scenario requests (which you still can regardless of this), I am requesting YOU to send ME your naughtiest thoughts or fantasies about your bias.

Like, what are your most filthy thoughts? What would you let them do to you? What do you want to do to them? Is there a particular theme that really gets you wet or hard? (like me and alien Han)? Or, what's a kink you didn't know you had until you started reading smut (like me and Han with 2 dicks - it doesn't have to be realistic)?

You don't even have to be involved! It could be you really love imagining two of the guys (or more) together. I know you have filthy minds and are horny little things.

Hit me with what you've got. Also... of course you can submit anonymously... that way you hopefully won't hold back.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[siderealscribblings]

Hello. I hope you're okay with me dumping every ounce of my adoration for you The Games of Divinity series here, because I simply cannot stay silent any longer. I read the whole thing yesterday in the span of fifty three minutes at one a.m. with my eyes barely open and a blanket up to my chin so it was truly one of those Authentic Fic Experiences TM. I'm obsessed. I'm enraptured. I'm in love.

Your character analyses of Neuvillette and Furina? Chef's kiss. I am throwing them into a glass jar and shaking vigorously to watch them bounce off the walls. I am chewing on them like a four year old with unlimited access to a bag of Starburst and every flavour in their mouth at once. I am gripping you by the shoulders with tears streaming down my face because you have ruined every fic I read for the next two hundred and sixteen business days. Nothing will ever compare. Sanity is a long lost dream. Your AO3 account isn't a prison, it's home.

If you can't already tell, I adore your work. As a writer myself, I get gender envy while reading it. Except its writing style envy. Your use of italics for highlighting humour is wonderful. The shift in dynamic across the years with Furina and Neuvillette is masterfully done. It's hard to ship Neuvifuri because to me it's only appealing in one of two scenarios: an AU where Neuvillette knows, or one in which he begs pitifully for Furina's forgiveness after trapping her and putting her on trial without knowing what she was going through. Your fic is easily the best example of the former I've ever read. The only reason I haven't flooded your inbox with Kudos and AO3 comments is because my account is acting up and I had to read as a guest.

I love every chapter. Like actually. The first one? Seeing their initial attitudes towards each other was fascinating. The one where Neuvillette gets The Horny? Literally so funny and somehow hot as hell at the same time. The chapter from the POV of the Gardes? Hilarious and an incredibly creative way of showcasing their relationship from the perspective of an outsider. On that note, the Gardes themselves are such colourful characters, I think it's amazing how you went to the effort to give everyone such a distinctive personality. Also the scene with Xiao and Zhongli was scrumptious, that one line... "Zhongli placed a hand on the back of his neck, thumb gently kneading the soft spot where his neck and shoulder met like a man scruffing an unruly cat." That's so cute to me. Your Honour. They are so cute. And Neuvi being all baffled by himself for trying to intimidate Zhongli was endlessly amusing, especially when you said something along the lines of '"Neuvillette didn't mind being spoken of like a dog in heat, but he drew the line at barbs being aimed at Furina." You nail the dynamics every single time. Wild.

The internal conflicts of both Furina and Neuvillette are delightful as well. Furina's guilt for needing Neuvillette versus Neuvillette wishing Furina would let herself need him? Collapses. I am bleeding from multiple stab wounds. It's so eiohrohsiowiourwhrf. They're so vdhkfhoewirdkf. Neuvillette being awed by her humanity versus Furina wishing she could properly hide it. Neuvillette wishing he could share her altruism but knowing he would send a fleet to die in Furina's place even if she despised him for it. Banging my fist on the table. The intrinsic protectiveness and the guilt of needing to be protecting. Clutching my head in my hands. Tearing out my hair. Shuddering like I'm attached to an electric chair cranked up to the highest voltage.

I would suffer the trials of every hero from Greek mythology to read more of it.

Thanks for reading! Love hearing your thoughts on this; I think one of the big appeals about this pairing is crazy devotion that can happen between two people lying to God's face. It's like the greatest hits of every ship that's tickled my brain over the years and I'm glad I have an opportunity to play around with it.

No Neman Lions will need to be slain for the next chapter (probably)

[kaelidascope]

Director's commentary on Something About Moths and a Flame, please!

Oh this outta be fun LOL OKAY

So the overall story of how this fic was even born in the first place stemmed from 2 things. I had an idea to write about a shameless self-indulgence about having an overabundance of experience with cismen with hardly any queer experience. And the little queer experiences Blake did have were not good reference points. Using myself as a default source of plot devices (lmao) I self-inserted the desire to get the fuck out of my current state and wanting to move somewhere north to start over. Bing bang boom, you got a basic background and motive for Blake

I honestly should've expected the fic would be more than just 'bisexual character experiences sex with a seasoned sapphic character' and trying to manifest positive things in my life by writing it out in fic format (who doesn't do that, really. If anyone says they don't they're a liar). Everything I make always turns out to be something way more than it's original concept so what I ended up with here was a story drawing on personal elements and wanting for an outcome that probably wont happen, but it's nice seeing it happen to the bees anyway

Blake's feelings about relationships represent a time in my life where my opinion was exactly hers. After a lengthy discussion with Sawrin over dissecting this fic, I've come to the realization that Yang also represents a time frame of opinions as well. Only Yang's core design comes from a time waaaaay in the past that honestly, I had forgotten existed. It's nice to see it manifest despite being buried, and certainly gives me something to think about when I reread it from time to time.

Readers of MM and Moths can draw lines between Blake questioning why things are so easy when she's with Yang. It's the same principle across the board for most bee fics that Blake's past hasn't been kind to her. It's an alien feeling to suddenly have things be so easy, but difficult to accept they're easy at the same time. I tried to picture how the fuck would I react if I were in this perfect dream scenario and how stupid would it be after the realization hits. Blake and Yang have been dating this whole time and just never accepted it for what it was based on what other people have lead them to believe what a relationship had to be.

The talk they have when Yang's AC is out and they're laying in her bed with the windows open is in reference to a talk I once had that didn't have the outcome I wanted. It carries the same essence of dismay - both parties knowing they want each other but because of the boundaries at play, cannot have what they want. But in this version it's not one sided.

Overall, it was nice getting able to write from a quietly honest place without having to worry about literally every other realistic factor ever. This is about as textbook 'I wrote this for me cus I wanted something that applied to me' as it gets. The ending is my dream scenario. I fucking hate living with partners I can't do it anymore JKNFKGNKJGFN but it's not easy finding someone else who'd agree with me. So the bees get my lost dream of permanent independence. I wrote this thing in 3 days and I was morbidly sick while I was doing it, too. So I'm sure it's littered with grammatical errors and what have you. But my best friend has always been completely head over heels about this work, and it astounds me how much he sings its praise. I'm always genuinely surprised when others find something to relate to in this work as well. I never expected it to be anything more than just a glance. It's not even smut heavy. I didn't think people cared about fics like that LOL (silly, I know) but I am glad I put it out there and it got the response it did.

[sugurus-thoughts]

Hey I don't wanna sound crazy but I was reading your "Santa doesn't know you like I do" and I- I literally have the EXACT vision for myself. I am currently about to enter undergrad school but I have this scenario in my head that I want to become Lawyer afterwards, probably live in New York, independent and rich. And you know I am a book girly, so ofc there are times when I like to fantasize about the future that I might have in this vision, and I usually hate men but I always kind of wish that maybe in the future, if I truly ever build my life this way, I hope someone comes in my life not for sex or casual shit but to actually get to know me, and know the hidden parts of my heart,because if I am being honest with you, I have never dated any guy, and even though I am still too young, but alot of people around me have, but anytime a guy approaches, I actually cut everything off really quickly for this sole reason, because guys my age around me don't think this way, for them it's another girl, another crush (not speaking for every male here obv, just the people that have come in MY life). So I was having this fake scenario and was also wishing to write it down somewhere, which was EXACTLY like your fic.

When I started reading the paragraph where you mentioned that Y/N was a lawyer, independent but guarded, I am not gonna lie to you, I physically gasped and stayed in that stance for over 10 seconds.

It's completely, exactly like how things were in my mind. Omg I still cannot believe it, it's so strange but yeah, I loved your writing <3

Hi sweetie 🤍

Hope you are well, thank you so much for the ask, it's my second one I've received which makes me feel very grateful.

This is most beautiful way you think of your future self. Firstly let me say, I didn't even have the intention on starting this drabble like this, I earased it so many times until, I got the idea. I wanted to create this because of women like us, that feel this way. I'm just like yourself career driven, ambitious, straightforward (let's not to mention the hate men) —and it's completely normal to be that way. In any way do not feel like you should change yourself for anyone just to fit in this society, I believe that one day you will meet your significant other in a very different way, one day he'll probably have to fight for his damn life to court you. You don't even have to date now, there's no need for that at all —I'm happy you made that decision for yourself to chase after your career and be an independent, hard working woman. It's not everyday you get to see women like this, so be a big inspiration for other younger girls in this generation to become like you, like us out there.

As for the men these days I agree with you —women as well. Our generation has changed a lot which led to so many different tactics that men do, even women. It's truly sad if you think about it, but in the end it's truly rare to find that 2% of men and women that are still on that level of values which is a blessing in my honest opinion. But I truly know that your dreams will come true, you will become successful and independent, I use this quote all the time "where there is a will there is a way". So for the time being when you enter your undergradate make sure you work on yourself love—mentally, physically and emotionally to one day be your own strength of pillar.

You will make it!!

ps: thank you for enjoying my writing, I hope you enjoy much more of my future writing 🤍🫂 have a lovely day/night

[fivveweeks]

i am so crasy abt ur tweet abt verdante being a tragedy its like in my mind at all times. like ,,, im rotating it in my head, im so ruined, this idea consumes me u do not understand i am opening up google docs and writing a fic im morose im captivated i am making an ao3 account

like ur so right 4 that one banger

KYAAAA ON MY KNEES... i have so much feelings on it u have no idea. twitter doesn't let me go ham but since we are on tumblr let me write a goddamn essay on this

the thing is that yes i enjoy both verdante being a romcom comedy or a tragedy or anything in between. ofc we'd like them to be happy but part of me like to explore what would happen if we really stayed canon-compliant

and like. let's take a look at them both. Vergilius is canonly someone who's weighed down by his past sins (killing and assassinating and orphaning children), who fully well accepts that he deserves the karma that comes for him (like this man literally is expecting it and doesn't fight it), yet he chooses to drag himself forward bc if he doesn't he will sink into despair. he is full of guilt and shame. verg also seems reluctant to form new bonds which is understandable considering that he lost everything prior to limbus, and how he doesn't want to drag people down with his karma, at the same time it would be extremely hard for him to trust people due to the risks of betrayal and manipulation in the city. he KNOWS that kindness and empathy will be consumed by the city if they don't adapt (see leviathan and his thoughts on garnet) therefore anyone would be wary bc there's always a catch. vergilius is also extremely duty bound to restoring garnet and lapis and it weighs down on him a lot

now i dont see Vergilius as oblivious bc the man would obviously recognise signs of attraction from Dante. but vergilius, despite his harsh exterior, is also kind deep down or at least practical, so taking the above into account, in this scenario he would probably outright address it to dante that he has... personal goals. maybe dante will be sacrificed at the end for limbus company as a whole, maybe not, but Verg makes it clear that he WILL choose lapis and garnet over dante bc that is his responsibility. what he owes to them.

executive manager, he doesn't say, do not be a fool.

and to his surprise, dante just nods and writes him, "I'm aware. It's ok, I understand."

bc dante respects him. they respect his space and not push anything at all (alongside how they probably feel that they are not worthy yet, or that they don't want to burden Vergilius, bc c'mon they're stumbling through their responsibilities after losing their memory, work is more important than personal interest now), i also like to think dante isn't say, self-depreciating, but more like they've accepted that they have so much to live up to and Vergilius has something to achieve and they will not stand in his way, so they're content to just spend time with Vergilius as manager and guide.

and there's that. they don't talk about it after the day. nothing changes between them. they continue on as manager and guide.

the only exception is that now Vergilius is aware that Dante fully accepts that he will sacrifice them for his own goals. yet Dante is content to spend time around him and vice versa (he doesn't admit it)

and isn't that the tragedy?

vergilius, to be aware that something could have sparked between the both of you, yet you cannot afford to cross the line due to circumstances. occasionally imagining what it could had been if the both of you were actually allowed to. how should you feel when the other person still seeks you out and befriends you despite knowing that you will never pick them

and dante, getting the confirmation that you will never be picked and will be the third or fourth or whatever choice but that's okay. manager and guide is enough, you WILL enjoy whatever there is between the both of you without asking for more

personally, unrequited love as a tragedy is not effective to me bc it's not that hard to respect another person's feelings and not make yourself the victim.

the REAL tragedy here is being aware of the lost potential and what-could-had-beens, yet IN SPITE OF THAT theres the quiet acceptance and humble enjoyment of whatever there is between the both of them bc that's all they can afford. how fate and the city fucked them both up. yet they stay professional because they respect each other too much (to the point of suppressing their personal feelings for the other) to make this into a hassle

maybe dante dies at the end of limbus and verg would reminisce on what it could had been. maybe verg dies and dante occasionally recalls the little moments they get to spend together. maybe they both die. maybe they both live but they walk a too different path to ever converge again. maybe we slap canon in the face and let them survive or meet up again in the future.

whatever it is, i just really enjoy the sweet sweet pining between the both of them throughout limbus company. the horrors of Knowing. i'm going to bite something