#can’t seem to show them a shred of decency

[clingylilhoneybee]

SO cute when feedism blogs don’t respect fat people who don’t want to be lumped in with their kink and give no way for the issue to be addressed :))))

[yandere-daze]

Man, all these self aware/isekai enstars asks got me thinking about how each characters would specifically interact with you. Like I can’t begin to imagine having brain power to hold a conversation—what if it was Leo? Bright in the morning, clock hasn’t indicated anywhere near 9 am, and there’s only solace in the taste of bitter coffee on your tongue. Your eyelids feel heavy, but the babbling doesn’t stop. Leo is too overly excited, but he knows not to be pushy—err, well at least he thinks he is. You just think he’s compensating the physical aspect by clamouring all over you with words. After 10 minutes of it, somehow, you manage to excuse yourself. Maybe sit it out in the bathroom stall to let the tears well up in your eyes. Asking the tense murmur of your heart, what ever went wrong because all you feel is desperation, but for what? To get out of here? Or are you just desperate to force yourself to get used to it? You don’t know, and the fact that you don’t, makes the coffee wear off for the second time and you’re already contemplating another round of one.

By the time you turn a corner, another one is already there ready to feed off of your attention. You don’t bother to register who it is. Would it be Wataru? Someone like him is always ready with a sonnet to recite, expressing his heart to you. Maybe someone like Mayoi, the one boy who’d always kiss the floor you walk upon, then his voice would quiver if you even spared a passing glance. What about Eichi himself? He’d be presentable, tolerable. He’d talk smooth and careful, each words precise like his stature. But both of you, mainly him, know better when he lets his gaze linger a little too long on your face and wander too far. Whoever would it be, would it change a thing? You doubt it, because there’s someone always there.

And scene…lmao sorry if I rambled too much…

Ahh don´t please don´t apologize!! This was super fun to read and you did a really awesome job with it, too! Thank you for sending in this little scenario☺️💕

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, stalking, non-consensual touching, implied kidnapping

I think it´s really accurate for them too, Leo definitely is the kind of person that would talk your ear off for possibly hours on end if you don´t manage to excuse yourself somehow, and then claps himself on the shoulder for not having jumped into your arms as soon as he saw you for once. See, he´s being really considerate and taking your words to heart so he´s trying his best to not overwhelm you too much! Isn´t he doing a great job?

Wataru is super dramatic about everything he does and he would probably be no different when it comes to you. Watch him literally write an entire script and then act out the entire play by himself right in front of you to show you how much he adores you. I would literally die, methinks💀 And right after you just managed to evade Leo too! When will you ever be able to rest in this school?

It looks like never because oh boy, of course, Mayoi followed you through the vents and is already watching you from the corner as soon as you finally fended off Wataru. At least he´s less obnoxious and loud as the former two as he mostly keeps to himself but he still gives you the creeps. The way he stares at you so reverently and with a bright blush on his face but the second you turn to look at him he squeaks like a mouse and apologizes for being so dirty as if he hadn´t just so blatantly stared at you without a shred of decency. It´s unnerving and you swear you had seen his shadow once when you woke up in the middle of the night. Mayoi might be a timid and harmless one for the most part but that doesn´t mean you necessarily like being with him more than the others.

And then, to make matters worse, you come across Eichi. Eichi, who is always so put together and knows how to word things to get his way. He doesn´t seem very different when he is with you, he speaks very calmly and you´d like to say that it´s a welcome change of pace but you can´t help but think that there´s something off about him nonetheless. The way he always smiles at you no matter what and how his gaze lingers a bit longer than it should, the way he nonchalantly lays a hand on your shoulder to gently guide you to come with him. How the grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly and his elegant smile strains whenever the both of you pass someone else in the hallway. The knowledge that Eichi has all the money and influence one would need to make you disappear forever and have no one search for you.

It´s scary and you don´t know how much longer you can put up with this.

[clareguilty]

Gabriel Reyes/reader, a/b/o and The Works™

this is the third kinktober prompt for this year!!!

Gabriel Reyes/fem!reader | a/b/o, marking, biting, praise, all that jazz Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3000

Jack Morrison was getting another medal.

It was everyone’s favorite joke at high command. It seemed like no one wanted to implement any serious policy or sign an actual resolution in favor of giving the golden boy of the Omnic Crisis another fancy award.

So Jack had been stressing himself out all week trying to write an acceptance speech that wasn’t passive aggressive, and you spent too long picking out a formal gown, and Gabe had sat on Reinhardt’s desk laughing and stuffing his face with carbs and fruit because his rut was due next week.

Jack took the teasing in stride and managed to come up with a speech that wouldn’t outright offend the Prime Minster of Russia. Everyone piled into the jet to Moscow with a garment bag and a carryon and a strong cup of coffee at four am the day before the banquet.

This was normal for you. In a world after the omnic crisis, head of Overwatch’s reparations department and mated to the commander of Blackwatch. You found yourself flown across the world dozens of times a year for negotiations and assemblies and ceremonies.

You and Gabe strapped in next to each other on the jet. “I haven’t seen the dress you picked out,” he nodded his head to the garment bag.

“I guess it will just be a surprise,” you purred.

He grinned and leaned in to kiss you.

“It’s too early for this,” Ana groaned from across the aisle. Gabe shot her a toothy smile and made sure to nip at the shell of your ear. You smacked his leg and shoved him back into his own seat.

The hotel was a beautiful historic waterfront building just across the bridge from the Kremlin in the heart of the city. The five of you piled out of the black SUV that had escorted you from the airstrip and made your way inside.

The hotel manager greeted you as well as an official from the Kremlin. Jack was the main recipient of ass kissing and pleasantries, so you simply smiled and nodded and shook hands wherever necessary.

The suite was entirely too big and fancy for a two night’s stay. You and Gabe poked around for a bit, but there were no fun secrets. You took the sitting room, and Gabe set up at the desk in the bedroom as you both buckled down on your work for the day. Gabe had operatives in Bolivia he needed to check in with, and you had a meeting with representatives in London.

He found you a few hours later slumped in the armchair with your head in your hands.

“They still being stubborn?” he asked.

“They won’t budge on anything,” you groaned.

“Change into something casual. Let’s go out for a little bit.” He was already in a hoodie and dark jeans, beanie sticking out of the back pocket.

You nodded and went to find a sweater.

Gabe’s impromptu date night in Moscow turned out to be a lot of fun. Ana and Reinhardt came to meet you at a bar for a little bit, and the two of you wandered around the city until sundown.

The next day was more meetings and frustration until you had to get ready for the banquet. You and Gabe slipped past each other in and out of the bathroom as you showered and shaved and styled your hair and perfumed and moisturized.

You shimmied into the dress half an hour before the car was due to pick you up. It was slim and black, sleeveless with one band that crossed over your collarbone and shoulder. You frowned when you realized it covered your matebite, but it wasn’t a big deal.

Gabe grinned salaciously as he zipped you up, unable to resist leaning down and nuzzling into your neck. “Cool it.” You shoved him off with a giggle. “I have to make it through a whole ceremony and dinner.”

He pulled on his jacket and the two of you made your way downstairs to wait for the car.

For some reason, the event coordinators split you into three cars. Jack rode by himself, you and Gabe in one car, and Ana and Reinhardt in the last. They looked intimidating in their dress uniforms, and you felt kind of ditzy in your sexy cocktail dress next to three enormous well decorated Overwatch officers.

The ceremony was only slightly dull, and you clapped at all the right spots and pinched Gabe when he looked like he was zoning out too much.

Dinner was much more enjoyable. You had been seated with people you knew from other events and assemblies, so conversation flowed well. A string ensemble played and a few people got up to dance or mingle once they cleared their plates. You caught sight of a British Parliament member speaking with a small group of tuxedoed men, and Gabe saw the determination in your eyes. 

“Go get him, sweetheart,” he kissed your cheek and pushed you towards the Lord. You excused yourself quickly and approached the older gentleman ready to push for your negotiations to take center stage in the Palace of Westminster.

The poor Lord was not expecting to be accosted by you at a banquet, but graciously listened as you explained your struggles in negotiating reparations in London.

“You’ve got some real fire in you,” one of the tuxedoes remarked as you shook the Lord’s hand and he scampered away sufficiently cowed. He had an American accent and shiny hair. He reeked of confidence and you knew it was a combination of his nationality and his status as an Alpha.

You cocked your head nonchalantly. “Takes a lot of persistence to get anything done in Parliament.” You knew he was probably referencing the fact that you, a tiny omega, had just approached a government official and demanded that he push for your cause, but you brushed it off. Most of the time people were respectful, but you still ran into pushback every now and then because of your status.

The American laughed, tossing his head back. “And wit to match!” A waiter came by with champagne and he snatched a glass to press into your hands. “What’s your name?” he asked, placing a hand on your back and guiding you back into the crowd of tuxes.

You tensed under his touch. This wasn’t your Alpha. It was extraordinarily rude to touch anyone without permission, especially an omega. But still, you had to be polite, so you introduced yourself.

“If you ever need any help getting through to politicians, you should give me a call. I’m on the UN Peace Council, you know? I was appointed during the crisis.” That information was probably supposed to impress you. It probably would have if you were anyone else.

You nodded politely, taking a tiny sip of champagne and glancing over your shoulder to look for Gabe. You had your own gripes with the UN peace council. Jack and Gabe butted heads with them nearly every other week.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smiled, attempting to turn and address the other men.

“Here,” the American pulled out his phone. “Let me get your number. Maybe we could meet up for drinks before we both leave Moscow?”

“Oh,” you found your escape. “I left my phone back at my table.” You turned to make your way back to Gabe and Ana, but the UN asshole grabbed your arm. You knew exactly what this was. This guy probably didn’t run into many omegas in professional settings, and he thought you would just go along with everything he said because he was some big shot Alpha.

Laughable. You were a high ranking member of Overwatch. A diplomat. The mate of Gabriel Fucking Reyes.

“Just put your number in and I’ll text you,” he insisted. You struggled out of his grasp and shot him the sternest look you could manage.

He laughed again. “I love how feisty you are!”

Clearly, everyone in the vicinity was also uncomfortable with the exchange. This was not the time nor the place to be asserting dominance over an omega.

Your blood boiled. You didn’t want to make a scene at Jack’s reception -- though he probably would have loved it -- but you were seriously about to deck this guy.

“Cariña,” a familiar voice washed over you and the effect was immediate. You leaned back into Gabe’s chest, taking a deep breath to slow your heart rate. “Jack was looking for you. He wanted to introduce you to someone.”

The American Alpha puffed his chest out, clearly ready to challenge until he took one look at Gabe.

“Commander Reyes,” he greeted. All of the bravado and pushiness was gone in an instant.

“Hello.” Gabe was stiff, clearly trying to hold his tongue. His arms snaked around your waist and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“Would you hate me if we left right now?”

“Absolutely not,” you spun in his embrace so you could look up at him. His expression was stoic as always, but you could see the tension and the anger in his eyes.

You didn’t even look back as Gabe walked you to the table to collect your things. It was a little rude to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and you weren’t sure if Jack had actually wanted to introduce you to someone, but Gabe looked ready to tear someone’s head off.

He stopped caring about decency the moment the car door closed.

There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver considering how enormous your mate was in the tiny sedan backseat, but he pinned you to the leather seats and kissed you like his life depended on it. You wound your fingers into his curls, gasping as his hands slid under your skirt and up your thighs. The driver coughed, and you giggled at the slow whir of the partition motor giving the two of you some privacy.

“I can’t believe he touched you,” Gabe snarled.

You shivered both at the possessive edge in his voice and the disgusting memory of the other Alpha’s hand on your arm.

“Make me forget about him,” you whispered, hooking your leg around his hips.

He rose to the challenge. Super soldier strength shredded your lace underwear, dress hiked up around your hips. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up your thigh at a torturously slow pace. He had barely sucked a mark into the skin when the car stopped. A glance out the tinted window showed that you were back at the hotel.

“Thank you!” you called to the driver in your terrible russian accent as you yanked your dress back down and teetered on your heels on the pavement. Gabe half carried you with an arm around your waist as you breezed through the lobby to the elevator.

The elevator was another brief attempt to continue. You managed to get Gabe’s jacket and shirt open before the door slid open and you were staggering down the hall.

He dragged you into the bedroom, pinning you to the bed on your stomach so he could yank down the zipper on your dress. He couldn’t keep his lips away from your neck. The moment your matebite was uncovered he dragged his teeth over the mark. A shiver ran all the way down your spine.

“You’re never covering this up again,” he growled, rutting against your hips clumsily. “I want everyone to see that you belong to me.”

The words made your stomach flip. You wriggled your way around onto your back, pushing your dress over your hips and to the floor. “You’re going to hit your rut early.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “I’ll just fuck you until we have to leave for the flight.”

You figured Ana, Jack, and Reinhardt wouldn’t appreciate Gabe in the throes of his rut on the flight back to base tomorrow, but they had probably experienced it before. You could only imagine how bad he was back during the crisis. The thought only made you wetter.

He must have sense the spike in arousal, because he settled more of his weight on top of you. “What are you thinking about?” he demanded.

“You. During the crisis. Alpha Commander Gabriel Reyes.” You trailed a finger down his chest. “Were your ruts worse than they are now?”

He smirked. “They’ve gotten worse again since meeting you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, mustering the last of your coordination to get Gabe undressed. He made sure you were laid out comfortably on the bed -- grabbing a few pillows to place under your hips and head -- before sinking all the way inside you to the swell of his knot.

Gabe always fit inside you so well. The perfect stretch. And he filled you so deep when he knotted you. You knew that his ruts could get intense, and you would probably be exhausted and sore by the end of it. Still, you had been mated for a few years now, so you had figured out how to manage.

“You feel so good.” You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the situation.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to knot you so good.” He rocked forward, teasing you with the stretch.

“Please,” you begged, nails scratching at the shaved hair at the back of his head.

He shuddered and set an impossible pace as he began to fuck you. Sometimes you forgot that you weren’t just mated to an Alpha, but to a super soldier. No one else could fuck you like he did.

“You want my knot? Want me to breed you full? Want me to remind you who you belong to?” His words were low against you skin as he kissed along your neck. One of his hands was rubbing your clit, the other holding your thighs open so he could reach deep inside you with every thrust.

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His teeth found the unmarked skin of your neck, just above your collarbone -- opposite the side of where your matebite was. The skin was practically electrified, especially when Gabe was fucking you like this. He didn’t bite down, but the sensation alone was enough to have you coming on his cock.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That was so good for me, baby. You’re so perfect.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Bite me. Please.” It was a little unorthodox. Normally couples only exchanged one bite. A bite on both sides was usually the sign of a triad or a pack. But you had just been touched by another alpha and Gabe was fucking you so good and you wanted him in every way possible.

He blinked, trying to think through the haze of his rut. “You want that?” He didn’t even wait for you to respond. The thought alone had him spilling inside of you, and he pulled you onto his knot. His teeth found that same patch of sensitive, unmarked skin, and he bit down just as he locked inside of you.

Nothing felt better than coming to the sensation of being claimed. It was the strongest orgasm you had ever experienced.

“Fuck you’re perfect. My perfect little omega. You wear my marks so well. Everyone is going to know exactly who you belong too.”

You couldn’t respond. Too busy marking Gabe’s chest with hickeys and lovebites. He was too massive for you to reach his neck, but you would make do. You were still coming down off the intense rush of endorphins, and everything was a little fuzzy and felt just a little too good too much too fast. You had come twice in less than the span of a minute, and Gabe was only just getting started.

He soothed the aching bite, holding you close as you were locked together. His knot probably wouldn’t go down for a while, but he was less riled up than before now that he had satisfied himself somewhat.

“I love you,” he kissed the top of your head, rolling so you could lay on his chest.

“I-” You cut yourself off, blushed, and buried your face in his pecs. You would happily die there.

“Yes?” He was curious now. You weren’t usually shy with him.

“I’ve been working on something. It’s super embarrassing.” You didn’t look up.

He lifted your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What’s embarrassing? I just dragged you out of a dinner party at the Kremlin so I could fuck you. I think I’m the more embarrassing of the two fo us.”

You laughed and kissed his chest right above his heart. Mustering all of your courage, you found your voice:

“Te amo. Me encanta pertenecer a ti. Tú eres mi mayor alegría.”

Your accent was decent, but you had no clue if your grammar was correct. The words were unfamiliar and clumsy, even though you had practiced them a hundred times. Spanish was not a language you were familiar with, but you knew that Gabe had grown up hearing it. You wanted to try and learn for him.

He understood immediately what you were tying to say, and you could feel the rumble of his laughter beneath you.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you whined, smacking him lightly on the side.

“I’m sorry,” he grabbed your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “It was very sweet. I love you too.”

“I need a lot more practice,” you pouted.

He petted your hair, staring at you with a dopey, lovestruck expression. “I can’t believe you let me bite you again.”

You shrugged, feeling the pull and ache of the new mark in the motion. “We can let one of them fade.”

He smirked. “What if I like you like this?”

You bared your own teeth. “Can I return the favor?”

You weren’t expecting to rile him up, but the words were enough to make his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You good to go again?”

You nodded, pushing up to a seat so you could ride him. He grabbed your hips, holding tightly as you slowly rocked against him. You knew the pace was probably no where near what he needed, but you wanted to take your time.

He didn’t give you the opportunity, rolling to pin you beneath him again and dragging your hips up to his. “You wanna bite me? You better earn it.”

[wispforever]

if youre still doing the character thing, how about spirit or marie?

I sure am. How about Spirit And Marie? Both wonderful characters. I’ll do Marie first, then Spirit. Thanks for the excuse to infodump, really. You people are too kind.

Marie Mjolnir

My first impression of Marie was the same impression I get of most female characters in anime. It’s either “why do their clothes have to look like that” or “oh god here comes the obligatory sexist heteronormative romance”. For Marie, it was more of the second. They mention in the same episode she’s introduced that Stein is her “first love”, which told me that if she had a large place in the plot, her assigned male counterpart around which to orbit would be him. Though I’ve never read the Soul Eater manga, I believe they do end up getting together there (I could be wrong). Whatever the case, I was relieved that Marie’s and Stein’s relationship (though heavily implied to be romantic, at least on Marie’s side) was left open to interpretation in the anime. I’m just very sick of cool badass female characters like Marie being reduced to the man they pine after. So, I guess my first impression of Marie and my impression of her now are largely the same. While I appreciate the moments we get to see her strengths and ability to operate on her own, I do think that her character really suffers because of the whole sexist “oh gosh all I want is to find a husband and retire” “oh my I have to take care of Stein” like okay, I had enough at the cat girl smothering Soul with her humungo-tits. I had enough at sexualizing underage girls and women in general. I had enough at making sexual harassment a punchline. That being said, when we push all of the shitty writing to the side, I admire Marie for her strength and how she interacts with the children, Crona in particular. Which leads me to my favorite moment(s).

The relationship Crona and Marie have interests me the most, since I’m really drawn to the parallels between Marie and Medusa. As parental figures (and as characters), they’re about as different as you can get. As Crona’s mother, Medusa is obviously abusive. Along with being negligent, she abuses Crona mentally, emotionally, and physically. In general, Medusa is a person who doesn’t appear to value interpersonal relationships, putting it nicely. She instead is more focused on her own interests, often to the detriment of those around her. Crona is Medusa’s only immediate family (besides Arachne who she is estranged from), and so they suffer the most from her refusal to show even a shred of human decency or warmth. They suffer especially because they are her child, meaning they’re stuck with her essentially, and repetivie abuse between family members like a mother and child often becomes complex because of the necessity of having a parental figure in your life to support you as you grow up. Medusa teaches Crona that their boundaries don’t matter and that they are only good as long as they are useful and do as they’re told. This is what makes Marie’s influence on Crona so cool to watch. Marie is caring by nature, loving and nurturing by nature. Her very wavelegnth is healing. She is kind and does what’s right reflexively. Marie is the exact embodiment of what Crona always needed but what, even upon being rescued by the academy, still felt so foreign to them: unconditional love. Crona struggles to understand why the other kids helped them, why Maka felt the inclination to stop their battle and save Crona instead by trying to understand them, why the kids are still so kind to them even after everything. They do not understand that love is not a bargaining chip. It isn’t leverage in an argument. It’s not a tool for emotional manipulation. Love is caring for the people close to you, just because. Love for the sake of love. The other kids and teachers at the academy are the ones who are able to pull Crona out of all Medusa’s lies, and Marie is a Huge part of that. Even though I have greivances with this being the largest part of her character and what that implies for female characters in general, it doesn’t stop being so beautiful to me that she could help Crona heal in this way. Marie = best mom for the win

Most of the story ideas I have for Marie involve her relationship with Crona or Stein. Say, this covers my unpopular opinion too. I don’t like Stein and Marie as a couple, but I really enjoy writing them as friends, because even though I don’t really jive with them being together romantically, I think their dynamic is an interesting one to explore because they Are so different.

Getting into that a little bit more, I’d like to start by saying I don’t care if other people like Stein and Marie being a couple. That’s great doods, keep doing you. The fanart’s adorable, the meta’s fantastic. Whoever you are, SteinMarie shippers, ffs keep kicking ASS. This is just my preference and opinion. Zero shade in this house. That said, because of my frustrations about Marie’s character I discussed in the first paragraph, I don’t like the idea of her and Stein being together romantically. It’s really a classic sexist trope: the troubled man and his sweet nurse. I’m also just fed up in general with the hetero-nonsense, so there. However, they are both wonderful characters that I enjoy very much seperately. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve only seen the anime, so I can’t speak for the manga as far as their relationship or Marie’s character in general.

Oh shit I accidentally already talked about this one lmao [see the second paragraph]

One headcanon I like to think about when I’m writing Marie is that she likes women (in addition to men or not) and she struggles with comphet. Just something interesting I like to think about. It’s really fun for me to take characters who have been written as pining or had 10 million failed relationships and be like “say what if they can’t find a husband cuz really what they really need is a wife”. I’ll talk about that more with Spirit inevitably.

Spirit Albarn

My first impression of Spirit, obviously him being a cheater, really came with a lot of distaste. I come from a family that was torn apart by infidelity, among other things, so it really rubs me the wrong way. However, his saving grace for me was that he genuinely loves his daughter. It appears that, whether it’s played for laughs or not, he just can’t find fulfillment in his romantic relationships. The reason is left up to the veiwers. Spirit, ultimately, is not just a shitty person, which is how most cheaters are protrayed in media. “Well, they cheated because they don’t care if they hurt people”, “they cheated because they are shit and that’s it”. That’s a fine explanation if you plan to do nothing with whatever character you’re describing, but Spirit is relatively recurring and is shown to be neither mean-spirited or emotionally unintelligent. It bothers me that his cheating and routine sexist behaviour isn’t taken seriously enough to be a subject that Soul Eater tackles and deals with. But that’s fine. I’ll just do it myself. At any rate, I still feel that same way about Spirit’s character, but I find it intriguing that he seems to genuinely want to become a better father and is actually a pretty good dad when it comes to his interactions with Maka. If Soul Eater had been brave enough to develop him more, maybe delve into the reasoning behind his impulsive romantic affairs, I think Spirit as a character could have been done more justice. It seems to me that he could be suffering from some of that wonderful compulsory heterosexuality that I mentioned before, then becoming confused when the woman he claims to love leaves him feeling empty. Rattling my gay little cage

When I think of my favorite moments with Spirit, I think of his moments with Maka, but I’m gonna hold off on that until I get to favorite relationship(s). In reference to what I talked about in the first paragraph, one moment I find really interesting when I’m thinking about my interpretation of Spirit’s character is the scene where he and Maka are on the roof talking. Maka asks Spirit why he cheated on her mother if he did, in fact, love her. He doesn’t appear to know the answer, and he doesn’t really understand how to effectively communicate that, though he was shitty husband, what he really wants now is to try and be a better dad. We hear his inner monologue, and he says something like “I love you [Maka] and your mama. That’s the truth. That’s the truth. That’s the truth.” Every time he says “its the truth” it sounds more like he’s forcing it. This is actually something that is SO strange to me. Even if I didn’t project a queer narrative on to the characters I love, I would look at this and be like “huh that is a Weird thing to say in that specific way”. Why does he say it like that? Why does he have to say it more than once? He’s only talking to HIMSELF. It isn’t like he’s trying to convince Maka. Why does he have to convince himself?? Could it possibly be because he’s reached a conclusion about his romantic/sexual orientation that he’s been trying to swallow his Entire Life??? makes ya wonder, doesn’t it, queers?

Just like I said when I talked about Stein, most of the stories I have in mind with Spirit center around that sweet gayness. But also, I like to think of ways Spirit could come to terms with his sexuality, how it might have affected him when he was young, his relationship with all these women, with his wife. I love to think about him being a dad at 18 and trying his best, but how much responsibility that must have been. Lots of great ideas when it comes to Spirit.

Um? unpopular opinion would be all the standard like I said with Stein lmao. “Oh no!” scream the heteros, “that they/them on tumblr is making Soul Eater queer we canst not allow that in our church!!!111!” But besides that, maybe even the fact that I think he’s redeemable?? Idk most everyone I’ve met thinks Spirit is funny at least and just calls him a dumbass and a slut (affectionate). Doesn’t mean anybody thinks cheating on your wife 56 times is okay so. I like this fandom, it’s chill here. My favorite is when I see my art tagged like “aw the stupid man and his crazy bf” like YOU ARE RIGHT

My favorite relationship when it comes to Spirit (besides Stein cuz if I start talking about them again I’ll never finish this ask) is the one he has with Maka. If you can call it a relationship lol. I guess I just find Spirit’s approach to Maka as a parent really refreshing. Not that the parents in other shows don’t love their kids or whatever, it’s just that the loving parent always seems to be paired with some other trope that makes their character hard to approach. especially in anime. Like the perfect mother who dies in the first episode, and we spend the rest of the show mourning her. Or the father whose love is somehow everlasting even though he’s never home. It’s really the fact that Spirit is even THERE that I love. He knows what Maka is up to. He talks about her. He’s invested in her life, and he loves her. All he wants is to spend time with her, and though he’s sad when she turns him down, he doesn’t push her. god dammit I just like a dad who actually loves his kids without all the usual strings attached like. oh my kids are a huge pain in my ass, but I love them in spite of it. oh i’m a man so can’t relate to my children in a meaningful way but i try. Get the fuck outta here with that shit. I want all the dads to get so happy when their daughters wanna hang with them that they throw up like Spirit. Give me the guy who loves his daughter so naturally, whose daughter is such a huge part of his life, that it doesn’t even occur to him stop trying even if she literally wants to murder him. That’s Spirit. jfc

To end with a cute little headcanon, I really love to think that when Spirit gets older and starts losing the color in his hair, instead of getting white or grey, his hair turns a pale pink color cuz he’s such an aggressive redhead. Wouldn’t that just be adorable? late 30′s, early 40′s, Spirit starts getting little pink streaks in his hair and then bam. Little pink old man Spirit XD

There ya have it. Thanks for the ask, and feel free to send more.

[outivv]

OOH OOH Diluc/Kaeya hcs?

you know those aristocrats, the Lawrence clan, from the Eula quest (that I barely did cause I'm still salty she took away my Zhongli)? How they're snobby and mean?

What if one of them (Schubert) had run into their s/o, and s/o had accidentally said or done something that caused him to snap on them?

Now S/o is not a big people person and is very bad with handling social reactions, so it's all they can do not to cry as this man is RIPPING into them- insecurities and all. Like, FULL ON telling them they're not even good enough to be with Diluc/Kaeya

How'd they react if they'd been strolling by and found their honey being brutally chastised by some random man they never even knew before?

Synopsis: stumbling upon a member of the Lawrence clan (who wasn’t eula because she’s lowkey nice) was like stepping on eggshells. And when you took one wrong move, they ripped you to shreds with no mercy.

Warnings: Schubert is really mean :’)

Game/ fandom: genshin impact

Character: Diluc, and kaeya

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: why hello! Thank you for requesting! I’ve been I weird Diluc mood recently? It may be because I made a second genshin account (just for fun and because I love the cutscenes in the beginning of the game.) and I have a small note I want to add... Diluc is so awkward in almost all the cutscenes. Like sir you can stop crossing your arms?! Anyway, aside from... that mini rant. I hope you enjoy, and take care of yourself :D

— Diluc —

You were picking up some stuff that you ordered from Marjorie, when a strange man bumped into you. “Excuse you?” You said coldly. Really? Was it that hard to maneuver around you? You were expecting them to just walk away, maybe a sorry at most. You were not expecting the person to turn around and for said person to be Schubert from the Lawrence clan.

“Excuse me? Is that any sort of way to talk to me?” He said insulted. You didn’t want any sort of trouble so you just glared at him waiting for him to be done. “Are you incompetent? Are you even listening? A nobleman is speaking to you.” He said angrily. “You listen when spoken to, or have you forgotten your place.”

You just wanted this to be over... you wanted him to leave... you wouldn’t say anything about this to anyone if he. Just. Left. You. Alone. But then he said, “you are but a mere peasant, at least that red haired man you hang around with has some common decency. You don’t deserve to be with someone who’s like him. You don’t fit in. Simple as that.” His smile was sickening, and made you feel small, weak, like you didn’t belong. The people on the streets of mondstadt watched from afar. All eyes were on you, and you were surrounded by people, but you felt alone.

Unbeknownst to you though, Diluc was a little ways away, and heard a decent amount. He paid no mind assuming it was some petty feud, until he got closer and saw you looking as if you were going to shatter into a billion pieces from shame. Who was that man talking to you. What was he saying to make you that way. Diluc walked over fury in his eyes.

“Excuse me. Is there a problem.” Diluc said, he towered over the man who was insulting you. Said man looked pale as a chill ran up his spine. “Oh, Diluc I presume? Yes yes... no there’s no problem.” His composer and noble tone gone as he spoke. “Really? Because it sounded like you just said my s/o wasn’t “good enough” Is that correct?” Diluc said coldly. The man before him lied to his face.

Really? You think you could lie to Diluc, and get away with it? You are surely mistaken, for Diluc shows no mercy to anyone, and I mean anyone who is rude to you. Diluc chewed out Schubert much like he did to you. Except he was smarter than Schubert, and didn’t show any mercy. After chewing out a man to the point where he was crying, he walked over to you, and kissed the top of your forehead asking if you were alright. Later he’d shower you with all the love in the world, he just wants to remind you that you’re loved.

— kaeya —

You had a commission from good hunter to deliver an order to someone in mondstadt. Little did you know that said someone was none other than Schubert from the Lawrence clan. “Here’s your order sir!” You said handing him his food. “Excuse you? Who do you think you are?” Schubert said coldly. “I’m... sorry?” You said in reply confused by his question? “You should be. You do not greet a nobleman such as myself.” He said trying to seem intimidating. Less intimidating and more of a nuisance though...

he kept lecturing you as you stood there being forced to take it. You just wanted to leave and get paid... but instead you had to listen to this narcissist. “Truly you’re so incompetent you can’t do one thing right! And you’re dating that... cavalry captain aren’t you? He seems too good for you. A man of his authority surely could do much better don’t you think?” He said hitting a major insecurity. Kaeya could do better than you... a man like him could get anyone he wanted. You felt tears roll down your face.

From not far away kaeya was making his rounds, and heard some bickering from not far away. He recognized the voice as Schubert’s and knew it was just some petty bull crap per usual. He was entertained and sought out the fight, which would get him into more trouble than he wanted if it was a normal fight. But it wasn’t since you were involved.

Seeing you crying as Schubert told you that you weren’t good enough for kaeya, seeing the situation unfold i front of him ignited a fire in kaeya. He walked over placed hand on Schubert’s shoulder and said something in a hushed voice that you couldn’t make out over your sobs. Whatever it was surely got Schubert’s blood boiling at first, but then made him scared for his life. He ran away not long after.

Kaeya hugged you trying to calm you down, kissing the top of your head and whispering words of affirmation. He’d literally bring you home and cuddle you to death telling you how much he loves you, and over all just being a good boyfriend and comforting you :’)

[heliosthegriffin]

A blade should be sharp at all times

Marrows up to the group, his tail wagging ecstatically behind him: You guys want to play a prank on Juan?

Ren and Nora’s eyes narrow, but they say nothing.

Flynt, Cobalt, Ivory, Neon, Yang and Elm all look at him with obvious interest.

Harriet snorts dismissively: Why would I want to bother the new meat? He’s got enough problems as it is.

Winter nods her head in agreement.

Marrow’s tail stops wagging, as he looks offended: Because it would be funny!

Harriet rolls her eyes and walks away.

Marrow: Fine, be that way!

He turns back to the more interested members of the room: So, what about you guys? Wanna hear it?

Ren says nothing and Nora motions for him to continue: Depends on what the prank is?

Yang nods along: Yeah, Xiao-Long as it’s nothing too mean to Milf-Magnet.

The rest of the room groans; while Yang absorbs the life-force they’ve lost to her pun.

Marrow smiles and continues: It’s nothing too out there, it’s just an old Atlas military tradition, to see how prepared a recruit is for field work.

Ren rubs his chin: I don’t know, Jaune and the rest of us have spent pretty of time in the field, he hardly ever leaves his armor, or his weapons besides when he cleans himself.

Marrows smile widens: That’s the idea!

Ren’s eyes widen in disbelief: You’re going to prank him in the showers?

Marrow doesn’t say a thing but his tail wags faster.

Ren groans and hold his face.

Nora though...

Her face splits into a manic grin as she starts cackling wildly, falling onto her back as she laughs so hard.

Ren shakes his head in leaves.

Marrow points his hand at Ren: STAY!

Ren freezes in place.

Marrow a little sheepishly: Uh, can’t have you spoiling the surpise, sorry.

Nora still keeps on laughing.

Ren’s pink eyes sparkle briefly, then a magenta pulse of aura breaks Marrows hold on him.

Marrows eyes widen in disbelief.

Ren rolls his neck and scowls at Marrow: Believe it or not, having strong aura control is just as important as a strong semblance.

Marrow falls to his knees, his tail desperately waving behind him: Please, please, don’t tell Joanna!

Ren shakes his head and leaves.

Nora: Don’t worry, he won’t say a thing or do anything, in fact, neither will I. Have fun kids.

Nora then follows Ren out.

The room goes silent.

Yang: Well, that’s ominous.

She then notices Winter is still in the room.

Yang: Why are you still here?

Winter huffs: To make sure you all don’t go too far with your ‘Prank’. I will observe and intervene should you all go to far.

Marrow cheers: Yay! Alright, everyone here is how it’ll work. Flynt, Ivory, and Cobalt, you three will being most of the legwork. Cobalt and Ivory, find Jaune and tell him he’s got special permission to use the Specialist private bathrooms, Flynt I want you to hide in the bathroom and use your semblance to make it seem like we’re under attack to scare him out.

Marrow takes a breath and turns to Neon, Yang and Elm: Here’s you girls is part, to really sell it I want you all to make sound noises and make it seem like you’re fighting, then when Joe runs out from the showers I’ll make his freeze, then you girls can throw cold water on him! He’ll be so embarrassed!

Ivory and Cobalt shrug, though Flynt, Neon and Yang seem a little put off.

Neon: I don’t know, seem a little mean spirited.

Flynt: Yeah, we’re not best friends and all, but I don’t want to embarrest the guy.

Yang scratches her chin: It doesn’t seem very, cool thing to do to a friend.

Elm though looked excited: Don’t worry! This is nothing, what’s a little nudity between comrades! If you’re out in the field and not prepared to fight at anytime, even naked, or if you get embarrassed by your comrades seeming you nude, you’re not cut out for being a Hunter. Hell, all of the Ace-Ops have done it. Even Winter!

The sound of a sword leaving it’s sheath rang out.

Winter says says menacingly. I made you promise to never speak of it again, all of you.

Elm: Oops.

Marrow waves them off: Whatever! Anyway this is just a rite of passage in Atlas, come on guys it’ll be a laugh.

The group thinks it over and eventually complies.

Marrow: Alright! Lets get this show on the road!

--------

Ivory and Cobalt escort Jaune through the halls.

Jaune: Wow, Gen. Ironwood really said I could use the Specialist Showers? That’s really kind of him!

Ivory nods and smiles: Gen. Ironwood always takes care of his own.

Cobalt taps Jaune’s shoulder and gives him a approving look. 

Cobalt: Deserve it, hard training and self-improvement are their own reward. But, Top Brass notice.

Jaune’s cheek glow slightly, a slight smile forming: Thanks, It really hard sometime, you know, to be able to see that I’ve improved, heh, no matter how much I feel like i’ve grown, I still feel like a waste of space and a burden on my team.

The group comes to a stop, Ivory and Cobalt looking slightly uncomfortable now.

Jaune turns around flashing them a pleasant grin, “Well, thanks guys. I’ll make sure to tell the General thanks, and that I won’t disappoint his trust for giving me a chance to be Huntsman.

Ivory and Cobalt say nothing and nod.

Jaune then enters the private bathroom.

Cobalt and Ivory look at each other.

Ivory: Are we the baddies?

Cobolt: Yes, but better him, than us.

Ivory sighs and taps his wrist, a small ringing occurs.

Ivory: The target is in position.

-------

Jaune walks through the state of the art bathroom humming a pleasent tune, completely unaware of the watching eyes on him.

He goes into a stall and undresses, the prying eyes losing sight of him.

Jaune then leaves the stall a towel wrapped around his waist and goes the hi-tech showers, another towel bundled in his arms.

Flynt watches Jaune enter the shower stall and sighs deeply, he liked Jaune, he really did, a decent guy all-around. But, if it kept others from seeing’s Flynt’s birthmark for another day, he would do what must be done.

He used his semblance, dividing himself into four copies of himself and then took off running inbetween the stalls.

Flynt x4: We’re under attack!

As Flynt came to the end of the room, he was not prepared for what happened next.

--------

Neon and Yang sparred with Elm in the changing room, where Jaune would have to enter to get dressed, trying to create as authenity as possible combat sounds.

Elm grabbed Yangs right hook and swung her into Neon.

Elm smiles: Got to be quicker than that.

Yang and Neon got off of each other and squared up for round two.

Marrow whispered yelled at them: It’s time! Get into postion, I just heard Flynt.

The girls and Elm nodded picking up bucket of ice-water while Marrow got ready to freeze Jaune. With Marrow having to stop himself from cracking up at the thought of Jaun’s expression.

Yang looked slightly recluntant, but the idea of a good prank won out.

Winter sighed in the corner ready to stop the prank if it goes to far, and hopefully preserve some decency.

The wall to the showers exploded out towards them, a spray of dust and stone and metal sharpnel covering the room, as heavy wet foot steps ran towards them as bellowing war howl echoed out from the destroyed room.

A figure running through the cloud of dust glowing a faint golden white, carrying a mechashifted sword in two hands over his head, the blade glowing blue from the hardlight dust along with gravity dust purple in the middle.

Jaune then leaps out of the dust howling: Just try and take them from me again you bastards! I’ll split you in twain, I’ll break you over my knees and slay you! I won’t let you take them from me again!

The group stands dazed as Jaune runs straight through them and through a wall, completely naked, his towel being shredding into binding that tied his meaty tube of a cock to his lower-thigh, while holding his sword overhead before slashing in front of him creating a hole for him to jump out into the campus.

A blush creeps up the faces of those present.

Marrow burst out laughing: That was amazing! Did anyone, get a picture?

Elm falls to her knees: I think I’m in love?

Neon shake her head sadly: No, I was too... Mesmerized.

Yang: So that’s why he wears two belts.

Winter...

Winter has disappeered.

------

Later that evening....

Atlas Reporter: A well-known Huntsman known as Jaune Arc has gone on a murderous Grimm-Hunting rampage all while streaking! What will those crazy kids think of next! Next on the block, pregnancy rates in Mantle having been climbing by over 750% over the last six hours, is this related to the previous new? The Answer may surprise you.

Ren flicks the Scroll-Box closed.

He then rests his head on Nora’s shoulder. 

Ren: Yep, it happened again.

Nora: We did nothign to stop it.

Ren: We could have warned them... But, better they learn first hand.

Nora: You did it because you thought it was funny, don’t you dare lie to me.

Ren smiles as he opens the scroll so that Nora can see, the Scroll showing a madly blushing Winter chasing after Jaune in a Bullhead, providing both aerial support, and firing t-shirt and boxer shorts at him, while he rampages through a horde of Grimm.

Ren smirking and pulling Nora close: You know me too well.

[the-enamorando-deity]

#3 from "new prompt list" with Nat? <3

Hi love! Sorry it took so long, but your wish is my command. 

Natasha Romanoff x Reader (18+ because of the References but nothing overt) 

Prompt: "Bite Me" 

Poker Face 

‘Is that a challenge, Miss Romanoff?’ you queried, looking her up and down. She leaned across the table towards you, until there was barely an inch between your lips and hers, her breath tickling your nose as she looked deep into your eyes.

‘You should know by now,’ she started, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, ‘that for me, everything is a challenge.’

A groan sounded close by, and you flicked your eyes over to Steve, who was sitting on your left. ‘Can you two cut that out? This is a card game, not a brothel.’

You could hear Tony sniggering at Steve’s very specific way of talking, shooting him a look. Natasha folded as you eyed Tony carefully, as if daring him to try and get out of this round without losing some dignity. He sulked as he pored over his cards, not happy in the slightest that you knew exactly what was in his hand.

‘It’s illegal to count cards, Y/N,’ he muttered, dropping his hand down and revealing his loss. 

‘Tony, hon, if I started listing all the things that are illegal that I could prove you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours, you’d be in prison serving a life sentence before I finish speaking.’

You smirked at the horror on Tony’s face as Steve offered you a hi-five. Natasha was both impressed and horrified that her partner could silence the Tony Stark with one sentence, but she was also a little turned on.

‘Alright, Tony, time to get Stark Naked,’ you grinned. You were only one rather long round into the game of Strip Poker, and it was going to be a long night, especially with the four of you being as competitive as you were. 

Steve rolled his eyes at your joke, while Natasha stifled a laugh. The pair of you were about as immature as each other, at least when it counted. Tony pulled a face and kicked off a shoe, throwing it across the room.

‘There, I lost the first hand, you’re gonna lose the next one,’ he snapped, flicking through his cards.

Choking back a snide remark, you turned to Steve. ‘You’re up, bud, and I won’t be accepting shoes as clothes beyond the first round.’

Your cockiness made Steve overthink, and he grinned and took up your challenge. ‘I call your bluff, Y/L/N, your poker face shows when you get too cocky. Read em and weep,’ he dropped his cards and took a swig of his drink, his eyes full of confidence.

‘It ain’t me who’s gonna be weepin’, Stevie.’

One by one, you dropped a card until your entire hand was on the table, and revealed you had won. 

‘Shit,’ Steve remarked.

‘LANGUAGE,’ the three of you shouted back at him.

The pile of shoes grew to seven, other things starting to accompany them. You still had one shoe and all of your clothes, while Steve was down to his jeans and underwear, Tony down to just his boxers, and Natasha in luckily oversized t-shirt. Spinning her most recent loss around your finger, her icy cold stare bore into your eyes.

‘I bet you’re at least grateful you wore underwear today,’ you smirked, flinging them across the room. ‘Although I guess it doesn’t matter now. Anyone wanna call it quits before they lose their last shred of decency?’

The three of your teammates mumbled, all of them irritated they let themselves be duped into playing a game you convinced them you’d never heard of. 

‘I’m out,’ Tony remarked.

Steve nodded in agreement. ‘Good luck, Nat, I really hope that t-shirt isn’t in the pile tomorrow.’

‘Gosh, thanks Steve! You’re a real good friend,’ she chided, flicking a card at him. 

The boys gathered their clothes and headed back to their rooms in defeat, leaving you smiling a little too confidently at Natasha. ‘I can’t believe you let it get that far,’ you remarked, shuffling the cards between your fingers, eyes locked with hers.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she teased, her foot tracing the inside of your thigh. Unamused, you ignored her and dealt the cards. She seemed a little confused at first, before realising you were going to keep playing until she was completely naked, and entirely under your command. ‘Well, shit, Y/N, I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘You in or out, Tasha?’ you grinned, ‘but don’t worry, either way that t-shirt is ending up on the floor somewhere.’

The flash of red on her cheeks let you know she was exactly where you wanted her.

‘Bite me, Y/N.’

‘With pleasure.’

 taglist: @marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @monihaswritersblock @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[justasparkwritings]

Peace: Wasting Your Honor

Previous: Coming of Age

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Swearing, Everyone’s a villain, Hyung line out of line, Intentions, Accusations

Summary: The Leader & Hyung Line have a terse conversation with Jungkook’s girlfriend. 

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift 

Peace Master List

                “So, we just wanted to talk,” Namjoon said, sitting across from you at their long dining table. 

            “Okay, about what?” You asked, a smile on your lips. Jungkook had asked you to meet him at the dorm. You were visiting Korea for the first time and he wanted to show you every important place in Seoul. The dorms being one of them. There had been discussion of sex in his room, a fantasy he’d had but never fulfilled. You were cautious, unsure how his six roommates would react to you spending more time around them than they deemed necessary. 

            “About you and Jungkook,” Namjoon replied. As the words came out of his mouth, Jin and Suga came to sit on his right and left sides. You glanced at the three men, all dressed in sweats, and wondered if this sinking feeling in your gut was to be trusted. 

            “What about us?” You asked hesitantly. 

            “We wanted to talk about the longevity of your relationship, and why the fuck you are dating him,” Yoongi said. 

            Your interactions with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jin had been polite so far. You’d gone out to dinner with them and had spent a day following them through rehearsals and work. They’d been cordial to you. They hadn’t sought you out or tried to get to know you but watched from the periphery. You took notice that Ho-Seok, Taehyung and Jimin weren’t to be found. While the three hyungs were cool to you, the maknae took to you like snow to the mountains. They had made it their mission to befriend you, to learn all they could, to practice their English with you and ask you silly questions. A text change had already started and was filled with gifs and broken English. The feelings were mutual: you were already obsessed with them. 

            You looked around the dining room, wondering why Jungkook wasn’t here for this. Where was he? 

            “So, why Jungkook?” Jin asked, eyes unmoving. 

            “What do you mean why?” You countered. 

            “Why are you dating him?” Seokjin answered. 

            “I’m dating him because I care about him, and I really like him,” You responded, arms instinctively crossing over your chest. 

            “Do you really like him?” Namjoon pushed. 

            “Why is that your business?” You countered. 

            The three men exchanged a glance. They were negotiating, who was going to come down the hardest, and were they going to abandon ship, telling management it was ridiculous? You watched them, eyebrows knitting together, trying to piece together what was transpiring. 

            “Have you ever dated a pop star before?” Jin asked. 

            “No,” You said. Your mind was racing to fill in the blanks before they asked for them. Could you brace yourself for whatever impact was coming? 

            “Why do you think you’re cut out to date Jungkook?” Yoongi asked. 

            “Why is this your business?” You asked again. 

            “Have you ever dated someone of Asian heritage?” 

            Your eyes went wide. 

            “Are you implying what I think you are?” You whispered. 

            “Depends, what do you think I’m implying?” Yoongi replied. 

            “That I’m dating Jungkook because he’s Asian and I have a fetish for Asian men.” You spat the words out. Their lingering taste threatening to make you vomit on the table. 

            “Then yes, that is what we’re asking.” Yoongi was calculated, he measured his words, gauging what would make you more upset. You were more likely to forgive him if the assumption came out of your own mouth. 

            “You came out of nowhere, you aren’t wealthy, you aren’t famous, and yet you’ve captured Jungkook’s heart and attention. You take up his time, he’s flying out to see you, calling you at all hours. You are taking over his life, a life he has worked hard to build and rebuild,” Namjoon felt like he was a Principal, scolding a wayward student. He used Managements language as much as he could, an attempt to separate himself from this entire situation, though he knew this was equally his fault. But if he could separate himself, stay true to the promise he’d made Jungkook, then he could absolve himself. 

            “We met at a restaurant. I haven’t asked him to visit me. He calls me when he can, I’m sorry that it interrupts your life but how is that my fault?” 

            “It’s your problem because he is spending too much time on you,” Namjoon countered. 

            “Why aren’t you talking to Jungkook about this? He’s the one you’re having a problem with.” You said. You inhaled slowly, unwilling to show the deep hurt you were feeling. 

            “But the problem stems from you,” Jin said. You could tell from the glint in his eyes that Jin didn’t want to be there; he didn’t want to have this conversation with you. 

             In fact, none of them did. They didn’t want to do this; they didn’t want to be the brass coming down on you and Jungkook. They couldn’t let on that they had fought with management about this. They had many meetings with Big Hit, all of which lasted hours longer than was needed. They opposed this conversation, this bait and switch to get you to either sign an NDA or dump Jungkook. As the three of them sat, two and three drinks in, they had discussed what would happen to their relationship to Jungkook, and how he would handle learning of their conversation with you. 

            “He’s never going to forgive us,” Yoongi said. 

            “How will she ever befriend us, if we’ve started out as enemies?” Seokjin asked. 

            “Maybe management will come through and say something,” Namjoon offered. They found little solace in this. 

            “She’s really cool,” Yoongi said. 

            “Taehyung and Jimin can’t stop talking about how funny she is, it’s hurting my ego,” Jin added. 

            “She’s good for Jungkook… I think he loves her,” Namjoon said. His head was clouded with alcohol and anger. He had raised Jungkook. After the months of reconciliation Namjoon and Jungkook had endured, this tactic was broaching a level of deceit and betrayal that he was positive they would ever recover from. They tried to tell Big Hit this, that they shouldn’t be put in this place, not after what had happened, but management had wanted them to try and make a connection, to make it seem like the proverbial man wasn’t guiding their every decision. 

            But it was the opposite, and you all knew it. 

             “Why should we trust you?” Yoongi asked. 

            “How do we know you won’t destroy Jungkook?” Jin inquired. “Use your texts and photos against him?” 

            Your mind racked through what you could say to dissuade their fears. You waited a minute too long. 

            “Those aren’t rhetorical questions,” Namjoon urged you. He recognized Jungkook would be coming back soon, and he was more embarrassed to be caught having this conversation than having to relay it to JK later.  

            “I’m dating Jungkook because I care deeply for him,” Your eyes were pleading, “I don’t care about the money or the status or the fame. I care about him.” 

            “Say this continues, how will it look to have you on JK’s arm?” Yoongi asked. 

            “Stop circumventing your point. Say it, or move on,” Your ability to hide your emotions was waning and you spoke through pursed lips. It was taking everything in you not to storm out or break down in sobs. There was no way you would give them the satisfaction of seeing how many pieces they’d broken you into. 

            “You’re not Korean, you’re heavy, you’re mixed race, you don’t speak the language, you don’t fit.” Yoongi laid out each point like a nail in your crucifixion. Yoongi was repeating what management had written. They had these views, not him, could you tell from his eyes that he was trying to apologize? 

            “We’re saying that we don’t know how this is going to work,” Namjoon said. 

            “You’re saying that I’m some fat, old, American who is dating Jungkook for his money and fame,” You looked each of them in the eye. “You don’t even know me.” 

            “Well, from what we can see, your fetishizing of Jungkook is disgusting, and frankly, that and your age is enough to show us that he shouldn’t be dating you.” Yoongi said coolly. 

            “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. You couldn’t hold it in, the crack of your resolve had sprung a leak and the tears began to fall. You watched as they fell delicately on your sweater. 

            “Jungkook is honest, he is shy and kind. He wears his heart on his sleeve and breaks easily. He pushes himself too hard, and he’s always scared he’s not living up to his potential. He is the most honorable of us, and who are you to be wasting his honor?” Seokjin asked. 

            “We have to protect Jungkook,” Namjoon said, though he was positive no one believed him. 

            “There are a hundred ways you and management could’ve done this, ways that would’ve been kinder,” You looked up, each of them blurry as you blinked down your tears. You grasped onto the last shred of your dignity and stared each of them in the eyes. “You chose the most malicious, repulsive, heartbreaking way to – 

            “See if you’re a gold digger?” Yoongi asked.  

           “Fuck you, Yoongi,” You said, standing up. “Jungkook always says that you are the sweetest guys. You are loving and take care of one another. You raised him. I know you fucked him over one too many times, and I know he is still hurt from the wounds you inflicted,” You stare pointedly at Namjoon, “But, I don’t know, maybe in controlling him, in raising him, you gave him all the love and decency you had, so that he could be the thoughtful, sensitive person he is. Or maybe you’re just blinded by pride and a false sense of security, but I’m not a fucking threat to you, and I’m not a fucking threat to Jungkook. If management has a problem with me, they can fucking call me.” You turned on your heels sharply and marched out of the room. 

           Jungkook stood at the door, eyes wide. Your shoulder brushed against his as you made your way down the hallway, trying to hold in your sobs until you were out of their sight. 

           “Kookie, wait,” Namjoon stood. 

           “What did you do?” He asked, looking at the three men. Anger was spewing from his lips. He’d never felt this level of hate and betrayal. “Why did you do that?” 

           “Management,” Jin said as he took the notes Big Hit had given them out of his pocket and pushed it against the table towards Jungkook. He stared, eyes glossing over the words. 

           “I can’t believe you did it,” He said to them. His eyes had gone dark. Namjoon was right, it would’ve been better to tell him after the fact than be caught failing to complete the hit. Jungkook turned sharply and began to run after you. 

      Next: Loves for Show

[opheliadawnwalker3]

Siren *Part 3*

Author’s Notes: I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and reviewing my first multi chapter fic. Your feedback really means a lot to me and I hope to keep delivering! Thanks again :)

Synopsis:   Reader is married with a young son and working as a waitress at a popular nightclub in the 1930′s. Her husband is fatally ill and his new treatments are swiftly draining their meager savings. Desperate, she struggles to make ends meet until she catches the eye of the son of a notorious crime boss. Loki Laufeyson is dangerous, powerful and very wealthy and isn’t used to being told no. He offers her a way out of her money troubles. But how far is she willing to go to save her husband?

Part Three: The calm before the storm. Reader gives Richard his final dose.

Part One  Part Two

*****************************************************************************************

Loki was much rougher with you this time. Your thighs were still tender from when he pushed your legs up to your chest. You still smell like him. His cologne and musk clinging desperately to your used body. When he was done, Loki calmly lit a snipe and coolly slid a thick wad of money down the front of your dress. Thankfully, he let you keep your underlings this time.

After Loki was finished with you, you insisted on being dropped back off at Louie’s. You did not want him to know where you lived. It would only bring nothing but trouble. The rest of your shift flew by in a haze. You could feel several of your coworker’s eyes on you. Wondering why you would possibly leave with Laufeyson and his trigger men. Curious, yet no one had to courage to outright ask. You just played it off as normally as you could until it was time for you to leave. Inwardly, you were in absolute turmoil. The thick wad of cash tucked into your dress feeling more burdensome by the second.

In your bathroom, you stare in the mirror as you splash cold water on your face. You hardly recognize the woman staring back. With your features pinched together in silent judgment, you look several years older. You feel disgusted with yourself. You look down at your hands.The same malicious hands you pleasure Loki with, are the same ones that drips arsenic into Richard’s throat.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with the crushing weight of your decisions on your shoulders and your fingers grasp the sink tightly. You squeeze your eyes shut as a wave of panic and nausea roll over you. You grit your teeth as the tightness in your chest increases. You struggle to control your breathing.

You are a whore and a murderer. But you can’t quit now. Not after everything. It will all be over in a few days and then you could move on. Start your new life with your boy.

Your eyes fly open. You needed to see him. You need to remind yourself who you’re doing this for.

You let out a shaky breath and pull yourself away from the sink and your judgmental reflection. You pass Richard’s door, comforted by his pitiful wheezing snores. One less thing to worry about tonight.

Johnny lay sleeping in his crib, unbothered and untouched by the world. His chubby fingers clutching onto his favorite stuffed rabbit. You reach down and softly brush his hair out of his face as silent tears slide down your cheeks. Your heart clenches tightly with unwavering love and guilt.

It will be worth it. To give him a good life, it’ll all be worth it.

*******************************************************************************************

You yawn as you stand at the kitchen counter, waiting for the toast to pop up. The rays from the sun trickle in through your kitchen window, bathing the apartment in rich golden light. You slide Richard’s glass of orange juice towards you as you lift the small clear bottle from your apron. Just a few more drops. Maybe one or two more for good measure.

It had to be today. You had prolonged the inevitable long enough.

Today was the day Richard would die.

You stir the mixture together, just as the toast pops up. You butter them, then add his favorite blackberry jam. A couple of slices of bacon sit on the side.  You would rather avoid another steak incident if you could. 

You take a deep breath and gather yourself as you pick up the plate and glass. Quietly walking down the hall so you don’t wake Johnny, you knock softly on the door.

No reply.

You turn the doorknob slowly and peak your head in. “Richard? I brought you some breakfast. I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d-”

You halt, taken aback at the sight of your husband. It had barely been ten hours since you looked in on him and yet here he was on death’s door. Richard slowly turns his head to look at you and his lips twitch with a  faint smile you haven’t seen in months. 

“Do I...look as awful as I feel?” He sputters out in a playful tone. You allow a fleeting expression of sadness to pass your features before crossing to stand by his bed.

“No dear, you still look as handsome ever. Do you...feel like eating today? Can you sit up for me?”

Richard winces as he attempts to sit up and you have to help pull him up the rest of the way. You push the glass of orange juice towards him.

“Here. I imagine your throat is sore from all that coughing. Freshly squeezed, just how you like it.”

Richard coughs wetly before picking up the glass, tired eyes looking over his small breakfast. Much to your surprise, his expression seems...grateful. His eyes meet yours as you move to sit on the bed next to him, placing a hand on his knee in a deceivingly caring gesture.

“You’re a good woman.” He rasps calmly as he takes a long pull of orange juice. Unwillingly, you feel a small tug on your heart. How long had you waited to hear any words of kindness from the man you married? For any sort of genuine warmth from the man you fell in love with?  For years he controlled and terrified you. Beat you until there was hardly anything left. It was far too late now.

So why is there a pang in your heart now? Is it just guilt? Or is there some sick twisted part of you that still loves him?

You offer a small smile and a reassuring pat on his knee before you rise from the bed.

“Well I’ll...just leave you to your breakfast-” you’re cut off when Richard quickly reaches out and grabs your hand. You flinch at the sudden movement.

“No wait. Please...stay.” Richard pleads in an unusually weak voice. You look down at him, unsure. He withdraws and you feel his fingers trace the scar on your hand. His eyes briefly shimmer with what you could only describe as guilt. “I mean...I would really like the company.”

You nod complacently, sitting back down on the bed. You watch silently as Richard takes another gulp of orange juice and nibbles on his toast. After a couple of minutes, Richard finally breaks the silence.

“Do you...remember where we first met?”

You were taken aback and you place your hands in your lap to avoid squeezing the sheets nervously.

“Of course I do. At the Feed Rack Stand. You were there showing off with your Pallies.”

“And you were there with your parents. You stuck out in your bright pink dress. You saw a kid drop his ice cream cone and you gave him yours. I knew right then I was dizzy for a dame.”

“Richard...” You trail off softly.

“And that Fourth of July picnic out at the lake? You brought that Buttermilk Creme Pie that everyone thought was just aces. Then we watched the sailboats pass by and that family with the young twins? That’s when we decided to try for a baby.”

You remembered. You were originally going to wear your pretty white sundress, but the bruises on your arms still hadn’t healed. So you had to wear a drab blue dress with longer sleeves. The evening fireworks terrified you with their sudden booming.

“And when I saw you holding Johnny for the first time...you never looked more beautiful...”

“Stop this...you’re going to get better. The doctor is coming in two days with the new treatment.” You lie through your teeth. You were going to hell there was no doubt about it. To tell a man he would heal when you’re actively pouring poison down his throat will surely earn you a seat on Satan’s lap. But you needed to say anything to get out of that room. 

Richard lets out a strained laugh and shakes his head. “I just...I know I didn’t always treat you right. My father...he wasn’t a very good man and I...guess I take after him.”

You feel a conflicting stab of both rage and empathy flicker through you. Your stomach feels knotted and heavy with conflicting emotions. None of this makes it right. Nothing he says now will take away everything he’s done. So why is it affecting you so?

Instinctively, you feel your eyes well up. No this is ridiculous. He’s treated you with nothing but cruelty and coldness for years but now that he’s showing you just a shred of decency, you were suddenly wracked with remorse? 

You needed to leave. Now.

You slowly stand, struggling to keep your conflicting emotions from your face. Your eyes glance over the near empty glass of orange juice. You hated Richard with every fiber of your being. You wanted to cause him just a shred of the pain he’s caused you. But you didn’t want to watch him die. You couldn’t.

“I need to go tend to Johnny. He should be waking up any minute.”

“I want...him to remember me. Can you do that for me? If nothing else, Just make sure my son remembers me.”

Your throat suddenly feels dry and you swallow hard. Johnny will never know you. I’ll make sure we both forget. You nod solemnly before turning to leave.

“Wait...please.”

You pause, looking down at the shell that used to be Richard. The face that had looked down at you with such animosity and scorn in the past, now just looked pathetic and frail.

“It wasn’t...all bad was it? Our life together?”

You take a deep breath and lean down to kiss his forehead. The stale smell of approaching death clings to him. You decide to answer truthfully. To offer him this small modicum of mercy before he dies by your hand.

“No, Richard. It wasn’t all bad.”

And then you turn away from him forever. Leaving him all alone to await Death.

**********************************************************************************

You gently sit Johnny down on the ground as you sit down on a bench. The city park is only two blocks from your apartment and not very much to look at. A couple of swing sets, a slide and a set of monkey bars. A big open field on the other side of the playground for ball games or free frolicking children. But Johnny always loves watching the other children and you had to get out of the apartment.

You try not to think about Richard wheezing his last breathe as you observe Johnny quietly playing with the few toys you brought for him. But by a cruel twist of fate, Johnny looks just like your soon to be late husband. But you will make sure he will turn out nothing like his father. 

Johnny will be better than Richard. Far better than you.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a flustered mother sits beside you on the bench, wrestling with her own toddler. Her light blonde hair lays free and unfixed on her shoulders, her cheeks are flushed with exertion ,and you can make out a subtle roundness to her belly.

“My goodness Alice, calm down. Let Mama sit down before you try to jump out of my arms.”

The tiny girl continues squirming and flailing her limbs on her mother’s lap. “Down! Down!”

The woman turns to you with an exasperated sigh as she puts her daughter down on the ground next to Johnny. She then turns to you with a wide friendly grin as she fans herself.

“Whew, it’s as hot as the dickens out here!” 

She holds her hand out and you can’t but notice the Southern twang in her voice. Hesitantly, you reach out and shake her hand.

“Hi there. I’m Lorraine and this little spitfire here, is Alice.”

You introduce yourself and gesture to Johnny whose shyly playing with the many pink ruffles on Alice’s dress.

“This is my son, Johnny.” You state. You didn’t feel much like socializing but it would be a welcome distraction at least. Lorraine leans over, peering down at Johnny.

“Well isn’t he just the cutest little thing. So well behaved too! Unlike mine.” She gushes, pointing to Alice, whose already digging her fingers deep into the dirt. Johnny watches her with pure fascination.

“Thank you. You’re daughter is very cute too,” You say truthfully. Alice and Johnny had to be close in age yet she is the mirror opposite. Talkative, outgoing, with long straight blonde hair and an impish smile. You assume she gets that from her mother.

For the next several minutes, the pair of you exchange pleasantries. You make sure to keep things purposefully vague on your side, but manage to keep her talking. Not that that was very difficult. Lorraine, it seems, could talk your ear off.

“Have you lived here long?” You ask, genuinely curious. She lets out a pleasant laugh as though you just told an amusing joke.

“Not at all. Moved here about two months ago all the way from Charlotte. My husband got a promotion and we had to relocate. Drove all the way here just for the car to up and quit on us. But, I suppose that’s what we get for driving an old Napier. And Norman, bless his heart, has to take the trolley to work. Can you imagine? But until we can afford a new one, we have to make due.”

You nod, watching Alice pulling Johnny’s hands into the dirt next to hers. Looks like he’ll need another bath tonight, you muse silently.

Lorraine adjusts her skirt before leaning in slightly. “Well hey, forgive me if I seem too forward, but I would just love to get together again. Truth be told, I haven’t had much luck makin’ friends here. And hey, even our kids get along! Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll give ya a dil-ya-ble whenever we’re free?”

You pause and bite your lip, initially unsure how to respond. Lorraine seems perfectly lovely, but you don’t know if you need yet another person in your life right now. Your eyes drift over her wide doe eyes and down to her growing belly and relent.

You return her smile. “Sure. That’d be keen.”

The pair of you trade numbers and you stand to grab Johnny who toddled a few feet away with Alice. His toys lay forgotten by the bench. You bend down to pick him up when something catches your eye. A familiar face that makes your blood run cold. 

Blonde hair. Steely blue eyes. It’s only for a split second, but you know you saw him. He is standing by the sidewalk outside of the park, with his hands tucked into his suit jacket. His mouth tilted in a troublesome smirk. His eyes focused on you.

What was he doing here of all places?

“Steve?” you mutter quietly, your heart skipping a beat as you hug Johnny closer to you.

“Mm? You say something honey?” Lorraine questions, kneeling down to knock the dirt off of Alice’s dress.

You turn to look back where Steve was standing but he was gone. Melted into the passing crowd as though he were never there.

Is it a coincidence? Did they have business nearby? Or was he sent to watch you?

Whatever the reason, you didn’t want to linger and find out. You quickly gather all of Johnny’s toys and bid a quick goodbye to Lorraine.

“O-okay honey, I’ll be seeing you soon right?” There’s a subtle edge of desperate hope in her voice.

“Yes. Yes absolutely. I’ll give you a ring soon,” you assure with a strained smile. Maybe one day you would call her. But not anytime soon. 

Without another word, you spin and practically run back to the apartment with a wriggling Johnny in your arms. Checking behind you every few steps to make sure you’re not followed.

*****************************************************************************************

When you walk back into the apartment, there is an unearthly stillness. The air feels thicker and there is a heavy silence. You quickly lay Johnny down in his crib with a bottle to help him nap before turning towards Richard’s door.

You had to see. You had to know.

You take a few shaky steps towards the door. A subtle tingling sensation travels down your limbs and you can hear your pounding heartbeat in your ears. You raise your hand to hesitantly knock on Richard’s door. There was nothing but silence. Your stomach drops and your fingers wrap around the doorknob tightly.

Maybe he’s sleeping. But maybe he’s not.

Slowly you open the door and step in, freezing in the door frame. Even in the dim lamp light, you can make out the glassy unfocused look of his eyes. His plate knocked carelessly on the floor with cold half eaten toast on the rug. Glass empty and laying on it’s side. His mouth is open and you can see a thin trickle of drool trailing down the corner. He’s still. Very very still.

Gathering your wits, you move to stand at his bedside. Looking down at him like he’s done for too many years. Was this how he felt? This raw power of putting someone in their supposed place?

You reach down and touch him, quickly retracting when you feel his cold dead flesh.

For a moment, you just stand there silently. Observing every feature. Committing it to memory. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you raise your hand and it strikes Richard across the face. His head snaps to the side. You want to strike him again. Over and over again until his flesh is marred just as yours once was. But you force yourself to back away, hands twitching at your sides. You need to calm down. You turn and leave the room, closing the door swiftly behind you.

In his crib, Johnny reaches up to you with dirty hands. His curls unkempt and mashed against the side of his head. You smile and pick him up lightly bouncing him on your hip like you know he likes. He gives you a sleepy smile and you move to the rocking chair in the corner. Johnny curls up into you and you cradle him to your chest. You start singing an old tune that your mother used to sing to you. You hadn’t heard it in many years yet the words return to you effortlessly.

Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry,

Go to sleepy little baby.

When you wake, you’ll have cake,

And all the pretty little horses.

Black and bay, dapple and grey,

Coach and six little horses,

Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry

Go to sleepy little baby.

When you wake, you’ll have cake,

And all the pretty little horses.

Way down yonder, down in the meadow,

There's a poor wee little lamby.

The bees and the butterflies pickin' at its eyes,

The poor wee thing cried for her mammy.

Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,

Go to sleepy little baby.

When you wake, you'll have cake,

And all the pretty little horses.

Johnny sags against you and you know he’s fast asleep. You carefully lay him back down in his crib, tucking his arm around his rabbit. Closing the door behind you, you walk back to the kitchen and eye the telephone. You had a few phone calls to make. You take a deep breath and pick up the receiver.

******************************************************************************************

About thirty minutes later, you let Mabel into your apartment. The doctor is due within the hour to confirm Richard’s condition and deliver the death certificate, but you needed Mabel’s support more than anything.

She wastes no time, pulling you into a tight hug and petting your hair soothingly.

“It’s going to be alright,” she croons in your ear. You sink into her loving embrace. “Thank you. That means so much.”

Suddenly, she pulls away and looks back at the closed door warily. Before you could question her, she moves purposefully into your kitchen without a word.

“Where is it?” Mabel asks, beginning to carefully look through your cabinets. You raise your brow. “Where’s what, Mabel?”

She pauses and looks at you. Her face uncharacteristically serious. “The arsenic you borrowed from me months ago. We need to get it out of your apartment, less they suspect something.”

You feel your blood pounding at your temples and you cross your arms nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mabel gives you a sad smile. “Dear, I’ve been in your apartment enough times to know you don’t have any rats. Well...not anymore.”

You shake your head and it feels as though ice flows through your veins. “Mabel, what are you saying?”

Mabel stands there for a moment and the silence is tense and suffocating. Then she shakes her head and places a hand on a nearby wall.

“These are nice apartments. Decent prices, it’s near the grocery store and the park is right down the street for the little ones. But the downside is the walls are very thin.” She gives you a knowing, melancholy smile. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. I heard...how he really was.”

Your heart seizes as you choke out a sob. You feel your knees threaten to buckle under you as you lean against the counter top. Mabel takes careful steps towards you, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you then. Please...let me help you now.” Mabel says softly with her hand outstretched. You feel the tears slide down your cheeks as your hand slips into your apron pocket and you hand over the small clear bottle to her. She lets you collapse into her arms as you both cry huddled on your kitchen floor.

***********************************************************************************

Next Part

@sherrybaby14 @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @lucifers-trash-stash @theatricalbride@imanuglywombat @ne-gans @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @cherienymphe @rinkashirikitateku @searchforanotherway @amor67figment-love @justvnash @mcudarklibrary @remilupin22 @chaoticfiretaconerd @threeminutesoflife @jessiejunebug @mizcaptainphoenix @marvelfansworld @darkandinvitingfics @xoxabs88xox @hurricanerin @smollest-soybean @awesomerextyphoon @polyamorous-winchester @readsalot73 @almostpurelysmut @gothgirlmahi @cherienymphe @amor67figment-love @beenheresinceforever @justvnash @backoff-imreading @pinkzsugar @startrekkingaroundasgard @hurricanerin @erinlaufeyson​ @different-type-of-hell​ @readsalot73​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @cltex84​ @sadwaywardkid​ @tenaciousnerdbucket​ @caffeindqueen​ @rantsalon​ @thefangirllife​ @is-it-madness​ @gothgirlmahi​ @princessofdarkwinter​ @fatefuldestinies​

[fandom-collective-writers]

His Shining Star (Taki Kozaki x MC)

Fandom: Voltage (Kings of Paradise)

Pairing: Taki Kozaki x MC (Female)

Warning: NSFW Smut

Requested by: Anonymous

Written by: @voltage-vixen

“This is nice,” MC breathed a peaceful sigh, grabbing ahold of Taki’s hand. “I know this isn’t exactly what you had in store for us, but thanks for humoring me. I had a wonderful time this evening, and the night only keeps getting better thanks to you, Taki.”

The stars glistened in the dusk sky above them as the couple leisurely paced the dimly lit boardwalk. Tonight, Taki and MC had been in attendance of one of Yosuke’s networking parties. After a few hours of mingling, Shun shot Taki a knowing wink, and generously distracted the event on goers, granting Taki with a chance to whisk MC away from the liveliness. Latching their hands together, the duo joined in laughter at what must have been a comical sight to witness-MC hitching the dress up to her side to run, and Taki carrying her heels as they trotted down the staircase all for the chance to slip away undetected.

When they finally broke free from the venue, Taki reached for his phone to summon the limo. Instead he was stopped by MC  when she rested her hand on his wrist, wondering if they could walk home together. Taki was more than aware that the forecast called for scattered rainstorms on this cloudy night, yet his resolve crumbled away when he saw the glint of hope flash in the pools of her bright eyes. Nodding his agreement, a blush creeped onto the real estate tycoon’s face just as MC broke into a gleaming smile. One could practically feel the giddiness from the effects of his decision radiating from her. Determined to hide his embarrassment from her, Taki decided to press his luck and poke fun at MC’s freshly overeager demeanor.

“You never cease to be amused by the smallest things in life,” Taki mocked, stifling back a laugh at the scowl aligning across MC’s face. “Although that trait is a very ‘you’ one, and I can’t say I would expect anything less from your poor person mind.”

“Zip it!�� MC playfully rebutted. Reaching out to swat Taki, her attempt was foiled when he enveloped her snugly in the nook of his chest.

“Are you going to make me?” he challenged, wrapping his arms around MC to keep her from squirming away.

“Is that a proposition?” she retorted.

Leaning in to press their foreheads together, the distance that was once between them was no longer. They were so close; MC could nearly melt from the heat emanating off Taki’s body. Caught captive in the sultry gaze of his eyes, MC was drawn into the inviting part of Taki’s lips. His taste, his scent, and his warmth consumed every fiber of her being. Soon she found herself swooning into his embrace. The tender kisses Taki grazed upon her lips were no longer enough. Clutching her fingers around the trademark red and navy-blue tie around his neck, MC gave it a firm tug until-

BOOM!

A sudden clasp of thunder jolted a startled MC from Taki’s arms. Rain drops trickled from the sky, proceeding to fall as the downpour grew heavier. Taki swiftly removed his jacket and threw it over MC’s head to cover her before shouting instructions to start running down the boardwalk. Holding onto her hand to ensure she didn’t trip; Taki reached into his pocket and used his phone to order the chauffeur to meet them nearby.

The limousine arrived shortly after the call, and Taki wasted no time ushering MC into the shelter of the vehicle. Once safely inside, MC tried to salvage her dress by wringing the fabric out, and Taki raised the partition separating them from the driver. Turning his attention over to MC, panic arose within Taki when he noticed her drenched appearance.

“Are you alright?” Taki fussed, frowning when he felt how clammy and cool her skin was to his touch. The frown on Taki’s face deepened as his fingers trailed along the material of her dampened gown. “This is soaking wet! Take it off right this instant!” Gripping onto the strapless neckline, Taki tugged the front of MC’s dress downwards, almost exposing the bareness of her chest.  

“Taki!” she hissed, quickly rushing to cover herself and protect her decency. “Have you completely lost your mind?! Wet or not, I don’t want to be naked when the driver is only right on the other side of the partition!”

“You don’t have to worry about the driver,” Taki declared, reaching over to reassuringly brush the side of her cheek. “He knows better than to disturb us.”    

“Taki, I-”

“What if you get sick? Of course, I would be there to nurse you back to health, but seeing you ill would be upsetting to me.”

Taki leaned back into the seat and crossed his arms over his chest. The arch of his brow furrowed, while he incoherently muttered what MC assumed to be discontent under the sound of his breath.

Is Taki pouting?!

Curious, MC inched closer. Her mind was whirling in wonderment at how the soaked Taki was able to manage pulling off looking both boyish and charming, yet deliciously sexy as the drenched suit tightly clung to the defined contours of his body.  

“Taki?” she called out to him. Seeming to still be preoccupied in his own thoughts, he failed to respond back. Biting down on her lip to suppress the fit of giggles at how adorable he was acting, MC stretched out to touch him, but was caught off guard and shrieked when Taki suddenly caught ahold of her wrist.

“Gotcha!” Taki boasted, flipping her over and pinning MC against the seat. Refusing to release her from his grasp, his arm snaked around her and teasingly toyed with the dress’s zipper. “Last chance-either you be a good girl and comply on your own, or else I’ll have no other choice, but to take matters into my own hands.”

“Then do it,” MC dared, bending her head back onto the seat. “Do your worst to me, Taki.”

Taki’s eyes widened, astonished by the task she was demanding of him. Never had he anticipated that MC would be this willing to venture into such daring exhibitions. His hand rested on her thigh; fingers caressing the softness of MC’s skin, dying to reacquaint himself with the familiarity of her curves, Taki’s sense of willpower was slowly dissolving. Her body’s intent surely held the same motive considering how the coolness transformed into a blistering heat. Both Taki and MC were overcome with the rush of déjà vu, recollecting the encounter on the boardwalk from earlier. Sensations of their lingering passions evoked in this present moment.

I want to take MC here and now, consequences be damned. But did she really mean what she said?

Caught between his urges of ravaging MC right there and then, to wanting to respect her comfort in case she didn’t want to partake, Taki hesitantly glanced up at the woman in question. Relief flooded him when she gave a knowing nod and squirmed her body underneath him in a fit of impatience. Both of them wanted-no needed the other.

“Do your worst to me,” MC repeated, urging Taki to have his way with her.

Any shred of self-doubt on Taki’s end was gone after hearing MC’s declaration. Releasing his grip on her wrist, Taki pressed his body against hers, slinking the dampened dress down from her curves. MC joined in on the undressing, tearing off the wet suit coat, and madly unfastening the buttons of the dress shirt keeping her from feeling all Taki had to offer.

“Taki,” MC moaned, her body writhing to the electric of Taki’s hands roaming, leaving no trace of her untouched. “Don’t hold back. Give me more. More.”

With the final pieces of clothing discarded, Taki pushed MC down onto the seat, lying flat on her back as his knee nudged her thighs apart. Aligning his hips at her entrance, MC’s heart exploded when their bodies finally joined as one. MC felt him-all of him, as he thrusted deeper into her, each movement more frenzied than the last. Tremoring from the pleasure, MC clamped her eyes shut, only to feel Taki stroke the side of her face.

“Don’t keep your eyes closed,” Taki whispered. MC opened her eyes, blushing at being basked in all his loving affections. “Don’t hide anything from me. Let me see every part of you, because there’s not a part that I don’t adore.”

Touched by Taki’s sentiment, tears streamed from MC’s eyes. His lips kissed away at her falling tears, nuzzling her nose to showing assurance that he was there by her side. Each rock of Taki’s hips brought them closer and closer to the edge, their breath sounds heavy as their desperation escalated. Taki’s cock hardened when MC’s walls clenched around him, soon delivering them both a high of ecstasy. MC’s nails dug into Taki’s back during the jolts that flowed through her veins upon reaching her peak.

Once she regained a bit more of her composure, Taki helped MC sit back up, swiping away the bangs that were stuck from the sweat on her forehead behind the crook of her ear. Letting out a big exhale, MC leaned her head against the chilly window to cool down. Taki’s large hand was rubbing her back, and she was instantly soothed, sleep nearly claiming her. A shimmering glint from outside caught her attention, causing MC to sit back up in excitement.

“Look, the rain has cleared up,” MC observed, rolling down the window to better observe the sky. “We can finally see the stars!”

The stars were magnificent, but couldn’t even begin to compete with the natural beauty of MC. While MC was admiring the view in the nighttime sky, Taki hugged her from behind, and rested his chin on the top of her head. 

No matter how many days, months, or years would ever pass, there’s one fact that Taki was certain that would never change-MC was his shining star. No matter where the path of destiny would lead them, she would be the constant light in his life, guiding him, supporting him, and eternally loving him.

His shining star, forever his, always ever after.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

You Promised Me!

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: love triangle (kind of), the snap, angst

Request by anon: Would you think about writing a x reader where R and Bucky were an inseparable couple before the snap. Like, she went on the run with him in civil war. And then when the snap happens her and Steve get together, but when Bucky comes back there’s a huge brawl between Steve and Bucky?

Summary: You and Bucky were like two peas in a pod. You two loved each other more than anything in the whole world... then the snap happened, and you spent five years without him in your life. During that time, you grew closer to Steve and learned to fall in love him. Now, everyone who died because of the snap is back, and Bucky doesn’t know you and Steve are now a thing. Who will you choose? Bucky or Steve?

Squares Filled: image prompt (B4) @buckybarnesbingo​ // museum (1st and 2nd card) @happystevebingo​ // rome wasn’t built in a day @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​ // “as maybe the worlds leading authority of waiting too long…” @star-spangled-bingo​ // confessions @genprompt-bingo // friends to enemies @trope-bingo

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Never did you think your team would be split like it is now. Never did you think you would have to pick a side for something you understand coming from either side. Never did you think this would end the way it did. Steve and Tony head to head, Bucky caught in the middle of it, friends forced to choose sides instead of working together, and a piece of paper telling the world that the rebels are criminals because of it.

You’re forced to pick a side, and even though you’re a good friend of Tony, you have to pick Steve’s side. It’s going to make Tony an enemy, but it’s what you have to do. Bucky is your boyfriend going on three years now, and you can’t abandon him now. Not after everything you two have been through since you and Steve figured out he was alive after all this time. It took a long time to build the relationship you have with Bucky, and you’re not going to leave him after this.

Steve and Tony are too busy fighting, but it’s not Steve that you’re worried about. Tony made sure to do damage to your boyfriend, and that includes ripping off his metal arm. You’re not sure if it hurts or not, but you’re not going to let him stay long enough to get even more injured. You’re the best mechanic on the team, and you know you can repair his arm with your tools.

Luckily, due to being on the run from the law, you have your own mini lab back at the cabin you, Bucky, and Steve have been staying in until this whole Sokovia Accord thing blows over. Your tools is the only thing that is going to save his arm without handing him back over to Tony or anyone else.

“Come on, Bucky, we need to go,” you grunt and help him to his feet. “Steve!”

His metal arm is lying on the ground, broken and confused, but you grab it anyway. You won’t be able to hold it and help Bucky at the same time. Taking off one of the straps that is part of your outfit, you pick up the arm and wrap it around it and his body so that it hangs off his back. It’s the only way you’re going to get him out of here with it.

“Steve!” you yell and look over at him.

He’s walking away from Tony with his shield, but Tony barely sits up and spits out the blood in his mouth.

“That doesn’t belong to you.”

Steve drops the shield as if it meant nothing to him and helps you with Bucky. You three leave with a shred of decency that Tony allows you to have. You understand he’s angry that it was Bucky that killed his parents, but he doesn’t seem to understand it wasn’t him. It was all HYDRA because they brainwashed him into doing their dirty work. You thought Tony was more evolved than that, but you guess not.

You leave him on the icy country by himself to fend for himself. He got himself into this mess by himself, and he can get himself out of it. You, on the other hand, take Bucky and Steve back to your comfy cabin. It isn’t big by any means, but it’s what you call home these days. If you were to go back t0 your actual home, you would be caught and put in prison. You’re fugitives, so you have to act like it.

“Come on, let’s get this fixed for you,” you say as Steve prepares the fire.

“Is it bad?” Bucky groans.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” you state.

Your tools are all lined up, ready for you to use them. Bucky’s arm isn’t a clean-cut, so adjustments will have to be made. You pick up a small welding machine and tweezers so you can do this one strand at a time.

“Here, Buck,” Steve sighs and hands him a small cup of tea.

“What are we going to do now?” he asks after he takes a sip.

“We live like outlaws until someone needs us, or until the Accords go away. We can’t go back now. It’s too dangerous,” you say as you work.

Steve leaves the room with a sigh, and Bucky turns his head to you. It’s his one moment of privacy, and he’s going to take it. You make eye contact with him and stop working for just a few seconds.

“What is it?” you ask in a low tone.

“Promise me you’ll never leave,” he whispers.

“I promise.”

Fighting with Tony was supposed to be the biggest thing that could ever happen. These Sokovia Accords were supposed to be the end. You, Steve, and Bucky all living like outlaws along with the rest of the Avengers that were on your team, and everyone else hunting you down like animals.

There was never supposed to be a bigger fight.

Until it came, and you had no clue something like this was even out there.

It’s what brought everyone else back as a team because with someone as big of a threat like Thanos, you kind of need everyone working on the same side here. However, it wasn’t Tony that called you three, it was Bruce. You thought he disappeared after what happened with Ultron, but you’re glad he’s back now.

Thanos is a mean and ugly thing, and you were supposed to win. Don’t let him get all six infinity stones was the only goal, and somehow, he managed to do just that. Against every single Avenger, he won. He snapped his fingers and did what he set his mind out to do. He wanted to erase half of every living thing in the universe, and he clearly didn't care who he had to hurt in order to do it.

Bucky fell victim--the first victim in your eyes.

He was the first to go--nothing but ashes once Thanos was done with him. After him, everyone else kept dusting away, but you and Steve stayed. You stayed to witness the love of your life die, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. His ashes fell through the cracks in your hands as your tears streamed down your face. Would it be so bad if you went just like him? Would you really leave Steve without two of his closest friends?

You never dusted away, and neither did Steve. Natasha, Thor, Bruce, Rhodey, and a few others stayed to clean up the mess Thanos created. You’ve been able to fix a lot of problems in your day, but you didn’t know where to begin with this one. Where do you start to fix things? How is someone supposed to bring everyone back? Thanos still had the stones, and with the space stone, he could go anywhere in the universe.

He’s gone, and there is no way you’re getting those stones back without major power. But who has the power like that? Who can find him and take back those stones? You know you can’t, and everyone on Earth can’t so then who?

Who is going to save you?

It took a lot from you to up and move on without Bucky. How can you move on from him or with someone else when he’s the only guy you ever loved? Bucky was Steve’s best friend, so you two found closure with each other. You two began growing closer with each passing day, month, and year. Steve was never just a friend to you. Yeah, you were with Bucky and he was his best friend, but there was always something between you and Steve. You just never acknowledged it until now.

All the years you’ve been with Bucky, you have never been anything but loyal and faithful to him. There is no visible or possible way to bring him back, so you have to move on for your sake. You knew if he was here, he would want you to move on.

So you did.

With Steve.

He used to tell you, “As maybe the worlds leading authority of waiting too long…” and then he would go into a rant about what he waited for and how much he regretted it. You never thought he would be saying to you about moving on from Bucky.

It felt wrong at first, but you eventually warmed up to it. He treated you with nothing but love and kindness, and you became loyal and faithful to him now. He expressed his concerns of what was happening between the two of you, but you assured him it’s the only way you’ll ever move on.

Time went by, and those memories of Bucky became good ones instead of the memories of loss. Everything you hated now became grace because at least you got to know Bucky the way you did. Steve knew him in a different time, and he wanted to share that part of his life with you.

What better way to do that than in the Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C.?

“I came here before I saw Bucky the first time since the 40s. This place was filled with people, but none of them recognized me,” Steve explains as he stops next to the memorial exhibit dedicated to James Buchanan Barnes.

“This is what he’s like with short hair?” you chuckle and stare into his eyes.

What was once longing and sadness whenever you looked into his eyes, it’s now adoration and fondness.

“Yeah, he didn’t grow it out back then. We had so much fun back home. There was nothing I could do that Bucky didn’t do better. Remember, back then, I was half my size and shy. I needed someone like Bucky with me.”

“We all need someone like Bucky,” you mutter.

“Let me show you my exhibit,” Steve chuckles and leads you to where he’s stationed.

You look back at Bucky from over your shoulder, and you’re suddenly sad again. It’s been about three years since the snap, but his loss hits home like it happened yesterday. You have Steve now, so why do you get like this sometimes? Steve makes you so happy, so why can’t you do the same?

“I miss him,” you blurt out and face Steve.

“Me too,” he nods.

Some part of you thinks that Thanos is going to come back and take everything else from you and everyone. That underlying fear of not if he’s going to come, but when. Yes, Thor sliced his head off a few years back and killed him, but when has that ever stopped anyone from coming back? He’ll find a way, and that’s what scares you the most.

“Promise me something, Steve,” you whisper, running your hands over his forearms.

One of your favorite things to do with Steve is to take baths with him. Not every single one is sexual, but you like the intimacy of them. He tightens his arms around your stomach and shifts so that the water threatens to spill over the side. Your bathtub is right next to a window that overlooks the city, and right now, the city lights are beautiful this time of night. Add that to the soft candle-lit room, and you’re falling in love all over again.

“When Thanos comes back, promise me you’ll never leave.”

“He won’t come back. Thor killed him for good.”

“You don’t know that. Promise me, Steve, and mean it. I can’t lose you too,” you sniffle.

“I promise.”

The prediction of when Thanos was coming back was more right than if he was. He did, but it wasn’t the Thanos you knew. Tony and Bruce found a way to make time travel real, and that is exactly how they got the stones and used them to bring everyone back. The big boss battle is what Rocket loves to call it, and he was right.

Everyone on Thanos’ side came to aid him while you, Steve, Tony, and Thor had no one but yourself. You were clearly outnumbered, and that’s when the best thing ever happened right before your eyes.

Everyone came back at the same time to help aid in the fight against Thanos. Bruce did it when he snapped his fingers. He made everyone else come back. The big prize fight did have some losses--some greater than others--but one thing it brought back to you was Bucky. You never thought you were going to see him ever again, and here he is, five years later.

There wasn’t much time to talk during or after the fight because Tony died. Tony sacrificed his life to snap away Thanos and everyone that was on his team. The funeral was nice, and you cried, but you were more scared about after it.

It was quiet after, and that gave Bucky ever incentive to go running at you and bringing you into his arms.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he mutters into your ear as he spins you around.

Steve, Sam, Wanda, Rhodey, and a few other people gathered to watch something that wasn’t so sad. Pepper and her family left to be alone inside, but she encouraged people to stay and talk among themselves. Bucky sets you on the ground and is about to kiss you, but you reluctantly pull away from his lips and grasp. You’re with Steve now, and it’s not fair to him to kiss Bucky despite wanting to.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, confused.

“I’m with Steve now,” you confess.

“What?” he asks in shock.

“You were gone for five years, Bucky. We didn't think you were coming back,” you say as if it makes it all okay.

“So, that gives you every right to move on with my best friend? My best friend? I always thought about you on the other side. The thought of you is what kept me going, and now I found out you moved on with Steve? Of all people?”

“James…”

“Cool down, Buck. Go take a walk,” Sam urges, but the super-soldier doesn’t hear him.

“Don’t talk to her that way. We grieved and mourned you,” Steve says, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Hearing, seeing, and feeling his “best friend” just caused him to snap. He is angry with you, of course, but he can beat up his friend for it.

“I can’t believe you moved on with my girl!” Bucky says and slams his fist in the side of Steve’s face.

“Bucky! Stop!” you gasp, but don’t get caught in the crossfire.

“She’s not your girl! You died, man!” Steve gets back up to fight.

“You promised that you’d stay away from her! Did you forget that?” Bucky growls and charges at him again.

The other Avengers snap into reality and are quick to step in. You may have great mechanical and engineer skills, but you don’t have any powers. Wanda is quick to separate the two men, and Sam goes straight for Steve while Rhodey goes for Bucky.

“Stop it! Both of you!” you shout.

“You’re not my friend anymore!” Bucky yells at Steve before turning to face you.

He was ready to yell some insult in your face, but as soon as he sees your wide eyes filled with fear and guilt and sadness, he just scoffs and looks away from you.

“Get off me,” he pushes Rhodey off him before storming away.

“James!”

“Don’t talk to me,” he snaps.

You can have one, but you can’t have both. You’re immediately brought back to the Sokovia Accords, worried about which side you’re going to pick.

Past or present?

Passion or stability?

In love or love?

Bucky or Steve?

If you want to be tagged, add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

Bucky Tags: @ivvitm1109​ @kendall-michele​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @niall2017​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @mackevanstanfan80​ @fandomgirl17​ @bluedazefangirl​ @tardis-is-mine​ @moonstar86​ @tdntu0​ @ferls212​ @kpoplover1306-depressedgirl315​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @majesticavenger​ @the-real-mary-jane-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @tomhardy41​ @emilyshurley​ @thejourneyneverendsx​ @ironmandeficiency​ @moonstar86​ @mogaruke​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @alex12948​ @bucky-odinson​ @bangtan-serendipity​ @gh0stgurl​ @justalonely-nerd​ @casseythebee​ @pinkdiamond1016​

Steve Tags: @majesticavenger​ @thejourneyneverendsx​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @ironmandeficiency​ @miraclesoflove​ @moonstar86​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @mogaruke​ @broimjustvibin​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @alex12948​ @kendall-michele​ @niall2017​ @bangtan-serendipity​ @kiwihoee​ @gh0stgurl​ @justalonely-nerd​ @casseythebee​ @pinkdiamond1016​

[liemonyellow]

brother, i will hear you call

read on ao3

Summary: Roman's not having a great time. Remus sympathizes.

Warnings: Light swearing

This is for @nadiestar / @mimssides

Remus knocked lightly on the door separating his room from Roman’s.

“Ro? You okay?”

He heard something muffled, but nothing more. He knocked again.

“Roman, can you unlock the door?”

Nothing.

“Please?”

Remus heard the click of the lock unlatching. He twisted the knob and slowly, oh, so slowly, pushed the door open and took a few steps inside.

Roman’s room was a wreck. Not as much as Remus’s, but still a lot less orderly and pristine than he usually kept it. Papers were strewn about every which way, crumpled and crushed and shredded to pieces, pens and pencils and markers were scattered across the floor like confetti, paints and inks splattered over everything in sight. Remus would have been impressed, if he wasn’t so worried.

Roman was the “good twin”, or so he insisted. Remus didn’t really care who was what as long as shit got done and he was free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Truth be told, he thought Roman could use a little more freedom and chaos in his life. But seeing this? Seeing all of his brother’s hard work, his passion and drive, his imagination and creativity, destroyed by his own two hands? Roman didn’t do this.

Remus finally looked at Roman, or at least, Roman’s huddled form curled up under a pile of blankets in the middle of his bed. Remus let out a sympathetic sigh.

“That bad, huh?”

The blanket pile moved, curling in tighter and letting out a sniffle. Remus plodded over to the bed and sat on the edge, feeling it sink down a little. He stared at Roman’s obscured form, then flopped over onto his back.

Things were quiet for a minute. Then Remus heard movement, and turned to see Roman’s face peeking out, red-eyed and tear-stained, hair mussed and sticking up in places.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Roman sighed, pulling his blanket closer. “It’s stupid.”

“A lot of shit is stupid. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

Roman was quiet. Then he said, barely audible, “I just...”

Remus pushed himself onto his side to face him, propping himself up with his hand.

“I just feel like nothing I do is worth the effort. That no matter how hard I try or how many times, I’m doomed to fail.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Roman gave him an incredulous look. “What’s- what’s wrong with it? I don’t want to fail! I don’t want to-” He slumped over again, pulling the blanket back over his head. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

"Who's disappointed?"

Roman looked away, eyes filling up with more tears. "Everyone."

Remus waited, only slightly raising a doubtful eyebrow.

"It's true! Nothing I do is good enough! Not for Logan, not for Patton, not even Virgil!" Roman sniffed. "Thomas deserves better."

"Nah, I don't buy it."

Roman blinked at him.

"Has anyone told you they hate your work?"

Roman shook his head.

"Then why would you assume they do?"

"Because it's not good enough."

"Yeah, so?"

"Wha- You- I-!" Roman curled up tighter. "You don't understand," he says, muffled by the fabric.

"Really? I don't understand? Me, Remus, the Duke, Dark Creativity and Intrusive Thoughts? Buddy, my whole existence wasn't good enough for Thomas."

Roman had the decency to look a little ashamed at that. But shaming his upset brother wasn't what Remus meant to do. He sighed and tried again.

"Look, Bro, I am well aware that my ideas might never win any prizes, but I still fucking have them. It's the act, see? I have an idea, and I can't stop thinking about it until I get it out of my head. And yeah, sometimes it's a fuckin' shitty idea but it's still mine. And sometimes making the shitty thing gives me more, less-shitty ideas, or it turns out better than I thought it would, or people might actually like it!" Remus sighed. "And then sometimes it's just a shit idea, with a shit execution, and you feel like shit for ever thinking you could do anything worthwhile."

Roman was staring sadly at him, his face a little warped from the tears collecting in Remus's own eyes. He tried to blink them away unsuccessfully.

"Like, I get it, okay? Sometimes you hate everything you make, and you just don't wanna do anything anymore because everything sucks."

Roman had loosened his grip on his blankets, which had fallen halfway down his shoulders and started pooling around him on the bed.

"My point is, shit sucks all the time. So what're you gonna do about it? Sit around and mope, sure, valid, cry your heart out. But at some point you have to do something. Get the feelings out, where they can’t keep taunting you. Even if you have to do it by breaking shit," Remus said as he gestured to the rest of the room. “Or like, if you wanted to talk, or vent, or scream at someone... I can take it, y’know. I’m not fragile or anything."

His brother was staring at him, eyes wide, brow creased, mouth hanging open. Remus wasn’t sure how to read that.

“I mean, it’s up to you, but I’m here for you or whatever. Just-”

Roman launched himself from his position to wrap his arms around his brother in a crushing embrace. Remus froze, unsure how to respond, then hugged his brother back, squeezing just as tightly.

"Thank you," Roman whispered. Remus rubbed his back and buried his face into his brother's shoulder, sniffling as he pretended not to cry.

"I know I'm not the best at this comforting shit. But it kinda helps to know you're not alone, I guess? We might not get along all the time but we're still in this together. Even if I am the 'evil twin'."

They stayed like that for a while, hugging each other, until Roman let go. He didn't rush to put distance between them, content to sit beside his brother, one hand settled on the Duke's shoulder.

"You're not evil, Ree."

Remus rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Bitch, if I ever hear you say that again, I'm disowning you and no one will ever find your body."

"That's not what 'disown' means."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm still gonna do it."

Roman gave a soft laugh. Remus smiled.

"By the way, I love what you've done with the place. Redecorating?"

Roman sighed heavily. "I suppose all this was a bit dramatic."

Remus slipped off the bed and picked up a couple of pens and markers, making a show of examining them before snapping them back onto the desk and picking up more, saying, "No shit, but seriously, it looks great! Nice balance of color, good spread of clutter; it really takes practice to make a good mess."

"You're a mess." Roman finally joined him, picking up scraps of paper on the floor near the bed.

"At least I'm a good-looking mess. Unlike someone I know."

"You take that back!" Remus ducked to avoid the newly-restored sketchbook Roman threw at him.

They continued like that, bickering as they cleaned, until the room was, well, not spotless, but much less of an artistic war zone.

Roman took a deep breath, as if the act of clearing up his room had also purified the air. He seemed lighter, and a little bit more himself. He gave Remus a disgustingly grateful look.

"Hey. Thanks, Ree."

"Gratitude? Gross. Hey, you wanna go fight the Dragon Witch again?"

"Gladly."

[ssa-lesbian]

this life is controlled confusion (1/3)

word count: 2.85k words

JJ’s relationship with blood and Emily.

-> read on AO3

I II III

(S2E15, Revelations. Contains gore and descriptions of suicide.)

you came and i was crazy for you

and you cooled my mind that burned with longing

-sappho

—

JJ hates blood.

Which is unusual, she supposes, and unfortunate, considering her line of work. Serial killers tended to be gorey, and despite being a liaison and not an active profiler in the field, she’s stumbled upon a few slaughters of her own. She keeps it together, closing her eyes and tightening her stomach but pressing forward with a brave face. It’s only later she lets herself unravel, behind the locked bathroom door and the water at a steaming temperature, scrubbing away at her fair skin until it’s shiny, shiny red.

Maybe if she hadn’t found Rosaline like that, or maybe if Rosaline had hung herself instead, she’d be more okay with blood. JJ tries not to think about it, but when she’s alone, it all floods back to her.

It’s awful. She’d rather remember the Roz who chopped off all her hair when their parents grounded her in a fit of teenage rebellion before laughing and neatly trimming JJ’s own seven-year-old hair, stubbornly insisting that she wanted short hair like her sister’s— Roz, who showed up at the doorstep of Marie Ann, who had stuck chewing gum in JJ’s hair, and delivered a solid lashing to both Marie Ann and her mother.

But it’s hard to erase the tub of crimson JJ found her sister in, eyes closed and head tilted like she was enjoying a hot bath, except her bath smelled like iron and her arms were splayed out to the sides, wrists slit—

JJ hates blood.

When JJ steps into that old dusty barn with her gun and flashlight raised and inhales that metallic scent, the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Immediately, some sixth sense activates— she knows something’s wrong. So, so horribly wrong. They should not have split up, she should’ve stopped Reid and his enthusiasm, she curses.

“Reid!” she hisses out. But of course he can’t hear her, they’re in the middle of nowhere with no cell service and it’s dark and she hates blood—

Just find Tobias Hankel, she reasons. Who may be their brutal murderer, but seemed timid enough that maybe, just maybe, he’s some poor guy with a weird dad who’s—

Why did her shoe make that sound?

Oh God.

She freezes, and very, very, slowly, lowers her flashlight down.

That’s blood. That is a lot of blood.

Her heart leaps into her throat as she shines her flashlight around because good God, that is a lot of blood and no one can lose that much blood—

Her throat closes up as the light lands on a large patch of scarlet and oh my God, that is a stomach.

Something growls, and JJ jerks her light up, and as the beam falls on the glistening blood-soaked muzzle of a canine, she remembers her Sunday services as a little girl and the story of Jezebel— how could she forget— torn to pieces by dogs, and there is not one bloodthirsty dog but two but three—

It leaps at her.

She’s on the ground. There’s straw, dust in her mouth, she can barely swallow, the air tastes like blood. Her arm is throbbing, her right hand sore, and she absentmindedly pulls the trigger. It clicks— the gun chamber is empty, did she use up all her bullets?

There’s a ringing in her ears, blood roaring in her head, and she blinks. It’s dark, JJ thinks. This is a safety hazard.

Her blazer is wet. Damn it, it was one of her nicer ones too, and now it’s completely ruined.

Her head hurts.

“Damn,” she hears, and she shoots to her feet, gritting her teeth as she swings up her gun.

“F.B.I!” she hollers. 

JJ swears to God, she’s going to shoot that Tobias Hankel or whoever the hell. There’s shouting, multiple unsubs, she realizes, and she swings her gun to the moving figures. 

“Don’t move!” 

Jesus Christ, could they hold still, she can’t see a single—

“JJ, it’s Morgan and Prentiss!”

Morgan and Prentiss.

Those are familiar. Sharing coffee, getting drinks, knowing touches—

“Don’t shoot, it’s okay.”

She lowers the gun. That’s Morgan, with his round dark eyes and strong shoulders.

“It’s okay.”

The case. The unsub— why was she here? The world begins to spin— she closes her eyes. God, why does it smell like iron? It’s a pervasive smell, she hates it so much.

“Are you hurt?”

Someone approaches her, hand outreached, and she dully notes it’s Emily, pretty, perfect Emily, with her sleek jet hair and beautiful soft eyes.

“Tobias Hankel is the unsub.”

Morgan’s eyes flashes down and then back up, and there’s something in his eyes that JJ can’t read, she’s too tired.

“Yeah, we know.”

“I’ll go call in an ambulance,” she hears someone mutter, and Morgan voices his agreement, a hand reaching out to touch hers, still gripping her gun. She can’t move her fingers, it’s like they’re attached to the trigger, what was she even shooting at?

“We—we just thought he was a witness,” she hears herself saying, and the coldness of the barn hits her. That’s not iron, that’s blood—

She remembers. The dogs—

“I had to kill them,” she whispers, hands shaking. Oh God, all of the blood—

“JJ, where’s Reid?

The blood puddle, the stomach and intestines—

“They just— completely tore her apart, there’s nothing even left—”

“JJ, look at me.”

A strong, crystal-clear voice. It cuts through her fog, and JJ turns hesitantly to meet Emily’s bright brown eyes, her tapered nose and soft lips.

“Look at me,” she echoes, her hand squeezing JJ’s shoulder. JJ nods.

“Where’s Reid?”

Reid? JJ frowns. “We— uh, we split up, he said he was going around back.”

Hope he’s okay, she thinks as Morgan sprints off. She looks back to Emily, who’s stepped closer to her and taken her hand.

“JJ, it’s me, Emily,” she says.

“I know,” JJ murmurs. “How could I forget?”

“You’re hurt,” she says. “Let me help you.”

Hurt?

JJ doesn’t know where she’s hurt, but she welcomes Emily’s warm touch, the feel of her body pressed against JJ as she slides an arm around and under her right arm, supporting her deadened legs. She is so tired.

“Sorry, I’m really tired,” she mumbles, and Emily shushes her as they stagger out of the barn together.

“Don’t be sorry, Jayje, you’re doing fine,” she comforts, and JJ smiles weakly at her. Her lips crack— that’s not sexy at all— but Emily returns the smile, albeit with an underlying sense of concern. Her mind jars— how is she hurt? 

Her arm throbs in response. 

She glances down, and when they pass into the light of the full moon, she sees the glistening scarlet on her shredded blazer and mangled arm, her flesh all torn up, blood everywhere—

Her knees buckle and she crumples to the ground, dragging down an alarmed Emily shouting her name, but it’s like she’s frozen, she can’t feel her face or her arms or anything but suddenly she’s in her old house’s bathroom, the tiles cold beneath her bare feet, staring at her sister, dear Roz, soaking in a bath of her own blood—

“Medic! Medic, I need a medic!” she hears, and then blocking the moonlight is pretty Emily, eyes round and red lips moving. “Stay with me Jayje, stay with me—”

Emily is easy to focus on. It’s easy to see her, with her high cheekbones and strong chin, and that big nose that she’s a little self-conscious of but JJ has always found endearing. And her eyes— her bright, round, brown eyes— those are hard to forget.

The next two nights are fractured. She’s thinks she’s blocked out as much as she can, only recalling glimpses of Garcia’s bright eyes and Morgan’s accusing glare and Reid’s beaten figure, and when JJ finally grabs onto her little brother, finally holds him as tight as possible and smells the woodsmoke in his tousled hair, she forces everything back. Her arm throbs in complaint, but she ignores it.

After finding Spence, everyone wants to leave, get out, escape this place that took so much from all of them and never come back, but Spence has to stay in the hospital overnight (which makes sense, considering he’s been whipped, drugged, and emotionally tortured), and so the team returns to their rooms in the local motel, save for Gideon, who’s decided to stay at the hospital with Reid.

Guilt, JJ supposes. She pushes down the rising anger at the thought of his pressing, his antagonism, that first destroyed Elle and now Reid—

“Hey, are you showering?”

JJ jerks up as Emily pokes her head out from their shared restroom. She masks the quaver in her response when she realizes Emily has begun changing, her shirt unbuttoned and her cleavage exposed.

“Yeah, you go first—”

“No, you should go,” Emily insists, stepping out, and JJ averts her eyes because good God, she is gorgeous. “Clean your arm.”

“I—”

Her bra is red, striking against her pale dainty skin, and she feels herself flushing. She nods and mutters a quick, “Thanks,” moving swiftly past her coworker to grab a change of clothes and hoping (false hope, she’s a profiler) Emily didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

In a small town like this, they were bound to double up on rooms, which wasn’t unusual. Whenever JJ came along with the team came to a small town, it would usually be JJ and Emily, Morgan and Reid (who spent the entire night bickering— the walls were usually thin), and if they couldn’t get separate rooms, Hotch and Gideon. And it was never a problem: JJ prided herself on being professional in any setting, with the decency to not gawk at her coworker.

Her incredibly attractive coworker.

JJ takes her time in the shower, watching the hot water steam up the restroom, scrubbing the grime on her skin off and turning the falling water gray and murky. When she steps out, her bandaged arm is soaked, and the moment she goes to unravel it, the sight of her reddened flesh draws out a hiss from her.

A knock from the door startles her.

“Jayje? You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” she says, and there’s a pause before Emily replies dubiously.

“You left the bandage in your bag.”

JJ curses herself, of course she did.

“Uh, right, sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. Can I come in?”

Come in? JJ has nothing on except the measly hotel towel, she can’t really change into any clothes with her hurt arm, and now Emily wants to come in?

“Yeah, sure, I’m just— not dressed.”

The door opens slowly, and Emily emerges slowly with a gentle smile on her face and holding the roll of fresh bandages, cleaning wipes, and disinfectant cream given to them from the ambulance. Her dark eyes flicker down to her arm (or her chest?) before back to JJ’s face, and she stalls at the door.

“You good?” she asks. 

JJ blinks, and she clarifies. “You seem really tired.”

“I am,” JJ answers, and she forces a laugh. “Sorry, it’s been a long—”

“Yeah.” 

Emily watches her, eyes soft, and JJ holds her gaze. It’s intimate but simple, only broken by the brunette’s gentle suggestion.

“Let me help you,” she murmurs, moving forward to gently take JJ’s left hand, and her breath catches in her throat.

She exhales after an awkward pause and whispers her thanks, and the smile Emily shoots her is gentle and genuine, and there is a sudden swell in JJ’s chest that she doesn’t quite understand. Her fingers are slender and soft, and the way she unravels the bandages is so tender that it barely stings. By the time the bandage is cleared, JJ’s muscles are tense, almost shaking. She’s not sure why: the stitches are secured and wounds stayed closed, and all seems good besides a few splatters of dried blood and red flesh. Emily notices and smiles.

“You’re so tense,” she says, her fingers ghosting over the wound, and JJ shivers. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah.”

JJ clears her throat and smiles cheekily at her.

“Sorry, I’m just— I’m not too good with blood.”

The humor disappears as Emily purses her lips, gently dabbing at the stitches and wiping away the dried blood with her touch, light as a feather, before she begins rubbing on the ointment. JJ shudders at the sensation, and Emily mistakes it for pain, stopping and apologizing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re fine,” JJ says, doing her best to put on what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “It’s just sore.”

Emily nods, her eyes doubtful before she begins reapplying the ointment, and JJ feels her shoulders loosening, despite the fact that she’s buck-naked save for the thin towel wrapped around her haphazardly and she’s right next to her very attractive coworker. All good. The brunette catches her by surprise again with a low murmur.

“Must be hard in the field,” she says. “Seeing so much blood all the time.”

JJ hums in agreement as Emily begins bandaging her arm with fresh gauze. 

“Any specific trigger?” Emily asks, then quickly adds, “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Oh.”

She wants to tell her. She really does. Wants to trust her, wants to open up to her. But she stays quiet as Emily finishes bandaging her up, and when Emily clips the bandage in place and brushes her fingertips over it, JJ meets her eyes with a small smile and a flush rising in her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she says quietly, and Emily returns the smile with a squeeze of her hands.

“Of course,” she says. “Anytime.”

Her hands linger on JJ’s before she leaves and closes the door, leaving JJ to stare at her arm in silence, the memory of Emily’s soft touch lingering in her head.

“JJ! JJ, wake up!”

She shoots out of her bed, chest heaving, forehead and neck sticky with sweat. JJ gasps for air, and her gaze darts around, trying her best to ground herself.

Jesus Christ—

“JJ, it’s me. It’s Emily.”

Emily. Pretty, perfect Emily, with round eyes and soft lips and gentle fingers.

“It’s me.”

JJ’s vision refocuses and she pulls together Emily, a dark hazy figure standing by her bed, hands outstretched as though wanting to hold her, eyes wide with worry, lips pursed.

JJ swallows and wipes her forehead. Her heart is pounding— Jesus Christ.

“Nightmare?” Emily asks softly.

JJ doesn’t answer. It’s the only answer, and she can’t even remember it specifically. Just her arm hurts so badly, and now it’s Reid in the red-filled bathtub and it’s Roz torn to shreds in the barn and now her blood is all over her—

“Can you,” JJ says and chokes, stumbling on her words, and she holds her hands out. “Please.”

Emily, pretty, perfect Emily understands, and she climbs into JJ’s bed without any hesitance, taking JJ into a warm embrace. Her head settles comfortably on Emily’s chest, and the brunette holds her until the panting subsides and JJ’s head isn’t spinning anymore. And even then, JJ clings to Emily, taking in her lavender scent and soft skin, holding onto her because she is real and good and here, and that’s all she needs right now.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, and Emily squeezes her, her hands running through JJ’s matted, sweaty hair.

“Don’t be,” she answers. “We all have our demons.”

What are yours, Emily Prentiss? JJ wants to ask. She curls tighter into her embrace instead.

Emily doesn’t leave her, slowly settling underneath the covers and still stroking her hair, legs tangled together and bodies pressed against each other, and JJ finally speaks.

“I had an older sister,” she says, and Emily’s hands slow. “Her name was Rosaline. Six years older than me, and, um—”

She pauses, and Emily’s chin rests on top of her head. Her fingers knead her back gently, and JJ takes in a breath before continuing.

“She— she gave me that heart necklace I wear sometimes, and then the next day, she—” JJ swallows, and the fingers in her hair and on her back still. 

“She killed herself. She, uh, slit her wrists in the bathtub, and I found her. In the bath.”

She involuntarily shudders, and Emily pulls her tighter into her hold. There’s silence, until Emily speaks.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and very delicately, presses a warm kiss to JJ’s forehead.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It was a long time ago.”

It is the best night JJ has ever had, nightmare-less and warm. 

JJ wakes up first, still curled up into Emily’s body, and she opens her eyes with her face just inches away from Emily’s, her mouth slightly opened in a small ‘o’, and JJ feels herself smile. The blinds let in streams of sunlight, illuminating little streaks across their bodies, and she revels in the simple domesticity of it all. It feels like a burden has been lifted off of her shoulders; her arm doesn’t even hurt anymore.

This is good, she thinks.

This is good.

[filthy-rat]

Mary Had a Little Lamb

AO3 Link

You were never really one for parties, so you aren’t exactly sure how you managed to let your friend, Angel, drag you out one crisp autumn night.

From what they had said, this party was going to be mostly drinking and smoking weed and playing video games—all things you enjoyed, right? So maybe you would have a good time. You think about the inherent awkwardness of talking to people and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and your stomach clenches in fear. Ugh, maybe not. You make a mental note to do a better job of hiding your melancholy from them the next time they start giving you the Concerned Face.

As you approach the run down apartment building in the heart of the city, apprehension gnaws at your gut. For the third time in your five minute walk, you come to a halt, frowning at your companion.

“I don’t know, dude, I-I really shouldn’t—”

“Ugh, c’mon!” Impatiently, they stomp back to you, latch onto the sleeve of your jacket, and tug you along. “It’ll be fun! I’m sick of you moping around the house!”

“...I wasn’t moping,” you mumble, stuffing your hands into your pockets and shrugging off their hand from your sleeve. “And besides, do you even know anyone at this party?”

“Like, one or two people. But it’s a party, you’re not really supposed to know everyone.” They link arms with you, continuing to pull you down the street. “Listen, if we get any scummy vibes, we’ll bounce, okay?”

“Fine.” Huffing out an irritated sigh, you allow yourself to be pulled.

“There’s supposed to be some really hot guys here, too.” Angel flashes you an excited grin.

“Yeah, ‘cause hot guys have a history of being into me.”

“Oh, my god, stop that or I’m gonna kick your ass.” They nudge your elbow with theirs and give you another look. The dreaded Concerned Face. You hate it when they do that.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get up there before they drink all the good beer.”

“Hell yea.”

Arm in arm, the two of you make your way to the building, and Angel leans in to press the buzzer. A disgruntled, raspy voice on the other end asks shockingly few questions of the two of you before opening the door. There’s no elevator. You groan as you realize you’ll have to hoof it up five flights of stairs.

You can hear the music pounding from about a floor and a half below, and it only gets louder the closer you get to your destination. When you finally reach the correct floor, you’re gasping and clutching at a stitch in your side and regretting your life choices. Why the fuck isn’t there an elevator?

“C’mon, it’s this door,” Angel says, after catching their breath, and they approach a door at the end of the hallway.

The worn wood is absolutely slathered in band stickers and old Halloween decorations and painted-on pentagrams. Though the plaque on the door reads “66”, someone has taken a red marker and added an additional 6 to the end. You give Angel a dubious side eye.

“Listen, these guys are… a little rough. Just give them a chance, though. Most punks and goths are good people.” They give a nervous laugh, grimace, and knock on the door.

After a moment, it opens to reveal a thin youth with multicolored dreadlocks tied in twin tails and a bridge piercing. Arching a perfect brow, she saddles the two of you with an unimpressed eye, and steps back to see if any other partygoers will claim you.

“Who the fuck are these herbs?” asks one of them, putting an emphasis on the letter ‘h’ that makes everyone laugh.

You shoot Angel a glare. Punks and goths are good people, huh? They have the decency to look a little chagrined, and rub anxiously at the back of their neck.

“Angel!” shouts a voice, and you vaguely recognize one of Angel’s friends—you’ve never formally met the guy—as he approaches and pulls them into a one armed hug. “Hey, you finally made it! I was wondering when you were gonna get your slow-ass up here.” With the music so loud, they have to lean close and yet still practically shout to be heard.

“You could’ve fucking warned me there was no elevator,” Angel says, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Show me where the drinks are before I change my mind!”

Without another word, the two of them disappear arm in arm deeper into the shabby apartment, leaving you standing in the door awkwardly. The girl at the door eyes you up and down, her expression blatantly judgemental, but merely gestures inside with a grand sweep of her arm. With a polite but nervous smile, you step over the threshold and immediately glue yourself to the wall just inside the door. There are people milling about everywhere, drinking, laughing, making out.

You’ve never felt more out of place in your entire life. A part of you wants to leave—but you can’t do that to Angel. So you’re stuck there, leaning against the wall and pretending like you don’t exist.

The music pounding through the stereo lulls momentarily as another song is chosen.

“Hey there, sweet thing.” A voice, much too close to your ear, makes you jump and you whirl on the spot. “Tell me you ain’t wearing a fuckin’ Stryper t-shirt.”

Leaning his shoulder against the very same wall, the epitome of rough, roguish charm, is a pale, gaunt-looking young man. His dark hair is pulled down in front of his face in a messy devil lock, and there’s long, red lines of blood—hopefully fake—dribbling down from the crown of his head to his chin and onto the front of his sleeveless Candlemass shirt. A wrinkled, hand-rolled cigarette is tucked behind one ear, and the vest he wears rattles with many pins when he moves. You don’t think you’ve ever seen tighter jeans in your life. It’s like they were fucking painted on. Are those fishnet tights you spy through the shredded knees?

Who is this guy?

As you take in his appearance, eyes wide, he reaches out and gently cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to his face. He gives you a knowing smirk, eyes hooded, and your whole face feels very warm.

The music starts up again, but quieter this time—a slow power ballad. You’re distantly aware of people pairing up in the background, but your eyes are focused on his.

“You lost, little lamb?” he says, his voice low, almost a purr.

“N-No, I came here with my friend.”

With an arch of his thick brows, the bloodied stranger casts an exaggerated look around you, then resettles against the wall with a shrug. “Don’t see you with anyone.”

“...Yeah, they kinda abandoned me.” A brief, rueful smile tugs your lips.

“That’s okay. I’ll be your friend,” he says, flashing a wicked grin that quickly makes him seem less a friend and more a wolf.

Is that why he called you ‘lamb’?

“...I don’t even know your name.” But, fuck, do you want to. You can’t remember the last time someone this hot even gave you the time of day.

“I don’t know yours either,” he points out, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between his lips. “Names are so fuckin’ superfluous, kitten, but you can call me Mary.”

“Mary?” Your brow furrows. “That’s a strange—”

As he fishes a lighter from his pocket and brings the flame to the end of the cigarette, he gestures with his free hand to his bloody face. He takes a drag and exhales a plume of smoke, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a joke.” A beat. He heaves a sigh, and shoots you a scowl. “Why do I even fuckin’—Bloody Mary, get it?”

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” You’re not quite sure you do get it, really, but he seems to be satisfied with this answer. You change the subject. “So, do you live here?”

“Sometimes, if I feel like it.” He plucks the cigarette from his lips and offers it to you, held delicately between two long fingers. The black polish on his nails is chipped, you notice.

“I don’t smoke.”

Mary smirks. “It ain’t tobacco, lamb.”

“Oh.” Frowning, you look down at the smoldering cigarette and a little bubble of panic rises in your chest. “I-I’ve never uh. Done it. This way before.”

Mary arches a brow.

“Me and my friend, w-we usually put it in brownies.” You feel silly just saying it, and avert your gaze with a grimace.

“Oh, well… you wanna shotgun it?”

You look back up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What is that?”

“C’mere.”

He leans in closer, until his lips are nearly touching yours. For one heart-stopping second, you think he’s going to kiss you, but no—he stops just shy of contact. The tip of his nose brushes featherlight against yours, though, and goosebumps erupt across your skin. His eyes are hooded, and there’s something so sensual and alluring in those dark depths that it makes your stomach do a little somersault.

“I exhale, you inhale, yeah?” His lip quirks into a crooked smile.

You give a slow nod, afraid that if you moved too suddenly he’d bolt like a wild animal. He lifts the joint to his lips, takes a long hit, and holds it for just a moment. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips. When he exhales a cloud of smoke, you inhale too quickly, and the unfamiliar burn of it makes your lungs spasm and you jerk backward with a cough.

Mary gives a rueful laugh and reaches past you to an open ice chest on the kitchen counter. With his free hand, he fishes out a can of beer and cracks it open. It foams and he holds it out at arms’ length with a quiet, disgruntled ah, fuck as suds splatter onto the carpet.

When it finishes spewing, he pushes the damp can into your hands, and you gratefully gulp it down to soothe your burning throat.

“Wanna go again?” he asks, once you’ve recovered enough to speak.

You eye him with apprehension. Do you want to go again? You’re pretty sure another close encounter with Mary might kill you. On the other hand, you’re craving more of that closeness.

“Okay.”

“Cool. This time,” Mary says, and he sidles a step closer, centimeters away from his body making contact with yours. “Don’t suck it into your lungs right away. Into your mouth first, like a milkshake.”

Or like something else? Your cheeks flush as this filthy thought enters your head. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice as he leans in. This time, you’re ready, and though your throat burns again, you manage to cut your coughing time by half. The cold beer helps. Mary reaches around you and extinguishes the roach in a nearby ashtray, then settles back against the wall, his shoulder touching yours. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence as the weed works its magic. It isn’t long before you feel yourself loosening up a little.

“So… is Mary your real name?” you ask, casting him an expectant glance.

Before he can answer, however, both your attentions are diverted. In the living room before you, where most of the party seems to be congregated, a girl is sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing idly with an empty bottle of wine. She leans forward and gives the bottle a spin as she talks, and when it finally comes a stop, the mouth of it points to a taller girl leaning on the wall across from her.

“Ha, now you guys have to make out,” giggles another partygoer.

An nervous titter rises up from the other partiers.

Wordlessly, the girl on the floor gets to her feet, approaches the girl on the wall, and draws her lips downwards in a kiss. Several wolf whistles and appreciative hoots rise up from the crowd, and eventually the two part, looking flushed but grinning. The tall girl leaning against the wall grabs the other girl’s hand, and fishes out a marker to scribble a phone number across her palm.

Mary tilts his head back against the wall he’s leaning on and gives you a curious look out of the corner of his eye. You pretend like you don’t see his gaze linger on your body.

“Someone else spin!” demands a partygoer, and another person grabs the wine bottle.

“What is this, a party of stupid horny teenagers?” snorts someone else, and everyone drowns them out with a chorus of boos. Someone throws a pillow at them and everyone laughs.

“You wanna play?” asks Mary, his lip curving into a wolfish smirk. “Get someone’s tongue down your throat?”

“W-What?” Eyes widening, you tear your gaze away from the display before you to look him in the face. “No…” Not unless it’s yours. Even though you don’t say that last part, you can’t help but glance down at his lips as you think it.

“No?” He turns towards you, leaning now on one shoulder instead of two, and lets the side of his head rest lazily on the wall. That smirk only grows more wicked. “Oh, so you want your tongue in—”

A collective squeal rises up from the partiers congregated in the living room as the game of spin the bottle has now become a game of truth or dare, it seems. Instead of making out with a stranger, someone’s been dared to flash everyone. With a gasp of shock, you look away as a dude gets to his feet and starts fumbling with the fly of his pants.

Mary doesn’t look away.

“Do you want to play?” you ask him, looking up at his face.

“Always, kitten.” Tearing his gaze from the flasher, he looks down at you with those gorgeous dark eyes of his, and he gives you a wink.

“Fine.” The weed and beer have made you more confident—perhaps stupidly so. “Let’s play.”

Mary’s face splits into a crooked grin—a wicked flashing of teeth that does very little to soothe your nerves—and his hand grabs yours. You barely have time to grab another beer before he’s yanking you towards the circle of partygoers that’s begun to crowd around the spinning bottle.

You think maybe Mary’s going to sit beside you, but instead, he elbows his way into the circle across from you, and sits cross-legged on the floor. The game continues without interruption, and everyone decides if they’d rather kiss the person the bottle lands on, tell a truth, or do a dare.

Most people pick dare.

In the five minutes it takes for your turn to arrive, you’ve seen a lot of tits and ass from strangers. More than you’d ever care to see, really. You get the impression that these people aren’t exactly creative when it comes to thinking up dares. Or they’re just really horny. Most of the dares involve getting naked or showing off body parts.

Finally, it’s your turn.

You swallow hard, pointedly avoiding Mary’s gaze, and give the bottle a twist. It spins and spins and spins in a seemingly endless loop.

You chance a glimpse at Mary. Those dark eyes of his are hooded and staring at you with such an intensity, as if he’s reading every filthy thought you’ve ever had in your entire life and he’s imagining ways to sweetly torment you with them. Your stomach does a little somersault. Somehow, you just know where the bottle’s going to land. Mary’s lip twists into a subtle, wicked smirk, and the bottle comes to a stop.

It’s pointed to the girl just to Mary’s left.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Mary arches an eyebrow at you, an unasked question lurking in the inky depths of his eyes. But now the girl is asking the question and your attention is diverted away from him.

“Truth or dare?”

“...Dare, I guess.” You make direct eye contact with Mary as you say it. You think he looks a little impressed, but it’s hard to tell.

The girl chews her bottom lip in thought. “Dare you to…” She gives you an impish grin. “Let us look through the pics on your phone for one minute.”

A collective “ooooh” rises up from the congregation and several pair of eager eyes fall on you. A hot blush crawls up your cheeks, and as you fish your phone from your pocket, unlock it, and hand it to her, you silently pray you deleted those nudes you took a couple of weeks ago just for fun.

As your darer scrolls through your picture gallery, Mary leans to look over her shoulder, occasionally flicking his eyes up at you and smirking. The minute seems to drag on forever, and you busy yourself with taking sips of your beer, but you can’t help anxiously watching as they go through all your photos.

“Oh my God,” giggles your darer, and she turns your phone around to show you. “Cute selfie but is that a fucking dildo??”

A cackle rises up from the crowd of people as you look at the picture. You’d taken it a couple of days ago but never posted it to your social media for this exact reason. Sitting on the dresser in the background is a large, silky purple dildo. Face hot and red now, you snatch away the phone, grumbling under your breath as you stuff it back into your pocket.

“It’s my roommate’s,” you mumble, but no one hears you.

Mary gives a snorting giggle.

The person to your left gives the bottle a spin and the game continues. Several shotgunned beers, flashed body parts, eaten teaspoons of mustard, and one extremely loud streak later, it’s Mary’s turn.

The bottle lands on you. Mary cocks his head to one side, his eyes patient but there’s an unspoken challenge there that makes your pulse leap with anticipation.

“Dare.” He says it without even waiting to be asked.

“Okay…” You think for a moment, then flash him a grin of your own. “Dare you to sing us a verse from your favorite song.”

This seems to have finally flapped the unflappable Mary. His intense, challenging gaze falters a bit, replaced with utter bewilderment. He blinks, and a subtle blush rises to his cheeks, barely visible beneath the lines of dried blood. A thrill of pride surges through at the thought that you managed to surprise him.

“And no cheating, Goore,” says the girl beside him, elbowing his ribs gently. She flashes him a smug smirk. “They said sing, not growl.”

Mary casts her an irritated glower, before flicking his eyes back to you. For a moment, he contemplates, and his gaze holds yours the whole time. Someone turns down the music so that he can be heard better. With a clear of his throat, he closes his eyes, and begins singing.

I'm crucified Crucified like my savior Saintlike behavior A lifetime I prayed

I'm crucified For the holy dimension Godlike ascension Heavens away

A stunned silence follows this brief display. Everyone is staring at Mary with disbelief in their eyes, including you. Never would you have suspected that such an angelic voice could’ve come out of such a rough-looking guy. Several people clap, but Mary has eyes for only you. The intensity to his gaze fills you with both anxiety and elation. You’re unsure if there’s a punishment or a reward coming for you the next time your turn comes up.

You’re unsure which idea thrills you more.

The game continues, and a few uncreative rounds later, your spin finally selects Mary as your darer again.

He flashes you a mischievous grin, and your pulse spikes with adrenaline. By this point, you’ve had a couple more beers, and you’re really beginning to feel the effect. You’re a little braver, but only a little. A tiny, cowardly part of you wants to chicken out and pick truth, but Mary doesn’t even give you a choice.

“Dare you to make out with the hottest guy here.”

Fuck.

Judging from the smug grin and the intense smolder to his eyes, he knows he’s got you now. He cocks his head to one side, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, as if preparing himself for the inevitable.

Well, if he’s going to be so insufferable about it.

Holding his gaze, you turn to the guy immediately to your left, lean in, and capture his lips in a searing kiss. He grunts in surprise, but at least he reciprocates. Several hoots and whistles rise up from the crowd as the kiss continues on for a minute or two. You briefly toy with the notion of sliding into the stranger’s lap, but decide this will suffice for now. After a moment, your eyes open and you meet Mary’s gaze.

That insufferably smug look on his face has utterly evaporated. He stares at you, his expression hovering somewhere between heartbroken and incredulous. Then that, too, dissolves, and he looks away with a scowl.

“I need some air,” he mutters, and he gets to his feet.

Avoiding your gaze, he picks his way through the circle, and strides off. Guilt sinks its hot teeth into your stomach and you break away from your unsuspecting kissing victim.

“Mary, wait.”

With clumsy, drunken movements, you scramble to your feet, tripping only a little, and hurry after him. You find him out on the tiny balcony of the apartment, leaning on the railing and smoking a cigarette. Trying your best to be stealthy, you slip out onto the balcony. He doesn’t look up as you shyly approach the railing beside him.

“...I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Mary exhales a lungful of smoke, and casts you an unreadable glance out of the corner of his eye.

“For that, back there.” You frown. “I don’t know why I—“

“Forget about it.” He gives a shrug, turning his gaze back out to the glittering city stretching out before you, and takes another drag of his cigarette. “Got no fuckin’ reason to be mad, do I?”

Your heart sinks a little. He has a point, but you hate it anyway. Slowly, you shuffle a half step closer, until your arm lightly brushes against his, and look up at him. In your half-drunk state, you can’t find yourself to be ashamed of your ogling. He really is beautiful, even with lines of red dribbling down his face. The neon lights of the city below throw odd shadows across his features, highlighting the curve of his cheekbones, the crooked angularity to his nose, the definition of his brow. His lips look so soft and inviting. You find yourself studying them while biting your own.

“...It’s you, yanno,” you mumble quietly, rotating to lean your elbows on the railing. “I was just… I dunno, being stupid, I guess.” You look away from him, frowning at nothing in particular. “You know it’s you, that’s why you asked.”

“What’s me?” he asks, as he flicks the spent cigarette over the railing. With hooded eyes, he finally turns his head to look at you, and you just can’t resist anymore.

Wordlessly, you reach for his face and pull his lips down to meet yours. Obediently, he lets himself be pulled. He hums out a chuckle against your mouth, low and quiet. There’s some minor adjusting as he sidles closer, one hand sliding up to the back of your neck while the other yanks your hips against his, and his lips part in silent invitation. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and there’s some kind of unnameable metallic tang on his tongue, but holy fuck do you need more.

A soft, desperate moan escapes you, immediately swallowed by his kiss, and he adjusts more, sliding one of his thighs between your legs. You grind yourself against him with a whine. His hands fall to your hips, squeezing you and guiding you just right on his thigh. For a moment or two, he seems content with this—your lips on his, his tongue in your mouth, your crotch grinding against his thigh. With a groan through clenched teeth, he breaks the kiss and brings his lips to your ear.

“Better tell me what it is you’re after, little lamb,” whispers Mary, as your hands fumble with the overly-large belt buckle at his waist. “Or else I ain’t gonna fuckin’ know.”

“Want you,” you mumble incoherently, whining as he gives the thigh you’re riding a bounce. “Fuck me, please. Please.”

“Mm…” He makes a show of considering your proposal, cocking his head to one side. He leans in a little, and you think that he’s going to kiss you again, to get you going, and take it a step further. Then his face splits into a wicked grin.

“Nah.”

And he just pulls away.

You gasp in shock, your mouth hanging open in betrayal. As Mary Goore steps away from you, leaving you panting and needy and utterly unsatisfied, he gives a little cackle. So this is your punishment for disobeying his dare. God, what an asshole!

At the sliding glass door, Mary pauses, flashes you a shit-eating grin accompanied with a two-fingered salute in farewell, and disappears back inside.

What the fuck.

[love-sapphirerose]

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 24

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-24/.170860

Look, there was never even the slightest chance that Yashahime's 24th episode would end up functioning as a proper series finale. I knew that. You knew that. We all knew that. Over the last six months, Yashahime has rambled, meandered, bungled, and straight tumbled ass-over-elbows in its vain attempts at telling a coherent and engaging story, but never has it managed to establish so much plot and character motivation that anyone would mistakenly think that it would be a one-and-done. I was a fool for ever dreaming of a world where Yashahime might have the decency to end here and now. Still, you can't blame a guy for hoping right?

Except, we've also learned what happens to hope when Yashahime comes calling, haven't we?

In a certain sense, you'd think a part of me would be happy to find out that “Sesshomaru's Daughter” was never meant to function as a complete conclusion to this story, because that could only mean that this season finale has less responsibilities to juggle, in the long run. In spite of every attempt on Yashahime's part to sabotage itself, that last couple of episodes managed to lay the groundwork for something that at least kind of resembles a conflict for this final chapter of the season: Zero has been revived by Sesshomaru's Tenseiga, and now she's got some Rainbow Pearl-fueled demonic wrath to bring down on our heroines; Kirinmaru has also descended from the sky to do…something, which can only mean double trouble for the girls!

Haha, no. That would be far too reasonable a direction to take the story, so instead Yashahime decides to spit right in its audience's face with more of The Usual Yashahime Bullshit™, starting mere seconds after Sesshomaru revives Zero with the Tenseiga. For some reason, Sesshomaru reveals that he is no longer concerned about her mortal link with Rin, and vows to do…something to her that involves a thorough stabbing. The logical assumption is that he wants to kill her, but that makes a negative amount of sense given that she was literally just dead, so I'm just going to pretend that Yashahime is trying to trick us, and that Sesshomaru's plans are more complicated than that. Is there even a scrap of proof to that effect? Hell no, but we're only a couple of minutes into this thing, and our collective sanity can only withstand so much of this malarkey.

Meanwhile, in Spooky Tree World: Jaken notices that Rin is crying. Later on, he manages to hitch a ride with Totosai and his cow thing, claiming that he needs to fix Rin's sadness. How does he plan on doing this? What purpose does this mission serve? I sure as hell don't know, and it never comes up again. Next scene.

Before Zero has the chance to do a single thing with her twice-recovered Rainbow Pearls, Kirinmaru lashes out and magically poofs them out across the corners of the land. Yes, after spending an entire season building up the Rainbow Pearls as the ultimate artifacts of unlimited power or whatever, they served no purpose whatsoever before the script re-scattered them like the knockoff Shikon Jewels they've always been. The most reaction that anyone musters is when Moroha says, "Oh damn. There they go." Cool, show. Cool.

As for Zero? She disowns her brother and then magically yeets herself away by thwipping her spider-web onto the thin air. Then, Riku stabs Kirinmaru, which does absolutely nothing, before he flicks his little earring and poofs away too. Then , Sesshomaru goes after Zero and explains that Kirinmaru should fight his daughters as a “rite of courage and cowardice.” He then also just zips off into the sky. No, we never see Zero or Riku again. Their entire involvement in this scheme was – you guessed it – absolutely pointless!

Around this point in the episode is where you might be asking: “Wait a minute. Why does Kirinmaru tell the girls he would have let them run away if they asked? Why does he seem concerned over Sesshomaru abandoning his children? Why did he turn on his sister; does he still want to kill the girls because of that one prophecy about getting murdered by a half-demon? What does any of this have to do with the big evil comet that is going to strike the Earth in the future?” Oh, you sweet summer child. Yashahime doesn't give a shit about your questions! And no, before you even think about it again, the future comet and the Mr. Kirin subplot are not ever mentioned again, either.

With all of that out of the way, the only thing left is the big showdown between Kirinmaru and the three girls, all of whom decide to stay and fight the guy who has already handily kicked their asses without so much as breaking a sweat because…they think he's lying about being strong? And Setsuna doesn't want to back down from the rite of passage she only just learned about thirty seconds beforehand? Sure. Fine. Let's go with that. Who cares?

Now, I do want to say at least one nice thing about this episode. Even though most of the episode looks embarrassingly sloppy and rushed, the visuals really turn themselves around for this last fight, especially right at the beginning. Each of the three girls gets a delightfully-animated action cut to show off their moves, and kudos to the artists in charge of those sequences. If anything, the sequence might look a little too good, as it clashes mightily with the butt-ugly visuals that the show usually sports and serves as a bittersweet reminder of the series that Yashahime could have been.

There. That was technically a compliment, right? I hope so, because the pretty visuals can't save the back-half of "Sesshomaru's Daughter" from being almost awe-inspiring in its lameness. For one, fricking Moroha just gets whooshed out of the fight after landing maybe one or two hits. Again. Then, in order to deprive us of even the barest shred of dramatic tension, Kirinmaru loudly announces that he is going to threaten Setsuna's life in order to draw out Towa's latent power. Unsurprisingly, this leads to him murdering the hell out of Setsuna after she nicks his cheek with that Blood Blade of hers. Or rather, he slashes her from her heels to her head with his magic blade thingy, and then she falls down perfectly intact, and slowly slips away into her first “sleep” in years. Do you get it? Because Dream Butterfly.

One final almost-good thing happens when Moroha comes back with her Beniyasha face on, and she finally gets to help Towa land a major blow against Kirinmaru (it sure is a good thing that nobody ever pointlessly sacrificed their life to try and teach Moroha about the dangers of using her incredibly useful Beniyasha powers, right?). For her part, the raged-out Towa gets her own demony glow-up, and she ends up looking like a little silver-haired Super Saiyan 3 (Super Sesshy 3?). Two giant super-power blasts later, and…a slightly winded Kirinmaru admits his respect for Towa, and then flies away of his own volition. Then Sesshomaru comes back from wherever he was and offers his broken Tenseiga to Towa to help bring Setsuna back to life, finally winning that Father of the Year award he has been vying for all this time.

That's it. No, seriously, that's the end of the season. No mention of Kagome or Inuyasha whatsoever, no clues as to what any of the villains' true motivations are; we don't even get a proper explanation for whatever the hell an “Aruku's Pinwheel” is! Instead, Yashahime's first season ended as we all should have expected it would: As a slow-motion train wreck of gobsmackingly stupid writing, lame action, and a veritable mountain of wasted potential. So sure, maybe some of the series' gravest failings can get ironed out in another year or two. Lord knows that I would be ecstatic to learn that future iterations of this show ended up being halfway decent.

However, that would never change the fact that this first season was one of the most exhausting, frustrating, and disappointing anime that I've ever seen. So, with no small amount of relief, I bid adieu to our three half-demon princesses. I wish I could say that I'll miss you, but I most definitely will not. Except maybe for Moroha, who always has and always will deserve better than Yashahime. For the rest of the knuckleheads that have been leeching away at our time and our patience these last six months, there is only one rating they could ever deserve...

[the-siren-and-the-sailor]

Part One of a story I'm working on with Daphne and Leonora! There will probably be three parts. This is the story of how they split up and found each other again. It also deals with the Apollyons rather than the Interlopers this time.

Tag List: @kissthe-gogoat @caloroso-cosmos Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!

“Leo, stop!” A young Daphne shrieked and giggled as she was pelted with berries.

“Say it! Say that I’m the prettiest, you know I am,” Leonora giggled back from atop her perch in the tree.

Daphne playfully stuck her tongue out at her sister, bobbing in the pond below. “I’d never. And you won’t be saying that after this!” And with that she slipped below the algae covered water.

Leonora watched in amusement, waiting for Daphne to realize. The mergirl tried, and tried some more, but the tail she wanted never appeared.

“It doesn’t work in freshwater, you dummy!” Leo called.

Daphne surfaced, flicking her hair and accidentally slapping her face with it. “Well how was I supposed to know that, wench!”

“Oh, Daphne, don’t say words like that!”

“Oh what’s it matter? We’re not supposed to call each other these nicknames, either- yet here we are!” she laughed.

Leonora paused, a stricken look crossing her face. “Yes… We should probably go back, mother would be furious if she found out we were here.”

Daphne groaned. “Leo, chill out, would you?”

“And we need to stop using the names, too.”

“Leonora-“

“My name isn’t Leonora!”

Daphne recoiled, frustration rising. “You go, I don’t want to.”

Leonora put a hand to the back of her neck, brushing over the gem embedded there and causing it to glow a brilliant emerald.

“Leo, stop it! Please!” Daphne cried, panicking as her own gem flashed sapphire.

“Stop calling me that! I hate it when you call me that!” she snapped back, the scenery around them twisting and bending until they now stood in their mother’s starry hall.

And there she sat, Iýa, in all her shining regality. The look on her face was hard to see through its concentrated starlight, but both sisters knew it must have been twisted with disdain.

“Goofing off again, it seems,” her voice doubled and echoed all around the two, like a terrible chorus. “Have I taught you nothing?”

The princess tried her usual tactics. “Mother, you are an excellent teacher, I implore you, show-”

Iýa cut her off. “Princess Lisianthus, you are meant to be studying to be a leader. And Delphinium, you are supposed to follow behind.”

The princess bowed her head and stepped back. The lady-in-waiting, however, was starting to bubble over. How tired she was of this rubbish treatment…!

“So I’m, what, the backup then?”

“You will speak only with permission, of which you currently have none.”

“I don't need anyone's permission to speak but my own. You said you loved us both, and yet here you are acting like a tyrant.”

“Hold your tongue, Delphinium,” she sneered.

“And that’s another thing! You don’t even have the decency to call us by the names we choose. Instead you force us into these positions which we both do not want.”

Lisianthus was desperately shaking her head, Iýa glaring at her through gritted teeth.

“There is so much more life in the ocean and beyond it, yet despite it being my nature to be there, you-”

“I said silence! Both of you are to stay in the Library studying from now on. I don’t want a peep more!”

“Come on, Delphinium, let’s just go.”

Daphne only went for the sake of the opportunity to be away from Iýa. Perhaps her outburst was a mistake, but she was starting to consider it a mistake to stay. And so, perhaps her dear mother was right. Maybe some studying was in order, after all.

~*~

Lisianthus sat scribbling notes, placidly reading only the appropriate materials.

Daphne took a much more frantic approach. If the Library was truly infinite, then there must be knowledge from the people across the ocean somewhere. As could be knowledge of how to get to them.

“You’re not to be discovering those,” Lisianthus said quietly as Daphne thumped a pile of scrolls down on the desk.

“Shush, you. I’ve been following this one for months- it seems to be a journal of some kind. But I can’t read the characters, they’re so forgeign.”

“So put them back!” she hissed.

Daphne instead ignored her, unraveling the parchment. “Such an inefficient way to write,” she mumbled. A passage at the bottom of the page caught her attention. A smaller, more practiced handwriting, a cipher of sorts. Translating their own to a different language. Daphne took out her own translation key. Yes, it matched with one she had!

She spent hours pouring it over, slowly learning the scroll’s language by cross-referencing to the ones she already knew.

They told of a city-state, by a queen who claimed ownership of an empire built on slavery and blood magic. And by the looks of it, Daphne had an idea of where this empire may be.

Snatching her cloak, Daphne looked for a Way to lead her there. Finally!

“Don’t do it, Delphinium! Those people will use you and throw you away like garbage!”

“I have to learn more. I can’t go on here- I need to see the world for myself.”

“You’ll be killed. If not by mother, then by them. You need protection!”

A devilish smirk graced Daphne’s face. “Then by all means, come with me, sister.”

Lisianthus hesitated. Daphne thought she may actually be considering. That was until the gems glowed once more. Iýa was watching. And that was never a good sign.

The mother goddess tore into her, cursing her to never step foot in the Library again, to never see the ocean even one more time.

What was more, she was stripped of her tail, her glow, even her ways of bending the water. She would only have her abilities returned to her if it was ever required that she take the throne. But if her sister was immortal, who's to say that would ever be necessary?

Daphne left her nightsky hall in tatters and tears not an hour later. Fleeing to her room, now forever barred from the places she loved most. She should’ve know something like would’ve happened, and yet she was stupid enough to, to…!

There was nothing she could do. It would take a miracle to get her out of this.

A feeble tapping sounded from her door. Lisianthus, no doubt. Daphne let out another sob and her sister opened the door.

“Come to gloat?” she choked out.

“Not at all! I wanted to apologize…”

“What for? Tapping your gem so Iýa would find me out?”

Lisianthus sat down on the bed next to Daphne. The mergirl, now without her prized scales and instead a pair of dry and dull legs, couldn’t even bring herself to call the goddess ‘mother.’

“She can activate them as she pleases. You know that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Daphne mumbled, going back to wetting her pillow with tears.

Lisianthus continued to watch her sister. She risked a peak into her mind, only to find it full of the unrecognizable script of the scroll found earlier.

“You truly love the ocean, even though Mother has forbidden it of you many times. And you have a thirst to learn about that which is beyond it, even though your place is behind me.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Daphne snipped. The more she cried, the drier she got. That couldn’t be good. Her hair was going from blue to silver to white all too fast.

“...Does it make you not want to live?” She already knew that answer, she had seen into her sister’s mind, but she wanted to hear it.

“No.”

Well, that didn’t help. The princess was after a reason. The only thing in Daphne’s head was more of that bloody script!

Lisianthus sniffed. “Fine! I was trying to help, but you obviously don’t give a damn. Stay here and rot if it so suits you!”

Daphne sat up as Lisianthus stood. “Read my mind like you always do, you horrible sister! Then maybe you’d bother with a shred of encouragement!”

Lisianthus, sighing, and eager now to avoid argument, did as her sister told. At last, a translation!

It was from the perspective of a young slave, rightfully unsatisfied with their life.Taking to parchment, they wrote the ways of a god they believed would save them. Pillars of sorts, core beliefs- those of determination, strength, and will. Plans of escape.

But the plans were not the writer’s, they were Daphne’s.

“Why escape through death when I can simply escape through the waterways?”

“Delphinium, no! Mother would find you, she’d-”

“I know what she would do! I can’t stand it anymore than I can stand how you act like her doting lap dog, always taking orders with your head bowed, like you don’t hate this as much as I do!”

Lisianthus recoiled at her sister’s outburst. “I don’t do that…”

“Oh yes, you do. Iýa continues to try and turn us into dolls, useful chess pieces for her to control. And you go along with it, encourage it! You’re as much to blame for this entrapment as she!”

“I don’t want this-!”

“So act like it, coward! Say something for once in your pathetic life!”

“My life is the one that’s pathetic? Look at you! Dramatic, a compulsive liar, and a selfish prick at every turn! Have you ever told the truth once in your life? Ever done something for others?”

“I can’t because she’s always putting you first! I have no opportunities to do anything worthwhile because she’s too busy with you! And when she’s not, she’s beating me down!”

“I have my own problems to tend to- don’t try and saddle me with yours! And perhaps you’re the coward for not doing anything!”

Daphne fell into a venomous silence. Lisianthus feared what a taste of her thoughts might reveal.

“Fine. Then watch me do something.” Daphne began to gather a few things; a cloak, a moonstone. A satchel full of paper and charcoal pencils.

“Delphinium, please, no, I didn’t mean it…”

“My name is Daphne.”

And with that, and the last of her water, she liquified and drizzled down under the door frame.

Lisianthus flung it open. “No, please, please stay! I didn’t mean it!”

Her sister was nowhere in sight. That form was so painful for her to take, now that the curse was setting in- if she didn’t get to water quickly it’d kill her. Lisianthus fell to her knees, begging and crying after the last place she’d seen her. But she was not seen again.