#cough. well anyway. Order am i right.

[vampkomori]

Ena the Order is the concept of conforming to Fate, and Elio is an Emanator of Order

welcome to my pre-2,2 theory, i got carried away.

for those yet unaware, theres been a theory flying around that the Goddess of Sigonia, Gaiathra Triclops, is a folkloric interpretation of Ena the Order, on account of the iris of Ena's eye having the same colors as Aventurine's. we can go much further with this though.

(Aventurine's pupils are diamond-shaped, but little Kakavasha has round pupils. its likely that diamond-shaped pupils are a result of becoming a Stoneheart, because Topaz also has diamond-shaped pupils, and Aventurine used to not have them. but i digress)

Anyway, Gaiathra=Ena. Gaiathra is described as a left palm with 3 eyes, arguably Ena also has 3 eyes- two closed ones on their face, and one massive, open eye floating around them.

Gaiathra "reigns over all matters related to fertility, travels, and trickery." (Sigonia, Planar Ornament Relic Set) and is said to have been the one to bestow Aventurine with his luck.

but first: What is Order? Based on the words alone, youd think Order would have more in common with Equilibrium, but evidently that wasnt the case. Considering it was assimilated into the Harmony, it must have overlaps with that though, since the broader path is the one that absorbs the narrower one if their concepts are too similar. So, if Harmony is unity and peace, the idea of everyone joining a happy paradise, then how did the Harmony manage to absorb Order?

"I am filled with curiosity about how THEY swallowed up Order. The hymns of Xipe continue to spread and grow, occasionally overseen by ideology. In contrast, Ena's harmonic songs seems to align within a three-dimensional framework, akin to an emperor maintaining hierarchical order among all creatures. While there may be some overlap between THEIR Paths, the ancient Order is enormous in size, and swallowing THEM would prove far from effortless... Among the Aeons, there exist countless enigmas that surpass my own speculations." - Dev Log for Xipe in Simulated Universe, Herta's comment

Herta doesnt know either, and by all means a freshly ascended Aeon should not have an easy time absorbing someone as ancient as Ena- that is, unless Ena intended for it to happen.

This is a lot of establishing facts before i get to the meat of things. We still dont technically know what Order even is, so lets try figure it out!

"The planets governed by Ena adhere staunchly to established rules, yet I must acknowledge that the various calamities in the cosmos were all hindered by Ena's guardianship, leading to extremely efficient development of civilization among diverse planets. Interestingly, however, civilizations all eventually hit rock bottom because of Order. The ancient planets that once fervently worshiped Order would shine briefly before their total collapse... Perhaps this is the "Path" of these planets." - Dev Log for Ena in Simulated Universe, Herta's comment

So: Order is the concept of adhering to a predetermined outcome- their "path". Ena observes humanity "gazing into a crystal orb containing the cosmos" and ensures that they all follow their predetermined path of Fate. None may go astray, no outside influence may interfere, no matter what fate awaits them, they must follow their set path.

"THEIR voice is composed of syllables sequencing the rise and fall of civilizations in accordance with the Aeon's path."

Ena has the ability to foresee the future, as they dont just sequence the rise, but also the fall of civilizations. They are inherently impartial, just, things are destined to happen and so they see to it that they happen. Order is the concept of conforming to Fate, if a planet is destined to be destroyed by a calamity, then Ena guides it to that outcome.

However, Aeons, despite being concepts, arent just concepts, they have some semblance of sentience, self-awareness. they have goals, they make deals, though humans are unable to comprehend them.

So, Ena conforms to fate, but what is the purpose of doing so? Ena can see the future, but we know Kafka. there isnt just ONE future, theres a lot of futures, and endless paths. So its logical to assume that Ena, by being able to see the fates of civilizations, can actually see the endless amount of paths towards all possible fates, and personally chooses which path is specifically followed. and for the sake of the theory, lets assume Ena is benevolent and guides humanity towards the most fortunate fate (though even the most "fortunate" of fates can still end in destruction)

Before Ena was assimilated into the Harmony, they made a deal with Qlipoth the Preservation: Qlipoth will bring an end to Tayzzyronth the Propagation (as they are interfering with the predetermined Fates of planets) and in turn Ena will help Qlipoth against Oroboros the Voracity somehow (likely foreseeing its Fate and interfering with it). Qlipoth held up their end of the bargain, but Ena was assimilated before they were able uphold their part, which is interesting

We know theres something fishy about the Orders assmiliation into Harmony- it doesnt make sense, especially knowing that Ena foresees the future, and is likely aware of their own fate.

Heres where we remember that Gaiathra is also a goddess of trickery. Theres two possibilities:

Ena foresaw their own "demise" and made a deal with Qlipoth knowing they wouldnt be able to follow through on their part of the promise

Ena, able to see multiple paths for the future, foresaw that being assimilated into Xipe would lead them towards the most fortunate one, so they let themselves be absorbed on purpose, as the Harmony would not have been able to absorb the Order otherwise. The deal was just a bonus.

Either way, Ena would have known of the future, and making a deal shortly before the assimiliation of their path is clearly a scheme- they get something great out of it, and dont have to follow up on it.

Heres where we bring up Elio (and the Stellaron Hunters). We actually still dont know what path they follow, and isnt that so interesting? What path could possibly include following a "script" to ensure a certain future? hmmm

sounds like Order to me!

Elio possesses the ability to foresee future possibilities and the paths that lead towards them. Essentially, the exact ability that Ena is shown to possess. All the futures look pretty bleak though, except for one, which hes trying to achieve by making sure to follow that exact path: his "script". the very definition of Order.

Note also that despite Enas assimiliation, their faction can still exist. After all, Idrila the Beauty is also gone, but the Knights of Beauty still roam around. The path of a deceased or assimiliated Aeon can still be upheld even if the Aeon no longer exists.

Anyway, Elio is basically upholding Ena's legacy by ensuring that we adhere to fate, and guides us towards the most fortunate one. His ability is far too powerful though, so its safe to assume hes an Emanator, since theyre considered to be "as good as emissaries of the Aeons' wills"

*As a bonus, Gaiathra also reigns over "all matters related to 'travels'". if you stretch the definition a little, "travels" could refer to the idea of embarking on paths towards fate. you "travel" on a path, after all.

Theres also this interesting little tidbit here:

"THEY are always so symmetrical and so equal. If we were to rank those most sublime beings, only the Voracity and the Permanence can stand toe-to-toe with the Equilibrium's antiquity... Oh, and also the Order. After Ena disappeared, the Equilibrium's duties have only grown greater. Then, how would HooH perceive Nanook?"- Dev Log for HooH in Simulated Universe, Herta's comment

The fact that Nanook is brought up is pretty funny as theyre the youngest Aeon, and since only the most ancient ones would be able to stand "toe-to-toe" with HooH, youd think as the youngest, Nanook wouldnt stand a chance against them. but they were brought up regardless, in tandem with Ena no less

Coincidentally, Nanook is also the Aeon that Elio wants the Trailblazer to defeat too. Curious! You could say that it is the Will of the Order to see the fall of the Destruction? anyway,

HooH's duties "have grown only greater" since Ena disappeared, meaning that they must have overlapped in some way before, but coexisted. (similarly to how the Remembrance and Preservation coexist, possibly) We dont know much of anything about Equilibrium yet though, so lets put that aside.

Lets talk about luck.

Luck is just chance. The results of "chance" are left up to "fate". We know that not all choices or events matter in the grand scheme of things. Theres endless possible paths, so rolling a 1 or a 6 doesnt matter because it will still lead you onto the same destiny. Luck is irrelevant to fate, it does not influence it. Luck only influences how you arrive at it.

So how do you reconcile that with Order? if Order is staunchly adhering to fate, observing humanity to ensure they all end up on the "right" path, then how does chance, luck, happenstance, fit into all this?

Luck is the ultimate Order, because there is only ONE path that luck can take: the most fortunate one. It does not influence your fate however, luck only influences which one of the countless paths towards your fate you end up on. and always being lucky narrows your potential paths down to just one.

This is also why Nihility was the natural conclusion for Aventurine. If you realize that no matter what you do, you cannot change the outcome of your choices, then you realize its futile and decide to succumb to it. youll always win, so whats the point? Thats Nihility: succumbing to Fate, the inevitability of everything, realizing your choices dont matter. When youre lucky and everything you do leads to the same result then you start to think that maybe nothing matters.

Back on track though. Fate, despite being predetermined, is not singular. as in, theres predetermined fates (plural) waiting for you at the end of your path. theres multiple endings. Luck means you have less paths to end up on but luck does not influence the end goal.

In a way, what Elio is trying to do is very similar to what Aventurines "luck" does: he wants to end up on a very specific path that leads him to a very specific fate, and luck leads you onto one single path, theoretically making it easier to achieve certain fates. Its an interesting parallel.

"Blessing" someone with luck seems a bit too hands-on for someone like Ena, so while we might never know why Aventurine was blessed specifically, we can kind of see it as a sort of trial-run. Ena does not interfere, does not "defy" fate, but bestowing luck onto someone to narrow down their futures is a bit like interference- except its not, only on a technicality. theyre still adhering to the set paths that exist, after all, im not changing fate, what are you talking about? look, hes still on one of your predetermined paths. the fact that he cant go onto other paths is irrelevant if he still ends up at one of the predetermined endings.

As a note though, Ena is not Fate itself. Ena adheres to fate and ensures that humanity follows it. Nihility is basically succumbing to fate and thinking its inevitable and change is futile, and I guess you could see Harmony as the concept of circumventing fate- instead of arriving at one of your predetermined endings, how about you get assimilated into our harmonious hivemind and experience eternal bliss? (lets wait on that 2.2 harmony lore-drop before saying anything about that though)

got off track a little. basically, Ena's Order is the concept of conforming/adhering to Fate. potentially, in their era, Fate was a singular end, because they were the one to guide humanity onto certain paths and towards certain ends (which is why civilizations thrived but ultimately still collapsed). Enas assimiliation was on purpose, although we can only speculate on the reason. so i will. heres my speculation:

Ena is not Fate itself, but a Guide. seeing the countless possible paths and possible fates for humanity, they foresaw the same thing that Elio foresees- a terrible End at the hands of the Destruction that may affect humans and Aeons alike. potentially, Enas Will mightve been to avoid that (but remaining within the confines of fate, not defying it) so they set in motion the steps needed to embark on said path, which necessitated their assimilation into Harmony. if Enas reign caused the Fates of humans to be "set in stone", then Enas disappearance could be seen as humans regaining the ability to choose their own paths, their own fate. Essentially, Enas disappearance wouldve been necessary in order to even create the possibility of an "alternate ending" and leaving the choice up to humanity.

anyway thats the conclusion thanks for coming, godspeed if you read the whole thing. im bad at keeping things short and concise. and i started rambling near the end

as a disclaimer: these are vague thoughts and i change my view on things often. if we get new info in the future that says this was all nonsense then thats that. im not trying to convince anyone. just offering a perspective for funsies

[msmk11]

hi lovely!!

okay okay you know i'm IN LOVE with your Tangerine writings and i'm in big need of some good Tan hurt and comfort 😋😚 so if this is okay, the premise of my request is Tan being super aloof and seemingly uninterested in reader, like borderline mean, but the moment another dude shows an interest or she's in danger, he goes insane. like fully does anything to protect her and keep her as his!!

obviously feel free to ignore this if no inspiration strikes 🫶 sending my love! also no rush if you do think you wanna write it!

More Than I Should

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: drinking, partying

A/n: Hello my lovely Sky! Thank you SO much for requesting my dear. I don’t think I went as heavy on the tension as I could’ve, but I just think he’s such a big softie for reader that it’s hard!! I hope you enjoy and that it lives up to your expectations!!

“Well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite assassins.”

Tangerine and Lemon look up at you from their seats at the bar, mild surprise crossing their faces.

“Didn’t fancy you two to be people who spent their Fridays at a pub.”

Lemon snorts, “I reckon my bruv’s not, but I am. Love to people watch.”

You smile faintly at Tangerine, polite but detached. It’s not to say that you’re uninterested in the mysterious mustached man, but rather he’s always been aloof towards you.

“Alright Tangerine?”

He nods, “good as I can be.”

Lemon looks you over, eyeing your slightly more revealing clothes- fit for a night on the town, “and what are you up to?”

Across the room is a small group of your friends from university, sitting around a table picking at appetizers, “going out with some friends tonight. Reckon I need to let off some steam after all these jobs I’ve been put on.”

He chuckles, “I feel ya.”

“Well I uh, just thought I’d say hello. But I’m sure I’ll see you later?”

Tangerine gives you a neutral nod and Lemon fist bumps you before you turn and head back over to your friends, joining in on their rowdiness.

“Who were you talking to,” your old roommate, Sarah, slurs.

You wave her off, “just two coworkers.”

“So you just forgot to mention that you work with the sexiest men alive,” she replies, ogling Tangerine and Lemon equally, “Are they available?”

You nearly choke on your drink and Tyler, who is sitting to your right, pats you on the back.

“The fuck if I know,” you cough out, “I like to keep things professional, thank you very much.”

“Thank god they’re not my coworkers,” Natalie, who is across from you, adds, “I’d like to do some very unprofessional things to them.”

You groan and chug the rest of your vodka cran, “I’m gonna need a lot more drinks to deal with these two.”

Tyler agrees and hands you his card, “go get us some shots?”

The smooth plastic presses against your palm as Tyler places the silver card into your hand. You nod and kiss him on the cheek, promising to return soon. As the night has carried on, the crowd has only thickened, and you have to use your elbows to push through the swarm of people.

When you reach the other side of the room you call out to a bartender who is available and give her your order. Before you can hand over Tyler’s card, however, a voice interrupts you.

“Give me four more shots will ya. And put them on my tab.”

Tangerine stands next to you, a firm look on his face as you glance at him.

“Trying to steal my drinks?”

You swear a slight smirk plays on his lips.

“Just being friendly.”

A grin breaks out on your face, “I didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary. But anyways, thanks. Although I suppose Tyler should really be the one to thank you. He was supposed to pay.”

The brunette’s eyes flick across the room to your group of friends, “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Tyler?” You laugh, “no way. He’s just a friend from school. Why do you wanna know?”

“Well, usually, if a man pays for a girl’s drinks voluntarily, he likes her.”

“But you paid for-“

You’re cut off, however, when the bartender returns with your shots in hand. You balance the tiny glasses between your fingers, hoping the sticky drinks don’t spill on your way back to your seat.

“Wanna join us?” You ask Tangerine.

“Suppose I don’t have a choice, seeing as Lem has already been kidnapped by your friends.”

Sure enough, Lemon has been crammed into the booth between Sarah and Natalie, the two of them fawning over him. Not that he seems to mind much.

“Jesus Christ,” you curse, pushing back through the crowd.

Tangerine follows behind you to the table, his and Lemon’s shots in his hands. You set the glasses down in relief when you arrive and pull Tyler’s card from your pocket, returning it to him.

“I see you’ve made some friends, Lemon,” you smirk, before giving a warning glance to Sarah and Natalie.

“He looked so lonely!” Natalie protests, “we couldn’t leave him alone!”

“I think he would’ve survived,” you say, rolling your eyes, “But alas. I think proper introductions are in order. Everyone, these are my coworkers Tangerine and Lemon. Tangerine and Lem, these are my friends Tyler, Sarah, Natalie, and Chris.”

They all exchange polite greetings, though Sarah’s are more friendly and Tangerine’s less so. You move to slide into the booth next to Tyler but freeze. There’s only one spot left on the bench but two people to fit in. And it seems there are no extra chairs in sight.

“Oh this is gonna be a problem…” you murmur.

“You can just sit on my lap, if you want,” Tyler offers.

“That’s not necessary. I can just squeeze in on the edge,” Tangerine offers gruffly.

You shake your head, “No, no, I will. I invited you over. It’s not a problem, really.”

The brunette attempts to protest but you resist, gently pushing him into the seat. You slide onto the edge next to him, your arms squished together. You shuffle a little, trying to get comfortable.

“Here.”

Tangerine carefully lifts his arm up and wraps it around your shoulders, giving you more room on the seat while tucked into his side.

“Better?”

His lips are close to your ear and his gaze intent, and you can’t help but shudder a little.

“Better.”

He nods and looks away from you, his attention caught by the incessant questions pouring from Tyler and Chris’ mouths.

Lemon is similarly preoccupied with Sarah, but Natalie is staring straight at you, her eyes flitting excitedly between you and Tangerine.

‘Oh my god!’ She mouths.

You stare at her, perplexed.

‘He totally likes you!’

You almost snort, her suggestion so preposterous you can’t help but laugh.

‘No way,’ you mouth back ‘he barely talks to me at work, let alone like me.’

Natalie only huffs, rolling her eyes, ‘you’re in denial.’

You scoff and shake your head, picking up a shot and throwing it back. You tune into the conversations happening next to you, but the constant warmth of Tangerine at your side distracts you more than you’d like to admit.

*****

A chill night at the pub has quickly turned into full on rallying, your hoard of misfits stumbling from bar to bar in search of drinks and maybe someone to warm their bed on this chilly night.

Unsurprisingly, Lemon has joined in with the chaos. Surprisingly, Tangerine has too- though he doesn’t seem all that happy about it. You don’t mind his mood, not really. It’s a little endearing, frankly. And anyhow, you’re used to it. It’s just funny to see in the current setting. The club is full of raging, drunk idiots, your friends included and yourself on the precipice. Yet, amongst it all is Tangerine- sober, stoic, and commanding.

Throughout the evening Sarah and Lemon have paired up as well as Natalie and Chris- and you pray the latter doesn’t make things messy again. This leaves you sandwiched between Tyler and Tangerine, the two remarkably opposite yet their attentions both fixed on you.

Loud bass thumps throughout the room and you jump along, your feet just slightly sticking to the sticky floor beneath you. Tyler is singing and dancing along with you, but you haven’t quite been able to convince Tangerine to do the same.

The former grabs your hand and spins you around. It forces a giggle past your lips but also makes you dizzy. You stumble out of the spin and the floor comes rushing towards you. You brace for impact, but it never comes. Instead, a pair of hands grab your waist, stopping your descent. They pull you up gently and turn you around. It’s Tangerine.

“Careful there.”

You chuckle nervously, “lost my footing. Maybe spinning and alcohol isn’t such a good combo.”

His mustache twitches and he hums in agreement, “maybe not.”

“You okay, love?” Tyler asks, tapping you on the shoulder.

Tangerine’s grip on your waist tightens barely, the action almost unnoticeable it’s so subtle. You’d gasp if it wasn’t in Tyler’s line of vision.

“Hmm yeah, fine. Just lost my footing.”

“Maybe I should hold onto you tighter,” he chuckles with a wink.

Tangerine’s grip tightens again, but this time it’s far from subtle. You look back at him, your brows furrowed in confusion, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s staring at Tyler, something dark and dangerous brewing behind his blue eyes. It’s a look you’ve seen before, in the field. A murderous one. You don’t know what it’s all about, but you don’t bother to ask. You respond to Tyler with a halfhearted giggle before moving to diffuse the tension.

“I love this song,” you cheer enthusiastically. You remove Tangerine’s hands from your waist and grab them with your own, “lighten up and dance with me, Tan.”

His eyes dart back to you and he grimaces. You only give him a warning glare to keep it together and he sighs, giving in. Tangerine dances, but stiffly. He lacks any real rhythm or fluidity, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“What’s funny?” He huffs, squinting at you.

“N-nothing, nothing.”

You bust out laughing and he freezes.

“You fucking laughing at me?”

He doesn’t look angry, not really, but disbelieving.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You- don’t know how to dance, do you?”

Tangerine huffs and looks around before looking over your head at Tyler. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his credit card, “get us some drinks, will ya? On me.”

“What?” Tyler asks, scoffing a little.

“Get us some drinks, mate, yeah?”

Tyler scoffs again, “I can pay myself I-“

“Tyler, take the free drinks,” you warn.

‘Please’ you mouth.

He sighs and takes Tangerine’s card bitterly before stalking off towards the bar. Your eyes follow him out of sight, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You’re too distracted to notice that the brunette has fully refocused his attention on you. He grips your waist suddenly and pulls you flush against him. This time, you do gasp audibly. Your head whips around and your noses brush, you’re so close.

“What’re you?”

“I’m showing you how to really dance.”

Tangerine proceeds to guide you through a series of steps, and you’re equal parts shocked and entranced. Despite the sticky floors, loud noises, and swarming crowd, you are only focused on Tangerine- the musky scent of his cologne, his blue eyes piercing yours, the firm grip of his hands, and his warmth right up against your front.

“Where’d you learn-“

He interrupts you by sending you into a dip. When he pulls you up again, he spins you and then grabs your hips to catch you. You’ve returned to your original positions, nose to nose, but now you’re panting heavily.

You can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or Tangerine.

“And that’s how a real partner spins you,” the brunette grumbles, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Right-“

“Drinks, anyone?!”

Tyler’s voice breaks the thick tension between you and Tangerine, and you accept the distraction gratefully. You spin around and grab the sweaty bottle, taking a long sip.

*****

Tangerine hates all of your friends. Okay, that’s a lie, he only hates Tyler. But he is mad at all of them. What sorta friends are you hanging out with that they leave you all alone in a bar? Okay, not alone. He is with you. And Tyler. But still? Frankly, he hasn’t seen any of those pricks in hours, including his own brother. You’re really drunk and Tyler is not far behind, and Tangerine’s about had enough of it all.

He’s checking his watch for the umpteenth time when he hears your murmur something about getting another drink.

“I think that’s about enough, love,” Tangerine interrupts, “you probably need to be getting home.”

You turn and look at him, your eyes softening into a big pout. He commits the precious look to memory but swears to never bring it up. Sober you would be beyond embarrassed.

“N-nooo, fine. I’ll be fine-“ you hiccup.

The brunette assesses you knowingly, “I don’t think so. Come on, I’ll call an uber to take us all back to our places.”

You stare at Tangerine with squinting eyes, like you’re trying to put him into focus.

“Fineeee, Mr. Moneypants. Come on, Tyler, we’re leaving.”

Your friend looks at you, “what? We’re not rallying to the next bar?”

You shake your head slowly, “time for bed, Ty.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and Tangerine clenches his jaw.

“I’ll get us an Uber?”

You pat Tyler on the chest, “not necessary. Tan is getting us one.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and moves his arm away, “alright fine, let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, the uber pulls up and Tyler takes the passenger seat, leaving you and Tangerine in the back. He guides you to the car and opens the door, gently helping you in so you don’t fall. He follows behind, taking a seat, and you collapse into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Another thing he won’t mention.

Tyler gives instructions to what Tangerine assumes is his apartment, and the car sets off.

Not much later the car comes to a slow halt and Tyler gets out of the car. He peeks his head back in, “come on, love. You coming?”

You drowsily stir from your place on Tangerine’s shoulder. “Mmm? No, I’m going home.”

Tyler sighs, “come on, why don’t you just stay the night? I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed.”

“No Tyler! I wanna go home!”

“Sweetheart-“

“She said she wants to go home, mate. Let it go.”

“And you’re gonna make sure she gets in safely,” Tyler asks rather bitterly.

“Stop the violence,” you mutter nonsensically, and the two hot-headed men look at you.

“Fine, whatever.” Tyler shuts the door and the car speeds off to your place.

Tangerine has no faith you will safely get from this car to your bed, so he pays the driver and gets out with you, supporting you around the waist as you stumble up the steps to your flat. You fumble for your keys in your purse, muttering curses as you shiver in the cold.

“Found it!”

You beam proudly, but then promptly drop them onto the concrete.

“Shit!”

“Here, let me, love.”

Tangerine bends down and grabs them before unlocking the door.

You step inside and he follows suit, careful to lock the door. Your place is homey, and undoubtedly suited to your taste. It even smells like you, and he can’t help but feel relaxed. He sets your keys on the coffee table and lets you lead him down the hall.

You stumble as Tangerine guides you into your room and onto the bed. He bends down on one knee, untying your shoes.

“Why don’t you like me?”

The brunette freezes, your question sending shivers down his spine. “What?”

“Y-you don’t like me Tangerine. And I don’t get it. Why? What have I ever done to you?”

He finally loosens the tie and peels your shoe off before starting on the other.

“Love, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Who said I didn’t like you?”

“Well you did. Okay maybe you didn’t say it. But you said it with your eyes. And the way you never talk to me or acknowledge me. I mean I’m not asking to be your best friend but…”

“You’ve got it all sorts of backwards, sweetheart.”

He pulls off your other shoe, “you have something to sleep in?”

“Oh no I usually sleep naked-“ you answer honestly, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

Tangerine grips your wrists, “that’s alright, you can wait til I’m gone.”

He’s grateful you’re drunk enough to not see him blush. The brunette gently pushes you backwards to lay down and throws your comforter over top of you. He moves towards the door.

“Wait, don’t leave!”

“I’m not, sweetheart, I’m just going to go get you some water.”

You relax back into your bed and nod sleepily.

When Tangerine returns with a glass in hand, you’re still. You’re even breathing tells him you’re asleep, so he simply sets the cup on your night stand and bends down, checking once more that you’re okay.

His eyes trail over your face. It’s softer than he’s ever witnessed before and his heart clenches painfully. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep and your lips have rested in a pout. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Unable to resist, he reaches out and cups your face, dusting his thumb across your cheekbone once, twice, three times before pulling away.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart,” he murmurs aloud, “I don’t hate you. I like you too much for my own good.”

Tangerine stands and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

What he doesn’t see is your eyes fluttering open at the click of the door.

*****

I like you too much for my own good…

The words spin in your head over and over til you think you’re going to be sick. You sit up and grab the cup of water Tangerine left, taking multiple gulps. Only when you feel a little bit of calm do you finally climb out of bed. It’s a quiet, peaceful morning, opposite of your racing heart.

You trudge down the hall to your kitchen to whip up some coffee and trip over a pair of shoes.

“Fuck!”

You throw your hands out to catch yourself but you don’t hit the ground. A pair of arms catch you.

“How many times am I going to have do that?”

Tangerine is half on your couch, a smirk- an actual smirk- on his face.

You sigh and groan, sitting down onto the floor, “okay that wasn’t my fault. You’re the one who left your shoes in the middle of my floor. In my flat. Remind me, why are you here?”

Tangerine lets go of your waist and pulls back, sitting up stiffly.

“Well I went to take you to bed last night ‘cos you were fucking hammered, and when I tried to leave, the Uber was gone. I… didn’t fucking feel like calling another… and your couch looked comfy… and I was worri- I wanted to make sure someone was here in case you were too drunk.”

Your heart swells, “you were worried about me? I’m starting to think maybe you don’t totally hate me.”

Your reminded of his words again and you freeze, catching his gaze.

“What?”

“Did you know… that I was awake last night. When you came back with the glass of water.”

The brunette grows impossibly stiff, “so you heard…”

“You like me more than you should?”

He sighs and restlessly runs his hand through his hair, “fuck me. Yeah. I’m- fucking Christ, sorry.”

You pull yourself up onto your knees, so that you’re closer to him, “because you’re sorry you said it? Or because you’re sorry I heard it?”

Tangerine grunts and looks down, sniffling, “The latter.”

Heat courses through your body at your confession and you tentatively place a hand on his knee. His head shoots up, his blue eyes looking at you in surprise and… something else. You hold his gaze, hoping your eyes communicate the desire humming through your body.

“Fuck,” he curses, before reaching out and grabbing your waist. This time, when he pulls you in, he kisses you gruffly, and you groan in surprise.

His mustache scratches your upper lip, but it’s not unpleasant. You run your hands up his sides to his shoulders, using his sturdy frame for balance as you stand and straddle his lap. He’s the one to groan this time, his grip bruising as he deepens the kiss.

Everything in this moment feels so good and perfectly right. Your body is alive, thrumming with excitement and desire and passion, and you’re pretty sure you could kiss this man forever and ever. In this moment, you’d do anything he asked.

So, you pull away, pacing yourself.

Tangerine groans as he rests his head on yours, “I wasn’t finished with you, sweetheart.”

“Take your time, Tangerine. We’ve got all day. And luckily, I like you more than I should.”

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Word count: 2K

Pairings: Jake Seresin X Reader

A/N: Round 3 of Pink Promise! I have a few more I want to put out, but if you have something you want to see in them let me know! It's been a lot of fun writing these. Thanks for reading!!

The two of you were sitting around Jake’s house eating takeout Chinese food. Some old movie was playing on the TV. For some reason Jake preferred the classics but you found them to be incredibly boring. It was often you found yourself in this same position, sprawled out on his couch, sitting in a comfortable silence as you watched another movie you couldn’t retell the plot of.

Which is why in that moment you chose to say, “I got into medical school.”

It was nearly comical watching him choke on the spoonful of rice. He sat up and looked over to you, still coughing up those last pieces. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?” The look he gave you was disbelief mixed with something else. Something you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t think I stuttered.” You took a bite of an egg roll and waited for his mind to catch up.

“Medical school? For doctors?” You couldn’t help but smirk at his choice of questions. “Yes, like for doctors. I thought pilots were supposed to be smart?”

He shook his head and laughed, “When the hell did you have time for that?”

You finished off the egg roll and shrugged your shoulders, “What do you think I do all day while you’re at work?”

This path you took was one you had been on for a while Everyone saw you as the girl who parties, the one who doesn’t care about the outcome of her decisions. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth. And instead of showing people how wrong they were about you, you let them form their very low opinions. Pleasing people was never one of your strong points and a few judgmental comments weren’t going to tear you down.

Jake was clearly still processing things but paused the movie to give you his full attention. What he said next though, nearly made you cry right then and there.

“I am so proud of you, sweetheart. Holy crap you are going to be a doctor.” He got up and pulled you into a tight hug. It was then the look on his face made more sense. It was a look of pride, and one you hadn’t gotten before.

“Tell me all about it. Where are you going? When do you start?” His enthusiasm for this made you feel something that part of you was afraid to feel. This man was slowly becoming your best friend, which is why you pushed down all other feelings. No need to ruin a good thing.

“Well, I decided I wanted to stay close to home and was lucky enough to get into the University of California San Diego. My GPA was a little short of what they wanted, but I killed the interview. Something about your dad dying while fighting for his country tends to pull on heartstrings.”

Jake shook his head, “You did not pull that card.”

You waved a hand at him, “Please. I would be dumb not to. I also threw in about staying close to the base in case anything happened to Bradley. And that I might follow in the family footsteps one day.”

Jake’s head tilted at the last part. “You are not enlisting. I draw the line at that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Down tiger. All I meant was that I would want to work at a hospital close to base. The one all of you get sent to when something goes wrong.”

Relief was evident as he exhaled. “I don’t think the military could handle you anyway.”

It was true. You were never one to follow orders well. Plus having a third Bradshaw in the Navy would be too much for anyone.

You picked the remote back up and resumed the movie. While Jake thought this was a big deal, you were ready to get back to the movie night. You still had a few months until school started anyway.

The movie had been playing for a few minutes, but you could feel eyes on you every now and then. “Is something the matter?”

You glanced over to the man next to you and watched him shake his head. “Nothing. You just keep surprising me, that’s all.”

“Well, either turn your attention back to this movie or I’m putting something better on. Maybe something made in this decade.” A chuckle graced your ears and a quick, “Yes ma’am.”

It wasn’t until the credits were running that he said, “You better not forget about me when you become a big shot doctor.”

“I don’t think I could forget about you even if I tried.” And it was the truth. That one drunken call has led you to one of the best things in life.

“Pinky promise you won’t.” He had his signature smirk on full display as he held out his pinky for you to shake on. You happily gave him yours, thrilled that the Top Gun pilot has accepted this form of promises.

When he pulled away, he asked, “What made you want to become a doctor?” It was a simple question with a very loaded answer.

“When my mom was sick, it was just me and her most of the time. Bradley was off at the academy, something she wouldn’t tell him but absolutely hated. And I found myself wanting to give her some sort of joy to offset my brother’s choices. I made her a promise that I was going to graduate and get a degree in something. Something that would make a difference. It took a while to figure out what that was, but the look of pride on her face when I said medical school, I only wish I had a photo of that single moment.

“When there were days I questioned if I could do it or if I even still wanted to, I think back to that conversation and all doubts went out the window. There are very few things in life I want more than graduating from med school which is why I worked so hard to even get it.” Jake wiped a tear that I didn’t know had fallen.

“She would’ve been happy that you accomplished a goal while still holding onto yourself. That you had fun while doing it. Not too many people can find that balance which tells me you are going to do amazing. But if you ever need some sort of motivation or a simple distraction from school, you can call me anytime sweetheart.”

And just like that, you knew Jake Seresin was going to be in your life for as long as you could keep him.

After the incident a little while back, your brother made an effort to be more present in your everyday life. Which meant he was currently over at your apartment criticizing how you were making dinner.

“At any point you can either cook yourself or shut up.” Bradley held up his hands in surrender.

“All I’m saying is that you are going to burn the bottom of it if you don’t stir it more often.” You turned around from the food and pointed the utensil in your hand at him. Which just so happened to be a knife.

“Listen here bird boy. My house, my rules which means you can sit your judgmental ass down before I do something you can’t bounce back from. Last I checked you needed all ten fingers to fly.”

Again, he held up his hands and thankfully kept his mouth shut while you finished up. It wasn’t too much longer before you were dishing out food for the two of you and sitting down to eat it like a normal family. The two of you sat in silence while you ate, neither of you knowing what to say.

It was like this most nights. After your mom died Bradley threw himself into his work, leaving you to fend for yourself. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but the two of you grew apart as the years went on, leaving you to call your brother only when you needed help. This is what formed his new picture of you. He only saw you when you were at your worst.

But he was trying and the least you could do was meet him halfway.

“You know how you see me as careless and not at all organized with life?” You watched as your brother sighed and shook his head.

“We have gone over this. That is not how I see you. We just have different goals in life and that’s fine.” You waved him off.

“Right. Well, I am pleased to tell you that I’m not as big as a fuck up as you might think. I start med school in a few months.” Bradley dropped his spoon, sending food splattering on the counter.

You watched his facial expressions, looking or hoping for the one you got the other day from Jake. It wasn’t that you needed the validation from your brother, but it would be nice to see it for once.

“Med school? The school where you go to become a doctor?” You snorted at the similar question Jake had asked.

“What is with pilots and their lack of common sense. Yes, Bradley. The school for doctors.” You grabbed a napkin to wipe up the drops of food while he tried to form words.

“How?” You froze at that single word. It shouldn’t surprise you, the lack of faith this man had in you. But it still stung.

“The same way anyone gets in. Ace a test, get decent grades, and interview well. Not too hard when you think about it.” Which wasn’t exactly true. You had a lot of all-nighters, tears shed at the near impossible dream, and many bumps along the way. But you had to do it.

“Mom and dad would be proud of you.” Your eyes met his and you saw something different in them. It wasn’t the pride you were looking for but sadder. Like the weight of those words cut through him.

“I know. I was always trying to follow in your footsteps, even if I did take a longer path. But you know dad would’ve been ecstatic to see you wear the patch he tried so hard for. And mom, well mom would’ve eventually gotten over her fears of you being a pilot and saw how you were born for this. You know that, right?”

He cleared his throat and focused back on his food. “Anyone else know? It’s a pretty big deal.”

You picked up on the change of topic and said, “Your arch nemesis knows. Besides that, the friend list is pretty scarce these days.”

He slowly nodded his head, “You seem to spend a lot of time with him.”

“He’s a good friend. No need to look too far into it. I know the two of you have your issues, but he’s never given me a reason to question his intentions.”

Bradley hummed in response, but he didn’t fully believe you when it comes to only being friends. He’s seen the way Jake is at work, but with you he was completely different. You might not see it or are trying to ignore it, but he knew better.

“Are you and him still at each other’s throats?” Bradley rolled his eyes, “It’s not my fault he thinks he’s better than everyone else. He’s insufferable.”

You grabbed the finished plates and took them to the sink. “You know what would get under his skin? If you laughed at everything he said. I think that would rile him up good.”

Bradley squinted his eyes at you, “I thought the two of you were friends? Why would you tell me that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “He is always listening to me complain about you. This way he can do it for once so it’s more even.”

Bradley threw his napkin at you and shook his head, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

You threw him one of Jake’s signature smirks, “But I’m your jerk.”

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy @alldaysdreamers

[twodimensionalboyfriend]

Sick </3

wc: ~1.3k read time: ~5 minutes

༉‧₊˚.¸♡ master list✧ '*•༉

cw: fluff! smooches here and there i guess! gn throughout! also not proofread lol

I have fucking covid!! my bones are on fire!!!

on a serious note, i have never been sick like this before in my life, i had the worst skin and joint aches i'd ever had in my life and my head felt like it was going to explode with pressure and my ears are still fuckin clogged. so anyways im gonna project my problems into this fic in the order in which i experienced them as a form of therapy and if anybody else is out there sick rn, i hope you have a jason todd to make it bearable!

On a silly note, I met a stray cat in the neighborhood the other day but she's been spayed! im hoping this is the cat distribution system at play

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," you groaned.

You're sitting on the couch trying to convince your boyfriend that you're not sick. It's just allergies! Allergies that come with body aches, pressure in your head, and now a fever.

Jason showed you the thermometer, "Dude, you're running at 100.1..."

You looked at the thermometer incredulously, "Isn't that thing super old? I mean how do we even know it still works? Take it again."

Jason sighed and scanned your forehead again, "Babe, we bought this a couple months ago." He glared at you as he showed you the thermometer again, which now read 100.2.

"Tch, that's barely even a fever," you said rolling your eyes.

"That's it. You're going on bed rest."

"Woah, what?? Jason, I told you I'm fine! Besides I have so much to do today. We need groceries, I have a prescription to pick up, there are so many dishes in the sink, I have laundry to fold and I have work this evening. A little cold isn't... what are you doing?" You cut yourself off as you saw Jason typing on his phone.

"Thanks for the to-do list! While you rest, I'll go and get this done. Grocery list is on the fridge and our pharmacy is in the store, so text me if you need anything else. I am more than capable of doing dishes and laundry, so you don't have to worry about that. And I love you, but you're crazy if you think you're going into work tonight. Text your boss a picture of the thermometer and call out. Or I'll do it for you, whatever you prefer."

"Ar-Are you sure? I mean it's..." You trailed off. You really did feel like shit and it's not like you necessarily wanted to do these errands and chores. After a moment of thinking, you sighed and relented, "Okay, fine, only if you're completely sure you can handle it."

"(Y/N), I'm an adult. If I couldn't do laundry, you should be worried about me." You tried to laugh a little, but it quickly snowballed into a coughing fit, "Woah woah, take it easy. I'm gonna take the list and go to the store. Again, text me if you need anything or if you just wanna say hi," he said with a smile.

Your eyes welled up a bit as you whispered, "Thank you, Jason. I love you very much."

"I love you too, I'll be back soon."

--------

The front door swung open and Jason's voice rang through your shared apartment, "Honey, I'm home!"

You couldn't have gotten up if you tried. You're sickly moan from the couch alarmed Jason, and he dropped the groceries and ran to your side.

You were lying on the couch in your spiderman sweats and a hoodie; your arms draped over your eyes to block out the white lights from the kitchen that added to your headache. Your entire body ached like it never has before. The sight squeezed Jason's heart. "Oh, honey," he said sympathetically, pressing his hands to your cheeks, "Woah, you are burning up! Hang on." He snatched the thermometer from the coffee table and tested his partner. The screen lit up red. It read 101.7.

You mumbled, "H-Holy shit..." It was a bit too much to talk right now.

"Okay babe, I got you some chicken noodle soup because that's what Alfred always made us, and I don't quite have his cooking skills--and this is, uh from a uh... a can--but I'm gonna make some for you, and that should hopefully make you feel better," he looked at you with worry. "Then would you want to watch Pride & Prejudice while I folded the laundry? The movie obviously, since you like it. Even though the show is better," he grumbled at the end.

God damn it. You were crying again.

You were experiencing so many different emotions you didn't really know what else to do. You loved Jason so much and felt so much gratitude for the way he was taking care of you. As if there was nothing else he could possibly be doing right now other than be here. This is on top of the fact that you've been in agony for the past hour as you got worse and worse; and you were really tired of feeling that way.

This shocked and scared Jason, "I'm sorry!! The movie isn't that bad! I just like that the show's more accurate to the book! Also, when Lizzie runs through the rain, why does she grab a soaking wet cloth from the very same rain storm to dry her hair?! I'm sorry I just--"

"I love you so much," you croaked out. "I also feel like fucking garbage."

This put Jason at ease and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm sorry you feel like shit, sweetheart. I do this because I love you too. Like, a lot. Now stop talking and spare your voice. Let's get you cozy and hopped up on vitamin C, and we'll just take it easy."

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

The next morning, you woke up. You sat up slowly and realized most of the pressure in your head is gone. Your body no longer felt like it was on fire! Definitely still congested though. You also realized you fell asleep on the couch after the first proposal, yet you were currently sitting in your bed. Jason must've brought you in. Suddenly, a sneeze crept up and exploded out of you. Then another. Then one more. Jesus, that hurt your chest.

Your fit was loud enough to let Jason know you had woken up. He came into the room holding a spatula. The opened door let in a sweet smell and a sizzling sound. "How are you feeling, baby?" He walked towards you.

"Well I can bear to be conscious, so I'd say much better. What's going on in the kitchen?"

He pressed his hand to your forehead and said, "Pancakes! And lots of orange juice. I don't think you’re in the clear yet. Sit tight; I'm gonna get the thermometer and take your temperature."

Ignoring his request, you got up to meet him in the living room. You stepped out of the bedroom and was met with the sight of Jason discarding the pancake that had burned due to his doting. He saw you walking towards him and urged you to go back to bed, "Go back! I'm gonna bring you breakfast in bed. Pancakes, juice, fruit, the whole shebang."

"No it's okay, let me be out here with you. I'd kiss you good morning, but I fear I might poison you and get you sick."

Jason stole a quick kiss, much to your surprise, "I spent all night with you. If I were to get it, I don't think a kiss would be what seals my fate. You're plate is ready, by the way."

He handed you a plate stacked with 3 pancakes and a butter slice, drizzled in maple syrup with strawberries and whipped cream. It was beautiful, "Oh my god, Jason, that's so gorgeous I don't think I can eat it." Your stomach growled and promptly gave away your true feelings.

"Tear it up, baby girl."

You sat down as Jason finished making his stack. He sat down with you and you both began eating. Pre-packaged pancake mix has never tasted so good.

"Thank you for nursing me back to health, Jason. You've made this past few days in unbearable hell feel more like a manageable limbo."

He laughed, "What else was I supposed to do? Let the love of my life suffer?"

"God I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you in my life."

"Well, fortunately, you'll never have to." He leaned over the table and pressed a syrupy kiss to your lips.

if there are an content warnings you think i missed, please tell me so!! i’ll add them to this post and remember to add them to future ones!! :) ♡ ♡

and pls pls like and reblog and reply!! literally if you interact i will kiss you on the mouth

[myownwholewildworld]

v. a Roman’s rotten heart - acta, non verba

chapter 4 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: temptation is sweeter than honey. a/n: well, well, well, what can i say other than this whole chapter had me howling? over half of it is smut, so if that's not your thing, i'm sorry? 🤓 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings: 18+, mdni. mentions of war, death, starvation, marital abuse, infidelity. some fluff because cormag is a grumpy sweetheart. marcus is the praise/consent king. very soft!marcus (yes, this is a warning). he talks you through it. a lot of fingering. nipple play. unprotected piv. reverse lap dance and reverse cowgirl positions. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin). marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. unbeta'd, very minimal editing (soz). w/c: ~8.8k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Come see me tonight,” Marcus almost begged you as you turned around in his embrace.

He had you pinned against the wall of the garderobe, the small room filled with the scent of wine and sex.

You chuckled, eyeing him through your lashes. It was a good sign that he was eager, but you wondered if he was just trying to bed you, fuck you and then be done with you. All men were the same, especially men like him — drunk with power, believing they were above everyone else, that they could get anyone to bend to their will.

And… was not that what you were trying to do anyway?

“I’ll see what I can do,” you conceded, leaving him hanging. “But won’t you have an early day tomorrow? I’m sure being the General of Rome have you waking up like an early bird.”

You were fishing for information, and hoped he would bite the bait.

Surprisingly, he did.

“Tomorrow we are going on a reconnaissance mission around the area, stalk out some points of interest where…” he trailed off, probably realising he had spoken too much. “But I don’t mind having a late night when I know it will be worth it.”

He surely knew how to make one feel fucking special. But what he said was like gold dust to you — it wasn’t much, but enough to get your plan working. You’d need to speak to some people, see what could be arranged, but if it worked out, perhaps your people could instil some fear in those rotten Roman hearts.

You wondered if Marcus’ was as rotten as his people’s. An idea of him had formed in your mind, and it contradicted what he had shown you so far. But only a man with a rotten heart could cause so much pain, so much grief.

You chewed your bottom lip, crouching for a second to collect the jug you had dropped before.

“If I finish early after cleaning up all the mess of your birthday’s celebration…” you teased.

“Right,” Marcus took a step back, liberating you from the warm prison of his body. “You go first, I’ll wait a couple of minutes then leave.”

“Such a gentleman, worried about my reputation,” you mocked him a bit, hand on the doorknob.

“I am,” Marcus replied, and you were not sure if he was joking back or being serious.

You didn’t stay to find out, scurrying away down the hallway straight to the kitchens. There were a lot of people in the small room, with Cormag at the forefront of it, barking commands and orders to everyone. The air was heavy, a cloud of smoke collecting close to the low ceiling.

The poor cook was profusely sweating near the hearth, his paw stirring a cauldron with a big wooden spoon.

“Ye deaf lad?! Bring that over right now!” the old git screamed at the top of his lungs, breaking into a coughing fit a second later.

Tomorrow you would make sure to put out the fire and clean that damn chimney, because one of these days Cormag was going to cough up a lung. You wouldn’t tell him though, otherwise he would try and talk you out of it, pointing out that it was no job for a lady. As if you cared.

Placing the empty jug down on one of counters, you saw Brighid and Isla tattling in a corner, giggling and blushing. You could only imagine what they were talking about. Had Brighid recognised you? It was dark inside the garderobe, and Marcus had tried to shield you from her, but the maid could be very perceptive.

Then Brighid swept the room and waved at you to come over, still snickering.

You steeled your back and sauntered towards them, not sure what to expect.

“Oh, mo bana-phrionnsa, you’re not going to believe what I just saw!” she squealed, almost too excitedly. “I just saw the Roman General fucking one of the harlots in the garderobe!”

Should you take offense in being mistaken for a prostitute? Perhaps you should but didn’t. It was actually a relief. Being caught red-handed sheathing Acacius’ cock in a crowded event like this would have been bad, really bad.

“Did you now?!” you faked the same level of excitement, sharing in the gossip.

The rest of the night was a haze, serving plates and taking empty ones away, cleaning up after the unwanted guests, replenishing wine and beer one pint after the next. Your feet hurt, although the dull, pleasant aching between your legs had nothing to do with standing up for hours. You had Marcus to thank for that.

Perhaps you were being paranoid, but you felt strangers’ eyes on you for the remainder of the night. You had avoided looking at the dais the whole evening, slightly worried that if your eyes lingered on him for too long, people would notice and add up your absence with his. That wasn’t the kind of attention you needed.

The last of the Romans had left now while you and the maids continued to clean after them. Marcus and Maximus were the last ones to exit the great hall, and you could sense the General’s brown eyes burning through your skin as he walked towards the double doors. You didn’t look his way, although the temptation was there. You knew if you did, you would not be able to stop yourself from following him to his room.

Two hours had gone by, and you were knackered. Rummaging through a basket, you found one of the plums that Cormag had gotten for you from Fachabair, jumped and sat on the clean counter. Your feet dangled in front of you, your mind stuck in that garderobe.

You were so distracted, your heart almost escaped your chest when someone spoke behind you.

“Meanbh-chuileag (Highland midge),” you almost fell from the counter when you turned around to look at the old cook.

“Cormag! I almost threw up my heart right now,” you accused him, his hearty laugh reverberating in the room.

“Didnae ye hear my ol’ knees clicking? Umnae (am not) that stealthy, fear beag (little one). What are you doing here? It’s so late, you should be in bed,” he questioned you, stopping in front of you with arms folded.

You rolled your eyes — Cormag was too close to a father figure to you, so you would sometimes give him the same attitude you did your dad.

“I was about to go, just wanted something sweet before I left.”

“Is that why all the plums are disappearing so quickly?” his brows knitted together, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Coireach (guilty). They are just too sweet. Didnae you say you bought them for me exclusively?”

“Exclusively? Now I don’t recall saying that, ye wee liar,” Cormag joked, his expression softening. “Are you and your family having enough to eat?”

The old man had a nose for hunger. While you were not starving, you did save as much food as possible so your niece and nephew would not go to bed with an empty belly. Bonnie was trying her best to keep you all fed, but four more mouths to cater for in the household meant that resources were a tad scarce. Your sister’s children were used to Cormag’s cooking, not having known hunger for a single day of their lives. And you didn’t want that to change now.

“We are making ends meet,” you eluded, shrugging, while sinking your teeth in the plum.

Cormag tutted at you and with no other words, he veered around and shuffled around in the kitchen. You watched him with curiosity, not sure of what he was doing. Got off the counter to drop the stone in the bin.

“Here, you take all of this with you, and I won’t accept no for an answer,” Cormag placed down a basket full of food. “They are leftovers from tonight. Brighid, Isla and the lads have already had their share.”

You could smell the stew even with the tiny cauldron covered. Fresh vegetables, berries, bread, and, of course, quite a few plums along with other seasonal fruits. All that food would keep you all fed for a few days.

His generosity made the knot in your throat swell, your eyes lighting up with unspent tears. You had not expected to feel emotional, but the cook’s kindness reminded you too much of the family you had lost.

“Cormag,” you whispered, fearing your voice might crack, “mòran taing (thank you).”

He waved one of his paws, making light of the situation.

“Dinnae mention it. You still have a few inches to grow,” he jested, palming your shoulder.

His joke worked — it lightened your mood.

“I am six and twenty. I don’t think I’m growing any more than this,” you chortled, grabbing the basket to rest it on your hip. “Awright, I’m leaving before you diminish the castle’s reserves.”

“Off you go then,” his hands did a brushing motion, the man almost pushing you out of his kitchen.

If you had planned on visiting Marcus tonight, that had now changed — carrying all this food to Bonnie’s home was your main priority. You couldn’t wait to see the sparkle in your niece and nephew’s eyes when they woke up in the morning, plums and berries ready for them to break their fast.

Marcus knew that the rebels would be up in arms, but he did not expect them to be so bloodthirsty. The barbarians from the Highlands were not going to go down quietly, he had come to learn.

He had lost at least a dozen of men in the skirmish. They had been ambushed in their way to Cùil Lodair (Culloden), and none of his trackers had seen any indication of the small legion being followed. The moment they entered the woods and the path narrowed, arrows flew from tree to tree. Hell ensued, a dance of swords quickly singing its melody up to the treetops.

With his wounds still fresh and healing, Marcus had been able to knock down the first two men that approached him. Maximus and Cassius had come to his aid in time — the warmth soaking the tunic underneath his armour a good indication that he was bleeding again.

The General looked around him before jumping onto Faun’s back. Death followed him everywhere he went, like an old companion stalking his every step. He should be used to it by now—the reeking stench of humanity’s demise—but the truth was, Marcus never would. It never became easier, just manageable, but his duty to Rome had him drown the lingering doubts living quietly in the back of his mind.

After an unsuccessful mission—never made it past the woods—they returned to the castle, carrying their own dead and leaving behind a pile of bodies for their people to mourn and bury.

His muscles ached with exhaustion as he crossed the barbican. A dense fog had settled in the bailey, not a soul to be seen. As he trudged forward and the warm air of the keep hit his damp skin, his senses flared — alert, hoping to cross eyes with you.

Marcus had not seen you since his birthday. Despite asking you to join you that evening, you had not shown up at his door. He had waited up for a couple of hours and when reality dawned, he called it a night, somewhat resigned.

Perhaps it was for the best. He was a married man, after all. It was normal for men to take up a mistress or two, but Marcus was the kind to think that matrimony was holy — despite the hardships and the cheating, that was. At least, that was his mind up until he met you.

Should not be after a woman who was several years younger than himself either, he thought with a pout. But whatever spell you had him under, he could not break free from. You were like the opium poppy — your mere proximity could soothe pain, but also cause it.

“You need to get that stitched up again, Acacius,” Cassius pointed out, interrupting his line of thought.

Marcus’ palm was pressing on the wound on his hip — he had almost forgotten about the pain, the thought of you soothing.

“I’ll call for Atticus,” Maximus chipped in, and Marcus nodded.

“Shite!” you staggered backwards.

The hardened soot and coal you had been poking at with a broomstick to unblock the chimney’s breast dislodged from the inner walls. Snapping your head back, your face was saved by hair’s breadth, but the black ash had cascaded down your chest, staining the red linen dress you were fashioning today.

You clapped your hands together, a cloud of soot flying around you as you tried to shake off the rest of it off your clothes.

Huffing and puffing, you grabbed the damn broomstick and brush the mess off the floor. At least the chimney was unblocked now, so the air would not be loaded with smoke when the hearth was ignited again.

At least the kitchen was empty, so no one was witness to what has happened. Not that you were a refined lady worries about being seen like this, but you just knew that if Cormag was around, he would be giving you hell.

Once you were done, you left the kitchen and sauntered towards the doors to the bailey. You were in dire need of a dunking to clean yourself — you knew the perfect secluded spot on River Ness’ bank, one you had been going to since you were a child.

“Callie?”

The voice behind you made your heart skip a beat and your feet freeze. One you would now recognise anywhere.

“Dux Meus,” you murmured, turning around to face the fire of your desire.

Dux Meus. His lower tummy burnt at the words.

The last thing Marcus had hoped to see this fine morning was you standing in the hallway, a red dress hugging the hourglass figure he longed for. Your chest was covered in what seemed to be ash and soot, a deep black staining ruining the front of your pretty dress. It spread to your neck, your cheeks, the tip of your nose — and your green eyes so bright that they were pulling him in.

“What’s happened?”

“A minor inconvenience in the kitchens, Dominus. I was unblocking the chimney’s breast and, well…” you lifted your arms and pointed at yourself. “I guess my reflexes are not as sharp as I would have liked.”

Marcus grinned, the annoyance in your voice adding to the entertainment.

“I guess not,” he hummed, his fingertips burning to touch you. “I can help you,” the words escaped him before his brain was able to catch up with his own intentions.

I can help you clean yourself, he meant.

Your eyes locked for what felt like an eternity, the pupils in your orbs flickering, pondering.

One of your brows raised in your forehead and you took a step forward towards him.

“Only if it is not inconvenient for you, Dux Meus,” you cooed with a girlish smile.

“Of course not,” he quickly replied. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“I believe your pretty dress is ruined,” Marcus husked, the damp rag brushing the exposed skin of your clavicle.

This was fucking torture. He was playing a game, and your patience was running thin. He had been paying immense attention to every inch of your skin, cleaning off all soot and ash. You knew he was debating, but he wouldn’t have taken you to his bedchambers—your room—if he hadn’t had something in mind.

The same thing you had in mind, to be completely honest.

“It appears so,” you said, sliding your hand to his.

To hell with subtleties — the tension was eating you up.

You guided his hand, the one holding the linen cloth, to the valley between the swell of your boobs. Slowly you pushed it down, one corner of the rag disappearing between your breasts.

Marcus didn’t say a word. And he didn’t need to, because the way he was looking at you—like a man who had not drunk water in days—was speaking for him.

You were not sure who had taken the initiative, but soon enough you were in his embrace, his mouth warming your lips as his hands rested gently on either side of your waist.

“I need you,” you mumbled, possibly being sincere for the first time.

You had not been able to stop thinking about what happened in the garderobe. Every time the memory came back, you would find yourself rubbing your knees together to quench the thirst between your thighs.

Marcus groaned in reply, his hands harsher now as they found the buttons on the back. With steady fingers, he undid every single one of them until your dress cascaded off your body and gathered at your feet. Soon your loincloth was also on the floor, leaving you completely naked.

The General took a step back to take in the sight of you — the intensity in his brown eyes making you blush as he studied every square inch of your body.

“You look beautiful,” he muttered, one hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb skimming the nipple. You pursed your lips at the gentle touch. “You are beautiful, mel.”

Then he bowed down to kiss you again, and he took control of your hands to show you how to undress him. So you did under his delicate guidance, until you both were equally bare.

Marcus’ body was a woman’s dream — or, at least, yours. Toned but not too muscular, a hard chest, strong and defined arms, his lower tummy slightly softer with the passage of time, a pronounced V line, and then a happy, hairy trail that your eyes eagerly followed.

His cock had started to harden, the tip pearly with his excitement. The length was generous, but the girth was what caught your attention.

No wonder why he couldn’t fit it in the first time. Perhaps it hadn’t been your body’s rejection, but that Marcus’ dick was thick, very thick.

“It’s alright, honey, we’ll make it work,” he hummed, his thumb tilting your chin up to press a soft kiss on your mouth.

Then he walked to the bed—his ass, goddamn his ass—and sat on the feathery mattress.

You were standing there, completely naked and suddenly you felt shy — your arms wrapping around your body to try and cover yourself up. Your skin had bristled, not because of the room temperature, but because you felt completely exposed to him.

Being shy was not something you were used to, but everything you had endured with your late husband had taken a toll on you, one you had not expected at all. It pained you to acknowledge that Iain might have broken your spirit a tad more than what you would have liked to admit.

Marcus’ nudity should have calmed you, but instead it made your eyes widened and your heart pound harder.

He was big, really big ― to the point that you pondered if he would ever fit inside you. No wonder why he had only fucked you with the tip a couple of days ago. Taking more inches of his cock seemed like an unachievable task, at least for you. You were no stranger to sex, having been subdued to satisfy all of Iain’s vices, but this… this was too fucking different to what you had expected.

Doubt nagged at your mind, questioning yourself. Perhaps this was all a bad idea, wanting to seduce Marcus to get information off him. But you truly didn’t see any other way of obtaining what you needed ― leverage.

Marcus extended one of his hands towards you.

“It’s alright, melculum. Just want to make you feel good,” he husked, his palm an open invitation to join him, sat on the bed. Your bed.

You slipped your hand to his and he pulled you gently until you were sat on his bare lap. His hardening dick rested on the side of your left thigh, warm and heavy. His right hand traced mindless lines on your back, while his left caressed your belly, the pads of his fingers lightly stroking your mound.

With eyes shut, you sighed, relaxing at his touch. Marcus kissed your shoulder, then the curvature of your neck.

“That’s it, mel, relax. We are not doing anything you don’t want to,” he whispered.

And you believed him. Knew better than trusting your enemy, but his voice was so reassuring, there was no more room for your initial doubt.

His left hand surprised you travelling up instead of down, cupping your left breast while his thumb stroked your nipple. A shiver of need went down your spine, soothed by the gentle pet of his right hand on your back. His beard scratched your bristled skin as he crouched down a little to trap your taut nipple between his lips.

Inevitably, your head tilted back, mouth agape with short breaths. Marcus worked your nipple diligently, the warmth of his lips dripping onto the wrinkled nub. And even as you started trembling on his lap, he did not stop. If anything, your little gasps and quiet moans spurred him on, his tongue flicking your nipple.

The sensation was too much ― Marcus latched on your breast as a man starved, his broad hand cradling your breast with reverence. He was intent on making it good for you and not asking for anything in return. But your instinct wanted you to reciprocate, you needed to do something.

Your left hand found his stiffened cock, leaned against your thigh. Tentatively, your fingertips stroked the leaky mushroom head, which gifted you a deep groan coming from his chest. Hearing him moan around your nipple was a great incentive to explore him a bit more, so you swiped his glans with your thumb, collecting a pearl of precum and buttering it onto his tacky skin.

“You don’t have to,” he purred between licks.

“But I want to,” you cooed back, mind mushy with pleasure.

Marcus’ efforts on your nipple doubled, twirling the tight button between his teeth and pulling slightly before soothing the gesture with a wet kiss on your bud. You couldn’t help but whimper, dampness gathering between your thighs.

As if he knew how drenched you were getting, the hand that cupped your breast slowly trailed down until it found your mound again. His ring finger stroked the outline of your seam a few times, your knees pressed together so your juices wouldn’t leak out.

“Let me see how wet you are, please,” Marcus murmured in a moment of reprieve, his lips pecking your nipple with every word he spoke.

You couldn’t resist him, not anymore, so you parted your legs just enough to let his hand slip between your thighs. The moment his ring finger dunked in your warmth, you both moaned in unison. The pad of his finger slid across your velvety skin, from your clenching hole to your writhing clit, a few times, as if he wanted to get acquainted with the map of your pussy.

“You’re soaking,” he grunted. “So damn wet for me, melculum.”

His words in combination with his cheeky finger short-circuited your brain, that coiling sensation you had been craving these last two days starting to take form low in your belly. It was warm in here now, so much your cheeks flushed as if you had drunk a pint of uisge beatha.

With lazy strokes on your soggy slit, Marcus’ tongue kept on licking and flicking your nipple, now completely sodden with his spit. His digit worked you slowly too, moving up and down between your swollen pussy lips until it caught on your needy clit. You sobbed quietly at the touch, and sensing how much you enjoyed that, Marcus repeated it.

Soon enough you were mewling into the abyss as the General pressed languid circles on your bundle of nerves at the same time he was lapping at the tip of your boob. And the moment he sunk the first phalange of his ring finger in your leaking hole, your wails just grew louder.

With an unhurried pace, he pumped the tip of his digit in and out of you, feeling your inner walls relaxing around him. A couple of minutes later, your walls had adjusted to the intrusion, his finger now completely buried in your seeping hole down to the knuckle.

You heaved, pursing your lips in a vain attempt to control your moaning, but the pleasure building up inside you was too great to bear. Too intense to ignore. You bit down your bottom lip until you almost drew blood, your hips bucking up with a mind of their own.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you feel that?” Marcus’ devilish mouth abandoned your nipple, lips pressed against your ear. “Come for me, please. Melt for me.”

You resisted, wanting to prolong this moment. It felt too good to let it go just yet, albeit your whole body was commending you to. Your insides tightened around Marcus’ lone finger as you tried to hold on to the feeling a little longer.

You were so lost to the new sensations, you hadn’t realised your own fingers were wrapping snugly around Marcus’ throbbing erection. Hoping he would falter, you began to pump him slowly, his hot glans leaking onto the skin of your thigh.

“Don’t be a tease, mel, don’t want to come yet,” he groaned in your ear. His finger suddenly left your insides to slap your hand away from his shaft.

You sobbed at the emptiness, the coiling feeling starting to diminish. The idea of not finding relief haunted you, so you obeyed his command.

Your fingers found his wrist, gripping it tight and guiding him back to your beating cunt. You coaxed your pussy lips apart with his fingers and silently begged him to resume where he had left off.

“Are you going to be good for me and come?” he asked, kissing your shoulder. “Do you promise?”

You nodded with vehemency.

“Good girl.”

With more urgency now, Marcus worked you back to the edge of the pleasure cliff, forcing you to climb up to the top with a relentless pace. Every time his ring finger bottomed out inside you, his thumb would flick your burning clit. The repeated tease of his hand was your undoing.

Teary eyes and parted lips, you moaned as an enormous wave washed over you, the coil inside finally snapping with a force unknown to mankind. Or, at least, unknown to you. Marcus kept on fingering you throughout, pulling the last bit of pleasure out of you until you were spent.

You hadn’t realised how much you had leaked until you felt his wet thigh underneath, sticky and warm with your release.

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean―” you tried to move off his lap, but Marcus’ strong arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you on his lap.

“Don’t apologise, it’s normal. It means you’re enjoying it,” he reassured you, then lifted his gaze to yours, a lingering question dancing in his dilated pupils. “I thought you were a widow?”

He was not wrong. But not all men spent the time he was taking to make it pleasurable for women.

“I am. But my late husband only cared about himself,” you told the truth, a crack of sincerity in your carefully built façade. “Never took the time to… make it good for me.”

Marcus frowned with incomprehension at your revelation, his mouth falling into a flat line. Was that a ray of anger? If it was, it quickly disappeared from his brown eyes.

Judging by what had just happened, you knew he was the complete opposite to Iain in that respect.

“Two days ago, in the garderobe. Was that your first time orgasming?”

You pouted, feeling like the conversation was taking a very personal turn. But you didn’t want to lie to him, there was enough deceit between you two. So you nodded, eyes withdrawn with a tinge of embarrassment.

Marcus cursed himself, annoyed with something although you didn’t know what. Annoyed with you, perhaps?

His thumb stroked your bottom lip, soothing the grimace showing on your face.

“Had I known, I wouldn’t have taken you like that. This should have been the first time you climaxed, melculum. I am sorry,” he apologised, and your heart jolted.

He was angry with himself. But the whole thing had been so good, you wouldn’t have done anything different. The memory of Marcus’ tip fucking the first two inches of your pussy had kept you warm at night.

“What? Nay, don’t. It was good, really good. I wouldn’t change a thing about what happened,” you quickly replied.

And what was worst, you actually meant it.

For a minute, Marcus didn’t speak a word, studying your face expression until he reached the conclusion that you were not lying.

“Stand up for me,” he said out of nowhere.

You obliged, the tremor of your knees almost gone. standing in front of him, he leaned forward, hands on either side of your waist, to kiss your mound. The intimacy of such gesture caught you off guard. Then he leaned back and dragged his body on the bed until he was sat in the middle of it, back resting against the headboard, knees bent with his soles resting flat on the silky bedsheets.

He palmed his thigh, his cock so erect it twitched with every heartbeat against his happy trail.

“Come here,” he mumbled with need.

You might not know what you had to do, but your body definitely knew what it needed to do to chase that high again. So you crawled on the bed until you were straddling him, the tip of his throbbing cock kissing your hooded clit.

Marcus’ hand cupped your ass, and then tutted.

“Not yet, mel, I need to make sure you are completely ready,” he husked.

It was your time to frown.

“I am ready,” you assured him.

“It was only one finger, sweetheart―”

“One thick finger,” you remarked, snappy.

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yes, but I need you to take all of this,” he whispered, his hand gripping the base of his cock to direct your attention there.

He was girthy. Probably too girthy. One of his fingers was nothing in comparison.

You swallowed, your gaze looking for his.

“Yeah, I know, dove. We’ll take it slow,” he leaned forward a bit to kiss your right nipple. “Turn around, I want you to sit on my lap with your back resting on my chest.”

The promise of another climax numbed your mind, so you did exactly as he had asked. Sat on his lap, you leaned back until your bare back met his hard torso. His knees were still bent, and he slipped his forearms under your thighs to lift them up over his own thighs. The back of your thighs were now resting on top of his, and when Marcus pulled his knees apart, your legs followed the motion, leaving you completely open and exposed.

When your eyes drifted down your own body, you saw Marcus’ erection poking in between your thighs, gently lodged between your pussy lips. His hips moved slightly under you, his length skidding along your drenched fold, the head disappearing from sight as it dragged backwards across your seam. It hitched in your entrance, just briefly ― then Marcus tugged his hips upwards and his glans reappeared again, protruding where your slit began.

Marcus repeated the whole process a few times, his name dripping from your mouth in choked moans. He buried his crooked nose in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“You feel like heaven right now,” he mumbled, kissing the nape of your neck. “Play with your boobs for me, mel, my hands are about to be very busy, sadly can’t be everywhere.”

His request had your cunt gushing some more, if that was even possible. You felt so wet down there, you even wondered if there was something wrong with you. Couldn’t be that out of all men on this world, the one who killed your family was who had you melting under his touch.

Feeling a bubble of slick leaking from your hole on his thudding shaft, you leaned your head back on his shoulder and moved your hair out of the way, some ginger curls cascading down your front, covering your breasts. Cupped your underboob and pushed them up, creating a deep valley between your tits.

“That’s it, stroke them for me, melculum,” he mused as both of his hands rode up your inner thigs until your pussy was framed between them. “Brush both of your nipples with your thumbs, just lightly. Don’t be too harsh with them, they are sensitive.”

Marcus talked you through playing with your buds, petting them gently as he was telling you. While doing so, his left hand grabbed at his cock and began to pump himself, while his right started working your clit again. Looking down, you just caught a glimpse, which sent you trembling on his lap like a newborn foal.

He cupped your mound, the pads of all his fingers rubbing your clit leisurely, as if you had all time in the world. The fire burning between your legs hiked up your spine the moment Marcus let go of his cock and it sat snug against your pussy again, his fingers stopping for a second.

You whimpered in protest, your nipples hardening under the touch of your thumbs.

“Shh, it’s okay, Callie,” he heartened you, only to resume the petting of your slick nub. You let go a sigh of relief. “There you go.”

His free hand went down your thigh to find your drooling entrance, testing it out with one finger. Your pussy sheathed it with ease and Marcus hummed behind you.

“You’re much more relaxed now,” he praised. “Pinch those nipples for me, twist them gently between your thumb and index.” You did as you were told, another wail tearing your throat apart. “Yes, just like that, you’re doing so well, mel.” He gave you a moment to acclimatise to the feeling of having hands everywhere ― your nipples, your clit, your hole. It was almost too much. “Now, suck on your thumbs so they are wet and go back to rub those beautiful buds for me. Imagine they are my fingers. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, desperate. Doing exactly as you were told, the sudden cold of your spit on your nipples made the sensitive skin under your thumbs wrinkle. The brief pain transformed into something else, hellfire running through your veins.

So focused on your breasts, you had almost forgotten about Marcus fingering your pussy and smothering your clit at the same time. Your toes curled, hips bucking up, so close to that cliff again, one you would throw yourself off gladly.

“You’re doing very well―so, so well,” Marcus’ praise was like music to your ears, all your nerve endings firing with delight. “You think you can take another finger?”

You sobbed, shaking your head.

“Yes, please,” you begged.

As promised, Marcus introduced his middle finger, the pads of both dragging along your anterior wall to find that sweet, soft spot. Your hips jerked up and then back down on him, grinding a circular motion on his lower tummy.

“Well done, mel. I am sure we can get your sweet tight pussy to make room for me.”

His cock twitched between your thighs, leaking, and you knew he was as desperate as you. So, while one hand skimmed your nipple, the other drifted down to caress his glans with your thumb. Marcus rumbled underneath, his breath hitching with a quiet moan ― you did it again.

His fingers sunk inside of you effortlessly now, pumping in and out and all you could hear were the squelching noises coming from your swollen lips. It should have felt embarrassing, but it had the opposite effect on you ― if anything, they made you gush even more.

“If you can take three fingers… shit…” Marcus almost lost his composure there, “if you can, then you’ll be ready, sweetheart. Shall we try?”

You gripped his beating erection harder in response, mewling audibly now with every stroke on your clit, every thrust of his fingers, the caress of your own thumb on your nipple… Then the third finger went in smoothly and you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

It just was too much. Your knees quivered and so did your cunt, clutching on his fingers. You felt your inner walls contracting, but this time it was different ― it wasn’t to get the fingers out, but to push them as far in as you could. And Marcus obliged, bottoming out, then slipping them out and back in. The coil inside you twisted feverishly and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You started wailing, grinding your ass against his tummy, in an attempt to increase the friction in your drenched opening, in your clit, everywhere.

“You’re close, mel, you’re so close,” Marcus huffed. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

You were barely able to nod at his words ― right now, you would do anything he asked for.

His fingers left your hole with a pop, and the second hand stopped petting your clit right when you were so close to fall off the cliff of your pleasure.

You panicked, tears brimming now as a sense of anxiety peaked inside you.

“M-Ma-Marcus,” you complained in a stutter, your whole body shaking.

You didn’t have much time to finish your protest, because he grabbed your hand off his cock and pushed your fingers against your clit. He showed you how to move them in circles, coaching you for a minute, teaching you how to pleasure yourself.

“Keep touching your sweet little clit for me, deliciae (darling),” Marcus groaned, his voice raspy and deep. “I’m going in. I want you to come while you sheathe me.”

And with no further ado, he slipped his forearms under your thighs, lifted you off his lap to align the tip of his veiny dick with your entrance. Slowly he dropped you, his length furrowing its way up your cavity with no difficulty.

The moment his glans was sat and more inches intruded, you finally came. The strength of your release had your whole being shaken up, your climax so intense you couldn’t see anything even through half-lidded eyes. Feral moans escaped your lips, every inch of Marcus’ cock intensifying the climax that had you on its tight grip.

Your inner walls hugged his cock, choked it actually. Your heart was racing so fast, you could feel the heartbeat in your quivering cunt, a sensation so overwhelming it almost sent you over the edge again.

You hadn’t realised, but Marcus was completely seated inside you, buried down to the hilt, his balls intimately kissing your puffy lips. Fullness tugged at your walls, stretching them, still adapting around his girth. He was everywhere ― filling every crevice, every nook and cranny. You felt his presence so intensely, it was staggering.

“Oh Gods…” Marcus sounded like he was within an inch of his life. “You feel so good, melculum. So warm, so wet, s-so… uhm… so tight. Heaven on Earth,” he prayed in a hush, his tone almost breaking. “How… are you feeling?”

“Blissed out,” you hummed. “Full, in the best way possible.”

Those were all the words Marcus needed to hear from you. He had been to hell and back, and even though his cock had been barely stimulated, he was throbbing for you. Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he felt this… needy.

And now he was in heaven, his shaft sweetly embraced by your wet warmth. A gift you were, sent by Gods themselves ― there was no other explanation.

Marcus’ forearms were still resting on the back of your thighs, then he hoisted you up ever so slightly, moving you up his length so you would free a few inches of his cock. The cold air of the room clung onto his damp shaft, a shiver running down his spine, then placed you back down on his lap.

Every time he pushed you up and down on his lap, you would moan like a woman possessed. Your little sobs and whimpers were the best melody he had ever listened to ― so quiet, yet so wanton. They filled your mouth and spilt over your lips like honey. He would drink them right now if he could.

His dick pulsated hard when your pussy fluttered around him, then your walls tensed around him and Marcus snapped his head back against the headboard, a feral groan ringing in his eardrums.

“Do that again, please,” he requested, all his fingers digging in the flesh of your thighs.

“W-what?”

“Squeeze your walls for me, sweetheart. Hug me tight,” Marcus mumbled, struggling towards the end the moment you did exactly as he asked. “For everything that is holy―”

And you did it again, his words dying out as you clamped down on him with a strength that had him delirious. His mind spiralled down and just in the last second, Marcus stopped himself from coming.

“Such a mischievous nymph you are,” it wasn’t an accusation but a compliment. “Let me see if you’re still playing with that taut pearl in your pussy the way I’ve shown you.”

When he looked over your shoulder, you coaxed your sodden flaps apart for him, showing him how your fingertips worked your clit. Marcus’ hips jerked up at the irresistible sight, burying himself further down in you. His waist waved underneath you, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“You’re doing great, mel. Such a good girl,” he moaned in your ear, nipping your lobe. “Do you like that, hm? Rubbing your tight little button?”

Your reply was a trembling whimper, your pursed bottom lip quivering with your eyes shut. Your brows were knitting together, bunny lines hugging your upturned nose. Marcus could feel your need, your palpitations. Your desperation.

“Is it too much, melculum?” You nodded, almost crying now. “I know, sweetheart, but we can remedy that. Do you want to come so you feel better?” Another nod of your head. “Alright, do you think you can ride me?”

“Aye, I want to ride you, Marcus,” you sobbed his name, his balls tensing up into his lower tummy.

Marcus let go of your thighs and helped you accommodate your knees to either side of him, so you were straddling him backwards. His hands caressed your round ass cheeks, eyes locked on where your bodies connected.

“Do whatever feels right, honey.”

Overtaken by instinct, you leaned forward and placed your hands between his calves, fisting the bedsheets as you started bouncing your hips up and down on his lap. Marcus let you find your rhythm, standing still underneath, letting you use him as needed.

The sweet choke of your pussy was too much ― too tight, too wet, too warm. This was the best he had felt in fucking decades, all thanks to you. Slowly, he matched your thrusts with his own, fucking up into you, meeting you halfway while his hands on your hips kept you grounded.

The slapping of his testicles on your swollen fold went on for a few minutes, a lewd cacophony echoing between the walls of his bedchamber. And soon enough he found himself grasping for control, his cock pulsating uncontrollably inside you.

You might have felt his pulse, because you spoke between choked wails.

“You can come inside, I can take―”

“What? No,” his response was instinctual, cutting you off before you finished. “You don’t need to take anything.”

Because the mere idea of you drinking some sort of potion so his seed wouldn’t take made him sick. Was that what your late husband had taught you? Was that how you were treated in bed, like a simple plaything to be used to satiate a man’s lust?

Those thoughts were deserted the moment your entrance squeezed hard around him, your moans mixing with the clapping sound of skin on skin. You pushed down your hips onto his lap, your sweet ass flush with his lower tummy. He felt another orgasm hit you and Marcus fucked you through it, steadily rutting up into you.

His own climax was near, all his muscles tensing with anticipation, his hips stuttering. With the last drop of his sanity, he lifted your butt up, his erection becoming free and resting between the swells of your ass cheeks. A second later, white ropes painted the small of your back while Marcus let go of a guttural groan.

With a fucked-out expression and a sweet grin, you looked over your shoulder and down at his spent sliding down your back. Marcus reached for the bedsheet and cleaned his cum off your skin delicately, his brown eyes fixed on your emerald ones.

“You’ve done extremely well for me, melculum. Exquisitely well,” he remarked, his hands smoothing over your thighs. “Come here.”

You turned around and laid down besides him, the upper half of your body resting on top of his torso. Your cheek rested on his sternum while his fingers traced invisible lanes on your arm, just above your elbow.

A moment of quietness lingered as your rapid breaths calmed down, your hearts settling back into a normal pace at the same time.

“I thought it was bad for you,” you muttered, the palm of your hand splaying right underneath his belly button.

“What was?” Marcus asked, confused.

“Uhmm…” you paused for a second, dubious, but then decided to trust him with your questions. “Coming outside. I was told it was extremely painful for the man to come if you are not buried… deep inside of a pussy.”

Your words awakened something with him, something dark and primal ― protective. For a moment, Marcus wished your husband was alive, so he could teach him how to be a real man. He had started to create a picture of what your sex life had been so far, and it wasn’t a pretty one.

In retrospect, he regretted having taken you so hastily in the garderobe. Barely took the time to work you to a climax. Marcus had paid worshipping attention to your breasts, but when it came to your clit, he had not been as attentive. Marcus should have shown you how good that could feel, should have taken his sweet time like he had done today, but he had been too anxious to fuck you.

Marcus looked for the best way to tell you without making you feel naïve. He didn’t want you thinking something like that, that he would force his seed on you for his own pleasure.

“That’s not how it is, mel. I’m sorry you’ve been told that,” his lips brushed your red crown, then pressed a kiss on your forehead. Could you hear how hard his heart was pounding with rage? One he was trying to quiet down. “I can come outside just fine, that’s not an issue. I prefer that a thousand times over you having to drink some nasty potion that will end up hurting you.”

His care for you was genuine, and Marcus was shocked at the truth that thought held. He barely knew you, but what he had seen of you so far had him reeled in like a fish attached to a rusty hook.

You were so direct, snappy even, with a sarcastic retort always at the ready. Your strong personality was refreshing, especially to someone like Marcus, used to be surrounded by women who would bow their head down at the sight of him. But knowing this side of you now―a tad insecure and inexperienced, rediscovering what sex was really like―, he wondered how much of your façade was just that, a carefully built stonewall to keep people at bay.

“Oh, I see,” you muttered, the skin between your brows pinching.

Marcus tilted your chin up with his thumb. His gaze roved over your face, studying it and finding that you seemed to be upset, possibly with yourself. He didn’t like that.

His thumb stroked your bottom lip to relax your pouting expression.

“If you were told such a thing, it’s normal that you believed it. I just don’t want to lie to you, don’t want to take advantage of you, melculum. I want you to enjoy yourself, to discover what you like and don’t like in bed.” The hand that was caressing your arm travelled down your back, went over the swell of your round globes until he found the slick of your arousal clinging onto your pussy lips. He stroked them carefully, buttering your sticky cunt with your own juices. “This is how I want you, sweetheart. Creamy and satisfied. That’s all I care about.”

You hummed at his words, eyes shut and mouth agape. His fingers pried your pussy open, the cold air on your wet, sensitive skin made you shiver on his chest.

Acacius knew too damn well what he was doing, taunting you again like this. You didn’t think you had it in yourself to come again, but the General seemed to think otherwise.

His index found your clit and stroked it maddingly slow. Seemed like he was right.

You gasped, chewing your bottom lip, your mind drifting away at his intimate touch.

“I think you can come for me again, don’t you?”

You whimpered in response, lifting your bent left leg until it rested on of his lap, so he could reach your swollen, reddened pussy better. You humped the side of his thigh, grinding on his hairy skin to get you off.

“You’re drenched,” he purred with satisfaction, kissing your forehead as your seeping hole sucked in his finger eagerly. You moaned. “Seems like you need me to take care of you again, mel.”

His fingering had you drooling onto his chest until you came again, sobbing like a babe gasping for their first breath. Your limbs felt numb as your pussy pulsed a few more times, releasing the last of your arousal onto Marcus’ palm. He rubbed your seam, cupping your whole pussy, until you were completely done.

Then tapped your cunt softly, gently. “Feeling calmer now?”

You nodded, blissed out and speechless.

You remained on top of his chest while coming down from your latest high. You had lost count of how many times Marcus had made you come now, but keeping count had not been on your foremind. What you had realised though was that this―whatever this was―was dangerous.

You had expected Marcus to behave exactly like Iain ― to take you how he wanted and discard you when he was done with you. Yet here he was, making sure you had no more orgasm to give him tonight. This was not your plan at all ― you banked on him being a complete monster who would ravish you given the chance.

This could complicate everything, and you even wondered if you should stop this madness before shit got too real.

A man with a rotten heart would not have you question your decisions. Perhaps it wasn’t rotten, only spoilt.

It’s just sex, a means to an end. Doesn’t matter how good, how fucking delicious he makes it to be. Fuck him, enjoy it, get what you need from him, then destroy him. Easy, you reminded yourself, albeit with less determination than before.

“I should be going,” you mumbled, unwilling to leave this bed despite the inner talk you just gave yourself ― your bed that now was his.

“So soon?” he whispered, his lips twitching in a pout.

Damn him for making it difficult to leave.

“My aunt will be wondering where I’ve gone. Can’t risk her coming here looking for me, can we?” you tried to make light of the situation with a white lie.

“I guess not,” he finally agreed after a brief silence, then kissed your forehead. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Patience is a virtue, Marcus,” you mocked him a bit, sitting up on the bed. “And mine has run out, I’m afraid. Aye, I’ll come tomorrow.”

Marcus sat up on bed too, hugging your waist, his mouth dangerously close to yours.

“I will make sure that you come tomorrow, mel,” the double meaning was not lost on you, even less on your gushing pussy.

You swallowed a whimper, kissing his lips briefly to then jump out of bed and grab your clothes off the floor. You put them on as fast as you could.

“You better,” you threatened him, softening the gesture with a wink, before you disappeared through the door.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[vaamins]

part one.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 : hope you liked this part two. think I could’ve done better 🥹 it was originally meant to be a happy ending but I thought how would hanahaki ever have a good ending? not proofread.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @creative1writings @rmanji @megumisthirdog @jiupark @rjt017 @slvt4erenx @mistymuii @legbouk @asunalinphea !!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 to pristine white, and a flashing light blinding your vision. You peeled your eyes open, finally registering the horrible ache in your throat that sent stabbing pain down into your chest every time you swallowed.

You only knew of blurred moments and the stark red of your blood. The only memories you could recollect of the night before. The night you had coughed up the whitest flower you’d seen in all your life, and it had come from your very stomach.

For some odd reason, the thought didn’t scare you as much as it should have. It was tantalising beautiful in a way that moved the flesh beating within your ribs.

It was a reminder of the love you would never get. The love you were dying for.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, finally taking notice of the room you were in. A hospital room. It’s wall’s so white they were hurting your eyes. You lay hooked to an IV ans countless other machines you didn’t know, and didn’t care for.

How had you lived? The seeding pain that had been in your throat and stomach and chest felt as if you had swallowed fire and were burning from within. You were sure you were going to die, you knew you were going to die. So how had you lived—?

The door creaked open, revealing white hair and blue eyes and a face you knew everything about, but suddenly had become so foreign to you. You had memorised the slope of his nose and the sharp outline of his cheekbones, even the light scar that lay above his right eyebrow one could only see in the dark of night.

‘‘…how are you feeling…?’’ He whispered out, taking a seat beside your bed on the sole chair there. You fiddled with your fingers, twisting the pulse oximeter that lay on your index.

‘‘i’m okay… how are you?’’ Because you had to ask. Because even in your state, you still saw the bags under his eyes and worried for him like a mother fretting over her sick child. Not that you would know much of that either.

Satoru stares at you, then the tubes attached to you and back. His eyes are wallowed in a feeling of sadness you have known all too well. ‘‘…why didn’t you tell us? Shoko? Suguru? Me?..’’

It is ironic to say the least because you know he knows the answer to his own question but he asks anyway. He wants to hear it from your lips, none else, but the regretful look in your eye is too much for him to bare.

‘‘…you know why, satoru. You know why. Don’t… make me say it.’’ You murmur, eyes glued on the view outside the window, watching as the clouds move lazily across the blue sky. It is a beautiful day, you think. One you shouldn’t be suffering on, but when had you ever been able to control the order of things?

Your response is all Satoru needs before he places his white head in his hands, his black shades falling to ground with a clank. The sound reverberates throughout the quiet room in the wake of your answer. You feel sorry. You didn’t want him to grow through such pain and regret.

‘‘…don’t blame yourself Satoru.’’

‘‘…how can I not? When I am the reason you are here? I am the reason you are dying!’’ He croaks out, tears now falling down his cheeks like crystals in the light of the sun shining through the open window. The humming of the machines beside your bed fills your head but still, your eyes are trained on his.

You smile, small and bittersweet. ‘‘It is not your fault Satoru.’’ You grab the hand that covers his eyes, slowly pulling the fingers that dig into his flawless skin away.

‘‘You could not have stopped it. Don’t feel guilty for not loving me back, that isn’t your fault. Now go and enjoy the sun, it’s a beautiful day today.’’

You urge him to leave, not that you want him to leave, no, you would’ve wanted him to stay by your side for eternity but you would never admit that. You wanted him to go and enjoy the day and not be by your doomed side.

He hesitates at the threshold of the door, turning his head back to look at you but you already turned away, your face gazing at the sun, and he wants to say you look magnificent, beautiful as the light falls on your face in just the right places but he decides against it. It would only cause more harm to an open wound. But he count help but feel as he closed the door that there was a certain sense of finality he couldn’t Brian off the situation..

You hear the door click closed, and you feel a pang in your chest. Selfishly, you didn’t want him to go. You wanted him by your side. To kiss you. To show you he loved you like how you loved him but you knew that was a fleeting dream you would never hold onto.

It was sand in your palm and it fell through the cracks between your finger and away, never to be caught again. Satoru was all the colours blended into one at full brightness to you. He was brighter than the sun to you. It was no shocker the room looked so dull after he left.

Later that day, after your friends each individually visited you, wishing you well and health. You sneaked out of your hospital room. The IV and tubes having long been taken off your arms, you walked freely for the first time in hours.

You found yourself on the roof of the hospital, a light breeze passing through the empty place. The night was beautiful, the stars twinkling ever brighter than you’d ever seen them. It was truly a sight to see.

Your eyes were glued on the dark sky, looking and searching for what? You didn’t know but you still kept looking. Maybe it was the hope you had at the beginning of all of this, that maybe you’d get better and somehow be saved, or was it the pain you’d felt from the unfairness of it all.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a cough racked your body, causing you to double over to catch your breath. You hands flew to your throat, as if to ease the coughs you knew would never stop hurting. The pain was horrible, debilitating and you couldn’t breathe.

The sharp ache in your chest intensified as you coughed up something after what felt like an eternity of coughing. Your hand came away from your mouth, stained in deep scarlet.

Lying on the floor was not a flower like how you thought it would’ve been, but two single petals. Even in the darkness, the white of one of the petals was not easily missed. Even from the patches of blood soaking it’s thin material, you could see the colour of snow on the ground. The other petal however, was the darkest black you’d ever seen.

It blended into the darkness and if the white petal had not been lying on-top of it, seemingly glued together by blood, you would’ve never noticed it.

The ache in your limbs intensified even more. The now ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and the world faded in and out in colours of grey, blue and white. You were so terribly tired.

In more ways than others, you thought as you sat down on the ground. Taking a sharp inhale that only caused you to cause more pain shooting down your chest.

You were so irrevocably tired. Tired of everything. It was no wonder when you lay on the cold surface of the rooftop, your head leaning into its coldness, finding its comfort that when you peered up st the stars, finding comfort in the millions of dots of all colours in the sky, that when you closed your eyes forever, that you closed them eternally.

© VAAMINS 24 do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work.

[potato-lord-but-not]

Cough cough hello potato lord.

SORRY TO BOTHER AGAIN WITH OUR CRACK SHIP BUT THERE IS SOMETHING GREAT YOU NEED TO SEE!!!!

I eventually. Designed. A moisthur keychain. for me and my moisthur founding father friends.

Well right now I am trying to figure out how to actually order them- YAY I will keep you updated when they arrived I promise

FUNFACT I wanted to include some flower symbolism because I thought it would be funny to put serious symbolism on a crack ship. It's hilarious (but also so fitting)

THE FLOWER YOU SEE THERE IS A HONEYSUCKLE. and they stand for

Forbidden love

So yeah. I AM STILL LAUGHING ABOUT MY OWN SILLYNESS but it's actually so them look

Eh anyways enough moisthur rambling HAVE A GREAT DAY

Oh my god. that’s…. insane dedication I must applaud you

[edosianorchids901]

Reciprocity

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "cold"

“Really, old man, I’ll be all right.” Watson sneezed again, which didn’t help the look of near-panic on Holmes’ face. “It’s nothing, just a cold.”

“You have sneezed sixteen times in the last five minutes, and with considerable force,” Holmes said, hovering by the bedside and rubbing his hands together compulsively. “I hardly call that nothing. Shall I fetch a doctor?”

“I am a doctor.”

“A very sick doctor.”

“I am certainly not very sick, only a little sick.” Sick enough that he did not have the energy to get out of bed at the moment, but even so. “I do not need another doctor to attend to me.”

“Very well. Then I see I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” Holmes twisted around and swept out of the room. “Mrs. Hudson!”

Watson winced at the volume of the yell, which made his head ache. Of course, his head already ached, congested as it was. He’d felt a bit run down before bed, but had hoped it was just his ordinary fatigue after a long stretch of being particularly busy.

It seemed that wasn’t the case, however. He’d awakened today feeling even worse, his head stuffed up, his throat aching, and a deep exhaustion blanketing him. He might be running a slightly fever, too.

All in all, he felt terrible. He had little desire to do anything other than sleep, but the sneezing was making that difficult. It was the sneezing that had alerted and alarmed Holmes, too, and which meant that Mrs. Hudson was likely being jostled out of bed at a far too early hour in order to care for him.

When Holmes flung back into the room, Watson tried to give him a stern look. “You should not ask Mrs. Hudson to care for me. I am perfectly capable of—”

“My dear Watson, you wound me!” Holmes set down a basin of water and a towel. “I have merely roused her to start a pot of soup, warm some broth, and make tea. I intend to care for you myself.”

Watson stared at him. “But what about your murder case, Holmes? Surely you should be attending to that.”

“It is a commonplace murder. And besides, what does such a thing matter when my Watson needs care?”

“Murder always matters to the one who has been murdered.”

“Well, yes.” Holmes pursed his lips, looking irritated at the fact, and then dampened the cloth. He sponged Watson’s face gently, wiping away the sweat. “But it is the sort of case that can be solved without much difficulty. I dispatched a telegram last night and am merely awaiting the reply. Once it is received, I shall pass along the information to Lestrade.”

“All right, but what about your health?” Turning away, Watson coughed. This did not help his throbbing head at all.

“What of my health?”

“It is terrible, Holmes.” Woozy, Watson laid back and gave him a bleary look. “I am not prone to falling ill. You fall ill at the drop of a hat. You should not be near me when I am sick.”

“Well, well.” Holmes waved a dismissive hand, then smoothed back Watson’s hair. “If I fall ill, then you shall tend to me. But for the moment, it is I who must tend to you.”

“It really isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. You are always most attentive and caring when I am in poor health, whether of mind or body.” Holmes briefly rested his hand on Watson’s shoulder and gave his usual flash of a smile. “Please permit me the privilege of doing the same for you.”

That wasn’t fair at all, but Watson softened anyway. “Well, of course. If you’re sure.”

“Entirely certain.” Holmes shot an impatient glance at the door, then twisted around and hurtled off again. “Mrs. Hudson! Where is that tea?”

Watson chuckled, then succumbed to coughing again. His head spun, and he struggled to catch his breath.

The coughing had was not helpful for his aches, either. He found himself sore everywhere, and the restless night had worsened his usual pain in his shoulder and leg. That, in turn, had worsened his sleep.

Holmes charged back in with a teapot and flicked an apologetic smile in Watson’s direction. “There was a slight delay in preparation, as Mrs. Hudson is not at her most sprightly this early in the day. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. And proper ventilation in a sickroom is important.” It was strange not to be able to attend to all this on his own, but Watson did not feel much like getting up right now. “If you could crack the window.”

Holmes did so at once, then carefully helped him drink the tea. He set the cup aside once Watson had finished and sat, taking his hand. “My dear Watson. Mrs. Hudson is preparing broth for you, and will of course make any other food you require. Is there any other way I might be of assistance?”

There was such anxiety on his face that Watson’s stomach twisted. He patted Holmes’ hand and managed a hopefully reassuring smile. “Not for now. And don’t worry, old man. I really will be all right.”

“I hope you shall. I admit it is a little disconcerting to see you ill, Watson.” A few tears glistened in Holmes’ eyes, and he ground his teeth. “You will let me know if I may help in any way?”

“Yes, I will. I just need to get some rest for now.”

“Ah.” Holmes sat there awkwardly for a moment. “Would you prefer that I left you in peace? I can return later with your broth.”

Watson very much suspected that if he said yes, Holmes would simply go sit on the stairs outside the bedroom. “There’s no need for that. Why don’t you stay, and then if I need you…”

He started to cough, and Holmes nodded vigorously. “Of course, my dear fellow. Now, you ought to cease conversation and sleep. I shall be right by your side.”

Watson smiled at him, then closed his eyes and relaxed. He suspected that Holmes would have to be ordered to leave eventually, or else he would not sleep at all. For the moment, though, Watson was glad to have someone so attentive watching over him.

[glorious-spoon]

🗺 lost and/or 🔥 bonfire, if you either inspires

thank you! i went with buddie and 'lost', since i got mildly lost in a corn maze today. do they have corn mazes in california? i have not investigated this and am entirely making assumptions here.

-

"We're not lost," Eddie says firmly, when they hit their third dead end in as many minutes.

"Uh huh."

"It's a corn maze. We did not get lost in a corn maze. That doesn't happen."

"Okay, well, you know that some of the bigger mazes have watchtowers set out all through them? So they can see if somebody's lost or, like, in medical distress. People get lost in corn mazes all the time."

"I'm not in medical distress," Eddie mutters darkly. "Yet."

He's staring down at the compass in his hand with an expression so petulant that Buck has to fake a cough in order to hide his smile. Eddie glances up at him suspiciously. "You okay?"

"Uh, I'm good," Buck says. "So which way should we go?"

Eddie frowns at the compass again, squints up at the bright blue sky overhead, then turns in a slow circle, craning his head a little like he'll be able to see over the tops of the corn stalks swaying around them, rustling and clacking faintly in the breeze. Finally, he says, "The exit is to the east. That way." He points confidently at the impenetrable wall of corn directly in front of them.

Well, it's probably not actually impenetrable. There's nothing really stopping them from hopping over the waist-high barrier of bright orange plastic webbing and barging straight through the sea of corn in between them and the exit. But that would probably get them kicked out, and anyway, Buck is kind of enjoying this.

"Well, we can't go that way. Left or right?"

Eddie peers left, then right, then sighs deeply and tucks his compass away. "Left."

"You sure about that?"

"They can't all be dead ends," Eddie says. He reaches over to lace his fingers with Buck's; his hand is warm against Buck's faintly chilled skin. 

As distractions go, it's a good one. It's been a couple of weeks, but Buck still gets stupidly giddy butterflies every time Eddie holds his hand in public. There's nobody here to see them right now, but there could be.

"Left it is," he agrees, only slightly breathless, and lets Eddie tug him along down the mulch-strewn path.

[iluvzaddies]

run rabbit run (4)

pairing: yandere!childe x reader

warnings: unhealthy behavior/relationship, violence, nsfw

inspired by: episode 8 of the hbo series “the last of us”

summary: you are out of food as well as medical supplies, so in order to save your father, you take matters into your own hands. you unexpectedly run into a young master in the forest, who is after the same rabbit as you. since he is persistent on getting the rabbit, you make a bargain with him. he develops a liking to you and decides you are his new personal little rabbit.

note: hey, loves! sorry for the long hiatus. i lost motivation to write, but i’m back now! here’s chapter 4 of run rabbit run. it’s a little rushed tho and my writing hasn’t really improved :(

“then, give yourself to me.”

your breath hitched, feeling both disgusted by childe’s wet kisses on your neck and embarrassed because you were not the only people in the room.

the sound of a gun’s safety turned off and childe immediately pulled away from your neck.

your father was on his feet, his left hand clutching on his stomach and his right shakily holding a pistol, which he somehow managed to grab ahold of while childe was getting too close for comfort. “leave my daughter alone, you son of a bitch.”

you couldn’t stand to see your father in that state, but neither could he stand to see his own daughter being harassed by the man he was working for– well, the man he used to work for.

“did you just curse my mother?” childe scoffed, not an ounce of playfulness in his tone. “oh, you’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

your father pulled the trigger.

childe summoned his weapons again and skillfully cut the bullet in half.

you gaped at the scene.

your father tried to pull the trigger once again, but this time, his gun was cut in half.

he stumbled back, hitting the shelves, furniture falling onto the ground, smashing into bits and pieces. at the impact, more blood seeped out of his wound and he began coughing out blood.

childe strode towards him with malicious intent. he placed the tip of his weapon under his chin, bringing his head up to look at him in the eyes.

“you’re a pathetic fool.” he taunted. “going against a harbinger like myself? not a smart move. since you are no value to me and you refuse to hand me your daughter, i’ll have to dispose of you now.”

your father heaved out. “before you kill me, i’d like to say a few words to my daughter. tell your men to unhand her. i want this to be between us only.”

childe sighed and rolled his eyes. “fine, hurry up. no funny business.”

the second the pyro agents’ grip on you loosened, you wasted no time running towards your father.

“f–father…” you sniffled.

“my sweet, smart, talented girl. i will always love you. never forget that. you’re the greatest gift one could ever receive and i am proud to call you my daughter.” he caressed your cheek and you leaned your cheek against his warm palm, which would soon turn cold.

you shivered at the though of it.

he said he was proud of you. how could he be proud of someone as weak as you? someone as useless as you?

“i’m sorry. i–if only i was strong enough, i could–“

“stop it. there’s really no way out of this situation, (y/n). don’t blame yourself.”

“that is enough chit-chat, mr (l/n).” childe interjected.

he snapped his fingers and you were back into the arms of the pyro agents.

“no, i beg of you to let him live! i told you i would go with you willingly!” you begged.

“i’ve already made up my mind. and he’s already dying anyway. don’t worry, my rabbit. i’ll give him a quick and easy death.” childe’s gaze shifted to the pyro agents. “take her outside…” he dismissed with a wave. “…unless you want to watch?”

“no.” you whimpered, violently shaking your head.

and so, you were brought outside and you were faced with a carriage.

it wasn’t like one of those plain, wooden carriages. the carriage was black and had intricate golden patterns, drawn by four beautiful gray horses.

the pyro agents’ shoved you in the carriage and shut the door.

“shit! fuck! fuck!” you ruffled your hair in frustration, lowering your head, letting your tears fall onto the red velvet carpet.

you had to do something.

‘if i can’t save father, i should save myself.’

think.

think.

think.

a light bulb went on in your head.

you decided that you were going to hijack the carriage, while childe was still in the cabin and the pyro agents’ were standing around, waiting for their master’s next order. it was a better idea than trying to outrun them in the cold weather.

you slowly opened the door, the other door. luckily, carriages had two doors.

you snuck towards the driver, quiet as a mouse, and then made your move. you climbed up the seat, pushed the driver out and flicked the horses’ reins.

you made it.

you escaped.

…for now.

(part 5 coming soon)

taglist:

@elernity @whydoisworld @nebusokuxp @victoria1676 @esthelily @coolforeal @hnhshh @lady8vampire @sunniisyde @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @yummyberry @katthehatt @lynvrie @dreamlessnight @bluerskiees @haikyuusboringassmanager @scarasvision @hudiebutterfly @ieathairs @kazusbby @vvyeislazzy @ursinaw @fantasy-enthusiast @weepykisser @cryoarchoness @docosahexaenoic-san

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWELVE (see full series list here)

1993

"Oh, look, I see Harry coming this way," you say, pointing to the pair of footsteps with the label 'Harry Potter' moving in the direction of Remus' office.

Remus looks over from where he was fiddling with his suitcase.

Sure enough, Harry then knocks on Remus' open office door and you wave at him from your seat on his desk.

"Saw you coming, Harry," you say with a smile, pointing at the map.

"I just saw Hagrid," Harry says, looking at Remus. "And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Remus replies. He starts opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents. You pick up some of the papers, tapping them against the table to align them up, before handing them to Remus.

"Why?" says Harry. "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?"

Remus swiftly crosses the room and closes the door behind Harry.

"No, Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." He sighs. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he — er — accidentally let it slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

You cough loudly, poorly concealing a muttered "Prick".

"You're not leaving just because of that!" Harry exclaims.

Remus shares a glance with you, smiling wryly.

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents — they will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you...that must never happen again."

"You're the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" says Harry. "Don't go!"

Remus shakes his head and doesn't speak, continuing to empty his drawers.

"Believe me, Harry, I've already tried," you say with a sigh. "Can't change his mind."

Remus gives you a look, before returning to Harry. "From what the Headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything, it's how much you've learned. Tell me about your Patronus."

"How d'you know about that?" Harry says, distracted.

"What else could have driven the Dementors back?"

Harry relays his tale of the Dementors and how he cast his Patronus to save himself and Sirius, and you beam proudly at him.

"Wicked."

"Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," Remus says to Harry with a smile. "You guessed right...that's why we called him Prongs."

Remus throws his last few books into his case, closes the desk drawers and turns to look at Harry.

"Here — I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he says, handing Harry his Invisibility Cloak. "And..." he hesitates, then shoves the Marauder's Map into your hands. "I'm not your teacher anymore, Harry, so I'll leave the map in better hands."

You glance down at it, scoffing, before handing it out to Harry. "I couldn't care less what you do with it, Harry. I've no use for it, anyway. I doubt I'll be doing half as much sneaking around as yourself, Ron, and Hermione."

Harry takes the map and grins.

"You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to put me in danger."

"Danger is a strong word," you say with a slight chuckle. "Perhaps get you into trouble is a better way to say it. I'm sure James would've been highly disappointed if his son never got up to a few rule-breaking antics."

"Seconded," Remus agrees.

There's a knock at the door, and you see Harry hastily stuff the map and the cloak into his pocket. It's Dumbledore. He doesn't seem surprised to see you nor Harry there.

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he says.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Remus picks up his old suitcase and empty Grindylow tank. You hop off the desk, dusting off your trousers with the palm of your hands.

"Well, goodbye, Harry," Remus says, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again some time. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage..."

He glances back at you, as if to say the same thing, and you immediately roll your eyes. "Can't shake me that easily, Moony."

He sighs knowingly.

"Goodbye then, Remus," Dumbledore says soberly. Remus shifts the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore can shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry, he leaves the office and you grin, heading out after him. You turn quickly, placing a hand on the edge of the doorframe and peek your head in through the door.

"Harry, would you come to my office later? I'd like to talk to you about a few things."

He nods, and you grin, turning back to catch up with Remus.

"Oh, Moony, give me that," you scold, grabbing the Grindylow tank and shifting it up to be able to carry it comfortably. "Why have four hands if two aren't being used?"

He chuckles, your footsteps clicking in sync against the stone floor.

"Merlin, school'll be so boring without you," you groan. "I'll miss you."

He gives you a small smile. "I'll miss you too. I'll miss Hogwarts — I really did quite like teaching here."

"It is nice, isn't it?" You agree. "It's nice to have a routine every day."

He hums in agreement.

"I wonder who'll replace you next year," you say thoughtfully. "Hopefully someone who can hold a conversation. I'm getting sick of getting caught in a chat with Professor Binns. It is actual torture — I mean, how can you be a ghost and still be boring?"

Remus chuckles. "You're acting as if you don't remember his classes when we were kids."

You groan. "Don't remind me! Merlin, if I had to go through another one of those I think I'd actually jump off the Astronomy Tower..."

A few students give a parting wave to Remus and he smiles sadly back at them. You finally arrive outside at his carriage, and he turns to you.

"Goodbye," he says, smiling forlornly. "I truly think this past year has been one of the best in a long time. It was nice to spend my evenings with a good friend."

You grin at him, placing the Grindylow tank on the ground and throwing your arms around him. He has to drop his suitcase to be able to return the hug.

"For me, too," you say. "I'm so thankful that you're in my life, Remus."

"And I am thankful you're in mine."

You pat his shoulder, smiling. "I love you, Moony. Safe home — and make sure you write to me in the next few days, yeah?"

He smiles. "Of course. I love you too. And before you say it — I'll find him. Shouldn't be too hard."

"You're an absolute gem, Moony," you say genuinely. "Now, get going!"

He chuckles, picking up the suitcase and putting it onto the back of the carriage. You hoist the tank up and place it beside it, patting the top.

"Bye!"

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"Come in, come in..." you say with a smile as Harry enters your office, taking a seat in the chair in front of you. You sit down behind the desk, removing Dubh from her sleeping spot on your chair, who lets out an agitated meow. She quickly settles on your lap instead, curling up again. She really does nothing but sleep.

"Well, Harry. Remus told me everything up until he transformed, so you don't have to worry about telling that tale to me again. I'm sure you're tired of telling it."

You were livid when you found out about Peter. That slimy, disgusting, selfish little traitor. He was your friend! To think you let him into your home, to think you ever had faith in him!

Truth is, you always just thought he was a little...socially inept. He was never very good at talking to girls, and perhaps that was for the best. Bit of an odd bloke. But he was Sirius' good friend, so you had faith in his character.

What a fucking waste.

That pathetic man threw away everything for himself.

He ruined James' and Lily's lives.

He ruined Harry's life.

Sirius.

Remus.

Your life.

You could've had a happy life with your husband and your best friends if he hasn't spoiled it all.

You were so angry. It took quite some time for Remus to calm you down.

He nods. "Professor...if you knew Sirius was innocent this whole time, why didn't you tell anyone?"

You give a bitter chuckle. "I did, Harry. Of course I did. But what proof had I? I wasn't there. All I had was a strong belief in my husband. That counts for nothing in the judicial system. I mean — everyone believed he was guilty. Half of 'em thought I was just as mad as him."

"Sirius asked me how you were," Harry says thoughtfully. You furrow your eyebrows and he continues, "He thought I would have been living with you, not with the Dursleys...'cause you're my godmother. So why didn't you raise me instead?"

You sigh, giving him an apologetic smile. "I...couldn't, Harry. Well — not at the beginning anyway, I was a right mess then — but also because I wasn't allowed. The Ministry reckoned I'd try and kill you — which is like, I know my cooking's not great but it's not lethal — "

Harry snorts and you smile.

I just made my godson laugh!

"Not to mention Petunia totally hates me," you add. "With a passion. Couldn't visit, 'cause she'd have an absolute conniption if I stepped foot in her lovely, pristine home. Didn't write, either. Thought it'd be weird if you only got letters and never actually met me..."

Harry nods, though he's clearly not entirely satisfied yet. "Why didn't you tell me once I started school?"

"Wasn't allowed to do that either," you sigh. "You were already adjusting to so many new things...Dumbledore told me to wait. So I did, I waited a whole year, and then last year he again told me you weren't old enough yet. I was a bit angry at that, honestly...I'd already had to deal with eleven years of no contact with my own godson...but Dumbledore is much wiser than I, and I trust his judgement. And well, this year —of course — would have been a bad time to reveal I married Sirius..."

Harry doesn't say anything and you sigh. "Harry, dear, I really am quite sorry. I wish I could've properly watched you grow up."

Harry just shrugs awkwardly, looking away from you. "What...what were my parents like?"

You smile reminiscently. "Oh, Harry, just the best. Like the best people you'd ever meet — and I know they'd be so proud of you. They'd be so proud of you, Harry, so proud. And I'm very proud of you too."

Harry struggles to contain the smile stretching his lips.

"Lily was my best friend growing up. She was practically my sister. You wouldn't meet a kinder person, and she was also hilarious. I can't count the amount of times I genuinely thought my chest was going to explode from laughter with her," you tell him with a big grin. "And — and James, Merlin, now we used to fight like siblings. I remember one time, he decided to give himself frosted tips without telling anyone, and they were horrendous. Like, actually atrocious and he was so adamant that they were cool and they weren't. I honestly think I passed out from laughing. Oh, wait, hold on — I have a photo here somewhere — "

You pull out the key from your pocket, unlocking the bottom drawer of your desk and pulling it open. You grab a small stack of photos from inside and start to shuffle through them.

"Aha!" You exclaim, pulling a particular one out and grinning at it. There in the photo, is James Potter, his hair tousled and with the most horrendous frosted tips you've ever seen. He's grinning proudly though, and in the corner you can see a red-faced Sirius, doubled over in laughter.

You hold it out to Harry, and he takes it very gently, as thought it's more delicate and precious than glass. He beams at the photo, grinning just like his dad.

"Ah, Harry, you are the image of your father," you say happily. "Would not recommend frosted tips for you."

Harry chuckles, still looking at the photo happily. He gazes at it for a bit longer, before reluctantly handing it back towards you and you quickly shake your head.

"Keep it, keep it! I probably have a copy at home somewhere," you tell him, pushing back the photo. You lean down again and pick up the rest of the photos, handing them all to Harry. "Keep them all. I have loads more at home, I should bring the rest of them in to you."

The look on Harry's face warms your heart. He looks so happy, excitedly taking the photos and rifling through them. You crane your neck to see which ones he's looking at and begin to explain each one.

"Remus and Lily with their Prefects' badges...if you look close, you can actually see James ogling Lily in the background."

"Prank gone wrong..."

"Ooh, prank gone right!"

"My sixteenth birthday, that is. There's everyone...including my then-boyfriend, Alan. You don't have to squint to see the scowl on Sirius' face."

"Everyone spent a week at James's over the summer..."

"Oh, yeah, there's your godfather."

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asks.

You snort, looking back at the photo of Sirius stumbling around and pretending to use his wand as a microphone. "Drank too much firewhiskey. Don't even think about copying anything he does, by the way! Sirius is an idiot."

"I...wasn't planning on it," Harry says sheepishly. He flips the next photo, revealing a happy Sirius kissing a woman wearing a wedding dress —

"Oh, I'll take that one!" You say quickly, grabbing it and laying it face down on the desk.

Harry's cheeks redden slightly and he lands on the final photo. Your graduation photo.

You don't say anything for a second, gazing at it fondly. "Our graduation," you say softly.

Harry looks at it curiously, eyes wandering over the faces in the photo. He points at Alice, asking, "Who's she?"

You smile. "Alice Longbottom. Neville's mother."

Harry raises his eyebrows, looking back at you in surprise. "You knew her?"

"Very well," you say. "Alice, Lily, and I were the greatest friends. And Frank, Neville's dad, too...we were all like a little family." You point to Frank with your pinky finger.

Harry's eyes then focus on Wormtail, and you can see his jaw visibly clench. "Is that..."

"Yep. Wormtail."

He looks like he's nearly about to rip the photograph, so you gently take it from him, picking up a quill off your desk and dipping it in your ink well. You scribble out his face. Some small part of you knows you shouldn't do that. That this is someone who was once your friend. Someone you trusted. Someone Sirius trusted.

But you do it anyway, and hand it back to him.

"There...no reminders now," you say softly. He nods, taking the photo again and giving you a small smile.

You glance down at your watch, sighing. "You better get going if you want dinner. Come chat to me anytime, alright, Harry? I'd love the company."

He smiles, standing up from his chair.

"And take all those photos! I'm sure Ron and Hermione would like to see them too."

"Thank you, Professor," he says gratefully, carefully gathering up the photographs and leaving the room.

You flip over the photo once he leaves, gazing over the wedding photo again. You smile wistfully.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter thirteen here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

hello lovelies! sorry that it's been so long since the last upload — the past week or two has been like a bit hectic haha. I really hope you like this chapter, and thank you all so much for the overwhelming support I've been getting recently. I love you all!! 💌

as always, a big thank you to my taglist loves for all their kindness and support:

@carpe000diem @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo

[astarioffsimpmain]

Did I miss the Gale prompts? I wanted to see Gale + “pet”. Sorry if I’m too late ; 3 ;

Hi Anon! No, you did not. You were right before the deadline! I think there was one person after you? But I'm not writing these in order, so.. 😅 Anyway, thank you so much for this prompt! I, too, would love to be petted by our darling wizard. So I decided, "Let's do it!"

♡♡♡

His tent was roomy, warm, and softly lit by a Dancing Lights cantrip when you entered for the first time, poking your head through the flap. "Ah!" Gale looked up from his book and beckoned you in with a smile on his face. "Come in! I thought you might have decided to forsake our promised evening for some well-deserved rest after the trials of our day." He chuckled sheepishly, rearranging several pillows to create extra space.

"I wouldn't miss this, Gale." You chuckled in return, your cheeks warming at the subtle admission.

"That's good to know." He paused, his warmth-filled gaze now resting on you. Each time those chocolate brown eyes graced you with their focus, you felt akin to the embers in a slowly dying fire: crackling, melting, fusing, and pleasantly flushed. You held his gaze for a few moments, basking in his glow, before finding your sense and ducking your head in renewed embarrassment.

He coughed. "Well, uh- please, take a seat! I can't wait to begin. This volume is one of my absolute favorites, and I am truly honored to share it with someone who has never had the pleasure of reading it before. Being here to bear witness to your first time is quite a privilege."

You lowered yourself onto one of the soft pillows beside him and giggled softly at his remark. "I'm afraid you're a bit late to witness my first time, Gale, but perhaps the second or third." You chittered colloquially and he gave pause.

"But you said you hadn't read- oh!" It was the wizard’s turn to flush. "I never would have guessed your propensity for double entendre, my friend." He chuckled, turning his head to shuffle through a pile of books beside him.

"In that case, I am full of surprises." You laughed.

"Mm, so you are." Gale said as he turned back to face you, a wicked smirk on his lips. "Perhaps I ought to match your wit one of these nights."

"Oh, how delightful a thought is that." You giggled and his smile widened.

"Alright, before we stray too far from the topic at hand. Let's get started, shall we?" He flourished the book in his hands, and you chuckled.

"Indeed, let us begin."

"Far above the skyline of the Terniff's kingdom rest a Wyvern with a scepter cast from bone..." As Gale's rich-timbred voice filled the tent with life, you lost track of where you were and when you were. You floated high above the kingdom of Terniff with the lonesome Wyvern and felt both its freedom and its sorrow in tandem.

You didn't realize you had allowed your eyes to close until you felt the soft brush of the pad of Gale’s thumb wipe across your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with your wizard’s face, open and understanding. "I wept the first time, too." He murmured softly, his thumb chasing another tear down your face. Before you could stop yourself or even grasp your own actions, you were surging forward.

The Wyvern was Gale. Of course it was. It was Gale, and it was you: desperate to be recognized, with all the visual trappings of accomplishment and stability. But the ever-present loneliness ached and throbbed in the hearts underneath.

Your lips met his, and the palm of his hand found the back of your head almost immediately after, pulling you closer; fingers tangling in your hair. You were lost in him, lips and teeth and tongue clashing and dancing and pulling you closer like a riptide. When you finally parted, pupils blown and breath heavy, Gale’s fingers loosened and carted through your locks; then again, and again, as he continued to hold you close.

You tucked your face into his neck without a word and he pulled you closer, settling you into his lap and running his other hand down your spine, then back up again. "I have been craving your kiss for some time now." He murmured softly onto your scalp.

"Then why haven't you kissed me?" You asked, your voice muffled against his skin.

"I have feared losing you; losing this. Your closeness, your kindness. You are quite special to me."

"You're special to me too, Gale."

He coaxed you up to look at him, and with a tender smile and a stroke of your cheek, he kissed you again, pulling away only to murmur against your lips.

"I am so very glad."

♡♡♡

No edits or revisions. We die like women with severe brainrot. 💕

[ramblingloon]

I think I caught a blizzard

I recently replayed MK11 and mah gawd Kuai Liang aka sub zero my boy not the new scorpion in mk1 which is ??!! whyyyyy did they do my boy like that smh. anyways I think the fixation on this fine man is back so why not make a sub zero x reader fic am I right hehehe

‎‎‎⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

I'm so sorry for this GIF, please don't leave lmao.

no horni only fluff and maybe angst

You walk over the snowy stone tiles, the ice crystals glistening beneath your leathered soles. As you step on the snow, the crunching sound is stratifying to your ears. Your formal Lin Kuei attire drags behind your feet.

The heavy blizzard has been going on for four days, the same amount of days Kuai Liang was off on a mission with a couple of his subordinates and, of course, Frost.

You sniffle slightly, feeling the cold seeps through your hands, nose, and cheeks. You muffle a cough as you enter the temple. An apprentice ninja steps aside and bows to you.

You smile at them, bowing your head in return. You watch as they walk away, and you silence another cough by covering your mouth.

It is your duty as the consort of the grandmaster to be strong, and tenacious; to take care of the Lin Kuei as if Kuai Liang is right here.

You pass by the training area, watching as the younglings' harsh training has just begun. Their loud battle cries ring over the storm.

You smile to yourself as you keep going into the empty hallways of the temple when a sudden sharp cough escapes you. You lean on the wall, feeling your breath shorten and pricking pain between your ribs. You cough again, getting dizzy in the process.

You groan in pain as you straighten yourself, " it's just a cold. Pull yourself together, Y/n."

Eventually, you reach the kitchen, and the warm air oozing from the kitchen challenges the hiemal temperature of the empty hallway.

You scan the staff working with efficiency to prepare the best meals for the Lin Kuei fighters.

A maid notices you enter the kitchen and immediately pauses,

"Oh, consort, y/n. what brings you to this humble place."

you smile kindly at them," No need for formality, just checking in. Are the staff low on any sustenance." you reach with your hand over your mouth, worried a sharp cough or sneeze to escape you.

"I don't think so. We're serving rice and salted fish with sou-"

a loud cough rings in the kitchen as you put your hand over your aching chest, coughing, angry at your body for failing you at this moment.

The maid guides you to a wooden chair by a table and sets you down.

"I'll -um, I'll fetch you some herbal tea."

you nod as the stinging pain in your chest subsides and finally disappears.

Not long after, the maid brings you a steamy cup of tea. You glance at the dark liquid. It reminds you of how Kuai Liang likes to brew tea and discuss important decisions over a cup- well, maybe not a cup, but a whole pot of tea-

That reminds you, the tea set in his command chamber is probably empty.

"Maybe he'll come back soon?" you think to yourself 

"No...he won't risk the life of anyone in this blizzard." a doubting voice offers its reason within you.

"Maybe he was injured?"

"I hope he's alright." You look at your hands, squeezing them, the tips of your fingers chilly and cold.

Nonetheless, you stand from your seat and order a maid to prepare a tea pot.

On your way to the command chamber, you sniffle, taking a freezing deep breath, which causes the ache in your chest to emerge again, almost causing you to drop the tray with the tea.

"Where are you, Kuai?" feeling overwhelmed and angry at your weakened body, you call for your absent partner.

You enter the chamber and slide the door closed. The whistling wind muffled within the sturdy walls of the room.

You replace the empty cold teapot with the hot one when you notice some of the tea cups have remains of dark green tea at the bottom.

"Oh, he'll diffidently be angry if he saw that." you chuckle to yourself, mental pictures of a frowning Kuai surface in your mind.

Immediately, you put the dirty cups on the tray with the cold pot and put the fresh set on the table.

You look around the room. Serene and calm contradicting the wailing sound of the wind outside. You glance at a kunai at the table, left or maybe forgotten. Reaching with your hand, you scan the blue cloth wrapped around the hilt with the Lin Kuei symbol carved on the metal.

Yet another painful cough escapes you. You sit on one of the chairs, waiting for the pain in your chest to simply disappear.

You exhale, hand over your chest when the door slides open.

Your e/c eyes meet with deep brown ones. the soft orbs you have been longing to see for days.

You watch as Kuai Liang's frown dissolves into a poker face. His mask and jet-black hair were covered in snow, thawing at room temperature.

You stand from your chair with a composed smile and utter ", Grandmaster."

He takes his off mask and takes a step toward you, though he pauses.

"Frost," he addresses Frost, standing by the door.

" we can discuss the possibilities when the men are well rested." his deep, sultry voice cascades over your ears, causing your heart to race in your ribcage, and warmth spreads all over your body.

Oh, how much you have missed this man.

"but grandmaster-" Frost protested

He turns to her, his broad shoulders to you," Frost, give your body the respect it deserves. We've been in this blizzard for four days. The men need to regain their energy."

"Then we can discuss-" yet again she protests, only to be interrupted by his demanding voice, "You're dismissed."

She snarls at his demanding voice, looks at you, and closes the door as she leaves.

You don't wait for him to turn around. You fully embrace him, burring your face into his back. Your hands over his chest, feeling the calm beating of his heart.

A deep chuckle escapes him as he turns around in your embrace," I've missed you too."

Large arms encase you as he pulls you closer to his chest. He buries his nose into your h/c hair, taking a deep breath, breathing you in.

"you scared me, Kuai. I trust your abilities, but," you utter, looking up at your partner, sadness lacing your voice.

He cups your right cheek with his right hand, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"shush, I'm here, y/n, with you."

he delicately grips your chin and leans to your level. Cold lips connect with yours.

 Though it lasts only seconds, you feel safe in his embrace, forgetting all about the aching pain in your chest and body.

He breaks away and walks toward the door, "Come, I don't think it will be appropriate if one of the men barged in here."

You pout, feeling the lingering warmth in your stomach disperse ", But I got your tea."

You walk to the tea set and open the lid, the steam escaping its ceramic cage.

He crosses his arms, waiting for you by the door," we can take the tea with us."

You raise your eyebrow at him, "Alright, alright. Just don't complain when it's over-brewed."

You cover back the teapot and walk to the door. With your spouse walking next to you, the cold empty hallways feel much more welcoming than the past four days.

You want to reach for his hand, hold it, and never let it go. But Kuai Liang is a man who has respect for his position. The grandmaster nor his consort can't be seen in any ignominious way.

You reach your shared bedroom, the sound of this obstinate storm still occurring outside.

"This damned blizzard." you curse as you take off your shoes. Afraid; the carpet will get dirtied by the snow stuck to your footwear.

Before you know it, you are scooped off the ground into Kuai's embrace. A sudden yelp escapes you as you circle your arms around his neck.

"Kuai Liang! Put me down this instant." you try to sound serious between your chuckles.

His deep chuckles resonate through his chest as he looks up at you with a teasing smile," or what?"

You bite your lip, a laugh escaping you.

Unfortunately, you feel the gradual pain in your chest surfacing back again.

He puts you down and cups your face with both hands and kisses you deeply.

You break off the kiss, taking a breath, only for him to kiss you more.

"Kuai," you call him, hand over his chest to stop him.

"you're going to get yourself sic-" you cough, and cough. Your chest tightens and contracts. You kneel on the floor, gasping for air, raspy noises escaping your throat.

Kuai Liang kneels next to you, deep concern on his face, as he watches his spouse groan in pain and clutch their chest.

The pain withdrew away back into nothingness. You look at your partner's shocked glare.

"I'm going to get the physician." he declares, only for you to stop him.

" No! No. Not now." you plead, gaining an angry look from him.

"What?"

"The people are already suffering from this blizzard. I can't be seen weak." you calmly explain, feeling the blood rush to your face.

"The younglings are training in this blizzard, and the grandmaster consort caught the cold. What will your image be? What will mine be?" you cough into your hand, slumped on the floor, feeling defeat.

"Y/n, what is this? Didn't you hear me talk with Frost?" Kuai Liang Stands up, only for you to grab his pants.

"Please, Kuai. Just for today." Your e/c eyes well up as you look at your partner in plea.

He closes his eyes, muttering under his breath before he gets to your level and carries you.

"Only for today," he repeats as he walks to the bed and lays you down slowly.

"only for today." You nod, repeating your words.

"Get some sleep, y/n." he brushes your h/c hair back before he pulls the covers over you.

"won't you join me?"

he snickers, shaking his head as he walks to the other side of the bed. He has taken off his bandana and top vest before he joins you in the bed.

You kiss him on the cheek as he slides close to you, his body chilly though not displeasing.

"Thank you, Kuai," you mumble as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and drift into needed sleep.

‎‎‎⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

I wanted to write more but I don't know.. felt like this is a good ending? . if u wanna me to write something for u hit me up. I looked up the mortality causes of cold weather and third cause is raspatory diseases so I was gonna do an " Arthur Morgan from rdr2" but that would be so cruel so I chose just a serious case of the flu. I mean after all they're humans just a little more powerful, right?

[theyanderespecialist]

The Doctor's Patient (Headcanon/Scenario) Yandere SCP 049 X Sick Reader

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am so so so sorry that I have been doing very few updates, seasonal allergies and sickness got me fucked up. Anyway, this one is going to be Yandere SCP 049 X Sick Reader! Enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: SCP 049 is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!)

(Yandere Headcanons Wtih SCP 049 X Sick Reader)

.He would want to be the one to take care of you for sure.

.He had to be the one to take care of you.

.You are his darling patient and he knows what is best for you, not those damn researchers who do not even believe in her cure.

.He would somehow get you to be his patient and you can be sure he is doing it his way.

.You are so pink in the face from your fever, it is time for some leeches!

.He would also make all your meals from scratch.

.You cannot eat anything not made by him.

.So be ready for some bland-ass French stews.

.He also loves holding you while you are sick, he needs to feel you against him.

.Yes he can control his lethal touch somewhat and really normally touches people who have the pestilence

.Speaking of the pestilence, he will die before he lets you become one of the afflicted.

.His goal is to keep you by his side always.

.He loves how helpless you are when you are sick.

.Well somewhat.

.He hates how you are more at risk.

.But he loves that you have to depend on him.

.He would be gentle yet firm with you.

.There will be none of the nonsense of you not taking your medicine (Which is a mystery sludge he makes from scratch)

.He is very protective of you, anyone that tries to get to close to you.

.Well they will be killed with that lethal touch.

.If you had a partner, they were the first ones to face his lethal touch.

.He did not bother to cure them. They were unworthy of his cure. They were the ones to mist likely make you sick.

.He would make you like him, and you will never ever leave him.

.He is also easily jealous.

.He is the type of yandere with you so sick that he has to be glued to your side and make sure you are taken care of at all times.

.He is the type of yandere to hover for sure.

.If the leeches do not work he may be forced to use even less savory methods.

.If you lash out at him? Well, that may just be hysteria!

.And the perfect method for hysteria was to give his dear patient a little intimate physical~

.He promises that he will always be there for you in sickness and in health. For better or for worse, Even death will not make you part~

(Now Onto the Scenario~~~ Hope you enjoy this!)

(SCP 049) (Trust Me, Darling… I Am YOUR Doctor~)

(SCP 049's POV)

She was so sick, I could see how the fever was coursing through her as she interviewed me. I hate that I cannot just take her in my arms and take care of her. I was growing more agitated that I could not take care of her. She has another coughing fit into her elbow and that is when I had enough. I stood up and pulled her into my arms.

The guard stared in horror and told me to let go of her. I simply touched him and he died. She struggles in my arms and I click my tongue. She is being so stubborn.

"Enough, (Name)." I scold. "I am putting you to bed!"

I carry her to my bed, she is asking so many questions. "How! How are you able to touch me!?" She demands.

"I will explain, but right now in bed," I order and tuck her into my bed. I see that she is going to be stubborn so I pull out my medical bag. "Do not worry my dear. I will give you something to sleep."

"NO! LET ME GO!" She bellows the sickness must be going to her brain! I must act fast.

I grab out the vial and syringe. I straddled her chest. Her arms were pinned between her body and my legs.

I fill the syringe, she stares in horror at the black liquid in it. "Normally you would take this orally," I tell her. "But this needs to work much faster."

"SCP 049! Please Don't!" She begs squirming the best she can.

I hold her head still stroking her hair. "Do not worry, My Darling. You can Trust me, I am a doctor~ Your doctor~" I tell her and inject it into her neck.

She lets out a howl of pain. I coo to her and stroke her hair. Soon her eyes start to droop and I climb under the covers with her. Pulling her to my chest.

I will take care of her, I always will. She is, My Darling Patient~ ALL MINE~

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS FINALLY UPDATED SOMETHING!!! This is done, I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy all of my sexy muffins!]

[pluralprompts]

I am not a system, but I have many friends who are and have researched specifically DID due to having those friends. I'm curious your opinion on me writing these prompts - as I don't intend to invade a space intentionally made to provide positive content to communities that I'm not a part of.

Firstly, you can do whatever you want forever, so jot that down –

Okay, okay. On a serious note, I think it's fine. Some disagree with me, especially when it comes to DID, but I don't think someone has to be a system, have any specific disorder, or be of/have any particular identity to write about these sorts of things. I am much less concerned with the identity of the author than I am how the character of a particular identity is written. That is to say, I am interested more in variety of plural and system representation, especially when it comes to positive or optimistic views on our lives*, than I am worried about whether the one(s) writing that representation are plural or a system, too. I care more about if the author is making a well-intentioned effort than if the author personally knows they're a system and openly identifies as one.

* I am comparing, of course, to the two main portrayals of systems in fiction: that we are evil (serial killer trope), or that we need to be fixed (fusion treated as the inevitable, and only, way for us to recover and live happy lives). There are ways to approach these tropes that avoid simply perpetuating stereotypes or disableism, and I would hate for anyone who relates to either to be told they cannot read or write about experiences similar to their own, so I am not saying these should never be written – but at the same time, with these being so prevalent, and so often without nuance, I am naturally more interested in fresh takes that show more pleasant sides of plurality, or at the very least more relatable struggles, than just more of the same.

With this in mind, I don't see singlet writers of plurality as an enemy. Rather, I see any inclusion of plurality in creative writing – from a simple OC kept to oneself, to a poem shared with a writers' group, to a bestselling series – to be normalizing plurality, introducing the concept to some and serving as a reminder of its existence to others. I'm someone who finds representation to be very important to progress, and thus I consider anyone who offers respectful** representation to be an active ally to plurals and systems. I would rather have a singlet writer make some mistakes while creating representation because they don't have personal experience with the subject than have less representation overall; if you're willing to write a character as a system, I'll be glad to see more representation out there.

** When I say "respectful", I don't mean it has to be sanitized or perfect. I just mean that it's done with research, and avoids relying on stereotypes, treating us like a horror trope or, again, like we inherently need to be "fixed" by final fusion – by becoming as singlet-like as possible. Again, looking for good intentions, here.

Besides, people who are presumably singlets will keep accidentally writing systems anyway, regardless of what I think. Seriously, do you know how often I keep coming across this? Sometimes I just sit and wonder how many of these authors are plural, and how many of them know it. Especially considering how often writers describe their characters as "acting on their own".

And on a similar note, I don't want anyone to feel pressured to out themselves as a system in order to write about plurality (especially considering writing about it can be part of someone's questioning journey). I've seen how that's gone down in places like the queer community (*cough* harassing authors into coming out even when it may not be safe for them to do so *cough cough*) and am not interested in repeating it here. You do not have to tell anyone if you are a system – and you do not have to tell anyone if you are a singlet. You have a right to privacy about your identity and what goes on in your life, no matter the subject matter you write about.

In the end, these prompts are for anyone who wishes to write about plurality. Or even wishes to write in general – I'm well aware that many of these prompts would work for settings in which everyone is a singlet! If you want to write them, you're welcome to. If you mess up, that's okay. It's pretty difficult for even systems to write about what it's like being us, sometimes – you won't be alone in that just because you're a singlet.

(On that note, there are plenty out there who would be happy to give more specific advice if there's any particular details or story beats you want feedback on! Cannot recommend @writing-plurals enough for this.)

Thank you for the ask and for your interest in writing about plurality. I wish you luck in whatever it is you're looking to write!!

TL;DR: it's fine lol don't even worry about it, just try to avoid stereotypes and negative tropes about us, and maybe ask around for a plural beta reader or sensitivity checker if you're worried.

[licorice-tea]

I’m A Ghost Of You, You’re A Ghost Of Me Pt. 4

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Content: strawhat reader, gender neutral reader, drinking in a bar, one mention of virginity (in a jokey way), mainly just reader and zoro talking, brief mention of fighting/canon typical violence, a tiny bit angsty, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: this part is kind of like reader and zoro’s first date! just a lot of talking and some angsty feelings about failure :/ but with comfort! also i’ve never been to a bar or drank a ton (im 19) so im sorry if the descriptions of alcohol are inaccurate (but also zoro canonically drinks an insane amount without actually getting drunk so idk.) also im not really sure where i want the series to go from here so… leave suggestions? anyway, enjoy! <3

Part 3

Reverse Mountain and the encounter with Laboon served to bring you closer to your new crew in a matter of hours. Though you were the last to join in the East Blue, it felt like you’d already known them all a lifetime. Your place on the crew comes naturally to you as you work in tandem with the others to overcome these obstacles.

After the long day and several brushes with death, the Straw Hats arrive to an island called Whiskey Peak. The inhabitants, surprisingly, seem enthralled with your arrival. They welcome you all with open arms and invite the crew to free drinks and a night of fun at one of their bars. It’s a little suspicious to some, but you (being on the more naive and fresh side) see nothing wrong with it. And so, you all happily go along with their invitation.

Which is how you found yourself here: sitting on a barstool with a line of shot glasses before you.

“Gonna drink all that yourself?”

You look up and smile at the voice- Roronoa Zoro. “Nope, it’s for you.”

He sits besides you, “2… 8… You got me 10 shots?”

“I wasn’t sure what you drink. Besides, I said I’d treat you.”

You tell him what each drink is, he picks out 5, then slides the rest toward you. “Drink up, y/n.”

“Oh.. I, uh… I don’t really drink.” Especially not 5 shots at once, at that.

Zoro shrugs, “‘s your tab.”

You watch as he downs all 5 of the drinks he’s chosen, eyes wide in surprise that he was able to do so by the end. Then, he looks at you expectantly. Steeling yourself for what’s to come, you nod with a sense of duty and face your 5 shots. “Here goes nothing.”

The first burns a little, but it’s nothing you can’t handle (despite the look of disgust on your face.) The second has you coughing- only because you took it right after the first, of course. Zoro barks out a laugh and pats your back. You wave him off, “I’m fine, I’m fine…” and pick up the third. Still chuckling, he grabs your wrist (with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back in circles) and lowers it down to the table.

“I was kidding, don’t drink more than you can handle. Takes out all the fun.” He proceeds to down the 3 remaining shots, completely disregarding his previous statement.

“Well, you sure make it look easy.” The annoyance in your voice is evident.

“I’ve got a high tolerance. But you,” His arm is now resting on the back of your seat, and you feel a finger poke you square in the back. “are a lightweight.”

“I- hey! I am not a lightweight. Taking 8 shots just like that isn’t normal, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m better than normal.”

A soft smile spreads across your features. “You sure about that, Zoro?”

“Wh- Of course I’m sure. Why, you don’t think I am?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance in order to mess with him. “I don’t know… that guy over there just finished his 12th drink of the night, sooo…”

“What guy? You’re kidding, I swear-“

Laughter erupts from your chest, similar to his own fit when you struggled to down the 2nd of your 2 drinks.

“Oh. Ha-ha, real funny y/n.”

“God, you’re so easy to mess with! What happened to the stoic swordsman I met on the beach last year?”

He shrugs, “Same guy.”

“Hm…” You’ve noticed that he seems to get a little defensive when you bring up that night. “Why don’t you want to talk about that night?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Zoro. C’mon, you can talk to me… We’re crew mates, right?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments; just looks down at the bar. “I failed. Plain and simple.”

“Oh…. because you didn’t bring me back to my island?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t think that’s the same as failure, you chose to-“

“You don’t get it, y/n. I couldn’t force you to go back. I wanted to, I was going to, but I couldn’t.”

“…Not to toot your horn, Zoro, but you’re plenty strong. I would’ve put up a good fight, but I’m not sure I would’ve won-“ You pat your arrow quiver, “especially not at such a close distance.”

“No. I really couldn’t.” Frustration begins to seep into his tone. “I couldn't find the- the strength or resolve. And I still don’t know why, but if things hadn’t just worked out in the end like they did…”

“But, they did, Zoro. And, I still don’t really understand what you mean, but just because you go against orders doesn’t mean you’re a failure or anything like that. You’re your own person.”

“I’m my own person who wants to fulfill my duties.”

“Even if it meant doing the wrong thing?”

“… I have my limits.”

“So then why are you beating yourself up over one task you didn’t carry out, especially one that wasn’t morally right? I’m biased, of course, but still…”

“’Cause I didn’t see anything wrong with it. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn’t have done anything that night if I’d wanted to- it’s like I was…” he trails off, shaking his head instead of finishing his sentence.

“Like you were what?”

Zoro shrugs. “Stunned.” If he were more of a romantic in his manner of speaking, he would’ve added something along the lines of “by you; by your smile and the way you move.”

“Hm. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad that you were. Or else I’d still be kicking it in a boring old house with boring people.”

He exhales sharply in a dry laugh. “Hmph. My pleasure.”

The rest of the night, which both of you seem to have forgotten is technically your first date, goes by in a flash. Zoro has another bottle and a half of sake, which you pay for while wondering how one person can drink so much and not seem inebriated. Soon enough, most everyone in the bar is knocked out- save for you, Zoro, the bartender, and a few stragglers.

“You haven’t had anything to drink all night.” He observes.

“Those shots were more than enough.”

Zoro shakes his head and waves over the bartender. “What’s your drink?”

You smile bashfully. “A shirley temple, please.”

He pays for your drink and the bartender whips it up in no time. “I thought I was supposed to be buying your drinks tonight.”

“You bought me 10 shots, then 2 bottles of sake; I won’t take offense. And, this non alcoholic garbage is cheap.”

“It is not garbage.”

“Fine, it’s just a kid’s drink.”

“It’s not for kids! It’s virgin.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, then mumbles under his breath. “Bet you’d know a lot about that.”

You shove his shoulder with a scandalized gasp. “Zoro!”

He laughs once more, loud and bright and so full of joy that you can’t help but giggle along with him.