#character who desperately is begging their lover to kill them and a lover who could never do that to them

[fadelbison]

Of Boats and Drama; The Turning Tides on Kant and Bison's Compatibility

obsessed with how when its during their make believe phase, when fadel says "I think I love you" to Style, Style doesn't say it back and instead just kisses him at the end of ep. 6 and during the kantbison parallel at the start of ep7 when Bison says "I love you" to Kant, Kant says "I love you" back but clearly there's baggage even if he's not lying outright.

But after the brothers kidnap their respective lovers its Style that fronts with the I love you that perplexes Fadel

and its bison that wants to hear it

but Kant jumps into the ocean instead (like you can see the beach front okay Bison is clearly devoid of killing intent here) instead of lying to him or say the same things he's been saying to dupe him.

I really think this is where the Kant and Bison compatibility is finally starting to show. Bison clearly loves his little fantasies and make belief of romance (just like style dear fucking god). I've joked before about how bison has given to his brother the lover he had envisioned for himself - the one who will plead his love, cajole and give in.

But that guy is wrong for him.

We've seen that slightly off dynamic between Kant and Bison for 6 whole episodes. And it's killed me that people kept trying to interpret them with the same rose tinted glasses that we do for Fadel and Style. Because the FadelStyle and KantBison relationship parallels aren't meant to highlight the similarities between the couples but rather the differences, that's where the information about these characters come from.

The audience knows something that Kant doesn't in the boat scene; which is that he has this in the bag already. I think this is the infamous island Bison inherited from his dad and he's brought him here to literally just talk. I know I mentioned this already but bison literally looks like he just untied the boat from shore and let it drift on its own while waiting for Kant to wake up.

Like that has got to be the minimum legal distance that a boat needs to be from shore to be considered unmoored lol. This is 'I am using your vulnerabilities against you because love is pain' shore distance not 'dead body dumping' shore distance. The body will wash up on shore before the boat even makes it back.

But for Bison, Fadel's reasonable precautions while we talk approach was not enough. He needed the ropes, the guns, the added ocean trauma because the guns didn't feel enough to instill fear, the pretty necklace he put on just so he could rip it off his throat, everything is already high drama high fantasy for him. Bison set the stage for desperate begging and tearful confessions, things he already got at the hospital btw but that wasn't enough either.

Because.

Bison doesn't need to be sold on fantasies. He had that and it sucked for everyone involved, what he needs when he's totally out of control like this is this guy:

[screenshots of Kant telling bison he wants to talk on land and he's scared of the ocean]

For six whole episodes I saw Kant be wrong for Bison and not be able to pinpoint exactly why people cawing over how cute KantBison are bothered me so much. Until, of course, Kant finally does something right and all of a sudden it just all clicks together. Bison is boisterous, headstrong and because of his unique skillset also irresponsibly dangerous. The BDSM scene also shows that despite his best intentions, Bison can and will abuse power if given to him irresponsibly.

He doesn't need the Kant that plays along with everything he does. He needs the Kant that Kant is to everyone but him. The person that Kant is when they're together is barely even Kant. He needs the calm, level headed but fiercely devoted older brother, he needs the guy that helps a hookup out because that's his duty as a human being, he needs the guy that stole cars to keep his family fed. And I'll be really honest, that's the guy that Bison loves anyway, the one he hears about from Babe and Style and James.

What Bison needs is the quiet devotion of Kant choosing his own personal hell over playing this game and furthering any deception between them even though technically it wouldn't even be a lie (Bison is literally poised to believe him); the dogged resolve that once he's decided to do this on his own terms, it happens on his own terms.

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

I had dark angst thoughts again.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Operation Exemies to Lovers | Cregan Stark

A/N: Now yall know i have not written and finished a fic in a hot minute so sorry if this reads a bit wonky. Yk I'm an enemies to lovers and exes to lovers girl, so why not combine them both into a modern!cregan stark fic? Also, this is dialogue heavy as that's kind of my thing, if it's not yours, welpt keep scrolling boo I aint mad!. I also fixed the inc*st family tree so you'll see that in this as well (i'll prob keep it for future modern AUs). Anyways lmk what you think and enjoy! Also, I suck at summaries so I pull quotes from my fics, sorry not sorry pookies

Summary: “So y’know those sappy novels Hel’s always reading, anyways I asked her about them and she had one where the two main characters were like totally at ends with each other but their friends were like ‘nah they should be smashing’ so we think, based on our research and our scholarly source-Helaena, we should force them to be around each other until they finally talk it out! Or well, y’know-f*ck it out”

Warnings: cussing, spelling and grammar errors (sue me!), kissing, mentions of smut/allusions to smut but no smut, arguing, Alyssane Blackwood slander (sorry girl), somewhat mean!reader, this is an AU where Aegon's not a bad guy!!!! just a clown <3, mentions of an ill parent, Baela be hitting Aegon (he earned it!), Aemond is still missing an eye sorry to the Aemond girls

Word Count: 6.4k (period I stuck to keeping it short and sweet)

Modern!Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

“He’s staring at you again” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, doing your best to focus on highlighting the passages about the few Westerosi Civil Wars that had happened centuries ago. It was already difficult enough to focus in the crowded library, midterms were killing everyone. 

It wasn’t a shock for the once quiet and almost empty library to be packed, especially with student athletes who were desperately catching up on their studies in attempts to pass all of their midterms, write endless essays, and practically beg their professors for extra credit via email. 

You should’ve been able to focus on the task at hand, studying with your best friends Baela and Rhaena for your upcoming history midterm, the exam itself would focus heavily on the several majors wars that shaped westerosi society as a whole, and would even include the transition from government leadership as a monarchy into a democracy. 

Hell you’d even have to describe what was once known as the ‘Iron Throne’ and its historical significance. Truthfully the large metal hunk of junk was now sitting in the King’s Landing Red Keep Memorial Museum.

Usually the library was the easiest place for the three of you to study, it wasn’t as loud as your fourth floor flat in one of the student apartment buildings off campus, it was usually pretty clean and well kept, plus every resource you could possibly need was somewhere within the large building. 

However today, your usually comfortable red leather-lined chair felt stiff and was making you hot, not to mention the lack of air flow and increased temperature due to the amount of body heat on each floor, then the lights were either too bright or too dim, and all you wanted to do was slam the books shut, grab your laptop and leave.

“Let him stare.” you muttered as you tried to keep your gaze on the text in front of you, however it was getting increasingly difficult as a very specific pair of eyes were practically burning a hole into your side. 

Gods, he was so obnoxious.

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to hold onto the grudge against him, of course he totally earned it! I’m not downplaying your emotions but anytime he’s around you stiffen up like a virgin afraid of dick” your jaw dropped at Baela’s words, now staring at her, brows furrowed in shock.

“Baela! You can’t say things like that” Rhaena almost immediately swatted at her sister’s arm, shaking her head before tucking one of her loose locks behind her ear. “You really take after father sometimes.” 

Baela simply shrugged, glancing back at the two tables that were usually empty, now they were filled with six of the school’s hockey players, all spread apart with a plethora of books, laptops, pens, and notepads covering the tables. That’s also not counting all of their bags laying on the floor besides their chairs. 

“I get that you two broke up on not so good terms, but you should be showing him that you don’t care about him! Not that he makes you so angry you’re about to explode like a bomb in Mario Party”.

With that Baela turned her gaze back to her laptop, however at the sound of several texts chiming in at once to both Baela and Rhaena’s phones, you knew that their cousins had texted them once again. It made sense that they’d all shared a group chat, especially considering how close in age they were, and how large the Targaryen/Hightower/Velaryon family was. 

Of course the first time Baela had broken down their family tree you were incredibly confused. Her mother Laena Velaryon was married to Daemon Targaryen, who happened to be the uncle to her cousins Jace, Luke, and Joffrey’s mother Rhaenyra. 

Now, Rhaenyra was married to Dr. Strong (or just Harwin as he’d asked you to call him once at a family gathering you’d been invited to, to which you quickly declined as he was your Literature professor), but based on the Targaryen’s political status within Westeros, their sons took their mother’s last name, not their father. 

Then comes Aegon and Aemond, now truthfully you’d met Aegon your second week of classes a few years ago when he’d caught you off guard, asked for your number, then got mad when you’d ghosted him after finding out he had a girlfriend! (Shame on him, truly). But you actually ended up being pretty good friends with the goof. 

Anyways, Aegon and Aemond were the children of Rhaenyra’s best friend, and now sister-in-law Alicent Hightower who married Rhaenyra’s only brother Baelon Targaryen. 

It’s also important to remember that throughout this entire family tree, which was in fact drawn out on construction paper for you, Alicent and Baelon also had two other children, Daeron and Halaena, both of them attending Sunspear University together. Then of course Rhaenyra and Dr.Strong (Harwin), have two much smaller sons, Aegon and Viserys, which was even more confusing considering you’d already met an Aegon.

Rhaena and Baela shared a look, and it was a look that worried you, so of course instead of being rational and brushing it off, you clenched your jaw as you slowly turned around, making eye contact with none other than your ex-boyfriend who’d been leaning his head against his hand and staring at you with what could only be described as a mournful lovesick expression.

You rolled your eyes, quickly turning back around before anyone else would look at you and do something that would probably piss you off. 

It also didn’t help that the cousins texting Baela and Rhaena were also seated at the table with your ex boyfriend. 

“Jace said that Cregan wants to talk to you but you blocked him, I don’t think you want to know what Aegon said, but it involved an eggplant emoji and a bed” you rolled your eyes, letting out a deep sigh while sitting up straight and shaking your head.

“He’s apologized a million times and has yet to tell me why he decided to go out of his way to not only break things off with me and tell me he still loved me in the same damn sentence, then go out the same night and end up on Aegon-Aegon of all people’s instagram story sucking face with that Blackwood bitch while she was on his lap.” 

You let out a cynical laugh of sorts, rolling your eyes once again. 

“Tell Cregan Stark that I’d rather fuck Aegon after one of his alley-way vomit sprees than ever talk to him again” however, before you could focus back on your studies, an amused laugh came from behind you before the chair next to you was pulled out, only for you to meet the gaze of Aegon Targaryen himself, a lopsided smile on his face with his brows wiggling in a playful suggestive manner.

“Well if I knew the easiest way to get you into my bed was to go drinking until I’m sick then I would’ve invited you out sooner baby” with that he leaned closer while making kissing noises, only to be met with your hand shoving his face away.

“Aeg, for the last time, she doesn’t want you like that” he feigned hurt at Rhaena, sliding back into the chair with his hand over his heart. 

“You wound me dear cousin! You wound me!” then he sat up straight, now looking back at you “so I was sent over here as a trusted messenger. My boy back there, you know him quite well, if y’know what I mean-” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down again, then you shoved him “-anyways, Cregan has been like all sulky and heartbroken and he really misses you. And he doesn’t want anything to do with Alysanne! She came onto him!, so can you give him another shot?”

With that you simply shook your head, quickly packing your things up while scoffing. 

“Tell your “boy back there”-” you spoke with air quotations “-that if he really gave a fuck about me, he shouldn’t have dumped me after two years for no god damn reason, then fucked that Blackwood bitch-who by the way is a fucking whore!” 

Your outburst was met with the looks of many, Rhaena quickly clearing her throat watching as you packed your things away. “What she means to say is, she doesn’t want to talk to him. I think it’s too fresh still”

Aegon scoffed “it’s been four months people! Four months! The summer ended, it’s a new semester, I think she can talk to him now” he glanced around the table, eyes widening as he watched Baela grasp quite the hefty textbook while glaring at him.

“Baela don’t hit me! I’m just saying! Listen-” but before he could finish you’d already gotten up and mumbled that you’d see them at home while you walked away.

Aegon paused, watching as you walked away, blatantly checking you out for a few moments, then you’d disappeared. He then turned around and motioned for someone to come to the table, this is what led both Jace and Luke to walk across the room and now sit where you were sitting and in the last empty seat of the table.

“Listen, we’re all tired of being caught in the middle of this awkward divorce alright. So we came up with a plan!” Baela shook her head while Rhaena sighed slightly.

“No offense Aeg, but your plans are always horrible, need I remind you of Aemond’s missing eyeball?” Luke winced slightly, remembering the day he’d accidentally hit Aemond in the eye with a firewood poker when swinging it behind him.

Truthfully, Luke had no idea Aemond had entered the room when he and Aegon were ‘dueling’ one another, however he’d felt his poker hit something, and he heard Aemond’s loud scream of pain. 

They’d all been kids when that happened, and to make it worse it occurred on their grandfather’s birthday when everyone had traveled to King’s Landing for a large birthday dinner/family holiday.

“She’s got a point there Aegon, but-guys-we all came up with the idea together!” Luke placed his hands on the shoulder of his cousin and his brother, smiling widely while Baela and Rhaena both shook their heads in disappointment.

“Okay, you win, but if the idea is bad, Baela’s going to smack Aegon with that textbook, so pray it’s not bad” they all nodded, Aegon scooting back slightly.

“So y’know those sappy novels Hel’s always reading, anyways I asked her about them and she had one where the two main characters were like totally at ends with each other but their friends were like ‘nah they should be smashing’ so we think, based on our research and our scholarly source-Helaena, we should force them to be around each other until they finally talk it out! Or well, y’know-fuck it out”

He paused to take a quick breath “But we can’t let them in on the plan, otherwise Cregan’s gonna be all like ‘oh my god no she hates me, the love of my life hates me I can’t torture her, blah blah blah, I’m so nice and honorable, blah blah’ and she’s gonna be like ‘fuck that, I’ll kill him for fucking that Blackwood bitch and dumping me for no god damn reason’. Also I don’t think he ever fucked Alysanne-but I did-niether here nor there though!” 

Jace and Luke looked at Baela and Rhaena as if they were waiting to be yelled at by their mother, meanwhile Aegon smiled and nodded after his long winded explanation.

Rhaena spoke first “y’know honestly, your impression of her is pretty spot on.” Baela nodded her head in agreement before adding in “but if this doesn’t work, and she finds out, she’ll want to kill all of you and Cregan. I’m sure you all have realized being on her shit list isn’t exactly the best”

Jace nodded, glancing back at Cregan who was finally focusing on his statistics work with a stoic expression on his face. “Listen, if it doesn’t work and she kicks our asses that’s fine, but we at least have to try! I mean come on Rhae you told me that she cries over him still! And he’s no better. There might not be tears but he’s so long winded and mopey”

He then sighed, patting Luke on the back “I think this is our best shot. I mean c’mon they’re some of your guys' closest friends, and Winterfell over there’s my best friend that I’m not related to-oddly enough they’re pretty rare these days. They used to be so happy together! Now look at them both”

Baela sighed, nodding her head as she finally set the books in her hands down “she’s definitely not really herself anymore. Maybe if it doesn’t work, then at least they’ll both get closure from their relationship”.

Aegon smiled, nodding rapidly again “see! You guys get it!. Also don’t tell Aemond either, y’know he’s too ‘I’ve got a stick up my ass’ sometimes. We can call it operation-uh what’s the book trope that Helaena called it again-one second everyone!” he paused, grabbing his phone from his pocket before quickly calling his sister.

“Hey Hel, yeah yeah I’m good, what did you call that book again! The one where they were like forced to be around eachother then fuck it out and get married and shit?” 

Several hundred miles away, Helaena was grasping her nose bridge as she let out a deep sigh, her brother truly was a character.

“Oh-okay! Got it-thanks so much Hel, love you too! Give Daeron my love and remind him to wrap it up with those Dornish baddies!” with that he hung up the phone before meeting Baela’s disgusted glare.

“You’re so gross, Aeg. And stop saying the word baddies-you sound so cringey!” he simply shrugged at her.

“Anyways, now that we’re done being rude and judgemental to our baddie eldest cousin who’s super smart, funny, and beautiful, we’ll call it operation enemies to lovers!” 

Rhaena raised a brow “wouldn’t it actually be exes to lovers? Since they’re exes? I guess they might also be enemies based on the way she wants to wring his neck-and not how she used to-” with that her eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Jace sighed “don’t worry Rhae, we already know about the shit he let her do to him. Young love, what can I say” 

Aegon nodded his head, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively once again, then he slightly elbowed Luke, who met his gaze with a laugh before they both spoke in unison “kinky innit”.

“Anyways-are we doing this or not? I’ve got a history midterm to study for and you three are interrupting it, and it’s bad enough that Aegon already made the smartest person we know leave” It was clear that Baela was losing her patience.

“Oh come on Bales! Y’know if you’re still interested I can set you up with ol Benji over there, heard he’s a freak in the she-” there it was, the book smacking him in the face “-ow Baela! Jesus! You’re just like your dad! Mean and ever so beautiful to look at” he winked.

“Gross man, she’s our cousin!” he shrugged “didn’t stop our ancestors, okay fine-fine! I didn’t mean it okay! Shit. you all are so violent. The blood of the dragon I guess”.

-

Three days have passed and the TarVelTower group chat had been in constant communication about ‘operation exemies to lovers’ with the additional confused replies from those that were not present in the library that day.

They were planning a game night, it was something they’d all done in the past, inviting their other friends to come along as well for drinks and a night of utter tomfoolery. Baela and Rhaena had done everything but swear on the Old Gods themselves that Cregan wouldn’t be there, meanwhile Jace, Luke, and Aegon had to practically beg Cregan to come to Jace’s for the game night.

It was also a plus that most of them lived in the same building. Dragonstone University wasn’t that large, not compared to other schools such as Sunspear, Driftmark, or even Harrenhall-although it was rumored that Harrenhal U was in fact haunted, that’s probably what brought so many to the school in the first place.

Baela and Rhaena had to drag you out of your bed after your post-class nap and usher you into the shower, stating that you ‘stunk of outside’, which was rather rude considering your only classes today were virtual. 

They’d mentioned the game night several times, and each time you asked if Cregan would be there, they’d said no, which you found a bit odd considering Jace was literally his best friend and probably closest confidant. Maybe his father had come down from Winterfell again, but you were thankful that he wouldn’t be present to ruin your mood.

All you had to do was take the elevator up two floors, so all you did was shower and throw on a pair of sweats and one of Aegon’s many discarded team sweatshirts. It had his number on it and even after washing it what felt like a million times, it still smelled like his overly strong cologne that he claimed ‘the ladies love’.

He’d also told you that maybe you were an ogre for not loving it, which of course even further solidified your friendship with the moron (lovingly).

You took time to braid your hair, knowing that you’d probably wake up hungover without a want or a need to brush it, so this was just easier. Then you’d foregone makeup, knowing you truly didn’t care how people saw you, especially not your friends. 

Of course the one thing you’d always contemplated wearing sat on your desk, the thin gold chain adorned with a small charm in the shape of a howling wolf. It was as if it sat mocking you because almost everyday you’d stare at it while getting ready.

You’d worn it everyday for a year after Cregan gifted it to you. He randomly showed up at your door one day, slightly out of breath, a wide smile on his face with his disheveled hair pulled back. One hand rubbed against his short beard, while the other held a small black gift bag. He looked as if he’d run here, then was contemplating the decision to run in the first place.

Then he’d kissed you gently, a smile you rarely wore now, adorned your face then.

When you invited him in, he was quick to follow, shutting and locking your door behind him while you made your way to the small kitchen, grabbing him something to drink as he caught his breath.

Then as you spun around to hand him the drink, he held the bag out for you, practically forcing you to open it (it wasn’t forceful at all, rather when you declined opening it immediately, he didn’t hesitate to place the strings of the bag between his teeth before picking you up, then plopping you down onto the couch, soft giggles leaving your lips when he climbed right on top of you.).

You remembered him watching as you opened it, he held himself up overtop you, while you easily pulled the small jewelry box out of the packaging, then when you opened it he looked almost nervous, as if you wouldn’t like it.

But you’d kissed him, pulling him down into your lips, thanking him between rushed kisses. 

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it before grasping the necklace and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. Out of sight, out of mind, you’d tell yourself-until you’d go looking for a pen and see it again.

Rhaena’s voice knocked you out of your thoughts completely, she stood in your doorframe, her posture a little too straight, which would’ve normally thrown you off, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when you were trying to shake off the feeling of heartbreak.

“You ready? I’ve got the snacks already packed to bring up, you’ve just got to grab our blankets. Baela’s already there helping set up. Aeg said he’d give her twenty bucks if she’d actually arrive earlier than him for once” you laughed at that, shaking your head slightly.

It was no secret that Aegon and Baela were incredibly competitive, and as cousins, they had what could only be described as a sibling rivalry, always trying to one up one another when they could, and making stupid bets over random things.

You actually liked that they were all so close, when you’d befriended Rhaena, you never thought that she and her sister would come with a large family that would welcome you in with open arms.

“Yeah, just, let me-um-get my shoes, yeah my shoes. Sorry” you were mumbling and stuttering as you walked to the shoe rack beside your door, slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers before following Rhaena to the living room, grasping the small pile of throw blankets before the both of you left your apartment. She was quick to lock the door, then you both headed upstairs.

You were still technically early when you arrived, and as you entered the apartment Aegon was handing Baela a $20 bill, while she smirked. Luke was laying on one of the couches on his phone, Jace was putting drinks in the fridge with the help of Benji who honestly looked happy to be there. Meanwhile Aemond sat reading whatever random philosophical book he’d chosen for the week, and to your surprise, Helaena was pulling what smelled like cookies out of the oven.

“Hel! You’re here!” she smiled when she saw you, placing the tray down before meeting your embrace. “Yea, I actually was visiting my parents and Aegon picked me up earlier.” you smiled at that, you enjoyed her company, even if it was a rare occurrence. 

By the time everyone was settled in, around forty-five minutes had passed, and everything was nice. For the first time in a while you weren’t on edge, which was definitely noticeable, and you’d actually managed to relax into the large bean bag below you. Even if it did remind you of a certain someone.

Then, it was as if you’d summoned the asshole himself.

Jace was quick to shoot up and walk to the door, glancing at his phone nervously. Then he opened the door, nervously laughing for a few moments.

Then you spotted him. Not before Aegon, who was already tipsy, had managed to shoot up from his spot on the ground “Cregan! Glad you could make it man!”.

Baela and Rhaena watched as you let out a deep sigh, it was clear you didn’t want to ruin the night, so you simply turned to face away from the door, burying yourself further into the bean bag, covering yourself in the throw blanket as much as you could.

It’s important to mention that the bean bag happened to be big enough for two people, and for a long time, it’s where you would sit with Cregan, well technically, given his size, you’d be cuddled up together, and now, as his gaze found you ignoring him on that bean bag, the gloomy cloud that followed him around had resurfaced.’

After a few tense moments of silence, everyone commenced what they were doing.

Aegon, still standing, held up a deck of cards.

“For today’s game night we’re gonna need to partner up! Rhaena, you’re with me tonight! I need your smarticle particles!” you blinked slowly, Rhaena was usually your partner. Then you sat in silence as you watched everyone partner up.

Baela was shoved into Benji-literally shoved by Aegon. 

Aemond chose Luke as he stated their team needed “balance”, which actually made a lot of sense considering Aemond was always somewhat brooding, and Luke was a ray of sunshine.

Jace glanced between Helaena and Cregan, but when Baela shot him a pointed look-missed completely by you-he chose Helaena.

Which of course left you with the one person you wanted nothing to do with.

Rhaena tried breaking the ice, watching as Cregan awkwardly sat in the armchair beside the beanbag. “It looks like our old winning team is back together!” you were the first to scoff.

“Hey! They used to cheat!” you couldn’t stop yourself from responding to Aegon “actually he waited until we broke up for that”. As you spoke, everyone’s eyes widened, meanwhile you remained in your spot, staring at your phone, mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

However, as good of a guy that Cregan Stark is, you were the only person that was ever able to bring a different side out of him. You two rarely fought, but when you did, it was almost catastrophic and usually ended in very rough sex, or a heartwarming apology after ignoring one another for a few days. 

But you’d never broken up, you both took time to cool off in whatever way you needed.

Things are different now.

“For the last time, she came onto me! I’ve told you this thousands of times!” As he raised his voice, the frustration in his tone was evident, and his accent sounded thicker than usual-a key indicator that he was upset. So instead of backing down, you scoffed, now looking at him, fury evident on your features. 

“Yeah because a man your fucking size was so easily overpowered by her right! She just waltzed right up to you and beat you into submission or something?! Oh fuck you Cregan!” 

The two of you held eye contact, anger and frustration evident.

Aegon slowly sat down, leaning towards Jace and whispering “I think it’s working”, meanwhile Jace shook his head, having been witness to the few fights that you’d actually had with Cregan in the past.

“What would you have wanted me to do, I was shitfaced! Was I supposed to shove her to the ground and tell her to go fuck herself?!” you nodded your head at that, now sitting up, even closer to him than before. He stared down at you as you stared up at him.

“Yeah actually, that’s the best fucking idea I’d say you’ve ever had!” he scoffed.

“We weren’t even together and you hold that against me! Still!” That's what sent you over the edge.

“You fucking dumped me for no god damn reason, told me you loved me, and then went and fucked that Blackwood Bitch! The same fucking day! As if I meant nothing to you, we were together for two years Cregan! Two fucking years!” 

He heard the crack in your voice, everyone did. As you stared at him, he could see the way your eyes glossed over, he knew you too well. He knew the tears were coming.

“I tried to talk to you-you didn’t wanna hear anything!” you shrugged, gathering your things as fast as you possibly could, now looking anywhere but him.

“You don’t fucking deserve to talk to me you asshole”. Then you stood up and did what you always do in these situations, you ran away and left.

He was left there in shock, staring at the door, jaw clenched while he watched you leave. 

“Well that’s one way to start a game night” 

“Aegon shut up!” cue the smack “Ow! Baela! Stop hitting me! Go hit Benji, he likes that shit!-ow! Seriously?! Jace and Luke, get your cousin!”

Then in unison “she’s your cousin too!”

And finally, Benji piped up “is she talking about my cousin?” 

Instead of watching you waltz away, Cregan stood up, grabbing his things and mumbling his own apologies. Then he left, he knew exactly where you lived, so instead of taking the elevator, he rushed down the stairs, trying to cool off. 

When he stood in front of your door, it felt like a routine, something his body was so used to. As if this was muscle memory for him.

Then he knocked, once. No response. 

Twice. Nothing. 

Three times-maybe third times a charm. Nothing.

He stood there, his forehead leaned against the door. Cregan Stark was not a man of regrets, hell he prided himself on actually being a good guy, he was raised to be respectful, to be kind, to be strong, Stark men were not assholes. They weren’t childish, they weren’t selfish, they were supposed to be honorable in every way.

But here he is, leaning against his ex-girlfriend’s door, still in love with her, full of regret for ever breaking things off. He hadn’t even explained himself. He wanted to-he’d tried that day, but you stormed out, tears that he’d caused flowing down your cheeks. 

Then he felt the door shift, and you stood there, wrapped in the same blanket, eyes red as you stared up at him.

Gods, all he wanted to do was tell you he loved you, that he needed you, that you made him feel whole.

“I don’t have any fight left in me Cregan. It’s been months, why can’t you just leave me alone.” 

“Because I love you.” you sighed, shaking your head “no you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have left me.” 

Sure you might’ve been being dramatic, but truthfully, you’d been heartbroken for months, following your breakup you’d lost ten pounds in two weeks. You’d never felt worse, and now, you were starting to feel alright, but it was no secret that there had been many nights full of tears, hugging a sweatshirt that you’d never washed, hoping to preserve the smell of his cologne.

“Can you just fucking listen to me for five minutes, please, I’ve been trying to talk to you for so long, just please-let me talk to you” you shrugged.

“Why?” he blinked a few times, taking a deep breath, running a hand through his hair-hair that you used to always touch, forcing him to sit between your thighs while you braid his hair, laughing when he’d complain, or when he’d do poses for you after you’d finished.

“I love you, I’ve never stopped loving you, I go to sleep at night and my dreams are filled with you, your smile, your laugh, even your fucking frowns. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. My heart fucking yearns for you. I can still feel the way you used to hold me, the way your breath felt against my neck, Gods, I think about you 24/7! I think about everything that I did, the way that I screwed up-I screwed us up. I love you! I’ll scream it from the fucking rooftops if that’s what you want!” 

You didn’t bother wiping away your tears, instead you stepped aside, leaving room for him to come in.

“You want to talk then talk.”

Then he walked inside, and shut the door the same way he used to. 

It truly was muscle memory, the way he walked to the couch and sat down in the same spot he was always in, then he waited for you.

He watched as you slowly sat next to him, still wrapped in a blanket like a sad burrito-Gods he spent too much time around Aegon. He didn’t hesitate to wipe the tears from under one of your eyes with his thumb, repeating the action on the other cheek.

“I didn’t want to break up with you. I never wanted to break up with you. My father’s-well he’s sick at home, I was going to leave, go back to Winterfell to take care of him, to take care of everyone. I just-I didn’t want you to be alone here, and I didn’t want to be your long distance boyfriend that you only ever see on fucking facetime. I just-I couldn’t do it.” 

You were silent, watching as he broke slightly, his voice cracking at the mention of his father, then at the mention of you being alone. 

It was no secret that Cregan and his father were close, you’d met Rickon Stark twice, and each time he’d embraced you with open arms and a warm heart. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he shrugged.

“Because, I’m supposed to be strong, I’m supposed to know my duty to my family, I’m supposed to be there for them, and it was hard-hard to say that I had to leave you for an unknown amount of time. I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to go a day without seeing you, you make me crazy in the best way, even now, whenever I see you on campus my heart practically flies out of my chest. Seeing you at my games, you’re like a ghost haunting me.” 

You slowly nodded, listening to him, watching the way he’d blink away his tears, the way his brows would furrow and jaw would clench slightly. 

“My dad’s the one who told me to stay. Told me not to throw my future away, that he’d be alright, y’know he’s a fighter-always has been. Told me to get my girl back-” he let out a small chuckle, the laugh laced in sadness “-but I think she doesn’t want me back. I went back up after we split up, just for a week, and he told me I was an idiot to leave it all behind. A full ride to Uni if I kept playing hockey? The girl of my dreams? Called me a bloke before he told me that he’s okay, he’s not letting go anytime soon” 

Cregan hadn’t been looking at you, he was focused on his hands, fists clenching slightly as he tried to swallow his own emotions. He hadn’t noticed the way that you’d been inching closer, not until your arms were wrapped around him, head leaning against his shoulder.

“You could’ve just told me from the beginning. I would’ve been your facetime girlfriend y’know? Would’ve figured out a way up there”

The familiarity of it all was what made him break, a small sob leaving his lips while you held him. It didn’t take long for you to shove him further into the couch and climb into his lap, the same way you used to when all you wanted to do was be as close to him as possible.

You held him, sat atop one of his thighs, arms wrapped around his shoulders while he cried into your shoulder. His arms gripping your waist, holding you against him. 

This is what should’ve happened all those months ago.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch” he laughed at that, and you felt his small smile. Meanwhile you ran a hand through his hair, fingers dancing through the dark locks before slowly running against his scalp. Your other hand traced small circles against his shoulder blade, you missed this.

You missed him.

“You weren’t a bitch-I probably deserved that.” you scoffed, moving back slightly, now holding eye contact with him as you brushed his tears away. “I was a bitch, I was the biggest bitch ever.”

He smiled, shaking his head “She really did come onto me. I did push her off-” you shushed him “I know. I believe you, I just-I dunno. I was hurt, then I saw that and it just stayed with me. I figured you dumped me for someone else, someone better-” he cut you off with a kiss.

It was so gentle, so soft, so sweet. Then he pulled away “there’s no one better than you for me. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. I just-I didn’t want to look weak and I didn’t want to leave you and-” you shushed him again, this time holding a hand against his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up Cregan Stark.” Your tone was light hearted as you shook your head “You’re not weak for having emotions, and you aren’t weak for wanting to care for those that you love. Don’t be stupid, we’ve both been stupid enough.” he nodded his head, then you slid her hand down, now caressing his face, your thumb lightly pulling on his bottom lip.

“I missed you” you smiled, a small giggle leaving your lips.

“Based on the way you stare, I could tell” he rolled his eyes “gotta commit your beauty to memory somehow” you slightly shoved his shoulder “you cornball!” 

“I missed you too loverboy”

Then you kissed him again, a slow, passionate kiss full of emotions, smiles, and even a few giggles. He then slid his hands under your sweatshirt, and you quickly pulled apart, letting him take it off, leaving you in just your bralette, then his lips were on yours again.

Before anything else could happen the front door swung open, startling you both, leading to Cregan’s grip against you tightening, meanwhile Aegon and Jace both hit the floor, while Luke stood there awkwardly, Rhaena shook her head, and Baela looked as if she was being held back by Benji. Meanwhile Helaena and Aemond were nowhere to be seen.

At least until they moved closer to the doorway, both of them shaking their heads and muttering “fucking Aegon” in unison.

“I told you guys it would work! Look at them! Kissing and close!” Aegon still spoke, even from the floor while Jace was on top of him. Then Jace slowly rolled off, letting out an ‘oof’. 

“Were you all eavesdropping?” Aegon blinked a few times at your question, glancing back at everyone else. Then you noticed the flush on Luke’s face and Rhaena’s awkward expression. Plus Jace was nodding his head. 

“Why did the Gods make him our brother?” Aemond shook his head “I truly do not know.” 

“So are you two back together now?” 

You sighed, standing up and grasping Cregan’s hand, pulling him towards your bedroom.

Cregan glanced back, still laughing at the scene “yes. Now please, fuck off mate”

With that you pulled him into your room and locked the door.

“They’re all the worst” he nodded his head at you, he’d expected you to pull him into your bed, however you walked towards your desk, rummaging through the different drawers until you found something. 

You glanced at him “can you help me with this”, while holding up the necklace.

“I’d be honored” you rolled your eyes, a bright smile on your face while he walked over, taking the necklace then as gently as possible, clasping it around your neck. Then he left a line of open mouthed kisses from below your right ear, to the edge of your shoulder. 

“I love you” his voice was soft, a whisper, almost as if it was a secret shared between the both of you.

You smiled, spinning around, one hand now on his face, the other on the back of his neck, fingers tracing circles through his hair. “I love you too”

-

Taglist:

Girl it dont exist LMAO

[pseudowho]

Calamus et Gladius

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Stolen from a foreign army to participate in the Culling Game, speaking little to no Japanese with just a rifle for self-defence, the reader partakes in a bittersweet dance of death and love, with Higuruma Hiromi.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lovers, murder, use of firearms, the desperate smut of two traumatised people who fall hopelessly in love.

This is long, but I make no apologies, because the payoff is worth it.

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You were used to violence. You were used to senseless bloodshed. Used to rains of bullets, flinging shrapnel, your ears ringing with explosions and screams.

Yet, it was your own screams that rang through you, as an enormous gavel split the earth where you had just stood.

Your entire unit was dead, almost fifty men and women lured into Tokyo Colony One, and you scrabbled back on grazed hands, kicking feet, as this ink-haired monster stepped slowly through the rubble and gore, black eyes fixed on you with the rage and fervour of a justified killer.

He appeared to hesitate only briefly as your face crumpled up at him in tearful rage and despair, desperation. You did not move to grab the rifle on your back; a threat of retaliation would be your downfall.

Despite being the only one of your unit who had had something new, something alien awakened within them, you had developed no fantastical technique. You had no mystical weapon. You had no roiling blue flames engulfing your fists. You had only the ability to sense others like you, and the horrifying stop-motion beasts that now sullied your sight. It was enough, at least, to hide.

"Please-- please--" you begged, the last attempt of a cornered woman. Your back pressed against the wall, the wide street around you a no-man's land of rubble, overturned cars and bloody splatters. The man's hand tightened on his gavel, his other raising to swipe flicks of black fringe off his forehead. He frowned, stopping. You noticed his distinctive hooked nose, crinkling in disgust.

"English," he offered, thickly accented, neither a question or a statement. You gulped, nodding with urgency, any dialogue an opportunity to re-establish his humanity.

"Innocent," you insisted, hands raised in front of you, disarming, "I'm innocent." That word, the man seemed to recognise, and he blew air through his nose, snorting in mirth.

"Innocent?" He asked, sarcastic.

He knelt down in front of you, his eyes still offering no mercy, but he spoke to you so conversationally. He reached one long finger out, tapping the rifle on your back, coming back round to stroke you teasingly along the side of your cheek, holding it so tenderly. His words washed over you, meaningless, until you caught one you could understand as he stood up.

"...sorry." His arm raised, the head of the gavel blocking out the sun, and you took your chance.

Your hand darted, and you flung a handful of brick dust into his eyes as he spat, staggered, cursing. You brought the butt of your rifle round to slam into the side of his head, and although he barely faltered, you ran for your life, darting down alleys, your heart bursting in your ears.

You heard no footsteps chasing you. He could have...but he didn't.

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Just one easy kill.

The others had all gone down so hard, Hiromi thought, stepping into his swing, barely missing the foreign woman, the gavel making a buckled crater in the tarmac instead. Hiromi tsked, annoyed, kissing his teeth. Watching her squirm on the floor to save her life, a worm from a bird, Hiromi's gut churned-- ugly.

Murder was so easy. The power to beat scum at their own game was intoxicating. Hiromi stepped after her, so far removed from his old self. His usual self? He wasn't sure.

His keen eyes built the woman's character, hawkish and unforgiving. Young...naive. Soldier...killer. No Japanese...lazy. Pleading...pathetic. Not fighting...coward. By the time she began to beg Hiromi, she was already barely human in his eyes. Swiping his hair upwards, and tightening his grip for the deathblow, he spat, "English."

She caught his eye, and Hiromi felt the barest seed of guilt in the back of his mind, an itch he could not scratch. She had nodded at him, tears brimming in her eyes, hands raised in placation.

"Innocent," the woman had insisted, "...innocent." Bile rose in Hiromi's throat at the familiar word, and the audacity she had to use it for herself, as if she wasn't rolling in the same pigshit as the rest of them. Hiromi's lip curled, smirking as he rubbed his nose with the side of one long finger.

"Innocent?" He stabbed. Hiromi knelt, talking at you as if you understood.

"What's that? You're the good guy, are you?" He mocked, reaching out to tap the rifle on your back, feeling you flinch beneath him, "Is it this, that makes you innocent, hmm?" He brought his hand to your cheek, stroking it with the blade of his finger, swiping away the tears that had cut a track through the dust and grime, "Or this pretty face, hmmm? Are those big, teary eyes what make you innocent? Don't make me laugh. You're scum, just like the rest of us. And natural law is at play here." He cupped your cheek once, squeezing it with the barest of sincerities in his apology as he stood.

"Sorry," Hiromi offered, lifting his gavel and feeling power churn through him, just and righteous as your executioner.

Hiromi cursed as he felt a spray of grit flung into his face, immediately disarmed by the sordid pain of sand in his eyes, further disorientated by the ear-ringing slam of something into the side of his head. He staggered, faltering.

"Oooh, you piece of shit," Hiromi cooed, vicious, spitting with venom, vision completely obscured as he tried in vain to clear his eyes. He felt you disappear, and he leaned against the wall, laughing despite himself at having been bested. He smiled, the barest tinge of admiration for your tenacity threading through him.

"Alright," Hiromi sniffed, rubbing his nose again as his vision began to clear, "catch you later, I suppose."

Hiromi tried to forget you. He tried to forget his humanity, but each life he took made him sicker, infected by this game.

Every time he closed his eyes, to sleep in some strange home-less, love-less bed, your eyes met his, impeaching him.

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Resources soon ran thin, for one who held no territory. You had your army pack, and rationed out your meagre foodstuffs, always hungry, always on-edge. You had never fought alone, in war.

You had managed to develop quite the skill at hiding, and concealed yourself, cloaked in plain sight, from even the most powerful of those left in the game. Every day that the stragglers were picked off, the stakes ran higher. Every explosive battle you ran from, dodging the falling debris thrown by titans, you felt your inherent value as an easy kill increasing.

You thought of the hook-nosed man who had let you go. Despite his willingness to kill you, you craved human contact, and found warmth in the memory of the heat of his gaze, his hand on your face, desperately trying to translate the words he had spoken to you as he caressed your cheek.

One dewy dawn, you had taken position on a sheltered rooftop, giving you equal measures concealment and oversight. With your rifle drawn, flat on your belly, you felt the ebbs and wanes of a familiar power draw closer. Curiously, it made your belly clench, eager to see the man who could have chased you, but didn't. You were itching to know why. Itching to behold him again.

Your heart leapt as he stepped into the street, at least four stories below you. Even from this distance, you could see the intensity of his furrowed brow, the noble bearing of his shoulders beneath a great black overcoat. His tie hung, dishevelled, loose-knotted. He was hunting.

He paused, tiptoed on a breath...before rolling, gracefully dodging as a knife of Cursed energy ricocheted through the street, splitting it. You gasped, your eye moving away from your rifle lens, watching in awe as he took to battle with another man. While he seemed to hold his own, he appeared distracted, and was buffeted, winded by an almighty hit, knocked onto his back, elbows on the ground.

A strange panic overtook you as your hook-nosed man's assailant bore down on him, power surging, preparing to murder--

-- a gunshot. A brittle, echoing bang. The assailant's head snapped forwards, and he fell, killed instantly, face first on the ground in front of your hook-nosed man.

He panted, his face sprayed with blood. With a few owlish blinks, his eyes tracked upwards. You held your breath, adrenaline coursing through you. As the man stood, eyes fixed on you (in rage? murderous intent? thanks?), you jolted to life and took aim on him.

He did not raise his hands. There was no standoff, as he made no move to save his own life. In the moment that he accepted his death for the attempt he had made on yours, something in you both softened, seeing each other as you saw no others. A gentle impasse. The intimacy of differentiation.

It took everything you had in you to break eye contact, and run.

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Hiromi mulled beneath the shaky warning of your rifle.

You were afraid, he thought as he gazed up at you, so sickeningly grateful for having been chosen by you. The mist of his opponent's blood drifting through the sunrise, picked Hiromi out as somehow preferable, in your mind.

And, why should you not be afraid? He saw you beneath him, again, your eyes soft and begging him for mercy. You had been defenceless and entirely in his palm. He had been relieved, he recalled, that he could kill someone easily. The begging made you passive. Hiromi could have vomitted, sickened by himself.

He stood, arms raised slightly to his sides, his profile illuminated by sweet morning sun, waiting for death to take his hand.

Hiromi felt embraced by your eyes. Wanted. Some companionship, in death...until you refused him his end. The red string between you both seemed to snap as you broke eye contact and ran.

Alone, as the sun broke above the skyline, Hiromi whispered; "Thank you."

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There was no way out. Starving and desperate, days had passed since you had saved your hook-nosed man, and you had crept through haunted streets to a convenience store, unusually well-stocked with food and drink.

You bit your tongue for your own stupidity at having walked into such an obvious trap. No amount of being able to hide one's Cursed energy could compensate for being seen walking into the shop. Crouching now, behind shelves of ramen, tears trembled on your lashes, an aching lump in your throat.

You heard a mocking voice, cooing at you, laughing at you, and you blushed with indignant tearful injustice, not needing language to know when you were being assaulted for your sex. You were afraid of death. You were more afraid of being used beforehand.

With nowhere to hide, and no grit to throw, you tipped your head back and thought of those black embering eyes, holding you in his gaze.

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"Are you hungry?" The voice chirped, teasing, mean, "Come out, baby. I've got something here in my pocket you can taste." A filthy laugh. Slow, easy footsteps. Willing to rape you before he killed you. Hiromi felt himself burn with fury, ready to wring this man's neck with his own two hands.

Hiromi walked the streets easily, now. His power had come on in leaps and bounds, and he both trusted in his own abilities, and feared nothing of death. Not since you had held his life in your hands, and thrown it straight back in his face.

He was a disordered eater at the best of times, but, a sudden faintness from hunger sent him seeking food. Hiromi knew some dirty little spider had built a web at an abandoned store, and did not fear a man who sought to ensnare the desperate.

Let him try me, thought Hiromi as he approached, lit by the sickly orange glow of streetlights, and see where it gets him.

Just a few steps from the entrance, Hiromi paused mid-step, his heart hiccuping in his chest. It was you. Inside the store, your Cursed energy faltering and so overwhelmed by that of the spider. Hiromi's lips parted, to call for you, a hand in the dark. He stopped, gritting his teeth. No-- this would not do, he thought, as he began a hunt of his own.

The spider was so obviously distracted by excitement, thrilled to find a woman in his dirty little trap. He had found you, by the time Hiromi reached you, in time to see you flung, body smashing against the counter, curling and coughing. Hiromi stepped behind the spider, seething, overburdened with terrible strength.

You had looked up in time to see your hook-nosed man wind an arm round your assailant's neck, throttling him, dragging him backwards out of the store. The hook-nosed man's face was twisted, ugly with rage...and for what? For you?

If your Cursed-energy had been no match for that of your assailant, his was dwarfed by that of your rescuer. Still coughing, doubled over on your hands and knees, you crawled to the entrance, watching the streetlights flicker above your hook-nosed man as he choked the life out of your assailant, merciless in his conviction.

You knelt there, drinking in his profile, in that sickly orange glow. His sharply squared jaw. His black overcoat, shrouding him like Death itself. Panting and cursing as his arms shook, your assailant fighting weakly beneath him. Choking the life out of a man, a murder most intimate. For you. Killing, with his bare hands-- for you.

Time hung in suspended animation in these small hours. Your rescuer sighed, the tension releasing from his shoulders as he knelt back on his haunches. He appeared devoid of guilt, at having carried out his sentencing. Slowly, as if fearful of what he would see in your eyes, he turned to you, kneeling in the doorway of the shop.

Your eyes met. You studied each other in silence. He had a way of making you transparent. You had a way of making him exposed. His panting slowed, palms flush to his thighs, offering you a cautious smile, as your eyes glimmered in the dark.

"English," he spoke, by way of greeting.

"Nose," you returned. He frowned, uncertain.

"N..?"

You reached up to stroke your nose, and repeated, with a smile; "Nose."

His hand reached up to mirror yours, realising, and he burst into laughter, rich and genuine. You blushed, burying your face in your hands as he continued to laugh. He wiped his eyes, fingering the hook in his nose again, looking at you with those deep embering eyes that wholly undressed you.

"Nose," he repeated, chuckling, "Subarashī." Your bit your lip in mirth, looking anywhere but at him as he tried to catch your eye again, mischief twinkling in his.

Hiromi stood, stretching his shoulders back with a husky groan, tipping his neck from side to side. He stepped over to you, and you felt, ridiculously, so teenagerish as the odd duality of your hook-nosed man made your belly twist. You saw a long-fingered hand enter your line of sight. You looked at it questioningly. The fingers wiggled in invitation.

With a shaking hand, you took his. He pulled you up and smiled at you, swinging your hand briefly in his before releasing it, waiting for you to step into the shop before he followed. You browsed for food, as if Saturday-Night-Snack-Hunting as a couple, in safe silence.

Shivering as the adrenaline wore off, your stomach clenched with terrified nausea to hear explosions, shouts, drawing ever nearer in the street outside. Your hook-nosed man looked up, hangdog eyes wide, flicking from you, to the street, and back again. He gritted his teeth, bundling packets of food into the pockets of his overcoat.

You found yourself manhandled, his heavy coat suddenly on you. Your rescuer's hands moved deftly, smoothing the coat across your shoulders, searching for words, irritated by his intelligence in one language and his stupidity in another.

"Cold-- hungry-- go," Hiromi pressed in broken English, spinning you as you protested, urging you through the back door. You turned in the doorway, your eyes begging him to...what? To go with you? There was no time, no time--

Hiromi materialised his gavel, and crouched, snarling at you: "GO!" He roared, steeped in regret as you sprinted away, guarding your life like a child.

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Your hook-nosed man began to leave you breadcrumbs; tickets to safe havens, food, shelter, beds. You felt the vestiges of his Cursed-energy wherever you followed his trail, haunted by the path of devastation he left to build you sanctuaries.

Your dialogue budded, and combined with his notes and signs, you began to learn more about him. His notes, secreted away in scrawled English, street signs flipped to point in alternate directions, and crude maps drawn on dust-caked windows, all added colour and life to him.

Hiromi took a little joy, his cold heart popping to life, at the little hearts you drew in the dust; signs of acknowledgement, a tiny thrill.

You found yourself drawn to a bookstore, and scoured the shelves, looking for a particular something, a matching pair. You found hints of him in the pockets of the hook-nosed man's overcoat; a business card, in Japanese. A handkerchief, curiously embroidered with two gold initials-- H.H. A set of housekeys with a key-finder fob. A pair of chewed pens. You still thought of him as "Nose".

Hiromi still thought of you as "English", as he caught himself differentiating you from the others. Still steeped in this depression, this black-dog-misery and ugliness, he saw you, a light in the dark, who hid yourself to protect yourself as well as others, from needless violence.

They were all ugly...except, perhaps, for you.

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You sighed as you slipped into the hot bath, water up to your chin in the great, deep basin of this luxury hotel. You were impressed there was still a hot water supply, and you felt a gleeful coil of naughtiness, knowing you would never usually be able to afford to stay in such opulence, all marble tiles and gold taps.

Fighting for survival did not negate the fundamental craving for little joys, and you took advantage of the selection of complimentary soaps, scouring yourself free of grime with happy hums. You sang to yourself, quiet in the evening hush, just you and your languid splishing--

-- oh. A cautious approach. A familiar power. You clasped the lip of the bath, sinking your body under the water.

"...hello? Nose?" You called out. You heard the click of a lock, quick feet stepping in, locking the door behind him. A single held breath.

"...English?"

You blushed, pressing your lips to your knuckles, white from how tightly you gripped the bath. Hiromi's cheeks prickled faintly, hearing soft splashes from the bathroom, seeing your clothes discarded over the bed, your rifle leaning against it. You cleared your throat, wanting to talk, not knowing where to start.

"Mhm." Hiromi smiled at your little squeak, sitting with a groan and creaking knees, his back against the wall beside the bathroom door. Separated by this thin wall, he reached a hand around the doorway behind him. You giggled to see his long fingered hand offer you a jaunty wave.

"Konbanwa, English," he offered. He jolted to feel your little hand, warm and wet, squeeze his. His thumb grazed over your knuckles, smooth, examining, probing in a way that made your belly tight. You reluctantly released his fingers, humming in thought as you reached out of the bath into your backpack, searching for something.

Momentarily, Hiromi felt something gently tap the side of his head around the bathroom door, and he giggled, a noise which made you paddle your feet in delight. He reached up, taking a Japanese-English dictionary and phrasebook from your hand.

"Ahhhhh!" Hiromi hummed, genuinely thrilled, "Yoi aidea." He skimmed through the book, hunting again, and you paused, listening.

"Good idea!" He stated, confident, and he squirmed to hear you laugh at his janky pronunciation. Hiromi wanted so dearly to see you, to know you were uninjured, and instead scoured his little book again.

"Hurt?" He asked you. You softened, responding automatically.

"Ah...no, I'm...hmm," you flipped through your own book, "...uhm...daijōbu desu?"

Hiromi hummed, satisfied. You talked this way, for some time, gently brushing the outskirts of each others' language and personality. Hiromi corrected you. You corrected him. The bath grew cold. The light began to die behind the windows, casting you both in deep shadow and amber glow.

At some point, in the conversation, your hands had trailed together again. Hiromi now leaned sideways against the wall, his cheek pressed against it, eyes closed as his fingertips grazed the inside of your wrist.

You lay in the bath, shivering, feeling your heartbeat between your legs from such an innocent, intimate touch-- except, it did not feel innocent in intent. Perhaps, that was what made you squirm.

"Stay safe," Hiromi whispered to you, his fingers drawing circles on your palm, his next word crumpling your face with barely restrained tears, "Afraid."

Hiromi bit his lip in anguish, eyes squeezed shut to see you in his mind's eye, so desperately touch-starved as you pressed a kiss to his palm. He felt your lips remain, nose ghosting against his pulse. He imagined those lips on his own, and he was filled with an anxious need to taste you, to lift you from the bath, wrap you up in the bed and his arms, safe.

Fully distracted by thoughts of you and your sweet cries beneath his body, Hiromi almost missed you holding out your book to him, pressed open at the start-- and a name, your name, written neatly on the page. You offered this, all the while wanting to step to him from the bath, and offer him the feel of those clever fingers, examining the rest of your body.

"Oh..." Hiromi whispered, reverent, squeezing your hand as he swiped his thumb over the faint imprint of your written name, repeating it aloud slowly. Hearing him speak your name, almost had you climbing out of the bath and into his lap. You closed your eyes, imagining him crying it out as he peaked, buried deeply inside you. You burned with the urgent need to know him.

Just a few seconds later, Hiromi's hand reached round the corner, offering his own book back to you, with his own name written in your own alphabet, jolted and square.

"Higuruma...Hiromi?" He hummed, happily.

"Hiromi," you repeated, and he hummed again, delighted by your name on his lips. You tucked your dictionary away, thrilled, reaching for a towel.

"It suits you. I love it." Hiromi understood just one word you had uttered, and it sent joy creeping down his spine. He pressed his forehead against the wall.

Pull yourself together, Hiromi, he thought, it's just loneliness and desperation. Nothing else. No amount of logic and self-chastisement stopped his mouth from moving independently of his mind, as he flicked through your dictionary, imbued with your name.

"Bed. Stay. Please." Silence. Hiromi pressed the corner of the dictionary to his head, cursing himself under his breath. Idiot, pathetic little moron, stupid--

"Yes."

Hiromi's stomach swooped, missing a step, hearing you climb out of the bath. You steeled yourself, blushing furiously, to wrap a towel around yourself and pad out to the bedroom. Hiromi turned his back to you, but not before seeing the graceful curve of your leg, the wet cleavage of your breasts, the towel barely skimming the tops of your thighs. He breathed slowly, clawing back his self-control as you dressed behind him.

A long, slow whistle, belonging to neither of you, broke the silence, and your blood ran with ice water.

Voices spoke, Hiromi spitting threats, in this language that still gatekept against your understanding.

You jacked sideways, still topless, seizing your rifle as Hiromi demolished the doorway with a single wide swing of his gavel. You heard laughter from the corridor, and you hurriedly pulled your top and Hiromi's overcoat on, fixing your rifle on your shoulder to take aim.

Hiromi backed up to you, wrapping one arm behind himself and around you, fingers splayed against the small of your back. You understood none of the venom spat between Hiromi and this hidden assailant.

Your nerves on a knife-edge, you sensed movement behind the shattered brickwork of the doorway, and fired, a deafening blow in this enclosed space. A spray of blood and an enraged shout through the drifting plaster-cloud saw you hit your mark, and Hiromi exclaimed, shocked and delighted, squeezing your waist.

"I've seen better shots than that from her, bastard" Hiromi warned, "and if you think she's easy prey, you've got both of us to take down."

"Hiromi," you gasped, hyperventilating, "Hiromi-- Hiromi--"

Silence through the room; Hiromi's ears rang. He pocketed your dictionary, and grasped your cheeks, eyes fixed to yours and wordlessly reassuring you as he turned you towards him from the doorway. You felt your heart bounding in your chest, hands loosening on your rifle as you drank him in, breathed the same air, panting, together--

--it was all too fast. Hiromi's eyes fixing behind you. His panicked shout. Being thrown sideways onto the bed, a glassy smash, a scream that may have been your own--

Hiromi and your hunter plummeted in an outward spray of glass, two inky blots fading into the night.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You had searched so desperately. Nothing could assure you Hiromi was still alive. There were no breadcrumbs left in the dust; nil but blood, and so much of it, beneath the shattered hotel window, so many stories up.

You had run your hands through it, clotted with the rubble, needing to feel him within the grisly spill-- alas. Too many residuals passed over this land. Too many battles fought, too many lives spent and saved, for clairvoyance to be what repaired your fractured heart.

You steeled yourself. Adversity goaded you to try harder. To do better. You took to the hunt yourself. You amassed points from potshots, hidden in curious places to execute nasty little opportunists who sought dominion over the weak.

While you had had no experience of the Kogane-- the odd, winged shikigami which acted as an interface between the players and the game-- in your passive state, they now became regular visitors, updating you of your points total. You had assumed they could not speak your language-- you were wrong.

Witnessing, from afar, one day, another player asking Kogane a question, your stomach rolled with nausea and hope as you called the black-tailed beast to you.

"Kogane?" The creature appeared with a pop. Your mouth opened, and closed, faltering over your words.

"Kogane, is-- is Hiromi Higuruma a player in the game?"

Silence-- and an answer; "Higuruma Hiromi is a player in the game--"

All of the air left your lungs in an enormous gasp, a heaving cry of relief as you doubled over, your hands cupped over your mouth and nose, tears streaming down around your fingers, before the Kogane had even finished giving its report.

"Thank you-- th--thank you, Kogane," you sobbed, blinded by your own tears. This tiny demon, to whom manners meant nothing, hung impassively. It disappeared with a pop as you spun away, cloaked with conviction.

You turned on a pinhead, cocking your rifle ready, and stalked off through the ruins; all of your steeling wisped away like ashes, your heart on the battlefield, knowing your vulnerability was out there, alive.

You decided now, with a smile at the thought of those beetle-black eyes, to hunt not for business, but for pleasure.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Hiromi felt the damp all the way to his bones, in these heavy, wet clothes, made heavier still by the excruciating weight of his crimes. The theatre door swung closed behind him, and he leaned his back against the wall, crouching, the palms of his heels pressing so hard into his eyes that he was blinded by lights.

He had fallen beyond salvation, and it gnawed at the rotten wood of him, eating him alive. Feeling his brain judder, his tie too tight, the walls too close, the silence too deafening, Hiromi tried to collect himself. He pressed his palms to his thighs and breathed; in through his nose one two three four five and out through his mouth one two three four five.

Feeling his heart rate slow, full of equal parts light and dark, Hiromi called out into the gloom, straightening slowly.

"Kogane." The creature appeared with a pop, waiting, patient. Hiromi spoke your name, and then, hesitant--

"...is she a player in the game?" A heartbeat. Two. Three.

"Confirmed--"

Hiromi did not hear the rest, buckling to his haunches with a primal cry of gratitude, and a few moments of dry sobs as his fingers raked through his hair. Chest heaving, he breathed again, one two three four five, one two three four five.

In the space taken for one breath, Hiromi decided not to find you. You, who had always chosen not to fight. You, whose pleading eyes still haunted him. You could not be sullied by his rot.

Hiromi stepped out into the night, a porcelain man checkered with cracks, seeking only to rebuild a world worthy of you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

He's here.

Climbing the stairs, fine piano music rang distant, its notes bittersweet, cherries in kirsch. Your feet carried you unbidden and you ascended, the notes becoming sweeter, feeling him, closer, playing this Siren's song.

Stepping into the doorway of the skyline bar, he must have felt your approach. The lights were low, refracted through a hundred hanging glasses, a hundred under-lit bottles of vim and vigour. The room sprawled out in an expansive, long C-shape, and your heart stuttered to see Hiromi at the end, pale fingers moving across the piano, white-shirt-shoulders burdened by the weight of his song.

You felt him build in the music as you approached, each note demanding more of him, and more and more and more and more--

There was only the briefest hitch in the music, barely perceptible, as you slid onto the bench beside Hiromi. He did not look up, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes pressed tightly shut.

Consumed by the need to feel his skin on yours, you reached out, your hand ghosting over his. In a flash, Hiromi's hand darted up to grab yours, fingers tangled, as his other hand continued to move, playing this bisected song. A few moments passed, this way, with Hiromi pressing his lips and nose to your knuckles, his face contorted, conflicted-- pained.

"Go," he whispered, breath fanning over your hand, "bad."

"I...I don't--...bad?" You turned towards him, to hold him, and he jerked, twitching away from you, and you felt your heart tug along with him.

"No. Me. I...am bad." You shook your head, more and more fervent as Hiromi twisted away from you, quietly cursing, husky, tortured. He tried to release your hand, and you refused, plaiting your fingers in his, steadfast in a way that filled him with an animalistic urge to appreciate you.

You turned from him, your other hand resting upon the high keys, pressing gentle, uncertain notes. Overwhelmed by your closeness, and your insistent faith in him, Hiromi softened to watch your profile, backlit from the liquid glow of the bar. Your small hand, moving softly over the keys. Your heart beating like butterfly wings in your throat.

"No. Not bad. Lost. Lonely. Sabishī."

Every moment of belief you handed him, pulled Hiromi closer to the light. Swallowing thickly, he brought your joined hands to the keys, laying his palm over the back of yours, overlaying your fingers with his own. He pressed, soft insistent touches, on your fingers, guiding them to play. You felt your belly coil with odd pleasure, captivated by Hiromi's hands, all at once gentle and rough, smart and instinctual--

"Hiromi--"

"No. Stop." Hiromi tensed, his voice rough, fraying alongside his self-control. His hand shook over your own, the notes stopping now. Heat burst through you, certain he felt it too, this dangerous need, and his name forced its way out of you again, a challenge.

"Hiro--"

Hiromi spat venom again, growling and cursing as he stood, lifting you by the waist, sitting you upon the keys with a spray of notes, his arms shaking as they pressed beside you, trapping you in. Nose to nose, his breath on your lips, his face twisted with fury and need, Hiromi whispered to you.

"Stop. My name--" Hiromi shook, on his last thread, half a step away from using you--

When your hand snaked to his tie, tugging him closer, your other hand sinking into the back of his hair, Hiromi snapped.

His lips pressed to yours, hot and hungry, his body closing the rest of the distance to be flush between your thighs. Your mouth opened to him, feeling his urgency as he drank down your stolen breath, one hand tilting your head back to consume you, the other dragging through the plush rolls of your belly and hips.

Every kiss was hot and anguished, punctuated by Hiromi's low rolling voice, not needing language to feel the fervour and vice on his lips-- "--won't be gentle-- I'm sorry I-- I can't--"

You insisted your understanding on him the only way you knew how; fingers working his tie off and draping it round your own neck, locking your legs around him to press his aching cock against your core, undoing his shirt in a desperate flurry, all notes and fingers and tongues and moans.

You tasted rum in his mouth, all spice and brown sugar, and his hand wandered to your throat, feeling your pulse there before tilting you backwards, arched against the hood of the piano. With your head rested back, he spoke to you, shirt now unbuttoned to his navel, cock straining against the material below a trail of black hair.

"--making a mistake to let a monster put his mouth on you, English-- let's see what sounds you can make." Your khaki t-shirt was pulled off over your head, where Hiromi let it catch around your hands, twisting it to bind you. Hiromi kept you gripped this way, leaning over you, caging you in as he gripped the cups of your bra between his teeth, yanking them down to free your breasts.

Hiromi shuddered and moaned, feeling a drop of pre-cum soak into his boxers, as he flattened his tongue over your nipple, rolling, tasting, pulling you between his lips, nuzzling from side to side like an animal. You mewled, jutting your hips involuntarily, and Hiromi pressed back, pleasuring you with rough, sharp thrusts against your clothed pussy.

Hiromi leaned back, releasing your nipple with a hard suck, gazing down at where he fucked himself against you, mesmerised by the way you shivered and humped against his cock. Unabashed, his words falling over you like strange-eyed constellations, Hiromi fucked you with his voice--

"--cum like this, and I'll give you my fingers...cum like that, and I'll give you my tongue-- fuck, I'll eat you alive, you fucking goddess--"

As Hiromi spoke, all twisted rage and growls, his hips slammed into you, spurred on by your squeaks and whimpers, gripping the fat of your hips to ram your core against him. The pleasure was brutal, all harsh fabric friction and Hiromi's unrestrained adoration, and you tried to hold yourself together as you were dragged to orgasm, your frantic hands pressing disjointed chords on the keys beneath you.

Hiromi wanted to, needed to cum like this, with you, knowing he'd be able to continue fucking you after until he collapsed in your arms from exhaustion. Pausing only briefly to reach into his boxers, and angle his angry, throbbing cock upwards so the bulbous tip pressed between his waistband and belly, Hiromi's eyes rolled back in unadulterated ecstasy as he continued to fuck you against him.

You were both close, having been unfinished even by yourselves for weeks, and Hiromi's eyes burned into yours, feral with the need for you to finish with him, feeling your thighs tense around him as you babbled, fully understanding your meaning behind the nonsense--

"--gonna cum-- please-- Hiromi-- harder--"

You pressed back against the piano, arching with a high-pitched cry as hot pleasure burst through you, from your deeply aching clit outwards, crackling through your fingers, all white-hot sparks and embers. Watching you convulse against him, angling his hips to rut his trapped cock tip, feeling his thighs and belly set alight with the force of his orgasm, his hands planted either side of you, back twitching as he came with a bark.

Still riding the last waves of your orgasm, you watched him in fascination. The sight of Hiromi's cum spurting in long, white ropes onto his navel and yours, his agonised, fractured gasps, had you humping against the underside of his cock again, dragging out your peak to hear him whimper, cock twitching against your core. Your hand drifted to his belly, stroking the cum between your fingertips in a blissful haze, squeezing a thumb under the foreskin of his exposed cockhead, stroking his slit with his own lubrication.

Hiromi convulsed and growled at you, clasping your hand against him, dopey and shaking as you drank his reaction from his eyes, thumb still circling his cockhead, slippery with his seed.

"St--st--aaaaahhh..." You shushed Hiromi's weak cries, grazing your tongue over his lips, delighted as he twitched in your hand, weak little spurts of cum oozing onto your fingers. Hiromi let you continue like this, for a few seconds, before wrenching your hand away, plaiting your fingers into his own and nuzzling into you furiously. His heart leapt to hear you giggle as he bit into you, still to desperate, everything still not enough to take away this pain and this filth and this misery--

His other hand wandered down, stroking down the rolls of your belly, pinching, nails grazing, digging in all the way to your belt, undoing it with military efficiency. Not bothering to undo the button, he yanked down the zip instead, giving him enough room to manoeuvre his hand between your skin and the fabric, shucking your underwear aside to cup the wet heat of your pussy in one long hand.

Dipping his hand out to collect the cum off your belly, he thrust his hand back inside against your pussy again, teeth gritted and bared as he drank down your reactions now. He was satisfied to see the playful glint in your eyes flicker, your eyebrows raised in shock and overstimulation, teeth sinking into your lip as he rubbed your clit roughly, cum-sticky fingers rubbing broad strokes side to side across it.

"--two can play at that game, sweetheart...feels good? More? Harder?" Hiromi pressed you, in these words you didn't understand, and laughed, darkly satisfied as you wiggled beneath his hands, one hand resting lightly on your throat as you tried in vain to scoot away from him, your breath releasing in airy whimpers.

"No answer?" Hiromi moved his fingers faster, harder, your pussy squelching with your mixed cum inside your trousers, feeling you writhe beneath them, "I'll decide for you then."

Hiromi urged your orgasm to build, faster and harder this time, teeth gritted as he dragged you to the edge, growling into you as his tongue flicked roughly over your nipple--

"--come on-- know you can do it-- I'll go as hard as you like, come on, good girl--ah, there-- good girrrrllll..." Hiromi softened his movements, fingers undulating against your pussy as he pulled another orgasm from you, moving one finger from your throat to dip into your mouth, shuddering as you sucked it around your cries and whimpers.

Hiromi felt his cock beginning to stir to life again, and he committed you to memory like this, draped over the piano, wet breasts heaving, his seed dripping down your belly, eyes glazed, body supple.

Another word, that he did know in English, slipped from him, as he dropped to his knees before you, worshiping at this otherworldly alter in the moonlight; "Beautiful."

You blushed, voice catching in your throat as Hiromi smiled up at you, soft and captive in his sincerity as he unbuttoned your trousers, easing them, with your underwear, gently to your ankles, and off. Feeling suddenly so exposed, so flawed, you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Hiromi grip your ankle with such tenderness, pressing a long, languid kiss to the delicate bones on the inside.

"English," Hiromi called, beckoning you back to him. You shook your head, blushing, eyes still closed, and he insisted. "English, please--" your eyes opened, uncertain, and Hiromi hummed in satisfaction as he began to kiss his way up your inner legs, "--beautiful."

Sighing and leaning back, one arm over your eyes, your heart bursting with the oddity of having fallen in love like this, you felt safe behind your language barrier as you spoke without a filter; "Oh, Nose. I love you. I really do."

Hiromi paused, stunned and ecstatic, his lips still on your inner thigh. He shocked you both, at how quickly his grasp of your language had come along; "And I love you, English." Hiromi chuckled with genuine glee as you clapped your hands over your face, mortified. Hiromi nuzzled into you, wickedly playful, but soon overtaken by this violent urge again--

"And...I love--" you squealed as you felt Hiromi force your thighs apart, sinking his tongue and nose quickly between your folds, groaning as he tasted the heady mix of his and your cum around your clit. His cock, almost fully hard again, throbbed, tightening his waistband as the blood rushed to it again. Hiromi reached down, releasing his cock with a sigh.

He took his time, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he lapped at you, dipping his tongue into your entrance, tasting you, teasing you. You leaned, watching him again, and he looked up at you, hooded eyes burning as he nuzzled his nose against your clit, and held his own cock in his hand, stroking slowly. You felt jolts of voyeuristic pleasure, watching him masturbate himself to the taste of you.

"I...I like that," you whispered to him, your hand moving down to graze your nails against his scalp. You watched Hiromi like pornography as he shuddered, his cock leaping in his hand, your eyes fixed intently on his hand gliding up and down his length as you felt your pleasure beginning to crescendo yet again.

"More, I--" you moved your hand in the air as if you were the one stroking Hiromi's cock, mimicking faster movements, "--faster, Hiromi." Hiromi hummed in understanding, groaning sandy little groans into your pussy now as his hand sped up, jacking himself off harder, feeling your pussy clench around nothing beneath his tongue as you watched him, your keening cries getting higher and higher until--

-- you came again, trembling with the fluttering soft pleasure of your third orgasm, thighs clamping around Hiromi's head as he sucked your clit gently between his lips. Hiromi panted, gripping the base of his cock, delaying his high, fingers wet with more pre-cum, desperate to drag you to the floor and finish using you.

Pulling his mouth away, his hands trembling on your thighs, Hiromi's face was unreadable as he looked at the floor. Standing, dishevelled and sweating, looking up at you with feral hunger, his cock still twitching in his hand, you could see the barest vestiges of Hiromi pleading you for permission, with those exquisite dark eyes--

All it took from you was a nod. Hiromi pounced, wiry arms deceptively strong as he lifted you, legs locked around his waist, nose nuzzling against yours, teeth nipping your lips with a rumble. Hiromi whispered his mother tongue against your mouth, reaching out one hand for his overcoat, and tossing it into the floor, before laying you on your front, sinking his teeth into your shoulder blade with bruising force.

"--you're beautiful, and you're good, and I don't deserve you-- fuck, I need you now, I--I need--"

Hiromi panted above you, barely restraining himself from slamming into you immediately as he looped an arm round your neck and chest, pulling you up and forcing your back to arch. Ghosting his nose over your ear, he whispered your name, making you shiver and squirm, certain you'd break unless you felt him inside you soon.

"Ready, English?" You trembled, nodding, head tipped back as his cock grazed against your slippery folds. One hand cupped your arse, stroking softly, before slapping, Hiromi captivated by its plush jiggle against his fingers, how you cried out, how your skin flushed so deliciously.

Not holding back, Hiromi slammed into you, one forearm planted to the floor while the other restrained you against him, cupping your breasts in one squeezing hand. He shook, cursing, his teeth in your shoulder, as he felt the tip of his cock kiss your gummy walls, feeling your pussy clench around him in shock.

Prone, hands clawing at his overcoat, Hiromi felt enormous inside you, so swollen and plush after waiting to be filled for so long. You whimpered, resting your head sideways against his clutching bicep, feeling the muscle tense and jump as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, still speaking husky reassurances to you in his native tongue.

"--rest, just-- keep still and let me hold you, I-- I can't slow down anymore--"

Feeling simultaneously used and protected, caged in like this for him to chase his own pleasure, your breath came in ragged gasps, both hands now clutching the forearm across your neck and chest, head swimming with the instinctively blissful fullness of his cock, tightly sleeved within you. You felt your belly jolt from the force of Hiromi's thrusts, and pressed up towards him, proud to hear him moan in response.

Hiromi fucked you with abandon, needing this release, needing to shed his sin and worthlessness, his heart leaping to feel you fall apart beneath him. His hips began to stutter, strength abandoning him as his orgasm approached, moaning deep breaking moans in your ear, nipping, holding your neck in his teeth.

His legs buckling beneath him, Hiromi cried out in bliss, his arm shaking around you, hips flush against your arse, cock twitching long, hot spurts of cum inside your walls, feeling you pulse around him, sucking him in. You revelled in the glorious feeling of him twitching deep inside you, your belly hot and clenching as his seed seeped out between your clenched thighs. Hiromi lay above you, panting, pressing soft kisses into your hair, using his arm to roll you sideways with him, covering you both with his overcoat.

With his arm beneath your head, the other lazily stroking the curve of your waist and hips, Hiromi laughed lazily behind you.

"You love me, English, hmm?" Hiromi laughed again as you clapped your hands to your face.

"Stop, Hiromi, stop--" you cried, blushing all the way to your toes as he squeezed you closer, "-- or I will shoot you." Hiromi lifted his head, peering mulishly at you, one eyebrow raised. You scowled, pointing to your gun, and then at him, and he gasped in mock horror.

"Ara ara," he rumbled, teasing you in alien words, "so violent when you're meant to be happy."

You remembered these sweet small hours the most, after the horrors that came. You remembered lying in each others' arms, sticky and teasing. You remembered sneaking to the bathrooms, splashing each other at the sinks as you cleaned up as best as you could. You remembered laughing as Hiromi cursed, trying to clean the residual cum off your clothes. You remembered Hiromi calling for you, afraid, anxious, before you ducked back up from behind the bar, your arms full of snacks and drinks. You remembered lying beneath the piano, gazing out across the city, flicking peanuts at each other, sharing slow, lazy kisses. You remembered naively seeing a future between you, a happy life with none of this unthinkable chaos.

It was your fault, you cursed yourself, vomiting and wracked with sobs, staggering away from the devastation. If you had been able to develop your power, and pose a real threat, Hiromi wouldn't have been burdened with such a liability.

Lost in each other again, nose to nose beneath the piano, your instincts had kicked in just fast enough to kick Hiromi away, saving his life as the floor between you both split with dreadful electricity. A strange-haired, wild-eyed boy burst through the room on a voltage, bottles smashing, the floor splitting, your rifle disappearing into the chasm as Hiromi shouted for you, urging you, ordering you-- you were sure, to move, to run, to save yourself and leave him.

You could do none of them, your military training meaning nothing to this god. You could do nothing when Hiromi stepped into his path, defending you, fighting tooth and nail. You could do nothing as the floors split beneath him, dragging them down in lightning flashes, horrifying rumbles. You had fled from the collapse, leaping flights of stairs one at a time, possessed by some strange force. You had not felt Hiromi again. Powerful though he was, you could not see how he could walk out of such a fight alive.

Putting all the dregs of your energy into hiding, refusing to let Hiromi's sacrifice be in vain, you cried yourself to sleep, nose in Hiromi's overcoat, his cum still cooling between your thighs.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Each day merged into the next. Time had lost meaning. While you had the urge to fight before loving Hiromi, to have loved and lost him broke you and the future you may have had. The battleground was no place for someone such as yourself now. You cursed the injustice of it all.

Cold, dirty and exhausted, your head rested sideways against an industrial bin, praying the rain would wipe your soul clean.

You had translated his business card, with your little dictionary--

Lawyer. Higuruma Hiromi, Criminal Defence Lawyer.

Knowing this detail of his life, a sweet overlay of understanding dawned upon you, his character suddenly so understandable, his anguish shooting through you like knives, and all too late, too late--

"...English?"

Your head jerked up, to the end of the alleyway. Silhouetted, dripping in the rain, bleeding and bruised but impossibly alive--

Your face crumpled, pressed into your wet sleeves, shaking. Slow splashing footsteps approached you, Hiromi kneeling in front of you, a hand coming out to graze through your hair.

He opened your dictionary, dusty and bloodstained, before flicking to a dog-eared page;

"Found you."

[agoodflyting]

A lot of Thoughts about Enver Gortash and the text of Richard III

Ok so William Shakespeare's character of Richard of Gloucester is very much the archetype for the Tyrant in western literature and I just have SO MANY THOUGHTS about the way Enver Gortash wears that particular crown... (Not to mention how the fangirl in me just loves some of Richard's dialogue and could easily see it coming out of Gortash's mouth, and I'm trying so hard NOT to write a whole ass fic just so I can get Gortash to say, "I am not made of stone.")

WHO IS RICHARD III?

In real life, he was the last Plantagenet king of England, and a controversial figure, but I'm just talking about how he's depicted as a character in William Shakespeare's play Richard III (and to a lesser degree in Henry VI) . In Shakespeare's plays he is written as the quintessential scheming, backstabbing, duplicitous tyrant who will stop at nothing to gain and keep power. He concocts a massive plan in which he will manipulate the whole of the English aristocracy into crowning him king, by creating a situation in which they will be so desperate and angry at an imagined enemy that they will beg him to assume power over them. Sound familiar?

"Since I cannot prove a lover (...) I am determined to prove a villain." They have different backgrounds, but with both Richard of Gloucester and Enver Gortash there's a driving current of otherness compared to the ranks of the nobility that they're manipulating. Gortash is from a working class family but clawed his way up to join the ranks of the well-bred elite through cunning and ingenuity (and lots of crime). Richard was born into a noble family, but is physically disabled and is often mocked or insulted for it. In context, Richard uses the phrase 'since I cannot prove a lover' less as a complaint about his love life and more as a general example of how he has doesn't fit in with his peers. Basically, "You don't accept me? I'll make that everyone's problem."

"How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown..." Both of them survived trauma and violence, which was directed at them by people against whom they were powerless at the time. Gortash was sold to Raphael as a child and spent years as a target of every kind of abuse his master deigned to throw at him. Richard saw his father and brother brutally tortured, then murdered by the queen of their country, while he could do nothing to stop it. In both cases they internalized at a young age that violence = power = safety.

"Was ever woman in this humour won? (...) I, that kill'd her husband and his father, to take her in her heart's extremest hate (...) and yet to win her, all the world to nothing!" Both Richard and Gortash are platinum-tier smooth-talkers, who are skilled at getting other people to act the way they want through use of charming words. Richard shoots his shot with Anne despite the fact that she knows full well he murdered her last husband and she literally spent the first half of the scene wishing death on him. But by the end of the scene he's convinced her to marry him. Gortash, similarly, can talk the player character around to siding with him against the Elder Brain in spite of having just spent the first 2 act of the games trying to unravel his evil plots. Why? Because they're both just. that. smooth. They both have a way of manipulating others with a smile and good cheer - they sound so reasonable, even when you KNOW you shouldn't listen to them.

"Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself." Both of them have are underestimated partly because of their ability to be charming, and partly because of their status as outsiders. Gortash because of his working class background, and Richard because of his disabilities. In both cases, there are people who find them repulsive but generally toothless (Queen Elizabeth and Ulder Ravengard respectively) who live to regret it. In both cases there are also people who ring the alarm bell that this creep is up to no good, but who aren't heeded soon enough.

"And thou unfit for any place but hell." "Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it." "Some dungeon." "Your bed-chamber." They both have a little bit of that freak in them and seem to get off on trying to fuck people who want them dead. See: Richard with Anne. Durgetash in general.

"I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, and entertain some score or two of tailors." Gortash and Richard are both exceptionally well-dressed, to the point of vanity. Gortash is described as handsome in the game, but even fans who dig him can admit that he has a very unconventional style of attractiveness. His teeth are discolored, his skin is blotchy, he's pushing late middle age, and he's got the sort of flat features that other fans have pointed out are typical of boxers and other people who've gotten punched in the face a lot. Similarly, Richard is described as hunchbacked and with features so deformed that 'dogs bark at (him) as (he) passes by'. Yet, despite not being conventionally pretty, both of them seem to spend a lot of money on their clothes. ... this is getting long, so I'm going to end this here. Might do a part 2 later if the brainrot is still upon me.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 22: A Painful Departing

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Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 2k

You thrashed in Marco’s arms, desperately trying to reach Ace. But Marco’s grip on you was iron tight, and you were forced to watch the love of your life throw flame after useless flame. Akainu burned too hot. Ace’s flames had no effect on him. You knew that, and surely Ace had to know that too. And now you had to sit back and watch him fight a battle he could never win. 

You saw it before it was going to happen. Your observation haki had never been so clear and concise. But you saw the final punch. The one that went through his chest. To protect Luffy. 

You couldn’t bear it. Your father and your lover in the same day. You refused. 

You went feral, thrashing in Marco’s hold. Any bit he would give you to break free would get you closer to Ace. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but you held your bracelet against his skin and sunk your teeth into flesh. 

“What the hell?!” Marco screamed and you used his shock to rip your body away from him, taking off towards Ace. 

“No!” Marco screamed, but you scrambled away before he had the chance to grab you. You said a silent apology to your child as you ripped your bracelet off and shoved it into your pocket, lava coursing back into your veins as you dashed toward Ace and Akainu. You were close. You could make it. 

It was a race between the three fire users: Ace, Akainu, and you. Who could get to their target first. Any mistake would end in death. 

Lava clashed against lava, your two fists smashing against Akainu’s one. It burned, but you could hold it steady. 

“Ace?” Luffy’s small voice came from behind you, but you didn’t dare lose your concentration. 

Akainu gave you a wicked smirk. “You’ve gotten weaker,” he chuckled, looking at how much you struggled to keep your hold against him. 

“So have you.” Your teeth grinded together in concentration, trying to push him back. Even just an inch. 

“Stop,” Ace begged. “Y/N, stop. You can’t-“

“Go!” You screamed. “You caused this! So take Luffy and go! Now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Fuck, Ace! Just listen to me for once in your life!” You screamed. It was ironic those words were coming from you, considering how many times others had said them to you that you had ignored. “Go!”

Your entire body ignited, pushing lava toward Ace and Luffy so they were forced to flee. You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to the battle. You had to give them enough time to get away. Enough time to be free. 

Your skin burned. Your vision grew spotty. You could feel the urge to vomit rising fast, but you forced it back down. You just had to hold Akainu for a few more minutes. Just until Ace and Luffy got away. You could do this. The pain was nothing compared to the heartbreak you had endured. 

Akainu gave you a smirk. “I see you’d prefer for me to kill you first.”

“I would prefer that, actually,” you hissed back, starting to lose traction. “Ace promised I could die first.”

His smirk grew to a wicked grin. “Then let me make good on that promise.”

His other fist swung around, aiming to connect to your face. You couldn’t stop it. You knew that. It was over. 

A part of you was relieved. You had been fighting just to survive for so long, it would be nice to rest for a bit. You could see Thatch again. You would never have to know life without your father. Your family would be okay. They had each other. And Ace had Luffy. You could die knowing you had made a difference. That’s what really mattered. 

You closed your eyes and waited for the impact. For the end.

The sound of a metal sword clanged in your ear, and the heat that was emitting from the Vice Admiral in front of you seemed to disappear. A gasp exuded from the crowd, and your eyes snapped open again. 

“Sorry I was late, Y/N.” Red hair and a black cape clouded your vision, Shanks comforting voice filling your ears. “We got a little busy on the way here.”

Just the arrival of Shanks and his executive crew made the Marines stop in their tracks. Even Segoku looked nervous. But all you wanted to do was cry. 

“I think we can call this a draw, Sengoku. Don’t you?” Shanks called up to the Fleet Admiral, still holding Akainu with his sword.

Sengoku’s eye twitched, but he didn’t move. “Shanks-“

“You’ve got Whitebeard, we’ve got Ace. Seems like a fair trade off.”

You looked over to your father, still standing tall despite the holes that had been bored through him, and you struggled to keep your composure. 

“She’s under my protection now, Whitebeard!” Shanks yelled out, for the entire battlefield to hear. “I‘ll protect them both until I breathe my last breath! I swear it!”

“Go,” your father’s voice came, soft but powerful. “Keep living. That is my final order as your captain and your father.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stared in awe, but Shanks threw you over his shoulder and darted away from Akainu as everyone turned their attention away from you. 

“No!” You screamed, smacking Shanks back. “He’s alive! He’s alive! We can’t leave him!”

Akainu quickly recovered from shock and shot a beam of lava at you and Shanks, but Shanks quickly evaded it. However, the brothers in front of you weren’t so lucky. 

The beam hit Ace’s back and Luffy’s torso, causing them to collapse to the ground.

“Ace!” You screamed, but he didn’t get up. 

“Ace!” You screamed again, twisting in Shanks’s hold to get a better view. “Ace! Get up!”

“Stop squirming,” Shanks scolded. “Trust me and trust them. Stay still.”

But you couldn't do what you were told. You never could. Ace was in danger, and you kicked and shoved until Shanks lost his hold of you. 

You dashed towards Ace and Luffy, falling to the ground next to them. Ace’s back was covered in lava, and you quickly worked to move it off him. His skin looked like it was melting, steam emitting from his body as he lay limp and unresponsive.

Luffy was faring slightly better than Ace, but they both had severe burns and wounds from the lava. You couldn’t even tell if they were alive.

“Ace,” you sobbed, trying to shake him and Luffy awake. “Please wake up.”

“Jinbe!” Shanks yelled. “Can you take them?”

“Please,” you whispered, cupping Ace’s face. “Please don’t leave me.”

“He’s dead!” Akainu shouted, approaching the three of you. “And soon you can join him.”

His fist ignited, and you leaned yourself over Ace and Luffy, trying your best to shield them so the lava wouldn’t hurt them again. 

“I’m sorry, dad,” you whispered, holding the brothers tightly. “I’m sorry Rayleigh. I tried.”

You could feel the heat of Akainu getting closer to you, just as you remembered in your dreams. You were too weak. You were always too weak. 

Suddenly you were lifted up, being carried away. You tried to twist your body, searching Ace and Luffy again, but the grip tightened and was too strong for you to fight. You screamed out, half in frustration, half in pain. 

“I have them,” Jinbe said. “Stop fighting me! You’re only hurting yourself.” 

Jinbe’s voice gave you a little bit of comfort, but you still panicked as you thought about Ace and Luffy. How were they doing? Would they even make it off the battlefield?

“Up here!” A man atop a yellow ship shouted. “I’m a doctor.”

Jinbe skillfully jumped up onto the deck of the ship and bolted through the door. He dropped you gently to the ground, and then set the two unconscious boys down for the doctor to take over. 

You tried to stand on your own, but your vision instantly went spotty. You staggered and tried to hold onto the wall for support, but you weren’t sure how long you would last.

Luffy was being carried away by about five different people when you finally looked up. Ace was face down on the ground, two men tending to his burn wounds. 

“Bepo, make us disappear.” The man with the spotted hat watched you cautiously. “At least you’re still standing. Looks like you’re the one I have to worry about the least.”

To counteract his point, you leaned over into the trash can and immediately threw up. You hadn’t had your bracelet on for at least 20 minutes, and you began to fear the worst as your stomach churned and shifted. 

“Sea prism,” you choked out, vomiting more contents of your stomach into the trash can.  “I need sea prism.”

You reached into your pocket and grabbed your bracelet, trying to cool your body back down. But even with the bracelet on, your entire body felt funny. 

You cried out in pain as another sharp stab hit your stomach, causing you to double over as you struggled to breathe. 

“You really can’t handle your own ability?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at you. He could tell something was wrong with you. This wasn’t normal levels of sickness due to devil fruit powers. 

You began throwing up again though, major cramps still tearing through in your abdomen. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” The man hissed, bending down and putting his hand against your forehead. 

“Tend to Luffy,” you whispered, gagging and curling into a ball to try and mitigate the pain. You clutched your sea prism bracelet, but the pain wasn’t going away.

“Tell me,” the man said, grabbing your jawline and forcing you to stare at him. 

“She’s pregnant,” Jinbe said, watching you wearily. Ace must have told him. They had been together in Impel Down, afterall. 

“How far along?” He hissed. 

“Five months,” you whimpered, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. You tore away from him to continue wrenching into the trash can.

He sharply inhaled. “Don’t you know not to use your powers during pregnancy?”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you snapped back. “But I wasn’t going to let Ace die!”

A blue hue appeared around you, and then suddenly you were dropped into an ice water bath. 

You screamed out in shock, unsure where you were. You prayed the Navy hadn’t found a way to get you back into their grasp.  

There was commotion outside, and suddenly Jinbe burst through the door to see you sitting in the tub. The other man followed in after him. 

“Luffy and Ace,” you said again, bile rising into your mouth once again. “Go check on them.”

“My crew is prepping for surgery as we speak. Do me a favor and stay still.”

Once again, a blue hue surrounded you. You weren’t sure what this man’s power was, but you were certain it was tied to the strange color that surrounded you now. 

He ran a sword along your body, and a scan came up. There were a several red alerts that occurred around your stomach, and your heart quickened. 

“Is it okay?” You asked. “Is my baby okay?”

“Ikkoku!” He barked out, and suddenly a woman appeared in the doorway. “Prep her for surgery. 5 months pregnant. Priority is lowering body temperature to normal range.”

“Of course, captain.” The woman said, walking over to you. “You’re going to feel a light pinch.”

“What’s happening?” you cried, the world starting to spin around you. “No, no, no! You aren’t listening to me. I-I need- to-” your breathing became low and rapid, thoughts getting jumbled in your head before you could speak them. 

“She’s going into shock,” Ikkoku called out, urgency in her voice.

“Shit,” the man hissed. “The others can wait. Take her into surgery now.”

“No,” you mumbled. Your body felt so heavy. “Luffy…Ace…they…need…”

And then everything went dark.

--

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[msunitedstatesjames]

I just finished up most of Emmrich's companion quests and oh my god that was amazing. I chose the human ending, and I loved it. Once again, my favorite string of scenes yet in the game.

First of all, Emmrich's voice actor did amazing. Like, wow. We've heard Emmrich be the self assured academic, we've heard him be anxious, we've even heard him be angry, but we got whole new shades of Emmrich in the final Hezenkoss confrontation and Lich choice scenes. We got outrage, we got desperation, we got grief and pain. When Emmrich first tries to stop the lantern and realizes it could kill him, when he begs Manfred to come back as he goes after the lantern, when he begs him to come back again when he searches for his spirit, when he admits that he wouldn't trade Lichdom for having Manfred back, it's all so movingly acted. And you can't forget the "Magic, like you" joy. It can be easy for video games to make you feel excited or interested or generally just content, but feeling joy and grief are harder, and this string of quests pulled it off beautifully, largely because of the voice acting and also the character writing.

I found Emmrich's animation to be really good in these scenes as well. He does a lot of dramatic gesturing, and for whatever reason it just really worked for me. The way he gestures when pleading with Hezenkoss and admitting she was right was great. The hug when Manfred was back was adorable. The look on his face when he realizes he's talking about Manfred like a child was precious. But the one that really got me was when Manfred "dies," and Emmrich puts his hands over his face with that look of utter disbelief and horror. Seeing Emmrich look like that, when he's always so put together, really hits hard.

The little romance moments were great, too. Having Hezenkoss be so pissed off that Emmrich has a lover is gratifying. Rook getting called his "paramour" was amusing. Also, I have to give Hezenkoss some props for at least admitting she would have entombed Rook and Emmrich together when she killed them. That's really a pretty decent thing for a villain to promise, like, she didn't have to do that. It was nice to be able to stand up for Emmrich, too. And that you got to help him make his big decision. But of course the sprinkle on top of this delightful cake was getting to surprise Emmrich into realizing that you're parenting together. How many other Dragon Age couples get to parent together? Only a few that I can think of.

Emmrich's character growth was stunning too. He has to acknowledge that, at least in one way, Hezenkoss was better than him. He admits that he misses her friendship. He has to face down his greatest fear, death, more than once, and while doing so choose the lives of others above his own in a very real way. First he chooses to risk himself to save Hezenkoss's enemies, and Rook, and Nevarra City. Then, he literally chooses eventual death in order to save Manfred. He also realizes that he was stronger than he believed himself to be, both in magic and in courage. And in the end he can admit that though he has regrets, he knows he made the right choice. I haven't played or watched the other ending, but it feels right somehow for Emmrich to embrace his deep compassion this way.

As for Hezenkoss, there's a certain poetic justice to her being ended by a ragtag team of Emmrich's "ridiculous skeleton," Emmrich's lover, spirits she personally tormented, and her former friend turned foil, Emmrich the death fearing necromancer. I still love her as a whacky villain. Who knows what evils her escaped undead hand is getting up to now?

If I haven't blabbed enough about how amazing these quests were, they were also just the most exhilarating in the game for me so far. I think all of the reasons listed above just combined really well together to make this quest super suspenseful. I really cared about Emmrich as a character, so I really cared about his fate. Even though you logically knew he wouldn't die in this quest, it still felt very high stakes. There was exciting music, dozens of lives at stake including Emmrich and Manfred, and as I've mentioned before, top tier voice acting. I was gasping and kicking my feet in excitement at all the right moments. It strings you right along from suspense, to excitement, to dread, to shock, to triumph, to grief, to joy, to a pleasant contentment.

I couldn't stop playing this string of quests, which was extremely unfortunate for Bellara because right before this she told Rook they needed to go after her brother immediately, and then I instead forced her to tag along and help Rook defeat her boyfriend's rival.

Anyway, I'm still reeling from the excitement of it all. I hope the end of this game is really good because it's gonna be hard to live up to this bunch of quests.

(Sidenote: How horrified would the Southern Templars be to find out an extremely powerful death mage, his Spelblade Tevinter mage girlfriend, and their reanimated skeleton son (inhabited by a spirit of curiosity and gifted with death magic) are running around Thedas fighting gods?)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Not a prompt, but I need tips/advice! As I am describing a scene were caretaker watches whumpee get executed via the garrotte.

I seek thy guidance 🙏

first thing you might want to consider may be the nature of the relationship between whumpee and caretaker. because your caretaker will mostly react differently based on who whumpee is to them;

if whumpee is caretaker’s friend, family or lover, the feeling of watching a loved one die and not being able to do anything about it will be stronger than the feeling of simply grieving. caretaker may feel anger, fear, desperation, loneliness and hopelessness all at once. depends on what happens in your story, they may direct their anger towards the people watching the execution take place like it was some sort of a play. they may direct their anger towards the executioner for taking their loved one from them. they may direct their anger towards the person who ordered whumpee to be executed. they may direct their anger towards themself for not being able to save whumpee. they may even direct their anger towards whumpee themself for ‘leaving them’ or for getting themself in this situation in the first place. I don’t think there’s a ‘wrong’ way for a character (or a real person) to express their feelings, especially when the situation causes such strong emotions.

if whumpee is caretaker’s enemy or if their relationship with caretaker is more complicated than a friend or a lover, your caretaker may experience feelings that aren’t as straightforward as hopelessness or loneliness. because whumpee is not supposed to mean anything to them, but they’re watching whumpee die and realizing whumpee does, in fact, mean something to them. or at least they don’t want to lose whumpee / don’t want whumpee to die. all of these will mostly result in confusion as well as anger. your caretaker may be confused by the way they’re feeling about losing whumpee. they certainly can be angry at the same time; maybe they’re angry at whumpee for making them feel this way and, yes, for getting killed.

next thing you might want to consider is the pace of the scene; how fast or slow you want it to be.

an emotionally devastating scene doesn’t always have to be in a slower pace in order for your readers to feel what the character is going through. a short, quick sentence could give your readers just as much of an emotional impact; “one crack of the bone, and just like that, it was over. the silence that followed — sharp and loud — cut deep through caretaker’s chest. whumpee is gone.”

or you can move your scene at a slower pace if you want your readers to feel how it happens as it’s happening. describe how caretaker’s watching as the chain/wire slowly tightens around whumpee’s neck and how helpless, hopeless, scared they feel. do they make eye contact with whumpee for one last time as life slowly fades away from whumpee’s eyes? or are caretaker unable to look whumpee in the eyes, knowing whumpee’s silently begging for them to save their life? do they look away once it’s over and how they feel once it’s done; lonely, sad, scared, angry, etc?

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi can you make a story where the reader is secretly abused by her family and ex boyfriend. Her ex boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend and broke up with the reader. Her ex is a rich and when her abusive family learned their broken relationship, they abuse reader everyday. Her family likes her ex, more than her current boyfriend, which is the ror characters. When her current lover learned it, he decided to take an action.

Gods, thor, poseidon, hades, hercules

Human, lubu, jack the ripper, nikola

-You sniffled softly, limping towards your current boyfriend’s house, knowing you would be safe there.

-So much had happened in such a short amount of time, you found your boyfriend of two years in bed with your childhood best friend, and they weren’t even sorry about it, telling you that they had been sneaking around for months now, finding it thrilling.

-When your family found out that you broke it off, not even caring to listen that he was the one cheating, they blamed you for not doing more to keep him happy, thinking was your fault.

-They only liked your ex because he was rich, you were with money, and with the potential of you marrying him one day, they would get some of that money.

-It started off small, slaps across the face, holding your hair to keep you in place while they screamed at you, before moving to beating you every day, telling you how much of a failure you were.

-Your new boyfriend wasn’t anything like that, he treated you so gently and warmly, but was unaware of the abuse from your family, as you did your best to keep it hidden.

-Your family didn’t like him, thinking he was weak, not realizing who he truly was, your abuse only increasing as your family told you to dump him and try to get back with your ex.

-It was after one of those bad beatings that you managed to slip away after being thrown in your room, being called a disgrace.

-When he opened the front door, seeing your bruised and battered body, he instantly had you in his arms and you broke down in harsh sobs, hugging you close.

-After patching you up and getting you calmed down, which was a feat in itself, you told him everything, telling him the truth, from the betrayal of your ex and former best friend, to your selfish family.

-He put you to bed, “Sleep, I’ll be back in a bit.” You held onto his hand, whimpering out that you didn’t want him to get hurt before he pecked your forehead gently, giving you the softness that you so desperately wanted.

-As luck would have it, your ex and his new girlfriend, your ‘best friend’ was with your family, as his family and yours were friends, which made things easy.

-Arrived in an intimidating display of power (lightning/water/shadows and fire), scaring all of them and when your family sees that you were dating not a loser, but an actual god, they were very quick to kiss up. However, his rage could not be quelled, “You abused my beloved Y/N, all for selfish, vile reasons, and you two- betraying someone so kind and loving- you’re the worst type of scum.” Nobody could say anything, your father tried and instantly was struck down violently, no hesitation and no mercy, scaring all of them. He lifted his weapon as they all begged him for mercy, “Why should I give mercy to those who don’t deserve it?” he left, leaving your family terrified, including your father whom he brought back, “If any of you try to touch Y/N again, I won’t hold back this time.” And they knew he was serious.

            -Thor, Poseidon, and Hades

-Entered the house with no hesitation and no regard for his actions, only smiling evilly when your dad asked him who he was. He brandished his weapon, scaring all of them, “You hurt my Y/N, in more ways than one. Parents should protect their children, and lovers should be loyal, just as much as friends.” When your dad tried to charge at him, infuriated on being called out, he was instantly cut down, causing screams to echo through the house before he went into a frenzy, killing them all. His rage fueled him, remembering how fragile and scared you looked, furious that you had been treated in such a way. There was no mercy.

            -Jack and Lu Bu

-As much as he wanted to take matters into his own hands, he didn’t, taking the evidence, photos of your bruised and battered body, and went to the police, arriving with them at your former home. Your dad was furious, seeing your new boyfriend there, demanding to know what he was doing, lying to the police to get them in trouble for you, calling you a whore. Police had a warrant and tons of people were gathered around outside, including news outlets, reporting on the scene, as police found signs of heavy abuse, as your blood was all over your room, and your family was quickly arrested. While not in trouble like they were, he had no issues telling the news outlets what had happened, that you found your ex and best friend in bed, having an affair for fun, and your family, only using you for money with your ex, turned to abusing you. They faced ridicule for being the cause of the extreme abuse and many called for their arrest as well, ruining them socially. Nobody was ever going to hurt you again.

-Hercules and Nikola

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

Hiiiii I came Across Your Blog and I rlly rlly Love it,The Way you Write for the Creepypasta Characters is Amazing and I'm obsessed With it.

anyway If you are willing to take requests Can I Request The School Au Creepypasta Boys Like Ben Jeff,and the Proxies w Female Reader who is on The Proxies level (Is really strong And Smart as hell) But isn't Exactly a Proxy and + She's the Most popular and Smartest girl in School.

It's okay if not,You decide Just curious ❣️

Thank you so much!

Ben is using you to the max bro. He'll have you do homework for him and beg you to give him the answers to the up and coming exam. But, he's not going to be as open about his abuse if you're popular. You're popular for your personality, looks, and smarts, while he's popular for his looks and black market dealings. He'll show you off because like, two of the most popular kids in school are dating, you're the IT couple, but boy would the entire school freak out if they find out what Ben did to you at LJ's Halloween party.

Jeff isn't really popular but more so infamous, so being with him is definitely going to kill some of your popularity. Jeff doesn't really care about your popularity, and will constantly call you a dumb bimbo despite him copying your answers more time than he can count.

EJ is pretty much the school's JD when it comes ro reputation, so they'd be mixed opinions. I can see some of the popular girls getting jealous of you because helloooo, you just pulled the school's hot mysterious guy. You absolutely love his smarts and the two of you often talk about biology and help each other study for test. He's such the perfect boyfriend, always buying you gifts, walking you home, throwing you complement after complement. Awww. He'd would never hurt you, right?

Toby loves you bro, you're fucking saving his grade. The two of you were paired up in ELA because the teacher thought you'd be a good influence on him, and also hoped you could help him with his stutter, which wasn't even that bad. You found him a little strange, but you fell for his awkwardness and attitude. He doesn't care about your popularity either, hell, he rarely cares about his own, but your smarts? Broo, he's on his fucking knees for you bro. He didn't really care much about his grades until half way through senior year when he was told he might not be able to graduate if he didn't get them up, and then the moment you came along and got him to actually understand what the hell was going on, he fell hard. He still has his issues and is still an abusive asshole, but I feel like in this situation it's a lot harder to acknowledge it because of his desperation and almost simp like behavior.

Liu wants to ruin you. He wants to absolutely destroy your reputation for his own amusement. Does he love you? Ehhhh, maybe, hopefully, probably... It honestly depends on the day. Liu is capable of love don't get me wrong, but when the two of you first got together, he didn't really love you and saw you more as a game, but he fell for you as your relationship went on. You're popularity really bothers him because not only is he known as Jeff's little brother, but now he's known as the Smart Boy/Girl's boyfriend. But aye, because of you, he gets to skip more classes.

Tim doesn't really care about your popularity. Tim likes to go for losers because they tend to be more desperate and easier to manipulate, but Tim's always been one to enjoy a challenge. Even talking to you was hard because since you have a solid foundation, you often ignore him and reject any and all advances, but through some blackmail after one of LJ'S parties, you agreed to date him. The entire school gets an off vibe about your relationship, but they ain't gonna say anything.

Brian, dear lord. With Tim, getting you was hard, with Brian, easiest thing in the world. If you read my one shot The Proxies Little Pet part 2, I showed Brian as a charming lover boy, and I still stand by that. Brian is a manipulative, deceiving, blackmailing bitch. He's similar to EJ and Liu, all three of them present themselves as pretty nice, chill, caring guys, but the moment you date them, yours trapped. EJ takes a painfully long time to shoe his true colors, Liu is average time, but Brian. The moment you agree, he's done hiding. I can see the two of you hooking up, and afterwards while you were asleep he took a shit ton of picture of you. One day, when you're sick and tired of his abuse, he'll send you all the pictures he took and ask if yall were still over. Safe to say, you didn't stop dating.

LJ is an interesting case where he doesn't use you for your grades, but instead uses you for amusement. He'll actively embarrse you because come on, hes the class clown! Everyone loves him. He's extremely apathetic towards you whenever you cry about it, and he's just a fucking dick.

[crguang]

Hi. I hope you don't mind if I send both a FMK some thirst?

For FMK:

Fuck Black Swan: I think she'd be a fanastic lay and, like, look at her splash art and tell me she wouldn't look gorgous with her hair spread out beneath her while you ate her out or pinned her down.

Marry Himeko: She's got those dommy mommy vibes (Though to be fair so does Kafka.) and I think she'd be a very patient, very kind lover. Domestic life with Himeko would be a pleasure. Easily the best lover of the women on this list.

Kill Jingliu: She's kind of awful. Sure the same could be said about Kafka but Kafka at least is implied to be trying to do some good and the game at least has given me reasons to like and care for her. The same can't be said of Jingliu. Easily the least likable of the women on the character list in my opinion. Killing her wouldn't be easily and I'd probably die trying/shortly after but still.

As far prompts/thirst goes imagine Himeko and Black Swan working to give reader a blowjob together. They'd get you so worked up and, well, it's not surprising if one or both of them end up deepthroating you in the end.

me reading this while jingliu’s in my top 3 favourite characters in the game……… if you think kafka generally has good intentions i have some news for you you’re not gonna like🙁 that woman destroyed entire civilizations (two planets. TWO.) and is solely working for her own benefit, what has jingliu done but be a victim?! ‘awful’ is too harsh for my baby i could argue for days about her but i wont… i wont! you don’t have to like her, more for me😋

that said if its between the 3 of them id have the same answers you gave LMFAOOO though with hesitation on the jingliu part because her voice makes me insane and i need her to talk me through it. it’s not a single person in this game who could stop me from having sex with black swan. like she’s the best of both worlds to me cause she’s a switch and im a service top, we would not leave that room until Fuli themself appeared and told her to go back to work. marry hime, my princess, i put her on such a high pedestal if she was real id have the unhealthiest attachment to her. literally the sweetest, most reliable, romantic woman ever. i write about her like im in love with her and i AM. if i kill jingliu it’s in the context of her dying at the hands of someone she loves and not the abundance, with a clear mind and no hatred in her eyes. she deserves peace😞

black swan and himeko… together… i gasped like a nun seeing a girl’s bare shoulders at church. they’d be so teasing about it, especially swan; she makes sure to run her hands all over your body before one of them even dips between your legs and since she’s not human, her palms are the softest you’ll ever experience. she’s not shy about it either, she’s very forward and will playfully brush down the hollow of throat with her fingertips, move across your collarbones and over your bare chest. himeko’s hand rests on your stomach, tracing imaginary shapes into your skin while her lips attach to your neck in nice, gentle kisses. their pace is deliberately slow, torturous, to have you breathing heavier and desperate enough to beg a little.

“Mmm? How impatient…” swan’s words are husky and carefully enunciated with a teasing lilt to them. she teases, but seeing how worked up you are, that hard bulge in your underwear begging to be freed, she gives you what you want.

like i said, the skin of her hands is the smoothest ever. it’s heaven against you and she strokes you like she wants to feel the entirety of your shaft in her palm. himeko joins her almost immediately and swallows your moans with her mouth. i think black swan does some things for the aesthetic so her nails are longer and perfectly manicured, a lavender-pink color to match her accessories. they graze your length in feather-like touches and you can’t help bucking further into her hand. himeko can easily match the pace of whoever she’s with. she’ll tease you just as much though she’ll soothe you with languid kisses and murmurs near your ear.

“Just let us take care of you, okay?”

with both of their hands stroking you, pumping you to oblivion, with himeko’s at the base and swan’s circling your tip, you come in minutes. like who wouldn’t… swan is closer, so she’s the first to take you into her mouth after spurts of your release coats their skin. she’s teasing there too, swirls her tongue around your tip and slides it down the underside of your cock, but she’s mostly enjoying herself rather than looking to make a mess of you. himeko strokes your inner thigh, watches swan’s movements with parted lips, before taking initiative and tangling her fingers in her lilac hair to pull her off of you so she can taste you through a messy, sloppy kiss. you’re throbbing just watching their tongues exchange cum and saliva and hearing their low hums and breathless moans. they take turns sucking you off, you’re definitely drenched once they finally decide to give you some reprieve <3

[camelspit]

PICK THE WOMAN THAT YOU WANT ELIMINATED!!

Master Cadence by @tw-5

Umber by @chronically-ill-psionipath

Tinker by @thefoxysnake

Esha Aria by @camelspit

Lady Galvin by @an-ungraceful-swan

Note! Definition of a sexywoman:

According to the sexywomanpedia, a sexywoman is "a character who shows the 'lanky suitman villain' tropes, is popular with wlw, and/or is highly divisive." Some factors to consider are morality (or lack thereof), overall mysteriousness, and strength (physical or abilitywise.)

Propaganda:

Master Cadence:

"she’s a linguist. she’s a woman in stem. she’s tired of everyone’s bullshit. she’s fruity as hell. her house is cool as fuck (a howls moving castle style boat-thing made of metal that she built herself because she didn’t want to live in the elven cities???? come on). she’s a MASTER. what more could you want." @let-them-sing-of-others

"she’s an academic. shes smarter than u. she hates on the council and she’s RIGHT. she hates sophie actually you know what she has a hater complex but in a hot way. i love her yr honour." @necromycologist

"she spent YEARS researching on ogres and their culture. idk about you, but i would try keeping her in my good graces because she KNOWS ABOUT DEADLY POISON. WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS. I WOULD SHIT MYSELF IF I CAME ACROSS HER IN REAL LIFE EVEN IF IT WAS IN A GROCERY STORE ON A RANDOM TUESDAY AND SHE WAS BUYING OREOS. FOR ALL WE KNOW, SHE COULD HAVE LOADS OF THAT IN HER HOUSE/ON HER PERSON!!" @corruption-exe

"ok not to be a lesbian or horny on main (<- ace) but HOLY SHIT i want her to step on me. this lady has intensified my sexuality crisis" (anonymous)

Umber:

"Shes an evil hot powerful shade that got killed in the book she got introduced in what more could you want" @thefoxysnake

"Umber (Redacted) is one of the women in the series that isn’t JUST psychological manipulator! She also fought! She broke bones (if I remembered correctly) and messes with everyone’s minds without even revealing her true name! She has a boyfriend! A BOYFRIEND. TRIX. She went through something ‘the incident’ (mentioned in the latest book) and joined the Neverseen! She got Trix, her Pookie to be in the Neverseen as well 🥺. You can tell she was also a good lover how Trix was so sad over her death. KEEP IN MIND SHE DIED BEING CRUSHED, so for those who likes angst; there you go. She died in her mission. She was Tam’s mentor and an EXCELLENT fighter if I do say so myself. Who wouldn’t vote Umber? A girlboss with a sweet boyfriend and has murderous tendencies? 😔🎉 Vote for Umber PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU! PLSPLSPLSPLS 😭😭" @chronically-ill-psionipath

Tinker:

"she's trans! she's autistic! she's a mad scientist! she's everything you could possibly want in a woman!!!!!" @gay-otlc

"shes a mad genius she built a mad science castle she invented steampunk literally why would you not love her" @necromycologist

Esha Aria:

"shes sooo funny guys. she fucked with the system to get some dick and almost got away with it. she chose that dick over her daughter. she may be exiled but at least she has her man. morals and consequences mean nothing!!!" @camelspit

Lady Galvin:

"She's one of the greatest alchemists there ever was, and yet no one recognizes her for her talents. She's surrounded by people who will never understand or appreciate her, and because of that she tries to make their life hell. She has no ambitions, no future, no goal, and yet she doesn't break. She wears her cool ass capes and rules over detention with an iron fist, desperately searching for the control she lost when she realized her job wasn't up to her. She's an evil supergenius stuck in a children's school." @lizzie-dude

[strawurberries]

Blueberry 🫐 10 & 11 for Vash, please

Vash: "I'll do it. I'll do it. Just don't hurt them."

Authors note: One of my favorite things about Vash is that you can see the rage he has, the anger he harbors against the cruel and the evil, yet he chooses not to give into his murderous urges and pushes on---activly working towards his ideal of peace. He isn't a character who was born peaceful, he made himself that way. That's why I love him so much. And, for this, I tried to dig into that little bit. I hope it did him justice :)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, kidnapping, blood.

“What did you do with them. . . ?” he stared at the bloody hands of the man before him, small red droplets sliding off the scarred flesh—plop. . . plop. . . plop. . . the blood pool beneath the heels of the bounty hunters started to grow. The edges of the red stretched out, like a hand begging to be held, saved. As he watched the flow of the liquid, all he could think was that it better be someone else’s and not theirs. . . not his lover’s. 

A vague, soul-eating feeling started to gnaw at his belly and he knew then that his thoughts would not aid him, nor would it aid his lover, the blood, or the desperately cruel people before him. 

“What do you think?” the bounty-hunter, the leader of the small group, grinned. “They didn’t tell us where you were so, we jus’ had a little fun. Right boys?” The group giggled and howled, recounting the screams and taste of the blood. “Who would’a thought you’d come ‘ere all by yerself? Hmm? What a treat fer us!” He crossed his arms, his fingertips smearing blood across his bicep. 

“Where are they?” Vash gripped the cool metal of his gun—rage boils and pops, bursting out of the pot it was forced to live in, shoved in some dark corner of his mind where he, and no one else, could access such dirty emotions; a twitch of his finger sent him tumbling over his morals, ideals. Anger rose and fell like the chest of some great beast, slowly climbing the edge of his spine; come on, the fear whispered, let go, won’t you? It’ll be easier. He bit down on his lip, canine digging into the dusty flesh. To continue as he is, or to punish how he so dangerously wanted too.

“Come with us and you’ll meet ‘em. . . if they’re still alive,” he let out a barking laugh, “they were pretty tough!” He tilted his head, “nothin’ a good beating couldn’t fix though.”

Bubble, rise, POP. How long until the boiling point is reached?

The crowd laughed, 

POP, bubble, POP, POP. Water can only burn for so long until it leaves nothing but a steam filled memory. 

The bounty-hunter turned to a smaller boy next to him, “is that brat still breathin’?” The boy nodded and said he had given the hostage one last kick before he left, just to make sure they were still alive. “Well, guess yer lover is still kickin’. How sweet.”

POP. 

POP.

POP.

A decision must be made.

“I’ll do it,” he threw his gun down and raised his arms, “I’ll do it. I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt them.” He couldn’t hold his malice back—the pain and anger in his eyes so fresh and bright that one might’ve thought his stare could kill. He clenched his hands into fists, arms slightly shaking as he stared at his gun on the ground. 

POP.

POP.

The sound of bubbles breaking reminds him of the sound of gunshots.

POP.

POP.

“Don’t hurt them,” he bit his lip, drawing a taste of delicious copper, “please.”

The leader stepped forward and kicked Vash’s gun away. “You have a deal, Mr. Vash the Stampede.”

The crowd hooted and hollered, dreaming of riches and fame, while one man dreamed of red geraniums and bullet wounds.

[yaesnovels]

hii!! could u please write angst prompts 2 and 15 with childe? thank youu i love your writing! ٩(＾◡＾)۶

respect and trust

tartaglia x reader

“no, don’t cry. i can’t handle seeing you cry.” “you broke my heart and all you can say is ‘sorry’?”

tw: minor character’s mvrder, childe is hella toxic, jealousy

a/n: i haven't written in so long, i feel so rusty. anyway, i hope you guys like this either way <3

it was such a painful moment. 

something you never expected to feel at any time in your life, though it was not uncommon. but the moment you were told about the betrayal you experienced, it was like childe had ripped out your heart from your chest. 

the tears were just rolling down your cheeks like a waterfall, you were just staring at him, absolutely mortified as he was kneeling next to the motionless fatui agent that he had just mercilessly murdered. 

that specific agent had been your best friend. the one you grew up with, the one who took care of you when you were at your lowest. and the only reason he was there, uniform slowly soaking red with his blood, was because your boyfriend was jealous. 

“what have you done?”, you whispered, your voice betraying you in that moment as grief took over your entire body and you fell onto your knees sobbing, not caring about the pain in your knees as you desperately tried to get ahold of the young man that had been your biggest supporter throughout your entire life. 

“i’m… sorry.” 

“sorry? sorry?!”, you cried, hand on your best friend’s cheek. “you killed him! because of your fucked up jealousy! you simply break my heart and all you can say is sorry?!”

“fucked up? he was all over you the entire time we were together! he was never going to leave you alone because he never trusted me!”, ajax yelled back. 

you were only able to stare at him. what was he talking about? your best friend had been absolutely supportive of your relationship with ajax, never talked bad about the harbinger, actually admiring his senior, despite them being almost the same age. 

“what are you talking about?! he never said anything bad about you! he was absolutely supportive and always talked about how much he admired you! and you just… killed him. what a heartless monster are you? and you say you love me? how can you even say you love me when you can’t understand the basics of respect and trust?”

ajax was simply too angry to even properly listen to what you were saying. he was too frustrated and at the same time heartbroken because he never wanted to hurt you – his only goal was to show you how much he truly loved you. 

he did love you, right? he would never hurt you directly, after all. 

all he wanted was to shield you from any sort of manipulations coming your way, that would tear you apart from him. “sweetheart, please. you need to understand me from my perspective, too. please. please, don’t cry, i can’t handle to see you cry. please, don’t leave me”, he begged as you turned around, leaving the scene of the murder of your best friend shaking and crying.

unable to handle to see the blood bath any longer, nor to look your past lover in the eyes as he tried to excuse his selfish and toxic behavior by pushing the blame on everyone else.

[braveclementine]

October 11: Sensory Deprivation (Stephen Strange) 💙

Warning: 18+ readers only, Sensory Deprivation, Doctor kink, master kink, blowjob, ball gag, orgasm denial, restraints, blindfold, vibrator

Copyright: I do not own Doctor Strange (although he definitely owns me) or any other mentioned Marvel/MCU characters. I also do not condone any copying of this post.

You had almost gotten yourself killed on a mission. Stephen had gone through all the natural stages of being a lover at this point. Worried sick, then relief, and then absolute fury.

Stephen rarely got angry with you. Others got him riled up easily, but not you. In fact, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you were the one that calmed him down. But in that one percent left, when he got angry with you, if often led to sex. Torturous, pleasurable sex.

At least, that's what it usually was. But now, he had left you, for what felt like years, tied to the bed with a blindfold over your eyes.

You were completely naked, senses cut off except for the feel of smooth, almost warm metal around your wrists and ankles, and the soft feather sheets underneath you. You could also feel the cotton blindfold over your eyes, the strings just across your ears.

"Don't make a sound." He had said before leaving, "I'll be back in a few."

Few what? Minutes? Certainly not. You had counted up to five minutes several times by now. Hours? Possibly. Weeks? It was starting to feel like it.

No, it was probably hours. You hadn't gotten hungry yet.

But you were starting to feel frustrated. Was this seriously your punishment for getting shot on that mission? He was just going to tie you up and leave you there for a few hours? This was no where near fun.

After a year (Three hours and twenty-four minutes), you heard the door open. The person made no sound and you sincerely hoped it wasn't Wong or Bucky or Bruce or any of the other possible Avengers that might walk into the room.

But the person made not a noise, and you had no idea who they were. You could barely hear them breathing.

The tension was increasing in your spine until you felt a single finger start to trace lines from the base of your throat, down to your navel, and back up. You let out a shuddering breath. It had to be Stephen, right?

One finger became two full hands, running them over your body. You were starting to get turned on, and you realized now exactly what your punishment was.

Sensory Deprivation.

You couldn't see him, couldn't predict his next move. Well, actually, you could. You knew he wasn't going to be touching you anywhere you wanted until you begged. And you were very close to begging.

Your bottom lip trembled a little in want before suddenly, lithe fingers pinched your nipples, pulling them.

You let out your first sound, a yelp, arching your back. Finally, you heard that quiet chuckle and your questions were answered. It was indeed Stephen.

"S-Stephen."

"Mm, no, I don't think so." Stephen said. "You have been a bad little girl, haven't you? Almost killing yourself on that mission. I was worried sick. No, you don't get to call me by my name now. You're either going to call me Doctor or Master."

You whimpered as he slapped you clit. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, just sting, and it turned you on immensely, arousal pooling between your legs and he chuckled darkly.

Your body was tingling with nerves, goosebumps breaking out everywhere from the sudden touch. You could feel every spot he had touched and caressed, although stung by fire, especially your breasts, itching for his touch.

"Doctor please." You mumbled. "Please, I've waited so long."

"I've waited longer." He growled. "So you're just going to have to suffer."

Now you realized why Stephen had refused to have sex with you. You had figured he just didn't want to reopen the stitches or something. Now, you knew it was because he knew exactly how he wanted to punish you. And now you were needy and desperate. Exactly the way he wanted you.

Stephen pinched your clit between his fingers, making you squeal. He chuckled again. He was being so cruel and yet, you were loving it for some reason.

His finger rubbed your clit slowly and unevenly. You were panting, desperate for something more. Anything more.

"Doctor please. I need more. Please."

One finger spreading your folds. He blew cold breath on your core, making you shiver. He pulled away again before you felt weight settle on your chest. You could sense his knees on the sides of your face.

"Open up." He growled.

You opened obediently and felt his length go down your throat. You closed you eyes, although really it didn't matter.

Your tongue wrapped around him, sucking him off. You ran your tongue up and down his length, feeling the thickness and pulsing veins. You could taste salt and you sucked hard when you got closer to the tip, causing Stephen to hiss.

You went back down on his length the best you could, before dragging your teeth lightly over a sensitive spot. Stephen hissed again and he leaned forward on your chest. His fingers thumbed your nipples again and you sucked on him harder, desperate to please.

Then he moved his hands away and the only thing you felt was a burn in the back of your throat as he bucked his hips into you with a groan. You could almost picture him with his head thrown back, galaxy-coloured eyes closed.

You felt him twitching and you worked to the max to get him to release, which he did, and you swallowed. Once he pulled slowly from his lips, you waited for him to say something, swallowing over and over to get it out of your throat.

"S-Stephen?" You asked quietly. It was so quiet, you couldn't even hear him breathe. You hadn't heard him leave the room either through door or portal, but you couldn't remember if the window was open and the cape could've taken him out.

And then suddenly, there was a huge electrical shock that went straight to your clit. He had fucking snuck up on you, putting a vibrator to your clit.

As quickly as it came, it was pulled away. Your legs seemed to spasm uncontrollably for a few seconds, trying to understand what had just happened when you couldn't see it.

"You're not going on anymore missions." Stephen's voice was dark and you could just barely make out the fact that he was walking around the bed.

"Bu-"

"No." He growled. "Not after that Y/N. Do you understand? I'm not going through that again. You're going to suffer this punishment, and then I'm going to take all of my anger out on you. And then, you're never going on another mission, ever again, unless its a simple one. There will be no arguments and limited complaints."

You stayed silent, feeling frustrated. It wasn't that bad! Sure, you'd been close to death, but you'd recovered, hadn't you?

Another seemingly electric jolt made your entire body jerk on the bed, also effectively jerking you out of your thoughts.

"Stephen, I don't think that's fair. We should talk abou-"

"How would you like it, if I was the one in the hospital, and I decided I was still going to go on missions?" His voice was dangerously low and you heard a drawer being opened somewhere. "What if the next mission is your last one? You dodged death once, do you really need to test it again?"

"B-" When you opened your mouth, he took the advantage and you felt something large and rubber forced between your teeth, strapping it together behind your head.

He was playing dirty.

Stephen was quiet again, and then you felt something light and soft- a feather?- dithering lightly up your body. It tickled mostly, crawling up your thighs, dipping into your belly button, it traveled up your stomach, circling both breasts before lightly brushing over your pert nipples, it traced up into your neck and he even brought it up across your chin and circled your nose with it, making it itch. You scrunched your nose in protest- as you couldn't scratch it.

And then the feather was gone. And then it was back, traveling back down towards your belly button, across your thigh, and then dithered towards your folds, brushing your clit so lightly it was. . . well like a feather.

You frustration was mounting. You couldn't see anything, you could barely hear, even though cutting off your sight should've increased your hearing. You just wanted to be fucked. And then you realized it would mean you'd have to give in to his demands.

The feather was gone again and Stephen was silent. You knew he hadn't left, because of his even breathing. But there was no touching and it felt like your entire body was on fire. Every place that the feather had touched begged to either be touched again with a firmer touch or be itched.

"Stephen please!" You begged, writhing on the sheets to the best of your ability, the chains around your wrists and ankles holding you tight and fast.

He made a tsking sound in the back of his throat, but didn't acknowledge you anymore.

You paused, thinking over everything he had said and then you said, "Doctor, please, I need you!"

"Oh?" Stephen's voice was light and dark at the same time. "You need me, do you? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I need you too?"

Your neediness was starting to get to you. You writhed desperately on the beds. "Okay, fine! I won't go on anymore missions master."

You heard wood creak and you knew he'd been sitting down. His large hand cupped your face, startling you for a moment. "Promise?"

"Promise doctor. Please? Need you!"

You could always argue in your favor later when you weren't at a disadvantage. Of course. . . you had also just promised and Stephen hated broken promises. Maybe you should've thought it over more before you agreed so rashly. Damn your horniness!

There was a sudden electric pulse running through your body, legs shaking as he put the vibrator on you once more. This time, he held it there, his other hand playing with the flesh of your mounds. "That's it kitten." He whispered. "Fucking cum for me. I'm going to make you cum over and over again now and I'm going to show your tight, precious little cunt who owns her."

You couldn't even think of a witty response before you were shattering apart, walls clenching down on nothing but air as you came.

He owned you, oh yes he did. 

[keysorsomething]

Thanatophobia

Hi !! I recently mentioned wanting to bring one of my older SCP ocs to tumblr, and I finally finished a work about him. This one is pretty long so strap in lol I'd also like to note that he was heavily inspired by the early eras of the Foundation (specifically LolFoundation) and I was pretty young when I made him, so he does fall into the immortal character trope, but he is NOT a Bright/963 rewrite. He's his own guy who just happens to have been written in a very cringe era of my life and ended up getting a not-so-original premise

CW for Blood and Death

The young woman sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. A call of her name startles her out of her work. There stood her lover, worry etched onto her face.

“I’m sorry,” The woman stood, reaching out to hold her love. “But I can not let you die. You are all that I care for, and I can not bear to think we will ever be apart.”

“If it is the decree of the Gods, I must,” Her lover responds, her long hair falling over the woman’s hand as she reaches to cradle her face. “They are harsh, but they are fair.”

“And you are of them,” The woman urges, pulling her lover closer. “You can do things, incredible things!” Tears burn in her eyes. “They do not want you dead for any good.”

“Please,” Her lover begs as her name falls from her lips. “I must. It will be hard, but you have to learn to live without me.”

------

The Georgian air was thick and heavy, and the streets were dimly lit, even in the big city. The blood red of the coats the soldiers wear is clear to the man, however, and he tries to push past. His head low, a hat covering his eyes as they remain on the floor.

I don’t bring any trouble, I don’t bring any trouble, I don’t

“You there,” A voice stops him, the accent cutting through the air. He spins on his heels, a bright smile forces its way onto his face as he tries to get out of this. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, ya see,” The man shifts awkwardly. “My little sister’s sick. We live a ways from ‘ere and I just rode out. Medicine, that’s all,” And he watches as the face of one of the British soldiers falls.

“We aren’t gonna stop him from helping his sister, are we?” He asks the other, but the other seems not to care. The other presses forward, and the Southerner’s heart races. He takes a step back, eyes trained on the men. He has to get out of here.

“I-I dunno what’s wrong, sir,” He mumbles, eyes flicking to his horse.

“You’re one of ‘em, huh?” The approaching soldier steps forward. He cusses, spitting at the Southerner, swearing about the revolution.

“I dunno nothin’!” The man replies, desperation filling his tone. “I-I work on my mama’s farm. I couldn’t help with such a thing even if I wanted to-”

------

The young woman had refused when her lover begged her to leave. But she had not expected this twist. Hands bound behind her, she struggled and swore, yelling in her own language at the men who did not understand. Her lover remained still, whispering apologies to the Gods above, begging that she earn their forgiveness.

The young woman cried, fear rising in her stomach. She wanted to be away from here, they could have been far from here by now. She and her lover could have ridden away, back to her home. They could have stayed with her mother, where the two could have been happy. Her lover could share her power, her amazement.

She does not care to listen to what the man behind the two says, instead staring at her lover. Her lover, whose beauty is unmatched, whose eyes meet the crowd with love and adoration, the crowd who sits there awaiting for her to be killed. It makes the young woman’s heart twist. Then, her lover turns to her.

“I love you,” Her lover says, “I will love you, even if I never find you again.”

The young woman goes to reply, but she can’t. It happens so fast - her lover’s words, her hair being yanked back, the knife through her neck - and the next thing she processes is her lover screaming, reaching over for her. Tears burn in her lover’s eyes, such a pretty color. The woman can only let out senseless gargles of blood, before her vision goes dark and she is left unable to hear the last words her lover speaks to her.

------

The man coughs, slipping in the mud as he gets up. His head is spinning, trying to make sense of itself. He stands, resting against the wall of the building. Once he does, it clicks that something is very, very wrong. His hand rushes to his chest, finding no hole.

He had been shot, he had died. He had been met by darkness, an endless black that extended in all directions around him, like when you close your eyes. There was a man there. A string, intimidating man-

“Are you alright, mister?” A voice asks next to him. A young boy stands there, and the man fumbles.

“Just fine,” He responds, all but falling onto one knee. “You out here all by yourself?” He asks. The boy nods.

“My momma and my daddy both work a lot, but we never have enough money,” The boy tells him. “My momma told me that now ‘m twelve, I better start,” He continues. The man’s heart skips a beat, seeming to start back up. His hand rushes into his pocket. He pulls out all the money he has and pulls the bag forward.

He shoves the cash into the boy’s hand, “I ain’t got a use for it, no more,” The man tells him, before standing. “I have ta go,” He says, patting the kid’s shoulder. “You stay strong out here.”

And just like that, he turns the corner, looking around. He had a few hours before dawn, and a long ride ahead of him. His horse still being tied up in the stable he had rented was a shock, but he grins widely.

“Buttercup,” The man grins, patting her neck. “I’m so glad to see ya, girl.”

------

The Guide of Souls was just as threatening as she had imagined he would be. He stood, unmoving, bright eyes staring her down for a long while.

“You are not meant to be here,” The god finally spoke.

“…What?” The young woman asked, voice meek for the first time in her life.

“You have been pardoned,” The diety’s voice booms. “You are not to be here.” The young woman stands in shock before the name of her lover falls from her lips. A grumble comes deep from the god’s chest, a low affirmation. “You have a duty,” The god explains. “I know little of love, but I know it has bound you. It has pardoned you. And you are not to be here.”

She awakes in a pile of bodies, the smell overwhelming her and files buzzing above her head. She sits up, looking around. Nothing has yet to be done with any of the bodies around her, no graves yet to be dug, no fires yet to be lit. No guards stand by. She rises to her feet, letting out violent coughs at the pain shooting through it. She grips her throat, holding it tight as she looks around. That’s when she spots the body of her lover. She kneels beside her, fixing her pose to be more proper, more comfortable.

“You have left me alone,” She scolds the body. “That was the one thing I asked you not to do,” She swears, letting herself cry. “But I do not mind. You have given me a mission, and I will succeed in it.”

------

“No one can bear the weight forever,” the words ring in the man’s head, as he sets up camp. He had dropped the medicine off and fled without being seen, now having been empowered to make his own goals. To achieve what he had wanted. “You will bear it for as long as you can, this curse.”

The man did not think about the implications very hard. He had not thought about anything in his life very hard, other than wanting to leave. To flee from the farm.

He regretted it in some part, leaving his sister. He had been left before, and he knew she would never forgive him. If was hypocritical at its best, he was going to find him for the abandonement, yet he was becoming the abondoner.

The thought made his heart ache, but he oushed it away. He was going on a mission, an important one. He had to do this. He had heard the phrase, two wrongs don't make a right, but as he continued on his path, it meant less and less. He was gifted this, and he would weild it as he wished.

And he would not meet hellfire, for he was bestowed the ability to create his path. His destiny. And for he had decided he would not be held down.

------

Fire was something she had never feared. The flicker of the flame was something that captivated and inspired her, but for once she understood its destruction.

The fear of it was not unwarranted, she decides, watching from afar as the blaze rages on. One she was meant to be in.

She has still not caught her barrings, even as the pain in her throat fades. Meeting the Guide was something she had only expected to happen once, and she had never imagined she would be refused in such a way.

She turns away, covering her face as a sob bursts through her chest, irratiting the burn already present in her throat. Her lover had left her, abandoned her to live in the cold world. A cold, dark, lonely world without the beauty of what was once her’s. The power, the invention, the magic of her lover, what had scentenced them to death, was what had drawn them together in the first place.

And as much as the young woman felt abandoned by her, by it, her love would keep her alive. Even as her body could no longer sustain it, even as he mind had gone, even as her soul failed to return.

------

The man did not have a name before. His sisters called him Bubba, the town folk called him Boy, or Young’in, his parents never called him much of anything. He wasn't meant to survive this long, a sickly child, so they did not bother to get attached.

So, when the Innkeeper had asked, it had stalled him. Sent him raking for a name to use, one that he could remember, but that was not to close-hitting.

He settled for one of the town-boys, the ones his older sister would get yelled at for spending her chore-time talking too. He was not great at his English, being raised a day’s ride from the big city, and his family being so poor. But he knew his alphabet. So, when the Innkeeper slide the paper over to him, he wrote down what he could best guess the name was.

A-ʀ-ɪ-ɴ

------

Her home was lonely without her lover. She had gotten a new cat, one she had named after her. They used to muse the idea of a family, of kids, back and forth.

Theodora, that's what her lover was set on for a daughter. Her lover would always be sure to remind her - “I can do it, too. Say the word, and she will be with us.”

She knew her lover was telling the truth, and that hurt more. If only they had left, had come to her home. They could have had their daughter, they could even have sons. And a home, and a family.

The cat curls in her lap as she starts to cry once more.

“I will avenge her,” The young woman decides. “It will be done. That is what she has left me to do.”

------

Arin pants, adjusting his grip on the rock. He sobs, sniffling as he backs away. He blabbers, looking at the crimson pooling in the stream.

“Oh, God, oh what have I done?” He repeats, letting the rock thud onto the ground to move his hands into his hair. “Pa, papa?” He chokes out, going to kneel by the form. “Daddy, Dad?” He asks, flipping the man over and pulling him close. His face is wet, the back of his head bloody.

Arin never remembered that he had inherited his father's dark hair, or his blue eyes, but all at once, it was too obvious. He sobs once more, shaking the man.

“’M sorry, ‘m real sorry,” He rambles, trying to squish the man closer to him. “I-I wasn't thinkin’, I haven't been thinkin’” He shakes his head as he speaks. “I-I forgive you,” He sobs out. “I forgive you for leavin' me, and ‘Let, and ‘Beth, and Mama,” He mumbles. “I-I didn't, not for a long time. And I guess it don't matter now, but…”

He cries, pulling his hands away. The blood covers all of them, and he breaths heavily as he looks down at them. They shake as he presses them to his chest, to the mark just over his heart. The scar of his first death.

Perhaps he wpuld always end up like this. Perhaps once he had blood on his hands, he was destined to do that forever. But, for just a moment, he wished he had met fire before this. It all dawns on him at once. He had left his home, his sister, to do this. He, the abandoned, had become the abandoner, for revenge. He had come all this way, just to do this? He had left his sister, alone, sick, and scared. The same way he was went his father left. The same way he was, when Scarlett left. He sniffles, rubbing his face even though it smudges blood all over his mouth and nose.

“I forgive you,” He repeats one last time, as he stands to his feet.