#didn’t even know you could just wake up with a panic attack beforehand

[luna-the-cretar]

Motherfucker, I’m trying to go to bed bc it’s 3am and I have work in like 10hrs, and my brain is over here going into panic mode and convinced that I’m gonna die bc tooth hurts

Am I gonna die bc of a toothache? Probably not. Is my brain convinced otherwise, causing my heart rate to rise? Absolutely. Is it annoying? Very.

[onebourbon-oneshot-onetear]

Lilla Solen- Eric Northman x witch!reader

Just another Eric oneshot. This could be a sequel to Familiar, but you don't have to read it. Although I'd be happy if you did...

I'm just now starting season 4 so if this isn't accurate to the show's timeline then I'll get there eventually :)

It had taken me weeks and weeks of trying, and failed spells, and damn near blowing my house up before I had even caught a glimpse of success. But a few weeks ago my plans had just started to come together and since then I’ve been working night and day until I’ve finally got it right. 

A few months ago I had been dragged into another one of Sookie Stackhouse’s overly complicated situations. Typically I liked to stay neutral in these things, but after Eric had asked, if not begged, for my help, I could hardly say no. It wasn’t until Eric and a so-called vampire king started drinking from Sookie and stepping outside that I actually realized just how much shit I was about to be dragged into. 

I’ve never had a heart attack, but the way my heart was pounding out of my chest as I watched Eric on the security cameras stepping into the sun for the first time in a thousand years, I really thought I was in the middle of one. Pam and I were both glued to the screen and we couldn’t take our eyes off the screen. Her because she thought her Maker was dying, and me because I couldn’t stop looking at the serene look on his face as he closed his eyes and faced the sun. Until he started burning, then I thought he was dying. 

The events following that day were, well hectic would be an understatement, and for the weeks that followed, the thing that stuck out to me the most was Eric’s face. I couldn’t imagine not being in the sun for a week let alone a thousand years. So, I made the inane decision to try and bottle up the sun. Well, not the actual sun, but a close enough replica. I wasn’t even sure I was a powerful enough witch to make this happen, but after hundreds of hours of pouring over spell books and journals, I had the basis to create the spell. 

It took another hundred hours until I got a breakthrough. Then another dozen before I almost set my kitchen on fire. Then a couple more dozen until I had finally gotten it, and was able to replicate it safely.  

The whole process was a killer, especially keeping it away from Eric. After he had been burned by the sun, I had given him some of my blood to help heal him. Now that we had a blood connection, he could sense every bit of panic that I was feeling, which often led to numerous nights where he sprinted over here just as I extinguished some flames. While he demanded answers, I just had to tell him that I was working on some witch stuff. Which wasn’t a lie. Now I just tell him beforehand when I’m working on some tricky spells so he doesn’t panic. 

I was finally at a point where I felt comfortable showing him my work. I texted him around noon telling him I had something to show him, and was just waiting for him to wake up and make his way over. The sun was about to set as I made some last minute adjustments to the kitchen, cleaning up little things here and there. I had always fiddled with things when I was nervous, so this was making me go into overdrive. Usually I wasn’t a self conscious person, but this was making me worried. Such a gift seemed almost intimate, and while there were feelings on my end towards Eric, we had never labeled it. I didn’t even know if he felt the same. 

I had known for a while that my feelings towards Eric weren’t just platonic. He was a good friend, and we had spent many nights in this kitchen or at Fangtasia just talking and reminiscing about our long lives. But Eric was a very closed off vampire, and never showed too much emotion. The closest I had ever gotten to knowing what Eric was thinking was when Pam made a small throwaway comment about how I was Eric’s “favorite little witch”. Granted, the woman loved drama so who knows if she was being serious or just stirring a pot. 

The familiar woosh of air at my back door and the associated knocking pattern told me Eric was here. Despite him being allowed inside whenever, he was usually a gentleman and knocked first. The few times he just barged in he had made me drop quite a few mugs and glasses. He felt bad enough that he started routinely knocking. 

I walked across the kitchen and opened the back door. He turned and threw me a dashing smile, his eyes looking me up and down slowly. “Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” I answered, opening the door enough for him to come in. Eric always seemed to relax when he was here. He mentioned before the low light and herbs reminded him of home, and it always warmed my heart that I could give him that level of comfort. 

“You said you had something to show me?” He asked, tugging off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his long sleeve shirt. 

My eyes trailed up his arms as I watched him roll his sleeves before shaking myself from the not-so-wholesome thoughts that had started to form in my head, mainly involving his hands and where he could put them. 

“Yes, please, come sit down,” I said, gesturing to the living room. Much like my kitchen, the living room was small and quaint. Outfitted in older furniture, warm colors, too many candles, and just as many drying flowers, it looked more like a room out of a storybook. Which, to be fair, was the vibe I was going for. “I’m sorry if I pulled you from something important.”

Eric sat down on my couch, folding his hands on his lap. “No, nothing is more important than you.” He grinned as the blush spread across my cheeks. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if he just liked seeing me blush, or if he actually meant what he said. 

“So, over the last couple of months I’ve been thinking,” I said, sitting on the floor opposite of Eric so I could use the coffee table. “When you drank from Sookie, and you stepped outside, you looked so peaceful, and so comfortable being able to see daylight. So I made you something.” 

I pulled out the enchanted jar and placed it in the middle of the coffee table. The jar was empty except for a few sparkles glimmering in the candlelight. Eric’s eyes crinkled in confusion as he looked between me and the jar. 

“You got me a mason jar?” He asked. 

I rolled my eyes, “No, Eric. Just watch.” I closed my eyes and lightly touched the glass of the jar. I whispered the incantation, the latin rolling off of my tongue. Behind my closed eyes I could see the orange glow from the jar, and my fingertips felt the jar getting warmer. 

I opened my eyes, the little ball of light inside the jar glowing as bright as a sun, giving off a beautiful light. I looked at Eric, who at first seemed tense, like he was expecting to burn, but after a few moments he closed his eyes and sank into the couch and the light. He had the same look on his face as he did that day outside of Fangtasia. 

I couldn’t fight the grin on my face even if I wanted to. The hours of burning my fingertips and frustration were worth it just to see the serenity on his face. I slid the jar to the side of the table so we weren’t blinded. At the sound of the glass sliding on the wood Eric opened his eyes and stared at me in awe. 

I stood from the floor and sat next to him on the couch, his blue eyes, brighter in the sunlight, never left my face. 

“How?” was all he could ask. 

I shrugged, “I created the spell. I used some different variations of magic, made sure the jar wouldn’t break, temperature control…It’s simple in theory but harder in practice.” I said. Eric’s staring was only broken by him glancing at the jar every few seconds. “It only lasts for about an hour before I have to say the incantation again, and only I can activate it, but other than that it’s all yours. It follows the cycle of the sun, so when it’s close to going out, it deepens into a sunset.” I finished, twisting my fingers together nervously. 

We sat in silence, him staring at the jar as I watched him. I just took a mental snapshot of the look on his face. He was a fairly hard man to read but I knew him well enough to see where his mind was going. He was figuring out how hard it was to do this, the time and effort it took for me to do this, and then the reason why I would do this. See, that’s where he got confused. That’s what he couldn’t understand. Why I would care enough to go through all the trouble. 

“Eric?” I quietly asked. He had reached out to the jar, running his finger up and down the warm glass. His eyes reflected the light coming off of it, drinking it in. 

“I don’t really know what to say,” He mumbled, dragging his eyes from the jar back to me. “Thank you, for starters.” 

I shrugged, “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

Eric moved closer to me, our knees now touching. “You have no idea how much it means to me,” he said. His mouth moved but no words came out until he finally mumbled, “I’m actually speechless.” 

Now my blush had overtaken my neck, cheeks, and ears. “You don’t have to say anything. Honestly, I just wanted you to be happy. This is well worth it,” I mumbled. 

Eric grinned, leaning forward and cupping my cheek. “Y/n, I honestly don’t know how to thank you. This means so much to me, you have no idea.” Eric glanced down at my lips and my blush only deepened. “What do you call it?” 

“Lilla Solen. It’s swedish, for-” 

“Little sun,” Eric finished. I nodded. 

“Yeah, I thought it was fitting.” 

“Y/n”, Eric whispered, running his thumb on my cheek. Eric had slowly started to lean forward until we were only a breath apart. 

“Eric,” I whispered back. My eyes closed as he gently pressed his lips to mine in a chaste kiss. He pulled away and I opened my eyes, a grin stretching across my face. I grabbed his collar and pulled him back in for another longer kiss. 

“It’s about time,” I whispered when we broke apart again a few minutes later. Eric chuckled, swiping his finger over my slightly swollen lips. 

“I’d say. Pam said if I didn’t kiss you soon she’d lock me in the basement,” He said, rolling his eyes. 

I laughed, knowing the woman was serious about that. “That reminds me,” I said, pulling a smaller jar out of my pocket, “I made one for her too. It just isn’t as powerful.” 

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” Eric said, taking the jar and putting it next to his. Eric wrapped his arms around me and pulled me towards him until we were both leaning back on the couch, facing the jar. 

I was tense for a moment before I relaxed into his hold, snuggling into his chest. Eric ran his hands up and down my back tracing little shapes. This was all very new behavior that I could very much get used to. 

“I didn’t know you spoke Swedish,” Eric said. 

“I don’t, but I just looked up the translation. I figured if I’m creating something new, the name should be enjoyed by the person I’m making it for.” I answered. 

“How long have you felt this way,” He asked, quietly. 

I took a moment to think about the answer. “Quite a while now. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make things awkward between us. And I never knew how you felt.” 

“I should have told you sooner,” Eric said. 

“It’s alright. At least we know now.” 

Eric was silent for a moment, “You know, this really does give me an excuse to keep you around. To light this thing every night,” He said. I could hear the grin in his voice. I looked up and he was giving me his classic Eric smirk. 

“Did you really need an excuse to keep me around?” I asked. 

Eric’s grin got wider and he leaned forward and planted a kiss on my forehead. “No, I was gonna keep you around anyway,” He mumbled. 

I laughed and lay my head back down on his chest, basking in the glow of the jar, and in Eric’s embrace. Yeah, this was definitely worth it. 

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Presents

Woohoo double update! Don’t get used to it tho lol sorry

Masterlist

CW: vampire caretaker, multiple whumpees, institutionalized slavery, caretaker new master, selective mutism, fear of punishment, panic attack, Roy being big of heart but dumb of ass,

———

The ride back was unsettling, but at least Master allowed them to sit in the seats. It was senseless kindness, one that they will have to repay, but at least it was comfortable. Dew hated punishment, but at least she could curl up on a cushy seat in a beautiful car beforehand.

The first thing Dew noticed when they arrived was that Master’s house was tiny for a vampire. She originally was astonished that he had such a huge building all to himself until he mentioned a landlady. Drop elbowed her in the ribs, wanting to ask a question. She tried to subtly shake her head “no” but he just. Would not listen. Typical.

“So, master, you have a landlady? What is that?”

“Oh! Yeah, you’ve probably only ever lived in mansions. Well, my place might be a little bit of a downgrade, but it’s still pretty big. It’s the penthouse suite and the biggest space of this entire apartment complex. It takes up most of the top floor.”

Master showed them around, but Dew started to worry. It didn’t even take up the last floor completely. Master would be able to hear them constantly and know what they messed and or spoke out of turn. They were totally exposed.

A quick glance at Drop told her that he knew it too. This house was much smaller than any other vampire, but perhaps Master knew that. He realized that his super hearing had limits and chose a house according. So sneaky. So cruel. Dew’s breathing began to pick up again, but she forced herself to stay calm. She couldn’t start freaking out, not right now! Not with so much at stake.

“So this is the kitchen, but it’s hardly been used. Oh, um, can you guys make food for yourselves?”

Dew nodded, and he moved on.

“Here’s your room. I hope only one bed is alright. Your bathroom is just down the hall. Any questions?”

“Yes Master. Firstly, may we enter the library? Also, where would you like to be fed? I noticed there is no dining room.”

“You can go pretty much anywhere in here. I’m not too big on rules. The only place that’s restricted is my room, I guess. And there was a dining room. It is what is now my library that I showed you. Heh, um, yeah.” Master seemed agitated. Plus, he had dodged her second question. Dew shuffled her feet nervously.

“I don’t know how to tell you, but I’m not hungry right now. Really, I’m not! There was a lot of, uh, stuff at the party. So you can just, like, chill I guess. Hang out. I’m going to be in my room. Call me if you need me.”

And then he was gone, briskly walking away. Just like that. Like he hadn’t left to terrified blood bags in his wake.

Dew took a deep breath, keeping the constant fear away, and lead Drop to the library. She had seen lose paper and pens in there.

They sat on the plush carpet. Drop looked around, but Dew was focused on writing down a note. She’d been caught with a note only once before, but vampires often underestimated how quickly a human could chew and swallow something. They’d be safe to communicate like this.

She handed Drop the note and he read,

This house is small, so he’ll hear us talking. You already know that though. If he comes to check what we’re writing, I’ll eat the paper. Nod to show you read it.

He nodded and she wrote on the back.

We present ourselves first thing tomorrow morning. Be sweet looking. Don’t grimace or snarl. Don’t go into any room other than ours, the bathroom, and the library but only when I tell you.

Drop rolled his eyes and did an eating motion.

We don’t know if we can go in the kitchen.

Drop glared at her. She glared right back. They had known each other long enough, it felt like an entire conversation was going on through their angry looks.

Drop: how are we supposed to eat, then?

Dew: how should I know? Just don’t go there until we’re sure.

Drop: why show us a kitchen if we can’t use it!

Dew: shut up!

Drop: you shut up!

Dew: fine.

Drop: fine.

Dew huffed and started to stand. Drop swatted at her legs playfully and she returned it by hitting his leg with her shoe. They couldn’t be mad at each other for long and both humans started to giggle.

*Creak*

They whipped around. Master had left his room and was coming there way. Dew ate the paper so fast that she honestly surprised herself.

“Hey, sorry, but I just remembered a few things. Sorry to interrupt.”

They almost forgot to bow when he came in. Dew felt the constant terror clawing at her throat, threatening to make her sob.

“You did not interrupt. We are yours, we are here to serve. It is our fault for being distracted. Punish us as you see fit.”

Again, Master seemed tense one moment and fine the next. Dew’s metaphorically knuckles were white with how desperately and tightly she held to her calm exterior, which threatened to slip right out of her grasp.

“It’s really alright. I don’t- you aren’t getting punished. I just wanted to clarify a few things.”

There was a pause, and Dew hesitantly nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Um, can he talk?” Master asked, gesturing to Drop. “Like, physically talk.”

And just like that, everything came crashing down, including her knees as she fell into a mix of a bow and the fetal position.

“Please, d-don’t punish him! Don’t! He’s done- done nothing wrong. H-he’s good. He d-doesn’t, um, doesn’t talk. H-he could, but please don’t- don’t make him! He’ll be good! We’ll be good. L-let me me t-t-talk f-for him…” She tired to continue, but her sobs got in the way. Instead, she focused on catching her breath and not flinging herself over Drop to shield him.

Even though she couldn’t see him from her curled up position, she heard Drop holding back tears, dry sobs escaping every now and then. She looked up at her owner, the cruel man who may have purposefully owned a small house to keep slaves constantly feeling scared. She expected more of his signature, creative evilness and cunning. She expected hate and anger.

But instead, his eyes shone with tears, like a triplet to their twin despair. A thick strand of purple hair had fallen in Master’s face and he didn’t bother to push it away. He was uncomfortable and tense, just like she had thought she’d seen before. He looked about half as utterly miserable as Dew felt.

“Hey, i-it’s alright. It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re safe. No one is in trouble.” He gave her a moment to collect herself and wipe her tears before crouching down to their level while maintaining a fair distance between them.

“No one is going to be hurt or punished. Neither of you, I swear. I just was wondering if there was an injury that I should know about. But it’s okay if he can’t or won’t talk, even if he could physically. I don’t mind. I swear. You’re good.” And then Master turned to Drop and slowly reached out a hand. The latter flinched away, but Master rested his palm gently on his slave’s knee.

“And you’re okay, Drop. If you ever want to talk again, that’s fine. I don’t mind either way. If you never talk, it’s all good. I swear. You are both good.”

And he stood, took a deep breath, and left. It was always the same. As Dew helped her friend up and they scurried away, she mulled this over. Perhaps their master enjoyed causing panic and confusion and then leaving. It was strange how completely upset he looked, but maybe it was an act. That’d be okay. They had dealt with worse in and outside of the farm. If this Master enjoyed playing with his food, that was fine. At least they had each other.

Drop hopped into bed and held his arms open. It wasn’t every day that they slept cuddled up and consoling each other all night long. But if they ever needed comfort, it was on the first day of a new, strange master. As Dew curled up in Drop’s arms, she thought about everything. They could face this new Master and any other. As long as they had each other, they would be okay in the end.

———

Tag list: @kim-poce @badluck990 @whumpy-writings @imagination1reality0 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @wolfeyedwitch @thecyrulik @nicolepascaline @whumpsday @whumpcreations

[zodiakuroo]

yandere boyfie kenma

here’s a poorly written piece detailing one of the terrible fantasies i use to help get me through university featuring kenma and gn!reader

warnings: 18+, mentions of drug use (weed), drugging, manipulation, gaslighting, yandere themes, reader kind of has a panic attack?

ok but like.... dating kenma, at first he’s not exactly neglectful but just.... distant? typical introvert things you know

but as time goes on he gets used to your presence and starts to miss you when you’re not around

you spend every weekend at his place and just take such good care of him like cutting up fruits for him, bringing him snacks and water during his streams and even sucking him off when he’s getting really frustrated

he wants you there all the time but every time he mentions the idea of you moving in with him you shut it down immediately

it’s not that you don’t love him, you say, it’s just a big step that you’re not exactly ready to take yet. so every sunday it’s the same spiel...

“just stay one more night baby please.” he pouts

“kenma i can’t i have work tomorrow.” “I promised my friends we’d have brunch tomorrow.” “i have an early lecture”  you try to reason with him. there’s always something and usually he doesn’t press you any further but he’s tired of this 

he doesn’t appreciate having to share you with your job or school or friends, he can’t understand why he isn’t enough for you

he hates that it’s come to this, it makes him feel like an absolute creep but seeing as you refuse to even consider his perspective, you leave him no choice

so one sunday morning he surprises you with breakfast in bed with an extra little surprise mixed into your coffee

he scored the little baggie of white pills from his plug, not even bothering to ask what they were called but the dealer assured him that this shit would help you “chill the fuck out”

and half an hour later you’re all soft and giggly and totally spaced out- exactly as promised... your head in your boyfriend’s lap while he plays with your hair, body feeling heavy and warm all over

you look up at him, pupils dilated and dopey grin on your face, he can tell that he’s the only thing on your mind right now, no other thoughts in that pretty little head... yeah he could get used to this...

you wake up the next day, just past midday, brain filled with fog, not really remembering anything from the day before.

you freak out when you check your phone to see it filled with texts, from your friends asking why you weren’t in class, and a single email from your professor because you missed the deadline for huge assignment and are now at risk of failing the module

despite your aching, spinning head, you practically leap out of bed. your stomach is churning and you’re fighting to urge to throw up but manage to stumble into the living room, hoping your boyfriend can help you make sense of the situation 

aside from the amnesia, you feel positively awful, kind of like a hangover but so much more visceral

you’re absolutely freaking out when you find kenma, sat in front of the tv, laser focused on the game he’s playing but the sounds of your hysterical crying and hyperventilating grab his attention

he immediately pauses and makes his way over to you, cupping both your cheeks in his soft hands, wiping your tears away with gentle strokes of his thumbs, hushing and cooing at you like one would a child

you try and ask him what happened last night but he can’t really make out anything through the sobs and hiccups

he guides you over to the couch, sitting you down next to him and takes deep breaths with you to help you find your bearings before asking what’s the matter

feeling slightly more grounded, you start to explain how you overslept (even though you didn’t plan on spending the night again), woke up with no memory of what happened yesterday and how you missed your deadline

his face is stoic as always, easily feigning surprise and innocence but he can’t help the pang of guilt he feels when he sees how genuinely distraught you are over this, he didn’t mean to upset you... he just wanted a little more time with you

still he tells you in a sympathetic voice to calm down and that everything will be okay.

he tells you the lie he had come up with beforehand.... that yesterday when he offered to drive you home, you asked him to smoke just one bowl with him and then you’d call an uber instead

but one bowl turned into two and before either of you knew it, you were both too stoned to even move

he assures you that if he had known you had things today, he would have woken you up on time and even reminded you about your submission that night but you didn’t tell him so he let you sleep

he wanted you to chill out and rest up because god knows you deserve it, really he was just trying to be a good boyfriend

“baby relax. we can fix this.” tells you. it’s really no big deal. you can get yourself an extension, he’ll even help you but first you need to relax or else you won’t be able to think straight, all this stress isn’t good for you 

he tells you breathe, even guiding you in to a slow, deep rhythm before disappearing into the kitchen to make you a lovely, soothing cup of tea that should help ease your nerves

he crushes up another one of those special little pills into your tea cup smirking to himself as he watches the white powder vanish into nothing

he hands you the tea in exchange for your phone, telling you to calm down while he drafts an apology email to your professor, pleading for an extension

in reality he’s doing nothing of the sort. he’s actually texting your friends, telling them that you’re fine and to leave you alone for the rest of the day (the last thing he wants is them blowing up his phone cause they can’t get a hold of you)

you’re so grateful, you tell him with tears in your eyes “i don’t know what i’d do without you” as you sip down the warm, comforting tea, feeling calm wash over you

he simply smiles and says “you don’t have to worry about anything. ‘m always gonna take care of you.” and before long you’re nice and relaxed like he promised you would be

you’re curled up in his lap, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie while he plays his game, not a care in the world

it’s then that he decides it’s for the best if he just keeps you like this, nice and drugged up for him so you’ll never want to leave

[industriallyinsecure]

How would yandere La Squadra go about their darling being extremely paranoid... maybe even an abduction survivor? Like, they won't drink or eat anything that's not sealed or prepared by them, they won't go anywhere without telling a loved one or friend where they are and where they're going. They only use their own car or commute with ppl they are close with, their door has several locks and bolts, the windows have special locks and they have a hidden weapon on their body and know how to use it.

I apologize for the long wait!

Sorbet and Gelato don’t care. Gelato is audacious enough to keep testing your boundaries by inserting himself into your life as mere coincidences. Sorbet is the only one keeping you safe, in a strange way. He constantly has to talk Gelato down with kisses and promises of taking you soon. Even if you pulled a weapon on them, there’s two of them. Your odds wouldn’t even be that great with just one of them pursuing you. The only problem is orchestrating the whole ordeal just right. With the constant paper trail you left, it would be difficult to just snatch you up and make you disappear off the face of the earth so suddenly. They have to strike in the golden hour, which, much to Gelato’s displeasure, means they have to leave you alone. When you stop frantically updating your friends and family, Gelato kicks in your door and Sorbet restrains you. Of course, when you wake up in an unfamiliar place with two men sandwiching you, the carefully crafted walls you put up to protect yourself from your past abduction come crumbling down. Gelato feels the tiniest bit remorseful and tries to kiss it better, but nothing works and they end up having to knock you out. Sorbet scolds Gelato for his hastiness while they cuddle on the chair across from the bed where your sleeping body whimpered and twitched. It would take some time to help you rebuild from your trauma, but the Milk and Milkless Dessert couple weren’t known for giving up easily.

Risotto is the same way. It’s part of the reason he was drawn to you. After researching about a hit and discovering they had kidnapped and held someone for ransom unsuccessfully, he felt it necessary to check in on the victim to see if there were any connections between them and Passione. More accurately, to see if the victim would cause any problems for Passione. When he first seeks you out, he’s not surprised about your demeanor. But something about your mouselike timidness drew him in. He knows he has to measure his steps carefully if he wants to get close. There’s a lot of methodical planning involved to make sure he doesn’t accidentally scare you off. He attempts to insert himself in your life subtly, appearing in places you go but not engaging you. When he was finally bold enough to seek you out in your own home, he finally saw the extent of your trauma. Metallica made it easy to bypass the many locks on the door, but it was a chore to do. Finding you waiting behind the door with a gun drawn was certainly a surprise, though. Seeing your perpetual eyebags and frowning features so frightened made his heart ache. It’s too bad you were close enough for Metallica to work. He’s positive you would’ve put up a good fight. But for now he’s focused on getting you tucked in. There was no reason to whisk you away when it was clear you were smart enough to be scared of the world outside.

Ghiaccio always has to be in the right, no matter the situation. He doesn’t care that you have trauma that makes your day to day hell or that his constant presence makes you wary and weary. His needs and desires come first at the cost of your comfort. He only compromises on his yelling when he notices he makes you flinch. Other than that, he’ll pester you nonstop. It’s a mystery how he is always where you are without fail. At a certain point, you refuse to leave your home because of it. Ghiaccio isn’t understanding of this and nearly breaks down your door and sends you into a panic attack. Seeing you scream and shield yourself with your arms makes him hesitate. What breaks him is when you plead for him to leave you alone and to not hurt you. It’s a rare moment of clarity in his obsession addled mind and he tries his best to calm you down, even though his touch makes you flinch away. In the middle of his attempt to soothe you, he ends up covering you in frost. The effects of White Album make your reactions sluggish and weak, but you have plenty of time to consider how you got here as he hefts you over his shoulder and buckles you into the passenger’s seat, wrapping the seatbelt around you several times.

Melone honestly has an Obsession of the Week™️, which more than half the time is just for scientific purposes. He likes to psychoanalyze random people he sees, just for funsies. You, on the other hand, were far too interesting to just dissect mentally and move on. He tuned in when you asked for a drink that was from an unopened case of products, and his interest only heightened when he saw you take a very calculated path through the lounge area. He noted you made sure to move in the blind spots of the windows and cameras before nestling safely in a corner where you could see the whole room, all the while peeking over your shoulder. At first, he thought OCD or some other disorder. It made sense, but he watched you timidly flick your eyes around as you uncapped your drink , sniffed it, and took a tentative sip. Melone is already mentally logging this information, creating trials and assessing variables as you sip away at your beverage. Of course when he went to pursue you after you left, he didn’t expect for you to pull a knife on him and threaten him with wide eyes to stay away. The reasons you gave were conjecture, though. He could see that you weren’t quite sure of your choice to confront him, the minuscule shaking of your hand only proving it. It’s laughably easy for him to disarm you, even if his thievery skills have gotten rusty from his transition from petty thief into assassin. After his civil approach, by his own standards, you're toted off to a nearby safe house where he could keep you while he arranges for your accommodations elsewhere.

This is a problem for Prosciutto. He and Formaggio are the most social creatures of La Squadra (Melone is well… social in a different way). Prosciutto loves to be seen. He likes going to the opera, to have someone on his arm dressed almost as finely as he was, to go to art auctions, to go out to a restaurant where the prices were high and the portions low. So your paranoid personality, while understandable, poses a problem for the fantasy he made within five minutes of seeing you shuffle around the market in what he would describe as “bum clothes” (aka sweatpants and a baggy shirt). He notes that every step you take is deliberate, every move calculated and determined beforehand. With his years of stealth training, he trails you for a while to fully observe you. One thing that stuck out to him was that you were always in public places, among crowds with just enough people that you would be missed if you were swept off your feet by a dashing blond in a finely pressed suit. Prosciutto is a fixer. He lives to nitpick and improve and fix everyone he cares for, and you are no different. Soon you’ll find yourself in the company of the handsome blond you’ve seen around town, whether you like it or not. He takes it upon himself to interject and speak over you when it comes to certain things, stating how you should’ve handled a situation. Your paranoia is soon taken advantage of, with Prosciutto feeding into it by isolating you and forcing you to depend on him. Not that he minds. He loves to help people improve. On his terms, of course.

Illuso takes it as a challenge. He’s very reserved as well, and when he observed you for his own interest, it was kismet. Illuso is great at playing the long game and letting his opponent’s psyche get the best of them. With your ‘weakened’ mind, he could play around with you as much as he liked. Tapping on your (barred)window, the mirror, moving stuff. Your own personal curator of hell. He never once feels bad, but he wondered why he didn’t stop playing poltergeist after his usual week or so. Soon he found himself just…staring at your permanently furrowed brow and frowning lips. Maybe if he isolated you in a place where he knew there wouldn’t be anyone, he could get something out of you? Secretly pulls you into the mirror world and observes you. He lets you sit in the comfort of assured solitude before making his grand entrance. Of course he didn’t expect to get punched in the gut and to have a knife pulled on him. He might boast that Man in the Mirror is the strongest stand, but stands are pretty much useless when you’re taken by surprise by someone you underestimated. For a moment, he can’t decide if this makes him like you a lot more, or if you deserve a kick to the gut. Maybe both.

Formaggio firmly believes in the ideology of “take no shit, give no fucks”. He may be social, but he’s not exactly socially intelligent. Case in point, he didn’t understand that his social butterfly-ness might be a huge turn off for some people. So he’s pretty much at a loss for what to do. His previous flings loved it, but you, well, you wanted nothing to do with him in any capacity. Formaggio was supposed to have been scouting his hit, but he was mostly checking out the Milfs, Dilfs, and Pilfs (parent) that passed. And when his gaze finally fell on you, sitting by yourself, he had to swoop in. Similar to how he reacts to Narancia, he’s very affable when you pull your weapon on him and threaten him with very serious eyes, even joking with you playfully when you ask him what he thinks he’s doing. I love him dearly, but Formaggio is a dumb man. He can’t read social cues and probably just thinks you’re playing hard to get when in reality you have trauma. But since he hides all his trauma and self hatred behind jokes, it takes him a while to fully realize that you’re broken. And what do you do with broken things? Why, stick them in a doll house and provide for them, of course!

[beelspillowpet]

could i get some hcs of the brothers (how many is up to you!!) with an epileptic MC? like, they end up having absence and myoclonic seizures, and maybe hurt themselves a bit? sorry if this is too specific adjkd it just happened to me this morning and. i accidentally flung my spoon across the room while eating cereal 🙈 i also stabbed myself in the eye with my thumb but Eh

OMG Anon!!! I hope you’re okay!? Seizures are really serious and dangerous, I hope you’re recovering alright?! Sending you a bunch of hugs and head pats u-u In other somewhat unrelated news, I’m glad people are so comfortable coming to me with these sorts of HCs. Means I really am doing an impactful job in my research and writing these sorts of things comfort you. It also helps me learn a little more about people's everyday struggles. Here’s to hoping for a bright future for you all!

I tried to include more symptoms and types of seizures (?) in this post, but I don’t think I was able to touch on them all? Usually when I do HCs like this, I have something like an “interview” with the asker beforehand to make sure I’m getting their experience probably, and a better understanding of the disorders. I hope this is portrayed properly!!! ~

Lucifer

He’s lecturing you, but pauses for a moment to question your reasoning for making pacts with his brothers. He’s expecting you to answer, but you don’t. You simply daze off at him. You weren’t trying to piss him off, but you weren’t all there in the moment. Your hands twitched and your hand accidently shot up behind you, as if you were pulling your hand away from a snapping dog. He took that as a warning.

The second time it occurred was over dinner. It was just you and him, enjoying the meal you prepared for dinner and waited for him to arrive home for it. You had another epileptic seizure, and spaced out for longer than normal.

When you came to, Lucifer was out of his chair at your side, checking to make sure you were alright. He was a bit rattled to say the least, but when he waved his hand in front of your eyes and they followed, he started to relax a bit more. He questioned what just happened, but with the slot of time missing in your brain, you couldn’t completely answer him.

It’s when you start jerking your body about uncontrollably, as if something is possessing you to behave in such a manner than he finally looks into it. Admittedly, he should have done so sooner, this isn’t normal behavior after all. What he discovers is a bit upsetting, as there’s no “cure” or “fix” for it. He doesn’t bring it up to you- you’re probably sensitive about the topic. But he’s far more patient with you now, knowing that these seizures are just a part of your life.

Mammon

Oh what the fuck was that? Are ya’ good? You just kinda... slapped the fuck out of yourself there? Why’d you do that?

This pea-brain probably doesn’t pick up on too many symptoms at first. You’re just his weird, hopeless human. While that’s nice, a little more attention would be grateful.

“Hey Mammon, when did you dye your hair yellow?” “What’re ya talkin’ about? My hair is white.” “Huh, in this light it looks yellow. And did you get a tan?” He thinks you’re weird but it’s okay. It sort of offends you that he thinks this way, it’s not like you’re doing this on purpose. You genuinely thought he dyed his hair yellow- and that he darkened his skin.

There are also times when he uses the same cologne but something smells different about it. The whiplash of suddenly having one smell and then be overwhelmed by something entirely different, or have this random dizziness... well, at least Mammon is always there to catch you if you lose your balance. As much of an airhead as he is, he’s still a helpful and supportive one.

Leviathan

Your seizures scare the shit out of them. You have the worst ones with him because while in his room, the bright flashing lights are somehow worse. Brighter, even more than before, and before you know it you’re having an out of body experience, feeling your body twitch and tremor, but unable to stop it.

You can hear Leviathan freaking out in the distance, making sure you lay down flat and keep you from swallowing your own tongue. Despite having a panic attack after the fact, he’s relatively calm for the most part. He doesn’t have any real knowledge on these things yet, and he’s not sure if he’s prepared for it.

Other times you may just pace the floor as if thinking. You’re constantly rubbing your hands together, looking left and right erratically. Sometimes when you do this, you’re muttering nonsense, and other times, you’re silent. Leviathan isn’t sure which one is scarier.

He does research on why you behave this way sometimes. You don’t have them too often, but it’s happened at least three times and it’s scared him each time. When he discovers his solution, he tries to bring it up with you in a calm and quiet manner. Either that or he waits until next time because bringing it up unprompted can be awkward.

Satan

Oh. He knows what’s going on. He’s got doctor friends. He sort of just... asks. Just to be sure. Whether you tell him or not, he knows what’s really going on here. He won’t judge. Obviously not. You can’t control your behavior with those sorts of things.

He’s aware that seizures can kick up anywhere, so he watches you carefully. You could have one while walking down the steps and end up falling and hurting yourself. You could get one while preparing dinner and accidently stab yourself- or you can even get one while driving. He’s always prepared to take over for you when you need it.

There was one time you finally did come to him. To confide in him about your problems. It was silly, you thought. Why would he listen? Except he set aside his book, turned in his chair to you, and listened. He never interrupted, and only spoke when you were taking a moment to breathe through your tears.

He was there for you, and he would never try to upset you. He knows how scary these sorts of things can be. While he doesn’t struggle with the same issues, having depressive episodes are not lost on him. He would gladly welcome you into his arms for a hug, and make sure you’re at least safe in these awful times.

Asmodeus

You and Asmo were at the club when it happened. You’re dancing with each other one moment, and the next you’re on the floor convulsing. You were embarrassed once it was all over, but imagine how terrified Asmo was???

You come back to yourself still on the dirty floor of the club, but now people are surrounding you, all concerned. You see Asmodeus crying, not knowing what to do. He’s panicked, and he’s gently holding your hand, hoping you’re okay.

You two leave the club early, and in your guilt, explain to him what happened. Although you’re vague because you aren’t entirely sure of the details, he puts together enough to know it won’t be the last time that happens.

he clings to you afterwards, and doesn’t let go. Even if you involuntarily jerk and hit him by accident. He knows. He understands and he loves you, darling. You would never want to push him away, and he would never want you to go. Next time, he WILL do better for you.

Beelzebub

You two were playing sports together when he accidently tackled you too hard. You fell over and hit your head hard, causing you to fall into a shock-induced seizure.

He kneels there by your side crying. He knows what to do but every time he touches you, you jerk violently. As if you’re afraid of his touch, afraid of him making things worse. Still, he does his best to assist you, making sure you don’t swallow your tongue and that you don’t harm yourself any further.

Once it’s all over, he carries you to the benches and gives you food and water. He’s still crying a bit, not sure what he should do now. He probably calls Lucifer for help, and while waiting, just talks to you. Makes sure you’re still all there.

When he’s alone, he does a bit more research on seizures and comes across epilepsy. After going over what can cause the seizures, he’s riddled with even more guilt. You hit your head when he tackled you. He probably caused that seizure, didn’t he? From then on, he refuses to play sports with you. He could never forgive himself for putting you through that.

Belphegor

Of course it was a nap. What else would it be? You wake him up on accident when you kick your leg out too hard, knocking him off the bed. When he gets up to yell at you for doing that, he notices you aren’t really paying much attention to him. Instead you’re twitching your arms and legs, grunting and groaning at the pain in your limbs when you slap against the bedpost.

You’re blinking rapidly and your lips are moving, as if you’re trying to ask him for help. All that manages to come out is something similar to your lips smacking. Like Beel when he’s taste testing his dinner.

Once the seizure is over, Belphie is sitting you up slowly, petting your hand. He brings you into a hug as  you tremble in his arms, whispering that its okay and that he’s here now.

He’d never experienced something so... unsettling in his life. He wonders if humans do this sometimes. Sometimes after... traumatic experiences. He cringes at the thought. Could he have caused this unintentionally? He didn’t think that the one time he snapped, he would leave you with irreversible damage. He tries to be diligent in helping you from there on, doing his thorough research and making sure you are taken care of in all ways possible should these continue, or get worse. To him, it’s more than a reason to redeem himself, it’s just doing what’s right.

[amyscascadingtabs]

your light, it follows me in darkness

Jake thinks that if he had only been the type of person to worry a bit more beforehand, perhaps the subsequent fall wouldn't have felt quite as steep. If he had only remembered to think about all the things that could still go wrong, maybe he wouldn't be feeling like the ground is giving out beneath him and everything is turning hazy when the doctor speaks to them.

Low hCG levels. No heartbeat. Unfortunately, nothing we can do to stop it. Sometimes it just happens like this.

read on ao3

sneak peek below because tumblr sucks and it’s 7k, go to ao3 for the full chapter! 💞 

Jake can’t shake the feeling of guilt when the doctor confirms it.

There's nothing they could have done, she repeats in a calm and composed voice that Jake assumes is supposed to be soothing. It's not anyone's fault. Sometimes it happens like this.

 Jake understands that, logically. Still, when he thinks back to this morning, he hates himself.

~

At first, he figures Amy’s exaggerating.

Exaggerating could be the wrong word – it's not one he’d ever dream of uttering to his pregnant wife’s face – but he figures she’s just being overly worried. It was like this for the first weeks when she was pregnant with Mac, too, and everything had always been fine. Jake doesn’t think much about it when Amy pads out from the bathroom with a distracted look, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

 “I just don’t feel great today,” she sighs when he raises his brows, wordlessly asking how she’s doing.

“Want me to make you some more of that tea?” He offers, already pulling out the box from the cupboard. “I got loads at the store yesterday. Gots to stuck up for the baby, right?”

“I’m not feeling sick.” Amy grimaces. “But I have some weird cramping. Light, but… weird.”

“Oh.” Jake frowns. “Is that bad?”

“I don't know. It could be implantation, or muscles stretching, or pretty much anything. Then I thought I saw some blood, but there could be a million reasons for that this early, too, so I’m not sure what to think.” She shakes her head, looking fondly at Mac in his high chair when he lets out a happy squeal at some character on the iPad in front of him (anything to get your child to eat breakfast under time pressure). “I hate the first trimester. Everything’s scary.”

“Call the doctor if you're worried,” he suggests, hugging her quickly. “I’m sure everything’s fine, babe.”

Amy opens her mouth as if to say something, but in that same moment, Mac manages to outsmart the suction on his baby plate and spill soggy cornflakes-goo all over his high chair, the iPad, and himself, and the conversation comes to an abrupt end.

Jake stops by Amy’s desk a few times during the day, just to be sure, and each time she tells him she's fine. He never really worried from the start, but when he comes home that evening to find her laughing in the middle of a tickling-fight with Mac in an attempt to try and get him to put on pajamas, all worries are well and truly gone from his mind.

Once they've put their son to bed for the night, Amy disappears to the bathroom, returning holding two pregnancy tests.

“You're going to think I’m ridiculous now,” she says, placing them in front of him and lining up the two test windows. “Honestly, I hope I am. But this is a few days ago.” She points to the top set of pink lines with her shaking hand. “And the other one is today. The second line’s fainter. It's supposed to grow stronger.”

Jake squints. It's hard to see much of a difference to him, and he points this out to her.

“There can be other reasons,” Amy says slowly. “It could be that I’ve had more water. It could be a bad test. I’m just scared it's… what I’m scared it could be. The hormone levels going down,” she adds, seeing the confusion on Jake’s face. “The baby… you know.”

 It’s not the first time Jake's heard her worry about miscarriages. For the first two months of her pregnancy with Mac, he must have coaxed her down from panic attacks about them at least once per week, listening to her whisper the statistics that he couldn't imagine it helped to know. One in four. One in five known pregnancies. But they’d made it then, with the most perfect of results, and he doesn't have the slightest of doubts that they will again. He only wishes Amy could be sure of the same thing, so that she’d stop torturing herself with these endless what-ifs.

“What did the doctor say?” He asks, trying first to see if he can defeat the worries with logic.

“Just to call if it got worse. She didn't sound too worried, but…” Amy shakes her head, pulling at the sleeves of her knitted black sweater and picking absentmindedly at a loose thread. “I’m just scared.”

She doesn't have to tell him the last part. He can practically sense her anxiety, like a grey, vibrating force field, visible in her wide eyes and her lips, pressed tightly together. Slowly, so that she has time to stop him if she doesn't want to be touched, Jake puts his arms around her.

 It seems to be the right action this time. She rests her head against his chest, her shaky breaths warm against his neck, and he strokes her back until they're even again.

“You need to stop worrying so much,” he tells her. “Everything’s fine, Ames. You're only making it worse for yourself.”

She sniffles and looks up at him. “How do you know it is?”

 Because it's us. Because nothing bad can happen to us anymore. It's you and me, Ames.

 “I just do,” he says, confidently. “Baby’s perfect. Trust me.”

Amy nods, holding her hand low on her stomach. Yesterday she’d been moaning about how the hint of a little bump already at eight weeks was ridiculous, but now she's looking at it like she's scared it might disappear.

“That nine-week ultrasound couldn't come soon enough,” she mumbles.

“Five more days.”

“I know.”

“I can't believe Mac’s going to be a big brother”, Jake says, hoping to get her on other, more positive thoughts.

“That is crazy. He's going to love it, though.”

“He is.” He gives the baby monitor a longing look, staring at the image of Mac asleep on his tummy with his face turned toward the camera and his arms and legs sprawled like a sea star. “He’s going to be the best.”

“Yeah. You want to watch something before we go to bed? I promise I won't fall asleep.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Santiago.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, but there’s a small smile on her lips, and Jake considers his self-imposed mission of distracting Amy from her anxiety successful for the night.

 To no surprise of his own, Jake is correct. Five minutes into the episode of Mad Men they’re watching, Amy has started yawning. After ten minutes, she rests her head in his lap, letting him play with her hair, and after fifteen minutes, she’s snoring slightly with her mouth open. It’s been the same thing every night since she got pregnant again, no matter how adamant she is that she’ll manage to stay awake. He doesn’t have the heart to tease her about it; balancing life as a Sergeant with parenting an energetic toddler is demanding at the best of times, and he knows the famous first-trimester exhaustion is wearing at her. Jake is glad she gets to rest.

 He wakes her up once the episode is over. She’s a little dazed, blushing when she realizes she’s slept her way through it, but looking relieved when he suggests they go to bed early. They crawl into bed instead, checking on Mac one last time before they do. Jake heats up the hot water bottle for Amy when she complains about weird back pains, and then they go to sleep.

 There's no hesitance when he crawls down closer to her, hugging her until he's sure her breathing is calm and he can let himself fall asleep, too. Everything's okay. He's sure of it.

 A few hours later, Jake changes his mind about whether Amy’s just being overly worried.

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO (A) Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Accidental Elbow

Word count: 1466

Warnings: None. 

Title:  ABO (A) Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Accidental Elbow

Summary: You sneak up on Kiri and accidentally get an elbow to the stomach. 

(Gif is not mine) (Kiri getting you your ice.) 

🦈-Honestly, it was a bad idea in the first place. 

🦈-You had been snuggled in Eijiro’s bed under your nest. It was the weekend so as soon as you woke up in your dorm you made your way to your Alpha’s room and started building a nest. 

🦈-He had kissed you on the forehead on his way out. He was gonna go train a bit with Bakugo. He didn’t mind having you stay in his room while he was gone. You smiled before kissing him on the lips and seeing him out. 

🦈-You got to work as soon as the door closed. 

🦈-You had gotten the pillows and blankets just right and decided to take a small nap while you waited for him to get back. It was the weekend so you let yourself relax. Usually, you would offer to go train with them but not today. 

🦈-Eijiro had kept a vast amount of pillows and blanket in his room for you so any nest you made was always big and plush. He might not have as much money as some of his other classmates but he was always on the lookout for sales and deals. 

🦈-You know he took pride in bringing back a big plush pillow he had found that was half off. Your Omega purred at every single thing he gave you. Although you would always cherish the plushy that he won you at an arcade the most. 

🦈-It was your first date and he had been adamant about winning you something to take home. As soon as you cooed over a plush shark that reminded you of a sharp-toothed Alpha he had taken it as a personal goal to get you that plushy. 

🦈-He might have saved up to take you on said date but he didn’t plan on one claw machine taking twenty dollars from him. He was glad you both had eaten beforehand and not after. 

🦈-He would have drowned himself if he wasn’t able to pay for your meal. 

🦈-He had inserted his last dollar and only had one last chance to get the stubborn plush when it finally fell into the exit. His Alpha was preening in pride. He couldn’t help the smug grin he had on his face when he passed it over to you. 

🦈-You had beamed and pecked a kiss on his cheek, thanking him for the new plush that was undoubtedly gonna go straight in your nest as soon as you got back to the dorms. 

🦈-You felt like you closed your eyes for one second but when you opened them the sun was already falling down in the sky. You woke up to orange rays lighting up the room. 

🦈-They were the only thing lighting up the room, the light was off. 

🦈-You shifted your head to the side and saw your Alpha sitting at his desk gaming. His ruby eyes focused on the bright screen. He had his red headset on and was speaking quietly into the mic. He didn’t want to wake you up. 

🦈-Your heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. 

🦈-You quietly crawled out the nest and walked up behind him. Since the light wasn’t on in his room you had to be careful about not tripping on one of his weights. 

🦈-He wanted to throw himself off of a cliff when you stubbed your toe on one once and chirped in distress. He always tried to keep them out of the way after that but sometimes he slipped up. 

🦈-He must have showered after his training with Bakugo since his hair was not gelled up like normal. Your fingers were eager to run through his soft red locks. His roots were starting to grow back in so you would need to help him to redye them soon. 

🦈-It really was your fault. If you were focused on something and all of a sudden something was moving in your hair you would have done the exact same thing. As soon as your fingers glided through his hair he jumped and tossed his arms out. 

🦈-More specifically his elbow. 

🦈-You felt the wind knock out of you as soon as his strong elbow jammed itself into your soft and unsuspecting stomach. You fell back on the floor gasping for air. Your Alpha was already out of his chair, tossing his headphones off, and hovering over you. 

🦈-He couldn’t see much with the lights off so he quickly left your side to turn them on. 

🦈-“Oh my God! I am so sorry, Omega! I didn’t know you had gotten out of bed! I swear if I had known it was you I wouldn’t have thrown my arms back.” He frantically tried to get you to breathe normally. 

🦈-You slowly came back to your senses. Your lack of response made Eijiro panic even more. 

🦈-“Oh my God, baby! Did I get you in the ribs? Do we need to go see recovery girl? I’ll take you right now.” His eyes had started to fill with tears at the thought of him hurting you enough to crack a rib. 

🦈-You quickly sat up, although your stomach protested. 

🦈-“No, I’m fine, Alpha.” You reassured, purring to help calm him down. 

🦈-“Are you sure? I can tell someone to bring her down here just to check you out. I’m so sorry.” He blubbered, his hands shaking as he tried to run his hand down your hair.

🦈-“It was just a small hit. I get worst while training.” You hummed, pulling his head to rest on your chest. 

🦈-He was clearly overwhelmed at the thought of him accidentally hurting you that he wasn’t fully listening to you. You knew if this continued he would work himself into a panic attack. 

🦈-He was sensitive behind closed doors. 

🦈-You silenced him, making sure his ear was right up against your chest so he could hear your calming purrs. As soon as the sound registered he went slack in your lap. 

🦈-His fists that were clenched up went lax. He was slow and careful when wrapping his arms around your waist. His head got heavier has his mind slowly latched on to your comforting purrs. 

🦈-Soon his breathing had evened out and he was lifting his head back up. 

🦈-“Are you sure you are okay, Omega?” He asked, looking down at your stomach. He was scared to lift up your shirt and see the damage he had done. What if he bruised you? 

🦈-His Alpha was howling at the thought. 

🦈-“I’m fine. A little bit of ice and I will be as good as new.” You leaned up and pulled his hair away from his face. 

🦈-“Ice! I’ll go get some right now.” He said, dashing out of the room. 

🦈-When he was gone you lifted up your shirt to check out the damage. The area where he hit you was red in color but it didn’t look like it was gonna leave a bruise. 

🦈-Although your torso was already littered in bruised from this week’s training so it would blend in if it did. You did mean it when you said you got worse during training. 

🦈-You slid your shirt back down before crawling back into bed. You snatched the TV remote before you crawled back in. No doubt your Alpha was gonna be very clingy and not wanting to leave your side as soon as he came back in. 

🦈-You fluffed the pillows once more and made room for him before settling down and waiting for Eijiro to walk back in. He came back with a big bag of ice and happily climbed into bed beside you. 

🦈-“The ice tray was empty but good thing Todoroki was in the kitchen grabbing a snack.” He informed, snuggling down into your chest. He gently pressed the ice down on your stomach. 

🦈-You tried not to flinch at the coldness. He already felt bad enough. 

🦈-“Better?” He whispered, looking up at you. 

🦈-“Better.” You hummed, weaving your hand into his hair. It was his soft hair that caused this whole mess. 

🦈-He laid his head back down on your chest and sighed. 

🦈-“Wanna watch a movie?” You offered, knowing he was going to be attached to your side and you weren’t going back to your room tonight. 

🦈-He merely nodded before letting out a small purr. He was still upset that he had hurt you but his Alpha was enjoying your warm embrace. You merely laughed before grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. 

🦈-You fell asleep that night with a red-headed Alpha snoring away on your chest. He was stubborn in his sleep and wouldn’t allow himself to detach from your body. 

🦈-Your Omega enjoyed every second of it.

Just a small fluff fic. 💕

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it. It really keeps me motivated to write for you guys. Leave a note as well. 💕

[companionjones]

Alex Needs You

Fandom: Hamilton

Pairings: Platonic!Maria Reynolds x Reader, Platonic!Hamilsquad x Reader, Alexander Hamilton x Reader, Past!Alexander Hamilton x John Laurens, Maria Reynolds x Lafayette.

Summary: Your college roommate, Maria Reynolds, wakes you up in the middle of the night to tell you that a boy you’re very close to is having a mental breakdown due to a schoolwork overload.

Warnings: College, panic attack due to schoolwork, cursing

Author’s Notes: -This is a college AU. -Don’t ask me why Maria and Lafayette are together. I don’t know. -I changed Lafayette name around for this because I learned that his first name is not Marquis, it is his title. Lafayette’s full name in this is Gilbert Marie-Joseph Lafayette. -I technically wrote Reader as a female in this, but I think the only proof of that is that Y/n and Maria share a female dorm room, and I think Lafayette refers to Reader as ‘M’dame.’ -The real founding fathers were horrible people (except for John Laurens and John Adams) who profited off slavery. This is not a fanfiction about them.

Please take some time to sign some BLM petitions! Remember not to give any money to change.org because the money would go to the website, not the cause.

*******

    King’s College was the most prestigious university in the state. You were lucky enough to be awarded the scholarship money you needed to afford an education at the college on top of being accepted.

    Speaking of your luckiness, you made several friends on your first day that you had managed to keep. Your fist friend at the university was your dormmate, Maria Reynolds. She introduced you to her boyfriend, Gilbert Marie-Joseph Lafayette, and Lafayette got you to meet his friends: John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Alexander Hamilton. Laurens and Mulligan shared a dorm room, and Alex roomed with Lafayette. You’d been to both dorms plenty of times, but you practically lived in the latter.

    The reason was Alexander.

    He was good friends with everyone, but he barely hung out with anyone. The workaholic virtually never left his and Lafayette’s dorm room except to go to classes. Alex was completely dedicated to his education. On top of that, he was going for a duel-major in Law and Economics. You took pity on the bags under his eyes as soon as you saw them.

    You brought him food when he forgot to eat (which was almost everyday), you forced him to go to bed (which was definitely every night), and you even helped him through his break-up with his high school sweetheart: John Laurens. Needless to say, you and Alexander were the closest out of your new friends group.

    That was why Maria woke you up one night.

    “What is it?” you muttered groggily.

    She was clearly in distress when she told you, “Y/n, we gotta go to Laf’s and Alexander’s place right now.”

    “What?” you sat up a little in bed.

    Maria was putting on her shoes. “Laf just called me. John and Herc are already there. Alex is having some sort of a breakdown. He needs you.”

    Suddenly, you were out of bed. You got up so fast that your eyes did that thing where you went blind for a second. You asked thousands of questions about Alexander’s well-being, but Maria didn’t know much. All she could tell you was that Alex locked himself in his and Lafayette’s room. You and Maria set off to the boys’ dorm building at 2 in the morning.

    “C’est tout, I’m kicking the door in.” John and Hercules were backing out of the way of the Lafayette by the time you arrived on the scene.

    “Whoa! No, no. Stop that right now,” you ordered. “I’m not having you guys wreck school property, and something big like that will only stress out Alex more. Just...tell me what’s going on.”

    Lafayette explained, “I came back from being out with the boys, and I realized the door was locked. I called out to Alexander, but he said he’d be done in a moment and his work was almost done. He sounded like he was crying very hard. I tried to talk to him more, but he hasn’t said anything since. That was an hour ago.”

    “Okay,” you took a deep breath, and approached the door. “Alex? Hey, it’s Y/n. I, uh, I just need to know if you-if you hurt yourself.”

    Alex stuttered, “Yeah-Ye-Yes. Yes. I’m-I’m fine. I just need a little more time, okay? I-I just need to finish this essay for Washington.”

    Hercules was the first to voice his relief. “Oh, thank god. Y/n, I don’t know how you managed to do that. We haven’t been able to get Alex to talk since we got here.”

    “Maybe there’s too many people,” Maria deduced, “We’re probably overwhelming him. He always responds best to Y/n anyway. How about we just leave them alone for a bit?”

    The rest of the group agreed. When they started to leave, John stayed back for a moment.

    He began, “I just want to thank you, Y/n. I know Alex and I broke up before school started, but I still care about him a lot, you know? You being there for him means a lot to me.”

    “I know, John.” You affirmed, “I’ll take care of this.”

    John nodded, and went to follow the others.

    You walked back up to the door. “Alexander? The others are gone. Can I come in?”

    At first, there was silence on the other side of the door. Then, you heard his chair roll back from his desk. Footsteps approached the door. It opened to a tear-stained Alexander.

    Alex looked a mess. His dorm room wasn’t much different. There were crumpled papers everywhere It looked like he freaked out. That resulted in his blankets and pillows being whipped off his bed. His phone and laptop had been thrown to the floor and their screens had been shattered. Alex was currently working off of Lafayette’s laptop.

    He noticed that you were looking around the room as you entered. “I’m sorry. Half of my fucking essay got deleted, and...and I...lost it, I guess? I locked the door because I didn’t want Laf to see what I did...I was going to let him in once I got a chance to clean up a little, but I-I have to finish this essay.” It was like he just reminded himself, and Alex sat down to get back to work.

    “Alex.” You put your hands over his and intertwined his and your fingers. “Take a break,” you urged him.

    His eyes hadn’t left the screen of the laptop.

    “I’ll email Professor Washington, and ask for an extension for you. I’m sure you’ll get it.”

    Alex was still unresponsive. He’d moved his gaze to your connected hands. They were in his lap, and you were kneeling in front of him.

    “Alexander, please,” you begged for his attention.

    Finally, Alex met your eyes. He nodded.

    “Good.” You couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of his eyes again. “Now, I’ll help you clean up in here. We can get you a new laptop, and the phone’s fixable. Then, maybe you can talk to the guys and Maria. Show them you’re alright, maybe?”

    He looked back down at your hands again. “I don’t want them to see me like this. It’s bad enough having you all come out in the middle of the night just to check on me.”

    “We came here because we care about you, Alexander. It scares us when you work yourself to the bone like this. Well, I know it scares me--”

    Alex’s eyes snapped up to yours. “I scare you?”

    “Well, you worry me, yeah,” you confirmed. “Why do you think I’m here everyday, checking in on you. It’s because I care--”

    No warning taking place beforehand, Alexander kissed you. The sudden impact made you realize the two of you had been building up to it for a long time. You stood up to better kiss him. Alexander followed you. You could’ve sworn you hadn’t been making out for that long, but when you broke the kiss, both you and Hamilton were breathless. He had his hands on your waist while yours were softly cupping his neck.

    “You’re in a really emotional place tonight, Alex,” you voiced the first reason that came to mind that Alexander possibly hadn’t meant what he had just done.

    Alexander immediately disagreed, “No. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

    Not knowing if Maria had actually woken you up that night in the first place or if you were instead dreaming then, you shakily nodded, “Okay. This Friday, at 8, let’s go out to dinner. But let’s not discuss this anymore tonight. You need sleep.”

    Fifteen minutes later, the dorm room was clean as it was going to get at 3am, and the shattered electronics were tucked under Alexander’s bed. Professor Washington was for some reason awake at that ungodly hour, and he had already responded to your email, agreeing to give Alexander a three-week extension.

    “Thank you, Y/n. Really.” Alex leaned on his doorframe while you were on your way out. He was holding your hand. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

    Softly smiling, you leaned in to give Alex another kiss. “You can call me, anytime, anywhere, and I’ll come right to you,” you whispered.

    “Oooo,” a harmony of teasing voices sounded from down the hallway. It was the rest of the gang.

    Laurens called, “I knew it! I knew you two were going to get together!”

    Hercules seemed serious when he informed, “I want to be the flower guy at y’all’s wedding. You hear me?”

    “Oh my god!” squealed Maria, “Now you, me, Alex, and Laf can go on double dates!”

    You helped everyone else away from Alexander and Lafayette’s door. “Okay, yes, me and Alex are...together now. But this is all stuff we can talk about tomorrow. Alex needs to sleep. We all need sleep. You hear that, Laf? That means no pestering Alex about him and me. Understand?”

    He gave a mock-salute. “Oui, M’dame.”

    “That goes for you, too.” You turned to Maria. “I’m going to bed as soon as we get back.”

    Maria raised her eyebrows at you. “Not a chance. I’m getting every detail out of you!” she proclaimed as she dragged you back to your dorm.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics on Hamilton over on my page. You should go check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[choices-ethanramsey-4life]

Part 2 of days with you make me feel better...

Pairing: EthanXMc (Samantha Valentine)

Warning: slightly on the angsty side

Description for part 2:

Ethan has come to the realisation that he cares too much about Samantha. He can’t be due to being her boss she could lose her job so he decided to move away to the Amazon and hide his feelings away. But when Samantha goes through something deeper... will Ethan be there to help her or will she deal with it alone?

P.s in my one Naveen Banerji is her parents friend when she was a kid. However overtime they lost contact after she left home at 18. They meet again during her intern year when Naveen is dying.

It had been 3 weeks since she’s seen Ethan... she would wake up at 6am every morning. Go to work like always work until late go home, eat and sleep. She was stuck in a cycle of repeating herself. She felt lost. She felt the pain and acceptance of losing her brother. It’s stupid she thought that her brother died almost ten years ago and now she’s finally knows and accepted it. Ethan was gone.

He left her she still remembered when Naveen announced it in the atrium Ethan had gone to the Amazon.

“Samantha, we’re going to Donahues want to come?” Jackie knocks on her bedroom door which was locked. There was no response. When Samantha found out her mom was dying she did the same thing she locked herself in her bedroom and became quiet...which was shocking for her friends when they saw this side to her for the girl who can talk for hours non stop about anything.

All of her friends tried to get her out of her room they tried everything. It didn’t work.

At Donahues

“What are going to do?” Elijah asks drinking his drink.

“It’s not healthy. She doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t eat she just sits in her room. She only comes out for work, even then she barely says two words at work.” Sienna sounded upset.

“Why? What happened?” Aurora asked. She had been with them for a while now and she fitted right in, despite not moving in the apartment yet.

“It’s her brother, he died like ten years ago but she had a hard time accepting he was gone. She’s hurting.”

“There must be something we can do.” Bryce asks.

“Unless one of us should just try and talk to her instead of all of going together.” Raf suggested.

“Yeah it’s a good idea. Whose going to go first?” Kyra raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll go first I don’t mind.” Bryce speaks up.

“Ok Bryce will talk to her and then bring her here, she’s going to enjoy herself.” Sienna says

“Ok but meathead don’t bore Samantha.” Jackie rolls her eyes as they all go home.

Once they reached the apartment Sienna calls out for Samantha.

“Samantha? Samantha sweetie it’s Sienna, did you eat dinner?” To her surprise the door unlocked as she enters to see Samantha by her window sitting on the ledge with her sketch book and pencil in her hand.

Sienna sits beside her as the rest of the roommates plus Aurora stand outside peering in trying to Listen.

“How are you?”

“I...I don’t know.” Samantha leans against the wall putting her sketch book down.

“Me and everyone else are going out tomorrow to Donahues. Come please.” Siennas eyes pleaded. Everyone outside had high hopes.

Samantha hesitated and thought for a second as she said “sure...ok.” Sienna saw her smile which she hadn’t seen in weeks.

***Samanthas POV***

Did I feel alone? Yes. Did I feel like I was stuck in a constant cycle of just breathing not living? Yes. Did I want to be alone? No.

I hold the locket tight in my hand and open it.

“Mom, Jake missing you guys loads...” the picture of mom and Jake...and dad.

I know my dad is alive and well... but I wasn’t ready to see him after the years of abuse... it wasn’t the right time.

The next morning I woke up and opened the door. Elijah and Jackie just staring at me with their coffee mugs in their hands.

“Morning Samantha...” Elijah spoke slightly surprised.

“...morning...” my voice came out small.

“Coffee?” Jackie asks as I nod yes and sit on the couch.

“Morning Jackie, Elijah...Samantha?” Sienna looks perplexed second and then says

“I’ll make breakfast...” they all talked I just listened it diverted my mind as Sienna got breakfast ready.

“Samantha are you not going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry...” I get up walking back into my room thinking maybe I shouldn’t of come out. Everyone’s acting weirdly.

“Please Samantha just a little bit.” I turn to face the three in the room and nod.

But all that’s going through my mind are two things Ethan and the loss of Jake. That maybe if I was fast enough...or didn’t end up arguing with Jake beforehand just maybe he could be alive.

I sit in my room until it was time to get dressed Jackie and Sienna barged in with dresses and shoes.

“Right Samantha get up we’re all getting ready let’s go!” Jackie exclaimed as we got dressed.

Sienna who wore a light blush coloured dress just above her knees with her hair out and wavy. A simple necklace which had a small crystal the same colour as her dress.

Jackie who had a dark blue dress laced in with silver. She refused to take her hair out but that’s our Jackie.

“Samantha what about you? You haven’t even tried on a dress.”

“She’s too small to fit into mine...” Jackie pointed out as they looked through and Jackie pulled out a red dress and Sienna a black one laced with gold.

“Samantha what about these?” My eyes set on the black one Ethan gifted it to me 2 weeks before he left.

“Right then the black one it is!” Sienna exclaimed excitedly as she curled my hair and got my black heels and we set out.

We sit inside at Donahues everyone there Raf, Kyra, Bryce and Aurora.

I even saw Zaid and Ines with some other residents.

And then my eyes followed the main spot the first spot I saw when I came into Donahues for the first time. But it was empty. The person who used to sit there was gone. Reggie waves and smiles at me as I gave a friendly smile back.

Over the weeks I would go out alone at times see Reggie we’d talk and I’d sit in the back get my sketch book out and draw.

I sit by the table with my friends they talk I’m there but my mind isn’t.

“Samantha want a drink?” Raf asks

“No...I’m ok thanks.” He nods smiling.

I felt suffocated sitting here as if I couldn’t breathe I shouldn’t of come. Everyone just asking me if I’m ok every 5 second and why I wasn’t here last week. My breath felt like it was being taken away like someone or something inhaled all of the oxygen.

My hands shaking in my lap.

“Samantha?” Kyra put a hand on my shoulder.

“I..I..I’ll be right back.” They watch me leave Reggie did to concern waving over his smile.

I run out the oxygen back into me as I sit down on the step outside raking my hands through my curly hair. I hear footsteps behind me and a figure sitting beside me.

“Hey? You good?” My head facing down I shake my head but a small “no” comes out breathless. He knew I was having a panic attack, he helped me and then asked

“Are you ok? What happened?” As if a dam had burst I stood up so did he as I spoke out mainly anger coming out with hints of pain which only grew as I finished speaking.

“Why does everyone ask me that every 5 second?! You want the truth then no! No I’m not ok! It’s my fault! Everything is my fault! My brother died because of me.” My voice break at the end with tears I sit back down on the step.

Bryce coming closer hand on my shoulder “no it’s not it was an accident ok. You didn’t do anything.”

“I...I c-could of st-stopped h-him from leaving.”

“How? You were injured weren’t you? How would you of ran after him with all those stitches? Trust me I’m a surgeon I know what I’m talking about.” He joked

I laughed for a second as he hugged me tight and close. After I calmed down for a bit he says

“Why did Ramsey leave?”

“What?” I let go looking at him.

“I know you know...”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously...”

“Ok then but not here. I want to take you somewhere, it’s my special place when Si, Elijah and Jackie told you guys I used to go out at town alone I’ll take you there it’s better.” He nods as his phone lit up.

“I’ll tell them we’re going somewhere quieter less noise yeah?” We nod as he gets into is car we sit as i directed him

“You know I could of just drove us there right? I’m an amazing driver and more safer than you.”

“What?!” He threw a fake face of offence as we laughed. “I would let you drive but do you legs even reach the pedals? And can you see over the wheel or do I need to get you a book for you to sit on?” He joked.

I slapped his shoulder lightly, “hey!”

After 10 minutes of driving we reached.

“We’re going to have to walk it like 10 minutes come on almost there.” We reach the top of the green hill the cities light shining bright and the stars which twinkled.

“What is this place?” He asked

“This is my place of peace. When things become hard or I need to wind down alone I come here...it reminds me that life is crooked.”

“What?” He asks smiling but slightly confused.

I turn him to the distance a sign of a building in red LED lights flashing “Life” written across but it was backwards the way we saw it.

“Life is crooked. Things go wrong, things go right. We find happiness and love sometimes it’s life long...and sometimes it’s a limited time. We only get a few glimpses of it before pain and darkness comes.” He looks at me as I look over at the city view and continue to say,

“I already knew that in life the people we love the most we always take them for granted. We think that we wont separate from one another but when life comes in it’s crooked ways it can. We make life long promises forgetting how short it really is. They say that you don’t miss someone’s company and them until they’re gone...you don’t realise what impact they’ve created until they’ve left you. There’s so many moments with our loved ones which remember for the rest of our lives...and maybe even after our life when we die.”

He looked over thinking about what I said.

“You said why did Ethan leave? I don’t know. There are few reasons but either could be wrong. He knows why he left and I’ll leave it at that.”

“Ok sure. And Samantha this place is beautiful I can see why you like it out here.”

“Don’t tell anyone about it can it just stay between us please.” He nods smiling.

“Sure.” We sit on ground sitting talking looking at stars I remember mom and Jake.

It’s like she said “the brightest stars that shine are those who you’ve lost but love.”

And she was right. We sit over talking my phone in my hand debating to call Ethan or not.

But now I wanted to enjoy my place of peace...

For Samantha still hurting her hurt Lessing when she shared with a friend at her place of peace.

P.s Thanks soo much for reading this part i was thinking of extending this fic as I have a few details I want to write in it might end up being 4 parts instead of 3.

Tags:

@schnitzelbutterfingers

[hazymultiverse]

Not sure if this is allowed but, ★★Reader being railed by Purple Haze because Fugo is sexually repressed, but reader doesn't know Fugos feelings OwO

Oh its allowed.

And encouraged. Send me all your stand fucking asks, I’m literally asking you nicely please send stand thirst thank you.

Warnings for: NSFW, rough sex, slight dub con??? Bc reader doesn’t know if Fugo wants it (but he does.)

—

“I think Fugo hates me.”

Mista shifted the phone from ear to ear, and you could hear the rub of the speaker against his hat, “Why would you say that?”

“Come on man, you heard what happened with Purple Haze.” You wince slightly, recalling the earlier events.

The stand had charged towards you as soon as he was summoned, paying no heed to Fugos panicked demands to stop. He had been wrestled before any true damage was done, but you’d been knocked to the ground, driving the wind out of you, and the mission had nearly been compromised. Fugo had been mortified, refusing to talk to you afterwards, the entire drive to the safe house was kept in suffocating silence.

Even after arriving, he insisted on you staying back while he went to pick up food, which gave you ample time to call Mista.

“Stands are just manifestations of the soul, right? So if Haze keeps attacking me, that means Fugo has some subconscious hatred going on.”

Mista bit his lip, he knew Fugo didn’t hate you. Quite the opposite in fact, the guy was in love with you, but apparently all the book smarts in the world couldn’t teach you how to man up and talk to your crush.

“Well, it doesn’t always work like that.” The gunslinger offered instead, “I mean, look at the pistols! They don’t always act like me. A lot of stands have their own sentience and independence, maybe it’s just that they’re a bit disconnected.” Mista was grasping at straws at this point, partially trying to dance around spilling his friends deepest secrets, and partially from trying to put rhyme or reason to stand logic. (An oxymoron if he ever heard one)

“So, maybe it’s just Purple Haze that hates me?” You theorized.

“I wouldn’t say he hates you, I don’t think you’d be alive if he really hated you. I just don’t think he knows what’s what. Fugo doesn’t exactly let him out much.”

“So, he’s just not used to me, maybe?” You frowned, then shot your attention to the door as you heard the rattle of keys, “oh, Fugo’s back, gotta go.”

“Alright, take care- and uh, don’t worry about Panna’ hating you. Trust me, if he did? You’d know.”

—

Fugo had excused himself to one of the bedrooms as soon as he was done eating, and with not much else to do, you did the same, taking the room next door.

It was quiet, you had heard some pages turning through the thin wall, but they’d stopped, so you assumed he’d finally gone to sleep.

What was the problem? You’d never seen Fugo -or his stand- act like this around anyone else, but whenever you were around it was like he couldn’t get any control over Purple Haze. Had you done something wrong?

Shutting your eyes, you sighed, worrying about it all night would solve nothing, better to just go to sleep, and see about talking to him about it in the morning-

The air felt different.

Loud, rasping breaths hit your ear, warm air hitting your face.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, freezing in place as you saw Purple Haze standing over your bed.

You stayed, eyes locked, for what felt like ages. No sound in the house but his breathing, and the pounding of your heart.

“H-hey bud.” You finally croaked, “What’s wrong?”

A firm hand grabbed your shoulder, pushing you farther down into the bed, on instinct you went to push it away, but the thought of the capsules made you pause, gently placing your hand on his wrist instead. At the contact, the stand let out a low whine.

“Are you okay? Is something the matter?” You asked quietly, perplexed by the whole situation at this point.

With a growl, Haze leaned in closer to you, carefully nuzzling against your face and neck, steadily crawling onto your bed.

“Oh- alright- uh, not quite sure what this is, but uh, did you come here to spend time with me?”

The stand was fully on top of you now, hands wandering and rubbing at any part of you it could reach, pressing a hand firmly on your chest to hold you down when you began to squirm.

“I’m gonna be honest here, I have no idea what’s going on and- oh.”

Haze slid a hand under your hips, angling them up just enough to align with his pelvis, where in the dark of the room, there was definitely something rubbing against you.

Your mind raced, did stands have dicks? Or genitals at all? What the hell was happening? Is this why Haze kept jumping at you? Thank fuck that this hadn’t happened during the mission, if Fugo had seen, you’re sure he would have died of embarrassment.

“Hey, Fugo, are you awake?” You said, not quite a normal volume, knowing the walls were thin, but got no response, “So you just came out on your own?” You whispered to Haze, who simply gurgled and continued to rub against you.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to assess the situation.

There was a highly dangerous stand with violent tendencies dry humping you like a horny teenager in your bed. The user of said stand, who would usually keep it from even reaching you, was asleep.

Your body had gotten undeniably warm from the rubbing and grabbing the stand had been doing, making your mind wander. You couldn’t quite see in the dark, but whatever was grinding against you was big, and tempting.

Your deliberation was taking too long however, and with a loud growl, you felt strong hands begin to tear your clothes off of you, unheeded by your pushing against his chest, and your lower half was quickly laid bare, cool fingers grabbing and poking at you.

When you felt a blunt tip of something that definitely wasn’t a finger poking at your slit, you quickly lunged forward, “No no! Wait!”

That caught his attention, and in what little light there was, you saw Hazes pleading, confused expression, accompanied by a garbled whimper.

“You have to be careful about this, just, if this is gonna happen, you can’t go in dry.” You felt crazy, when had you agreed to this? But something about the situation just drew you in, “Help me get my fingers wet?”

Drool and spit dripped down onto your fingers, oddly warm from the stands mouth.

“Thanks.” reaching down, you rubbed your spit covered fingers against your entrance, slowly sliding in a finger, then two.

Haze grumbled, clearly impatient, garbling and poking your hand.

Drawing your fingers back out, you sat back a bit farther, propped up on your elbows, a low anxiety building in your gut, you were excited to do this, and couldn’t deny the fact the stand had always intrigued you, but there was no way you could overpower it if things got out of hand, you’d never been able to, it was always Fugo.

Fugo.

“H-hold on, is your user really okay with this? I know you’re basically him, I don’t wanna do anything without his- oh god!”

Your time had run out, and Purple Haze thrusted inside of you, giving you no time to adjust before beginning a brutal pace.

You bit your hand, struggling to not cry out, Fugo was sleeping on the other side of the wall, and if he woke up and walked in on this? He’d never speak to you again.

On the other side of things however, you hadn’t been quite thorough enough in stretching yourself, unprepared for the stands sheer size. Thankfully, he seemed to have learned quickly, having slicked up his cock similar to your fingers beforehand.

The bed creaked loudly, and the loud wet noises of your pussy accompanied by the slap of his hips was near deafening in the still house. Blunt fingertips digging into your thighs as he rammed into you, drawing choked gasps from your lips.

The stretch quickly dulled into pleasure, your voice straining against your hand as pressure began to build deep in your core.

“Fuck!” You yelped out, clutching onto his shoulders, scrabbling for anything solid as you were sent hurtling towards your climax, “fuck, fuck fuck fuck- yessss~”

Haze seemed unaffected, continuing to snarl and pound into you at the same frantic pace as before, still holding you down and gripping your hip tight enough to bruise. Any thought of staying quiet had vanished quickly, though subconsciously, you prayed Fugo wouldn’t wake up to stop this.

Your orgasm wracked through your body with unmatched intensity,a low moan tearing from deep in your chest. No matter how tightly your walls clenched around him, he didn’t let up, nothing seemed to get through to him as you wailed and spasmed in his grip. Your hands pushing wildly at his chest, struggling to get enough breath to beg him to slow down just a bit as your oversensitive walls burned hot from the merciless treatment.

“Please- wait- fuck I can’t!” You yelped, and he let you go, pulling out and sitting back on his haunches. You whimpered at the relief, rolling over to bury your face in the cooler part of the sheets, “Thank you, good boy, so good, thank you.”

Familiar cool hands pulled your hips up once more, and with a groan you gripped weakly at the sheets, “again?”

The spit ladened howl said enough as he entered you again with a slick thrust.

“Alright, fine, but just take it easy. Ah!”

He did not.

Rutting into you like his life depended on it, Purple Haze hunched over you, voice far more pronounced, snarling and growling like a rabid animal.

Mind still numb from the previous orgasm, you gripped your pillow desperately, letting your mouth run.

“There we go big boy, you like that? Yeah? Oh come on, I know you want it so bad- you’ve just been trying to do this for weeks? Is that all?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, “Nearly got us killed earlier just to try and get your rocks offfffffffuck! Oh there we go baby there we go, right there.”

The praise seemed to strike a chord, one of the stands strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close, wet slaps of his thighs against yours drowned out by the breath in your ear, panic inducing earlier, but comforting now, grounding you in a rhythm.

“You’ve got a lot to work out huh?” A growl in response, “Yeah, thought so. We’re just gonna be here a while then.”

—

Fugo sat, heart racing, ear pressed against the wall, listening to your sweet moans, cock in hand. Someday, he vowed, he would finally talk to you, and be on the right side of things.

But if this were the first step? Feeling the phantom warmth of your pussy around his dick, begging and praising his stand so sweetly, welcoming it with open arms and pulling it closer?

He could live with that.

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 9: Darksaber

A/N: OVER 3K BABY!!! This is the longest thing I have written in a hot minute so please give it a read. Thank you @dindjarindiaries​ for motivating me today with ALL of your content. If any of you are lost towards the start of this that’s because Day 8 is part 1! If you have trouble looking for it just use the iwriteforthetincanman writes hashtag on my blog! THANK YOU!!

This is for @leo-moon​ ‘s Mandoctober!

Something was wrong. That was a fact you clung to as you roused from slumber, a headache brewing behind your eyelids. It was like real life had become the dream and sleep, a reality that had slipped away. An echo ghosted through your mind, a feeling that you knew who it was came and went...it sounded so familiar?

It was highly unusual to wake up in pain, unless that's what woke you in the first place. Although you had a sneaking suspicion that you had been in pain since you had passed out too. Then there was the cold...everything else was warm but you could feel the cold on your cheek. 

Beskar.

Din.

“D-Din?” A wheeze left your lips as you reached out to your Riduur. It was like he was asleep himself the way he sat, still as a statue. As soon as he heard your voice, he startled awake, his hands carving through your hair. 

“Cyare...you scared the life out of me, I thought-I thought you were dying.” Realising he was no longer wearing his helmet gave you a weird helmet. It was a rare sight to see the rest of his armor on his person whilst missing the helmet. The only reason he would’ve done that is if he was giving you CPR. 

“I’m okay...I think.” Brows furrowing in frustration, a hint of a thought wove its way through your brain. “I...I think I know why this is happening…” Trailing off, you saw the panicked look in Din’s eyes grow into an inexplicable fear. Were you dying? The thought shocked you into damage control. 

“I’m not dying but...I think someone is trying to kill me.” The accusation itself confused you, but then again you had no idea how right you were. Din’s expressions morphed into so many different emotions, it was difficult to keep track. Without the helmet, he was just a man...to you at least. That didn’t make him any less dangerous. 

“Are-are you sure? It was like you were having an extreme panic attack, or someone was…” Realisation dawned on your lover’s face, all other emotions falling away. It scared you how still he was, fingers no longer stroking your hair. Faintly, you could hear his heartbeat under his armor, otherwise you wouldn’t know what to think. 

“It was like someone was strangling you.” His voice was much deeper now, sinister in a sense. Not to you, you knew he was angry but he was angry with the force that was trying to kill you.

...The Force.

Someone was trying to kill you through the use of the force!

That’s when it hit you.

“...Moff Gideon.” Your face matched your lover’s. You were afraid, apprehensive and yet angry with the events that were occurring around you, to you. 

“Moff Gideon is trying to kill you, without being anywhere near you, using the force. It’s the one thing we can’t fight against.” Din’s grip grew tight around your body, as if he were protecting you just by willing it to happen. Part of the force worked like that, you knew that much about it. 

Right now...you were powerless to stop it. The child could only do so much, but reaching through space? To another person? It was next to the impossible. 

“Din...right now. All I need is you by my side.” Trying your best not to cry again. You knew the inevitable was approaching. All you wanted was for him to be near you, even if it was coming to an end. 

Silently, you watched as Din’s anger broke, revealing how torn up he really was. Tears flooding into those sweetly intense eyes, he refused to let them fall. Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you to your bed.

---

Sleep was also inevitable. Which is why you weren’t surprised to find him there, waiting for you. Like he had never even left. 

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t it?” He smirked to himself, he sat in some sort of throne, legs crossed. He was comfortable. What got on your nerves was how smug he was about it. Glaring into his soul, you restrained yourself. You were in your mind and the force was on his side. If anything, he could easily do more harm to you than you could to him. The whole situation was insanely unfair. 

“Is it even worth answering? You’re in my mind. You could learn anything you wanted about me!” Shouting across the void, angry reverberated back at you. It was like anything you did, reflected on the storm clouds brewing above. Anything Moff Gideon did, had no such effect. 

Glancing around, all you could see was the emptiness. It was like you had stepped into a room with no limits. All you could see was him and that dumb throne, like he had taken control away from you. 

“Looks like I have all the control when it comes to your mind Y/N.” He continued to smile down at you before standing, stepping down from his throne to walk across the void, towards you. Although he was walking at a leisurely pace, the cape that swished behind him highlighted how menacing he truly is. 

“But I’m not here to hurt you. Not this time anyway…” At this, you growled. Confirming everything you and Din had suspected. Chuckling to himself, he continued “I’m here to make a deal with you.” Immediately your anger vanished at this, concern overtaking your whole body as you tensed. There’s only one thing he could possibly want from you…

The baby.

“I will never let you have him.” You were determined to stay strong, but the whimper you let out was pitiful. 

“No? Not even if I turned my control over to your husband? Made him suffer the way you did? Perhaps even kill him? And leave you all alone with the child instead?” Gasping, the clouds above reflected a blue hue. Your true emotions were on full display to the enemy. You were backed into a corner. Either he could kill you and expect Din to break, give him the baby or you could listen to what he has to say and let them both live. 

“...Fine. Please, leave the Mandalorian out of this.” It felt like you were begging, but in reality you knew you would do anything for Din. Even if it meant fighting for a warrior’s death.

“Very well. Next time you land, I will send a ship for you. You will find a way of escaping the Mandalorian...and bring yourself to me.” This proposition surprised you...he didn’t want you to bring the kid?

“Do this...and I will leave your husband and child alone...forever.”

Now why did he have to go and make it an offer you can’t refuse?

---

The unforgiving metal you were resting against made you want to cry. It was nothing like the beskar you were used to. Your body kept reminding you of all the differences between now and then. It was like a backwards game of spot the difference. Except this was much more dangerous. 

Moff Gideon no longer had a grip on your mind. That was only because he was standing in front of you...in person. 

Earlier you had woken to find Din happy that you were still alive. He was apprehensive yet grateful for the next day of life the Maker had gifted to you. You had managed to lie, telling him you felt so much better, before somehow convincing him to land the Razor Crest on a peaceful planet. One where you could get as much sunlight and fresh air as you wanted. 

It was all just a farce. An act. 

It hurt you so much to lie and betray your Riduur. It felt like you were going back on your vows. Throughout it all you reminded yourself, you were doing this for him and the child, to keep them safe for the rest of their lives. 

That all came crashing down when the ship collected you in the middle of that flower field. It stood out violently and you were certain Din had seen it as it came into land. 

This theory confirmed itself as you stepped aboard, turning back to spot your Riduur, the child in his arms as they both just stood there and watched. You could sense the horror behind their eyes as tears fell from yours. Mouthing the words that you were sorry, the doors shut and you flew away. 

It took all the strength you had not to fall onto your knees when you arrived, not in front of that much evil. He had already gotten what he wanted, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry as well. 

Now, he had you in this complicated contraption that was somehow a mix between a chair and a gurney. The metal, a bitter reminder of what you had given up and in exchange what you had received. 

It had only been a couple of hours, but the torture was relentless. Moff Gideon had put your mind through hell to see how far you could go before you snapped. He had the force, you knew that beforehand, yet you underestimated just how powerful he was. He didn’t want any information, he just wanted you to suffer.

No physical harm had come to you, but it felt like you were close to death. You were so tired and a myriad of dots danced before your eyes as you glanced around the room. It was a cell despite how many buttons and controls were placed on the walls. If Din could see you now you knew he would be horrified, you must’ve looked like a corpse. 

You weren’t dead yet. But you knew you were pretty close.

---

The sounds of a distant battle were the next thing that woke you. For a moment you thought you had finally succumbed to the darkness, all the hurt and pain had collapsed on top of you, forcing you to sleep. But a battle could only mean one of two things, either the rebellion was attacking the Imperial ship or…

Din was here.

Just the thought of your husband made you move to get out of the chair, pain screamed back at you in retaliation. It gave you a clear message, you weren’t going anywhere. 

But if Din was here, here for you and he might die trying to get to you. You sure as hell were going to fight for him. Even if it meant you were only going to see him one last time. 

Imperial soldiers were many things: treacherous, hypocrites and sometimes, if you were lucky, they were very stupid. Which is how you came across your tools stashed in your belt. They weren’t the kind of tools that were visible. No, these were lock picking tools that were hidden on purpose. 

It took a couple of minutes, thankfully no one came in to check on you at that time but finally, you were free. 

---

No guards were stationed outside your cell, which meant they must have been called away towards the fight. Din had been a part of many battles, but aboard an Imperial ship? You couldn’t begin to imagine how severely outnumbered he was. 

Limping down the endless hallways, you followed the sound of the fight. Knowing that at the other end of it was your husband, you only hoped that your limp wouldn’t keep you from a fatal mistake. This whole decision was a mistake, you knew that now. 

It was a trap Moff Gideon had set for you and you only.

Din’s grief was just an added bonus. 

Finally reaching the room of the fight, you discovered that all the soldiers had already been taken out. The only reason for that must’ve been a weapon of immense size and had enough ammo to take on an army. Well, in this case, it kind of did. The Razor Crest was parked at the other end of the hangar.

All that was left was Moff Gideon and Din Djarin in a vicious fist fight. 

...And Din was losing. 

You knew that if you didn’t act now, Din was going to get himself killed and all of this would’ve been for nothing. The only thought you had was that if this was going to happen, you wouldn’t want your mistake to take Din away from you in its wake. 

Limping into the hangar, Moff Gideon didn’t even notice your entrance as he held out a weapon you didn’t recognise. Not until he activated it at least. 

An ominous black blade shot out, made of light and outlined by a white glare. A darksaber.

Only hearing about them in stories from the past, you knew lightsabers were flashy but they were twice as deadly. They could kill you in an instant, cauterising wounds as soon as they were made. Din didn’t stand a chance, even with the beskar. None of his weapons matched the darksaber’s intensity. 

Launching forwards, the both of them clashed as Din used some sort of a shield. Part of the ship, you recognised. The sinister sorcerer retaliated, lashing out with the darksaber searing through the shield. By some miracle it held up. 

“HOW DARE YOU TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!” The sound of Din screaming out in pain scared you to the point where you thought he was dying, not you. 

“She came of her own free will, Djarin. To protect you!” Sneering down at him, you couldn’t help the strength that returned in the form of pure rage. 

“SHE WANTED TO PROTECT THE CHILD! FROM YOU! YOU-MONSTER!” He was so infinitely angry, he was blind to his actions. You were scared for him. Sprinting back towards Gideon, Mando attempted to bring part of the ship down on his head. It was a stupid act, a rare kind of mistake for the Mandalorian to do. 

Yet, he prevailed. 

In shock, Gideon let go of the saber. With it falling out of his grasp, it clattered to the floor. It was almost like the whole scene was taking place in slow motion before you. 

“I loved her...and you killed her. All for a child?” Din’s voice was broken, if all he did was look up right now, he would see that you were still alive. Broken in places, but alive and right in front of him. 

“I wasn’t after the child...not this time.” Moff Gideon panted in agony, blood gushing from a gash on his head. You could see that much. But now was your time to act, while his guard was down.

Three things happened in the next moment.

Firstly, whilst they were talking, Moff Gideon’s hand moved towards a blade he had hidden away in his robes, fully intending on driving through the space between the bottom of Din’s helmet and his neck. 

Secondly, you felt a deep and complicated feeling overtake you once more, causing you to reach out this time. Not fall to your knees in agony. Now was no longer the time for pain. You were a lion that had been kept in a cage, prodded and poked at. This time you would bare your fangs and lash out at your captors.

Thirdly, as Moff Gideon swiftly got to his feet, running at Din, the Mandalorian stumbled backwards in surprise causing him to trip over debri. 

In the moment he fell over, all he could do was watch as you drove the dark saber through Moff Gideon’s chest.

As you retracted the blade, a wet gargle left the man’s throat as he fell sideways. Revealing your worn and beaten from to your Riduur. 

Despite everything that had just happened, you were so happy to see him. 

Falling to your knees, you collapsed into his chest. 

“It’s over, it’s over. We’re finally safe.”

As you sobbed, you finally slipped away, in the arms of the man you loved.

---

Over a week later you awoke.

“Din?” This time your voice croaked from not using it. Not because you had been screaming in your sleep. 

“Cyare.” Turning to your side, you observed the scene before you.

You were all in a hut, the sound of children playing outside bringing an unexpected amount of normalcy. 

What gave you peace of mind that you were all well and truly safe was the sight right in front of you.

Din was dressed in simple clothes, a tunic and pants, no shoes and no helmet. His hair was freshly washed and had dried in the sun, letting his curls be shown freely to the world. He smiled down at you, immensely grateful you had woken.

As he made his way towards you, you grew aware of the warmth tucked into your side. Looking down you spotted the child curled on top of the blanket and you, fast asleep. 

“You’re awake.” He whispered, crouching down at your bedside. 

“I thank the Maker that I am. I wouldn't have missed this wonderful sight for the universe.” You joked, combing fingers through his hair. That was when you noticed the countless bandages winding up your arm, no, your arms. 

Noticing the light flicker in your eyes, Din explained what had happened.

“You were gravely wounded Cyar'ika. The healers said you were lucky to have pulled through at all.” Moving your hand to his cheek, you looked upon the face of the man you married.

“I’m here now. We’re free. We can...start our lives as a family, together.” Din beamed at this, his pearly teeth on full display as he leant down to kiss you, gingerly at first.

As the kiss deepened, you remembered how long it had really been since the two of you had shared any form of affection. Yet, something else popped up in the back of your mind.

“Din-wait.” Pushing him away, it pained you more than the wounds that littered your body. 

“What is it?” Confusion laced his features as his eyes flickered across yours.

“I think...I think I’m like the child. That was how I killed Moff Gideon...I used the force.” 

As you spoke these words into the air, it disturbed the peace you two had created in just a few short moments. Din Djarin turned his face, his eyes landing on the object that had been resting on a table for the past week, untouched. Sure, you two were free and about to start a new life all together. 

But now was the time you and the child would train.

Two Jedi and a Mandalorian. 

It sounded like the start to a bad joke.

[saucysamu]

hey! could i request any karasuno boys of your choice with an s/o who has ptsd from being held at gunpoint / gun violence? I totally understand if you don’t want to because it’s too specific, but it would be great if you could :) thanks, have a nice day!

Short disclaimer beforehand:

[I have no personal experiences with this sort of trauma and i intend to write as realistic as possible. DM me if some of it doesn‘t sit right with you and I hope you‘re doing alright <3]

Karasuno boys with an s/o who has ptsd (gun violence)

Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukki, Yamaguchi

Hinata :

• Oh boy he tries his best to distract you whenever you are in crowded places to keep your thoughts focused on him

• When he feels you getting a panic attack he grabs your hand and finds the quickest way out of there

• Breathing exercises!

• Was completely overwhelmed at the beginning on how to help you and be there for you bc baby doesn’t want you to suffer or get triggered 🥺

•Waits for you to fall asleep before he does

• Somehow trained to notice when you squirm around

• So he can hold you when you’re having a nightmare

• Or he’d gently rub your hand or cheek

• Honestly sometimes he’d be scared whether he should wake you up or not

• He’s struggling between not wanting to scare you and not wanting you to endure that nightmare

• Does EVERYTHING to make you feel secure and safe

• Never ever questioned the tiniest trigger

• Istg his noisy ass sometimes makes you jump in fright and he’ll feel so guilty about it someone save this boy smh

Kageyama :

• Doesn’t get it at first i’m not gonna lie

• Like he’s so damn oblivious he doesn’t get the principle of triggers unless it’s something obvious??

• Don’t get me wrong he doesn’t mean to hurt you he just didn’t really know what to think of it bc it confused him in some way???

• I mean we all know he’s not the best at communicating and social stuff hence the lack of understanding

• Honestly as soon as you talk to him about it he goes like “oH”

• Asking his senpai for advice!

• Awkward af when you have a meltdown/panic attack bc he never knows how to help you best

• This boy needs actual INSTRUCTIONS

• Adapts to your needs immediately as soon as they’re clear to him <3

• Always there for you and does everything for you like just tell him what you need and he’ll do it in no time

• Wants to assure your safety when you’re outside, rubs the palm of your hand with his thumb

• Never knows how to respond but be sure he listens to every word you say

• Please just be patient with him he’s trying

Tsukishima :

• You never knew whether he’s taking it seriously or nah, whether he cares or not

• Like he left provoking remarks

• Well that stopped as soon as he experienced what it did to you on his own

• At some point he turned his mocking into a way of comforting you but also himself??

• He’d never admit it but he’s worried 24/7 and wants to protect you alllll the time jeez

• He’s the type to know whats up with just one single glance I just KNOW it

• Tall ass spaghetti noodle loves making you feel protected and safe but would play it off if you mentioned it

• Forehead kisses to soothe you even if he doesn’t really like showing affection in public lol

• I can imagine him not being too fond of someone lying on his chest since he’s so lanky but he’s come to love it bc it makes him feel calmer knowing you’re safe with him

• Arms wrapped around you and his chin on top of your head i’m soft

• Would try to rationalize situations trying to make it seem harmless if it’s manageable

• Would never force you to do anything (e.g. therapy) but honestly you just feel that he’s trying to convince you and we ALL know how stubborn Tsukki can get so—

• Like he’d just brush it off when it comes to a clash but it BUGS him on the inside bc he just wants you to be okay

Yamaguchi :

• softest bean EVER, honestly he’s the best at comforting you because he’s the most empathetic

• Best listener, gives the best advice

• Would also never question your triggers

• Meditates with you

• Googles ways to help and offers doing all of them together with you just so you don’t feel alone doing these 🥺

• GIVES THE SOFTEST HUGS

• If you need space he’d pout internally but respects it

• Expect him to be in front of your door in the middle of the night if you called him after a panic attack or a nightmare

• Going on dates is super easy bc he’d double check the places you’d go to for you to feel safe

• I feel like when it comes to his fears etc he’d be nervous af but as soon as it’s about you he knows NO fears😤😤

• Like c’mon you’re his no.1 priority

• Bitch is close to tears when he sees you suffering bchdjsbcsgu

• Thinks it’s his fault when he doesn’t manage to calm you down or when you’re upset

Soooo that‘s it for now. Actually I intended it to be just one part but if you‘d like to read about other characters as well let me know! Again this is by no means supposed to offend anyone so if it does pls tell me 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Fifty Nine

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 18th, 1995 Remy sat as still as he could in the church pew while the pastor continued to talk. Usually he just droned on and on for forty five minutes or so, but today he was riled up. He was yelling about fire and brimstone and God coming down to smite all the gays from the face of the earth.

There had been some serious niggling doubts in Remy’s mind concerning religion before, but this just sealed the deal for him. He was very much not going to believe in any god or gods who hated him just because he was gay.

Toby glanced at Remy and scribbled a note in the corner of the church bulletin. You okay?

Remy nodded, and wrote back, I’m okay. Just decidedly agnostic.

Toby bit back a snicker even as he winced in sympathy. Remy just shrugged and leaned back into the pew. Religion just wasn’t worth it.

  March 31st, 2002

Remy woke up that morning slowly, for once consciousness not dumping a bucket of cold water on his head in order to get him awake, albeit groggy. He stretched, feeling the bedsheets...he paused. He felt the bedsheets in a lot more places than he normally did. He was naked.

Suddenly that bucket of cold water came crashing down and he bolted upright in bed with a gasp. “Holy shit,” he breathed, looking around wildly for his clothes. He found his briefs on the floor and pulled them on, cheeks flaring red like a forest fire. He kept cursing under his breath, hands shaking hard as he pulled up his briefs from the day before. He knew what had happened. He remembered what had happened, every dirty little detail. He had slept with Emile last night, in more than just the literal sense.

“Rem?” Emile asked softly from behind him. Remy turned to find Emile blinking owlishly at him from behind his glasses. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Remy said, cheeks red as he realized that Emile was also waking up naked, and turning redder at the reaction that gathered from him.

“Aw, shit,” Emile said, pushing himself up and grabbing his clothes. “I was worried that we were going too fast, that we did it too soon. I thought...I worried that you’d wake up and instantly be a nervous wreck.”

Remy shoved shaking hands into the crooks of his arms, crossing them tight. “Emile...”

“Did I push you too far? Did I make you feel like you had to sleep with me?” Emile asked, as he got dressed. “God, Rem, I didn’t mean to do that—”

“—You didn’t,” Remy said. “I...I wanted that. It was...it was good. And...and I remember everything, you never did anything I didn’t ask you to do. You asked beforehand if you wanted to try something. You...respected me. You didn’t...you didn’t do what you’re worried about.”

“Okay,” Emile said, eyeing Remy. “But you’re still a nervous wreck from here.”

“Well...it’s not every day that you spend an entire evening and a good portion of the night just...yeah,” Remy said. “Especially since it was my first time doing... anything with a partner. I’m...God, can we skip this conversation? I don’t regret it, it was good—great, really. You were amazing and loving and there’s no one else I would have rather done it with, I’m just realizing that I did do it and while I’m not freaking out about losing my virginity, I am freaking out that what happened really happened and wasn’t just a wild dream that my mind had been showing with increasing frequency.”

Emile blinked. “There’s...a lot to unpack there. First and foremost, you’ve had dreams about this?”

“You haven’t?” Remy asked incredulously.

“I mean, I have, but that’s normal. You’re acting like there’s some big scandal or something. What am I missing?” Emile asked.

“That my family is very, very conservative and I just participated in gay sex out of wedlock for the first time,” Remy deadpanned. “I’m a little in shock.”

Emile stared at Remy for one, two, three seconds. Then he said, “A valid response.”

Remy shifted on his feet and went looking for his shirt and pants. Emile moved around their bed and stood there patiently, waiting for Remy to get dressed. Remy was still shaking, too much to be passed off as pre-coffee jitters. When he turned, Emile was just standing there, looking him over. “Religious guilt?” Emile asked.

“I’m not religious,” Remy said.

“You grew up in a religious family,” Emile pointed out. “My first time with a guy? I had a panic attack afterwards. Everything the church said about having sex before marriage, nevermind sex with another guy, made me convinced I was going to Hell. And at this point I was already scrutinizing what the church was saying and making my own opinions based on what I knew. You can feel the effects of...what’s the word...indoctrination! You can feel the effects of indoctrination no matter if you’re still in the church or not.”

Remy was still red with embarrassment, and the only reason he didn’t grow redder was because it simply wasn’t possible. He knew that what he had done with Emile was fine. In certain circles, especially the ones they both ran in, it was even encouraged. And yet...he still felt off. Embarrassed. Dirty.

“Honey?” Emile asked softly, walking over and tilting Remy’s chin up. “What you did wasn’t a bad thing. You’re not sinning, you’re not defiled. You’re certainly not dirty in any other sense than sweaty.” That got Remy laughing. “Listen. We can either take a shower together or separately, get ready for the day, and talk about it however much you want, if that sounds good to you?”

Remy nodded, flushing red. “You can take the shower first. I only have an afternoon shift today.”

Emile nodded and kissed Remy’s cheek, before he left the room. Remy sat down on the bed heavily. Much as he hated it, he still felt a little guilty. He knew that this wasn’t wrong. He knew that. But he still felt wrong.

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled. “You’re not in trouble. No one will hate you for this. Emile isn’t the type to make a notch on his belt and leave as soon as he sleeps with someone. You’ve wanted this for a while, and you got it. It’s okay.”

This was one of those things that Kim had suggested he do when his anxiety got the better of him, and at first he had scoffed at it. But now, it was helping him rationalize. “It’s okay...” Remy breathed. In one fluid motion, he stood and moved to the kitchen. Everything was okay, but he needed his coffee if he wanted any hope of no jitters the rest of the day. He got to making breakfast, and when the bathroom door opened and Emile walked out looking almost-immaculate, Remy laughed. “You realize you look like a nerd when you dress in those sweater vests?”

“I’ll wear what I want to wear when I want to wear it, thank you very much, Mister I’ll-Wear-A-Leather-Jacket-In-The-Summer-For-The-Aesthetic.”

Remy blinked. “That’s an eleven word nickname. That’s entirely too long.”

Emile cracked a grin. “I might use it again if you’re not careful and make a jab at my clothing choices.”

“Look, I’m just stating facts,” Remy said, leaving the coffee pot to brew as he went back to their room, grabbed his clothes, and went to shower.

He turned on the water and let himself relax in the spray. He wasn’t tense, exactly, but he had been on edge and it felt nice to just go limp under hot water for a couple minutes. He could let his mind blank and not worry about anything except making sure he didn’t breathe in any water. It was nice to not have to think.

Of course, he couldn’t stay in the shower forever, so he cleaned up and got dressed with a somewhat tired sigh. He walked out of the bathroom to find Emile sipping some of Remy’s coffee. “Hey! That’s mine!” Remy exclaimed with an indignant laugh.

“This is good, Rem. Is this just the pre-ground stuff we buy?” Emile asked.

“Kinda. I add a few extra things when we have them to spice up the blend a little, and make it a little less pure bitter,” Remy said with a shrug. “Why?”

“When I say this is good, I mean it’s really good, Rem,” Emile said. “If this is what you can do with the canned grounds, what can you do with fresh ingredients at a coffee shop?”

“The world may never know,” Remy sighed. “Because the managers don’t want me to experiment with their supplies in case it flops and we waste good coffee.”

Emile tutted. “That’s a shame. You could really make some quality blends, I’m sure of it. Some stuff that they’ve never thought of before.”

Remy flushed. “You think so?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted Emile’s approval on this.

“I know so,” Emile said with a grin, passing Remy a mug filled with coffee. “Come on, you said it’s yours, taste the fruits of your labor.”

Remy sipped it and hummed. “Yeah, adding more vanilla extract was a good call. I was worried it would be over powering, but that works really well. And I used...” Remy went to the notebook he kept in the kitchen, flipping it open. “I know it was two more teaspoons than last time...okay, yeah, about three tablespoons this time. I could probably stretch that further but this works fine for me.”

He scribbled that down and Emile was watching him. “What?” he asked.

“That’s what you use that notebook for?” Emile asked. “Writing down recipes?”

“Writing down experiments I try in my cooking, yeah,” Remy said. “Because I would easily forget exactly how much I used and lose the recipe, and that would destroy me. I don’t write down the full thing, just the important bits, but...”

“That’s still interesting,” Emile said, looking over Remy’s shoulder. “You’re essentially making your own cookbook.”

“Yeah, a little, I guess,” Remy said.

Emile grinned that scheming grin he had been showing a lot more recently. “What?” Remy asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s nothing,” Emile said, waving his hand in a dismissing motion.

“It’s not,” Remy insisted. “Come on, tell me!”

Emile sighed. “I’m just thinking about what it would be like if you...I don’t know...did your own thing. Went off to culinary school, or even just opened a shop around here, because I don’t know how much culinary school could honestly teach you.”

“You’re not scheming to send me away, are you?” Remy halfway teased.

“No, of course not,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I’d never want to send you away. I just can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were to actually be a master chef, instead of us just joking around.”

Remy sipped at his coffee and hummed. “I imagine there would be a lot more stress on my end and I might make you cook more dinners at home because I wouldn’t want to come home just to do more of my job.”

“Fair enough,” Emile laughed. “Anything you want to do today before your afternoon shift?”

“Meh,” Remy said. “I think we’ve got ourselves the recipe for a lazy Sunday morning in. And that’s the way I like it.”

“Well, after the night we had, I’m not surprised you’d just want to lay low,” Emile said with a wink.

Remy’s cheeks flared bright red. “Emile Zachary Thomas, I will murder you.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Emile asked. “I wouldn’t ever be able to do what we did last night again.”

“But you also wouldn’t joke about it and make me flustered, so I count that as a win,” Remy said with a shrug.

“What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Emile asked. “You love teasing me around my parents, or our friends, or anywhere when someone else can hear. Why is it different when I do it?”

Remy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because when I do it around other people, it's pretty clear that I’m joking. If you do that when it’s just the two of us, it’s not for show, as much. You might be teasing me, but there’s a part of you that always means it, too. That’s...intimidating.”

“Really?” Emile asked. “You’re intimidated by people actually following through with less than safe for work actions?”

Remy shrugged. “Not usually. Most of the people who make those jokes around me, even if they tried to make a move, it wouldn’t be scary. But with you...it’s different.”

“Why? Am I scary?” Emile asked, worried.

Remy shook his head and was quick to reassure, “No, it’s not because you’re scary. It’s because...you matter.”

Emile stood there, effectively stunned. “...Oh,” he said.

Remy was red as a tomato. “...Yeah...”

When Emile could respond again, his smile was a little watery. “I love you too, Rem.”

[isabilightwood]

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 9

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

The trees shivered under an unnatural fog. Yet the sky above was clear, save for the eerie crimson light of the stars. Every gust of wind against the leaves was a howling moan, every rustle of the undergrowth a giant spider yao gathering itself to lunge. Jin Tianyu wanted to go home. He was going to be an accountant under the Chief Cultivator and help him change the world. Important things. Not like stupid night hunting.

He didn’t need night hunting experience to do math.

But his instructors disagreed. Even Madam Jin had shaken her head when he asked for an exemption, and explained that he needed to be able to defend himself. He’d already delayed too much by avoiding night hunting until he was eighteen, two years away from his coming of age. But what could he ever need to defend himself from in Koi Tower, save the cheek-pinching fingers of elderly relatives?

And if he had to go night hunting, why did it have to be with Fan Caining? If only their regular blademaster or even Madam Jin herself ran these things. Then he would feel safe and protected, and not like his class’ ostensible teacher, appointed to ensure the group made it back in one piece, would turn tail and flee should they run into anything more dangerous than a single ghost.

Which they would. Besides their target, a guai formed from a carpenter’s worktable that had become animated, killed its owner, and run off into the woods, there had been reports of multiple yao formed from clouded leopards in these woods.

Not to mention the giant spiders. Jin Tianyu had had one on the ceiling of his room last night, and his roommate had refused to take care of it for him, right before rolling over and going right to sleep! He’d been forced to suffer through chasing it away with a broom by himself, whimpering all the while. And that was without the massive growth spurt resentful energy gave them.

Fan Caining suddenly swept his sword through the undergrowth, clearing out an ordinary pack of rodents. As he did so, something growled in the woods up ahead.

“That should draw something out.” He informed the group, though they’d been taught in class that the best way to draw out a dangerous guai or yao was to choose a battleground by scouting during the day, and using a lure flag with a limited distance to reduce the risk of attracting anything else.

How a bunch of rodents would draw out a murderous worktable, Jin Tianyu did not know. But it might bring out those leopards!

The senior disciple had a build that seemed to be made of squares, which also described his personality. Flat and boring, with a few pointy spots that made him dangerous to cross. Jin Tianyu had learned that the hard way when he suggested they might, possibly want to scout beforehand, and Fan Caining hit him hard across the back with the flat of his sword. The bruise had yet to fade.

Sure enough, a leopard yao with glowing red eyes pounced on his slightly older cousin as they entered the next clearing. She shrieked and whacked at it with her sheathed sword while Jin Tianyu and everyone else gaped. Even Fan Caining.

As his tangjie managed to get her sword between herself and the leopard, Jin Tianyu shook off his shock and drew his sword. He held it in front of himself like a spear and charged, yelling. Sword pierced flesh with sickening squelch.

He’d screwed his eyes shut to avoid looking, he realized, and opened them. The leopard was dead alright, and his tangjie alive if covered in the leopard’s blood. But it seemed Fan Caining had recovered at the same time he did. Either Jin Tianyu stabbing its gut or it’s beheading could have done it in.

“Thanks.” Tangjie said, as she used his limp arm to pull herself up. “I was starting to think no one would step in.”

The dozen other junior disciples looked sheepish.

“Of course,” Fan Caining drew himself up prouder than any peacock in the Koi Tower gardens, though she hadn’t addressed him.

The groaning noise sounded again, this time cut off with a wail.

Fan Caining waved him and the other junior disciples ahead as though nothing was wrong.  Jin Tianyu cursed his luck for the thousandth time.

It was one of the outer disciples who first stepped in a trap. They tried to take another step, and found themselves immobilized at the edge of the clearing. Tangjie took a step forward and found herself shot up into the branches of the tree above. “I can’t — my hands are stuck to the branch!” She called down, in a panic.

Several other disciples moved to help, but found themselves in the same situation. Jin Tianyu’s limbs felt heavy, and he stood there dumb and immobile.

The groaning noise came again, but cut off in a laugh that could only come from a person.

Lilting laughter that sounded like his worst nightmare echoed through the clearing. Looking around, Jin Tianyu spotted a man dressed in black and silver reclining casually on a tree branch. Beautiful, in the way of jagged glass, only sharper. Like he would not only cut anything that got too close, but shred it into thin, unidentifiable slivers.

If I was better at verse, I could be a poet, and leave cultivation behind forever. Jin Tianyu thought absently.

The man looked familiar somehow, like he might have crossed paths with Jin Tianyu in passing. Except that Jin Tianyu had never left Lanling City before.

Fog rolled into the clearing, but only below the tree line, leaving the man clear and untouched above.

Jin Tianyu coughed. No, not fog. Powder.

Fan Caining stood in the center of the clearing, his sword shaking as he pointed it up towards the man. “Xue Yang? But you’re supposed to be —”

“Dead?” Xue Yang’s teeth shone white, bared in a threat, not a smile. “Yes, you did try very hard to make that happen. Too bad for you, I’m too crazy to die. Lucky for me, none of your friends are here this time to save you. Only a few tasty little children.”

To his surprise, Fan Caining did not try to run. Instead, he jumped up into the trees. “I can take you on my own, you weak little maniac.”

Xue Yang only laughed as he attacked.

Xue Yang. Jin Tianyu knew why he recognized him now. That was the former disciple brought in by the former sect leader, cast out by the current Chief Cultivator. The murderer of the Chang Clan.

He’d called them tasty.

Screw Fan Caining. They needed to get out of there.

Jin Tianyu tried to give himself leverage to get to his cousin by pushing against a tree, and found himself entirely turned around, no longer in the clearing.

He turned, and the trees seemed to spin around him. They continued to spin no matter how long he tried to stand still, stumbling, until finally he hit something solid and rough. A tree. He slid down it. Seated, his vision felt a little clearer.

He soon wished it wasn’t.

Something dropped from the tree to dangle in above Jin Tianyu. He dared to peak, and immediately regretted it.

The slack, inverted features of Fan Caining stared back, his eyes bulging from his head, tongue swollen and hanging from blue-tinged lips.

Jin Tianyu screamed.

He woke to Tangjie slapping his cheeks. “Tianyu! Tianyu, wake up!”

“What… what happened?” Jin Tianyu said groggily, as his memory began to return. He sat up straight. “Xue Yang!”

“He left, but I think there was something in that fog. You inhale the most of it, but all of us breathed in a little.” She explained. “We need to hurry back to the inn. The rest of the group has Cai-qianbei’s body. Come on, we need to go.”

She slung his arm around her neck, but as he stood, the vertigo returned in full force.

Somehow, they made it back to the inn, but he didn’t remember it.

A young man rose from a table, then he was doubled and tripled and on again. He wore gray, with a boar on his shoulder. That meant Nie. Jin Tianyu remembered that.

“Did the lot of you run all the way back here like that?”

“What?” Jin Tianyu asked, and the next thing he knew, the Nie disciple was keeping him upright by the elbow, taking his weight from Tangjie so she could collapse in a chair.

Jin Tianyu stared up into the Nie disciple’s face, at the angles of his defined cheekbones and jaw, with just the right amount of softness. Very symmetrical. He could do math with that face.

Pretty. He thought.

“Thank you.” The Nie disciple flashed him a smile that made him want to faint all over again. “You’ve got corpse poisoning. Let’s get some congee in you, now.”

He was seated and a bowl of congee appeared in front of him out of nowhere, as though it had already been prepared. Even though it was evening, and he didn’t think enough time had passed to make it.

Jin Tianyu couldn’t be sure, though. He was too busy floating, the only thing anchoring him to his body the burning pain on his tongue.

That faded as he forced down more of the bowl, and he realized it was chili. He could see the flakes reddening his bowl. Tangjie, who loved chili, had scarfed it down with no problem. Jin Tianyu tried to put down the bowl.

“No, no, you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.” The Nie disciple —who was even prettier now that his head was clearer — shoved the bowl back into his hands. “That was corpse powder you were poisoned with. You’ll die.”

Jin Tianyu shoveled the rest into his mouth.

The Nie disciple was tall. Very tall, as was the case for every Nie he’d seen with the sole exception of their current sect leader, but surprisingly thin, like he didn’t spend all his spare time building up the muscles the Nie were well known for. The hair braided up into his guan was lopsided, like he’d done it up without looking in a mirror. But even under the influence of the corpse powder, Jin Tianyu had been correct. His face was perfectly symmetrical, without a single blemish or pore to be found. It would have looked unnatural, were his perfect face not so expressive. His brows arched and lips pursed  sternly, but giving the impression that he was laughing.

“Now, would you mind telling me what happened?” His beautiful savior asked.

Speaking over each other, Jin Tianyu and the other disciples hurried to do so. But by the next morning, when they gathered to leave for Koi Tower, their savior was gone.

In Nie robes and a face that did not belong to him, Wei Wuxian did not receive a second glance until he first set foot in the Unclean realm. Once there, he constantly felt eyes boring into his back, but when he glanced over, he’d find disciples hard at work on their forms or their noses buried deep in texts. Which only went to prove their curiosity.

Even with Nie Huaisang for a sect leader, it wasn’t every day that a stranger was brought into the sect and handed a high-ranking position. But the Nie Sect had few elders, and those they had were aged and gray because with saber cultivation, it was the weak who survived the longest. It seemed the Nie elders were retired in truth, pursuing hobbies like needlework and whittling and nagging their grandchildren to eat more.

By the time Wei Wuxian arrived in the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue’s body had been hidden away, though not yet buried, for reasons known only to Nie Huaisang. No one said anything about that, either.

“And since I’m the weakest of the lot, I’ll live to be a hundred,” Nie Huaisang completed explaining his free reign to lead his sect however he chose, unparalleled by any other sect even a single generation past its founding as they approached the gates to the Unclean Realm.

Right before dropping a bomb on his head in the form of unwarranted and unwanted respectability. “My closest sect siblings know my motives if not my plans, so no one will oppose appointing you to the vacant position of fourth disciple.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian sputtered, tempted to check if Nie Huaisang was running a fever. “What happened to the last fourth disciple?”

Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and opened it again, staring off into the distance.

Touchy subject. Understood. “Forget I asked.”

“Let’s just say Jin Guangyao owes the Nie Clan more than one life.” Nie Huaisang said, before dragging him through the gates and launching into a series of dramatic introductions that left his head spinning.

Apparently he was going by Nie Wang, courtesy Xiaomeng now.

Wei Wuxian had not been consulted on this. Walking around with everyone thinking his name was hope felt precisely in line with Nie Huaisang’s sense of humor.

True to form, Nie Huaisang did not deign to explain until he wanted something. Despite copious amounts of pleading, Wei Wuxian was forced to wait through a restless night of nightmares and a morning while his apparent new sect leader caught up on work to get his answers.

Finally, Nie Huaisang summoned him around lunch time. He was set up in a pavilion in the garden, with a mountain of paperwork. The garden had been designed by someone with an eye for showcasing Qinghe’s foliage. A lotus pond surrounded the pavilion, and though its cultivated beauty was no match for the wildness of Yunmeng’s lakes, the carefully selected flowers staggered through the surrounding paths were like hidden gems, each intended to stand on its own.

There were birds as well, goldfinches and many others kept there not by cages, but by the feeders full of seeds spread throughout.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said as he sprawled on a bench across the table from Nie Huaisang, who did not look up from his work to greet him. “I thought I was going to be a rogue cultivator. But apparently you had other ideas.”

“If you’re going to pull this off, the easiest way to wander around without notice is as one of my disciples. As a rogue cultivator, you might gather some recognition, get invited along to visit sects and so on. As one of mine, well, there are Nie disciples everywhere.” It was deeply disconcerting to watch Nie Huaisang take something seriously. And he was serious about that paperwork, not even looking up to speak. “They get bored of me, and travel.”

“They’re spies, aren’t they?”

He lifted his brush from a page with a flourish, and pinned it off to the side under a weight to dry, immediately moving onto the next one. “Are you saying I’m not irritating enough to make people need a break? I must have an ulterior motive? I’ll have to try harder.”

“Oh, you’re very irritating. They’re just extremely loyal.”

“After the Sunshot campaign and the losses we had during Dage’s decline, both to desertion and other causes. And then the prospect of me. Well, anyone who’s left is basically family.”

He gestured at Nie Xiaodan, at that moment crossing the bridge towards the pavilion.

Nie Xiaodan patted him on the head as she passed by. “Don’t forget to order lunch, Zongzhu.” She said, and returned to discussing a night hunt with her companion. It seemed she had come for that reminder only.

Nie Huaisang beamed.

“Fine, I’ll pretend to be your disciple.” Wei Wuxian wanted to pretend he’d been given a choice.

“Excellent! We can get you a saber easily enough.”

Uh. He had told him what Wen Qing said about his core, right? Wei Wuxian was often terrible at remembering tasks, but he distinctly recalled completing that one. “I’m banned from resentful energy, doctor’s orders.”

“Our smiths can make sabers without binding an animal spirit, you know. They do make other things.”

Wei Wuxian was summarily introduced to the blacksmiths, a married couple who looked him up and down intently and promptly got into an argument over the saber’s design. When he looked around for Nie Huaisang, the sneaky little spymaster was missing, because of course he was.

Attempts at interrupting failed to distract the couple from their debate over the pattern to be inscribed on the hilt, so Wei Wuxian settled against the wall to wait, and inadvertently took a nap.

He was prodded awake with the end of a (thankfully) unheated poker. “Infuse this with your energy,” The smith holding the poker growled, pointing towards a red-hot block of iron. Wei Wuxian did as requested, feeling only a slight protest from Xue Yang’s — his core.

Then, all he had to do was wait.

During the week it took for his new saber to be prepared, Wei Wuxian was not idle.

If he was going to imitate Xue Yang with no demonic cultivation and an extremely temperamental sword, Wei Wuxian needed tricks. Wen Qing had told him to invent something. But, Wei Wuxian thought, how better to create the illusion of evil tricks than to use something that actually existed.

He had drawn one idea from the stage. Why not the methods for a few more?

Within a day of verbalizing his plan, Wei Wuxian drowned under a sea of texts pulled from the shelves of the Nie library and from the private records of Qinghe’s theater and dance troops. Thanks to Nie Huaisang’s generous patronage, Wei Wuxian had been able to request manuals on the techniques in common between troops, rather than their family secrets. The tricks to raising and lowering a curtain on an improvised stage and to building a smoke bomb in a desired hue for a start.

The combination of practical optical illusions and talismans seemed particularly promising.

The smoke bombs were the easiest, simply a matter of mixing powders together in a casing and setting them on fire. Fun for him, but since he managed to irritate someone no matter where he set them off, Wei Wuxian moved on.

Combining his binding talisman and a sticking talisman, he stuck a disciple to the roof of the library.

(A volunteer, since it wasn’t as though Jiang Cheng was there. Or speaking to him.)

The force holding him in place was a standard talisman, nothing Wei Wuxian had invented, but the disciple struggled against it like he’d never learned how to counter it. Which he probably hadn’t, given how little thought most cultivators gave them beyond wards and the ubiquitous ones for keeping tea warm or sending brief messages.

Which was precisely why Wei Wuxian might just pull this off.

He thought about pulleys and spirit nets, and the next day, he inscribed the talismans within a pressure-triggered array, and sent himself flying upwards. Followed by a plethora of curious volunteers.

What had he expected, though? The Nie were a sect full of adrenaline junkies. Even the first disciple came around for a turn. After that, Wei Wuxian found himself with company and conversation at every meal.

Even so, he never forgot he was wearing a mask. Every night after a long day of study, the mask weighed heavy on his face, leaving him with a headache. He found it easier to ward his door, than keep it on while he slept. Then, and only then, was it safe to be himself.

Many of the most useful tricks required more practice, such as projecting sounds so they seemed to come from a different source. Wei Wuxian practiced each, over and over again, until he felt he had it. And then put on a demonstration.

When he could pull off a trick successfully in front of the little Nie Disciples, he knew he had managed it. If he still couldn’t fool Nie Huaisang, well, Huaisang was Huaisang.

He couldn’t be held to mortal standards.

That left one more problem, perhaps the most challenging.

Along with the skin mask, Xue Yang’s bag had contained: two changes of clothes, a small pouch of silver, a large coil of rope, and several heavy bags full of corpse powder.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian wasn’t actually going to use corpse powder on anyone. That could get messy fast, if anyone else was around, with no guarantee he’d be able to serve the antidote in time. Yet it seemed like corpse powder was a common part of Xue Yang’s modus operandi.

If he didn’t use it, would Jin Guangyao suspect something was off? There was no way of telling.

The problem niggled at the back of his mind all week long, whether he was becoming one with the library or getting caught in his own rope trap. But he got no closer to finding a solution.

Until finally, during breakfast on the day Wei Wuxian was to receive his saber, he sat staring into his congee, stirring it absently.

And had a brilliant idea.

Somehow, having a potential solution took the edge off his nerves, and he was able to hold Yuanzheng for the first time while only making a bit of a fool of himself. To his relief, it didn’t feel like Suibian, though the long, thin saber was also designed for agility rather than power.

Yuanzheng

did feel like a weapon he could use, not the dead, draining weight Suibian had become or the repulsion of Jiangzai. Like it might become an extension of his arm in time, with Suibian and Chenqing out of reach. Wei Wuxian teared up a little, as he went through a series of exercises for the first time in years, and did not pass out.

For the first time, his resurrection really felt like a second chance. The beginning of the long journey he’d named his saber for, with a slim chance that light in the distance was the end of the tunnel. With family and zhiji waiting on the other end.

He had better make it count.

From the privacy of his own room that night, he pulled out his Distance Speaking Stone, and called up Wen Qing. “Hey, disorienting powder can be cleared from the system with congee like corpse powder, right?”

With construction on watchtowers set to begin in several sects, there was little for Jiang Yanli to do on the project but wait. Yet she couldn’t remain idle with only her sect responsibilities and A-Ling to occupy her time. Not if she intended to make herself — or rather, Qin Su — a credible power in her own right, someone who had a chance of being believed when it came time to reveal Jin Guangyao’s crimes.

She needed a new project. Something Jin Guangyao had yet to present a plan for, something Qin Su would get all the credit for.

Word arrived that a Jin disciple had been murdered by Xue Yang, the juniors he had been escorting barely escaping with their lives. The pair of Jin cousins with the rare tea feud (under a temporary ceasefire in favor of vengeance against the Chief Cultivator for the allowance cut, so far consisting of attempts to convince the servants to put laxatives in his tea, which the servants would not do, out of a desire to remain among the living) fainted dead away at the news.

Jiang Yanli, already aware of this through her brother, attempted to look appropriately horrified.

Jin Guangyao paled, and for a moment, lost his composure. Ice in his eyes and steel in the set of his jaw, there and gone again in a blink. Mask back into place but still off balance, he cut off the junior disciples’ explanation of their rescue from corpse powder mid sentence. He immediately sent off three teams of disciples to track down Xue Yang and bring back his body.

“I thought Xiandu always heard all explanations to the end.” A messenger from Fengyang Hua whispered to a group consisting of the wards from Lieshan Du, Zhai Xia, and Mo Xuanyu’s ever-present suitors.

Not always, rumor would now say. Even Xiandu is afraid of something.

Even with fear in the air over the return of Xue Yang — for everyone had a horror story to tell of his time in Koi Tower, mostly to do with dismembered animals in places that were decidedly not the kitchen — Jiang Yanli found she had finally settled into her role.

One day, the paperwork ran out, and Jiang Yanli found herself with an afternoon free. A novel experience, since her return. It was a perfect opportunity to brainstorm her next step.

If only she could dredge up the barest hint of an idea. But her mind felt like a dried-up creek in a drought.

“I was thinking of going to the tailor in the city, Xiao-Heng is growing like a demon and needs more new clothes. Would you like to come with me?”

I bet we’re not thinking of anything because we’re trying too hard. Qin Su said.

As much as Jiang Yanli hated to admit it, she had a point. A-Xian always said that he had his best ideas the moment he stopped trying to force a solution. The difficulty lay in not thinking about it.

I have a solution for that. My beloved nephew is quite the attention hog.

“A-Ling’s robes have been looking rather short.” She said aloud.

Qi Juan beamed, and began tucking her son in his sling. He was soon to outgrow it, and had just reached the troublesome learning to crawl stage.

Kidnapping her son from his lessons was a thrill, though it was the work of a moment. The sour-faced calligraphy instructor dismissed A-Ling with visible relief, and the reminder that A-Ling was still expected to produce ten copies of poems at the next class. Without blotches of ink covering half the page, or brush strokes of uneven width.

A-Ling stuck out his tongue behind the instructor’s back, and ran to grab her hand, already chattering about how he wanted to bring back sticks of tanghulu for the entire class.

“My sweet, grumpy boy,” She ruffled his hair, and he scowled, attempting to push it back into place, but only displacing his top knot further. Just like his jiujiu.

The main streets of Lanling were cleaner than she remembered from six years ago. The shops lining the main street had all recently been given a fresh coat of paint, proprietors and customers alike looking healthier and more prosperous.  Jin Guangyao had reformed the city’s taxes, on the basis that letting the common people keep more of their earnings now would bring the sect more profit in the long term. More than one person recognized her as Madam Jin, and called out a respectful greeting with a smile. At least on a surface level, his plan had begun to work.

There were fewer brothels now as well, reduced by half. The madams who had refused to start allowing their workers to pay off their contracts had been driven out of business or died in mysterious fires. (In some cases, but not all, the workers mysteriously escaped unscathed.) As A-Ling towed her along to a hawker with a tower of tanghulu, she passed an empty lot with the blackened foundations still visible. The buildings next to it were under repair, one of which seemed to have sustained considerable damage to the living quarters on the second floor.

As she looked around more closely, she saw an emaciated old man begging from the entrance of an alley, a woman in what had once been a set of fine performance robes soliciting passerby, and scruffy children lurking in dark corners.

Despite Jin Guangyao’s claims of working towards progress, there were still street children in Lanling.

Making a home for the orphans of Lanling had been a project dear to A-Xuan’s heart, in the last months of his life. Impending fatherhood had made him more perceptive in many ways, more so even than the changes he underwent during the Sunshot campaign. But when she was preganant, her husband had taken her by the arms and informed her with great distress that there are children in the streets, Yanli! Children!

Jiang Yanli had thought better late than never and helped him come up with a plan. She had her own reasons to take an interest in the care of orphans and poor children, after all.

Jin Guangshan had probably signed the funding out of the budget on an advisor’s word, not having been informed how his son and daughter-in-law were spending the clan’s funds in the first place.

Jin Guangyao would not have gotten rid of such a program, she thought, as she fished a coin so her son could get as sticky with sugar as his little heart desired.

Qin Su did not quite agree. No, he would have replaced it with something similar, that he could claim the credit for.

True. But he hadn’t — which meant there was room for Jiang Yanli to fill the gap.

After a moment of thought, she purchased a second stick, and handed it to Qi Juan.

“You looked like you could use it.” She told her.

Qi Juan bit down delicately on the candy-coated hawthorn, but couldn’t avoid the satisfying crunch. And laughed, as parts of the coating cracked, and fell from her lips. “All right. I haven’t had something like this since… before the Sunshot Campaign, probably. Certainly not since my family came up in the world and married me off. You look like you could use one too.”

“Do I?” Jiang Yanli had often thought that helping others feel better was its own reward.

It would make me feel better to taste something sweet. Qin Su said in a blatant attempt to get Jiang Yanli to treat herself. Sweet-sweet though, not hawthorn berries.

I think that stall might be selling lotus mooncakes.” Though the mid-autumn festival had already past, there was never a wrong time for a mooncake.

It was a mistake to mention heaven’s favorite root in front of Jin Ling. “Lotus!” He shouted. “Pleasepleaseplease mooncake mooncake!” And would not let up until she bought him one, in addition to three for herself.

“That’s more than enough sugar for one day, young man.” She informed him as she took a bite of her own mooncake, wrapping the others in a cloth for later.

A-Ling grinned toothily up at her, mooncake leaking lotus paste in one hand, half eaten tanghulu in the other, and the glint of sugar all over his cheeks.

Perhaps she should have insisted he wait until after their errand for his treats, but Jiang Yanli did not possess the earned resistance to his adorable whims of a mother who had gotten to see her child grow. Who could blame her, if she spoiled him a little? “Do you think the tailor will still let us in the shop?”

“It’s not so bad,” Qi Juan said, just as A-Ling smushed the rest of the mooncake in his hand, and shoved it in his face. She grimaced. “I’m certain Tailor Ke has seen worse.”

Indeed, Tailor Ke, a woman who knew her way around hanfu, if the way the one she was wearing flattered her extensive curves meant anything, did not blink an eye. “If you could wipe off the young master’s hands, please, Jin-furen?”

Jiang Yanli took the offered wet handkerchief, and wiped the stickiness off of a protesting A-Ling. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to damage any of your lovely merchandise.”

Sadly, the more vibrant fabrics could not be chosen for A-Ling, who would be consigned to golden peacocks and peonies on off-white for as long as he lived. As a married-in spouse, however, Jiang Yanli had more leeway with under robes. The pale pink of Laoling Qin tempered the gold, making it almost palatable.

Qi Juan freely admired a swatch of vivid green fabric, in precisely the right shade for her natal sect. A daring choice, if it was for her son. Perhaps a sign that Qi Juan would be receptive to opposing her husband.

Tailor Ke bustled around, assembling the appropriate silks in Jin colors for Jiang Yanli’s inspection herself.

“Have you been short handed lately?” She asked as ideas for how, exactly, she would go about outdoing Jin Guangyao in reform measures began to coalesce in her mind.

“Have I ever! There’s all this new demand for clothing and not enough suitable apprentices to go around! Everyone’s looking, not just me.” She dropped a stack of fabrics on the table with a grunt. “Jin-gongzi’s order will take priority, of course.”

She shook her head. Naturally an order from the sect leader’s wife would be prioritized, but there was no need. “Please put Bei-gongzi’s order ahead of mine. A-Ling can get a bit more use out of his robes, but Bei-gongzi won’t fit into his if he grows anymore. And only the peony for embroidery. If it’s any more elaborate, A-Ling will inevitably ruin the robes the first time he wears them.”

“Yes, Jin-furen.” Tailor Ke agreed. “It won’t take more than a week, all told. Kid’s clothes work up fast.”

“And wear out faster.” She sighed as A-Ling chose that moment to snag his sleeve on a nail. “What are you looking for, in an apprentice?”

Many craftspeople would have been hesitant to answer, but Tailor Ke was happy to babble on as she began to drape fabrics over A-Ling’s shoulders, critiquing and sorting them to find the least aesthetically terrible combinations. “Oh, someone who’s quick with their hands, with some basic sewing and embroidery skills. I don’t have time to teach basics, but the rest can come along in time. Someone to do the books for me would also be a dream. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though fortunately I can still stitch a straight seam without looking.”

That seemed like simple enough requirements, easily fulfilled with a little education. Though orphans were pulled of the street from time to time, it was usually for menial positions they would lose the moment something went wrong. Or if they were very lucky, to take care of an old, childless widow. Re-instituting A-Xuan’s program and improving upon it — that could be a very real way to distinguish Qin Su in the eyes of not only the Jin Sect, but the cultivation world.

The children could not only learn skills to help find employment, but be tested for cultivation potential.

The sects were always complaining about how difficult it was to recruit new talent. Executed properly, Jiang Yanli could make Qin Su look not only kind-hearted, but clever, reputable, and forward thinking, with the best interests of the sect she had married into at heart.

Even if the actual Qin Su fantasized about burning down Koi Tower on a regular basis.

Hey.

What? It was true.

Qin Su huffed. A semi-regular basis, maybe. And I would never actually. I wouldn’t actually ruin the whole of Lanling’s economy or put the servants and juniors out of house and home.

My apologies then. She suppressed a laugh.

Would there really be enough apprenticeships to go around, though? Qin Su sent numbers bouncing around her mind as she attempted the mental math, but got lost without paper.

Perhaps not. But larger farms could use workers, manors could use servants, and affordable bookkeepers were always in short supply. It could, at least, give them a better start.

“Shenshen look! I’m all twirly!” A-Ling giggled as he spun, the silk draped over him spinning out and threatening to knock over the tailor’s basket of supplies. Jiang Yanli tried not to smile, knowing she would need to scold him later, and prepared to pay for the entire bolt.

“We should discuss the problem with your sword.” Wen Qing said one night through the softly glowing Distance Speaking Stone. A-Xian had popped in earlier, briefly, but he was busy following the second of the Jin disciples on Xue Yang’s list, learning the habits of the group they were part of before he could lead them into a trap.

Jiang Yanli stared into her evening tea. “Must we?”

“Wei Wuxian isn’t having trouble with his new saber. The problem must be that Chunsheng doesn’t fully recognize you as Qin Su.”

“I can’t just get rid of her sword.” That wasn’t done.

<We are not getting rid of Chunsheng.> Qin Su said from inside her paperman. She’d been bent over a copy of some of A-Xian’s notes, researching something she had yet to explain.

“You’re basically unprotected. What if something —” Wen Qing cut herself off, surprisingly panicked.

Replacing a sword would garner more attention than A-Xian had in refusing to carry Suibian around. Whether they would somehow determine the truth or spread rumors about a disastrous fallout with the Qin clan, everyone would know something was off.

Still, it was sweet of her to worry. “Any sword is more protection than I had in my last life, Wen Qing.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She sounded so forlorn that Jiang Yanli ached with the desire to fall into her arms and rub circles into her back until she slept, and even after. “But I worry.”

So did she, far too often. There was no end to worrying, it seemed. Not even after death. “Does A-Xian have any ideas about the talisman keeping you trapped?”

Wen Qing hesitated. “I haven’t let him look at it yet.”

“A-Qing!” A slip of the tongue, in her shock.

Wen Qing’s breath caught. “I’m not letting him put my life before his again. When we’re closer —”

“Last time you put his life before yours, he died anyways.” Jiang Yanli snapped. And sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unfair. It’s just — if you’re allowed to worry for me, I get to worry for you.”

“A little longer. Then I’ll speak to him.”

She could tell that was the best she was going to get. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him myself.”

Jiang Yanli was tired of watching the people she cared about tear themselves apart. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Wen Qing let out a shaky, hiccupping laugh. “That seems fair.”

[scenecipriano]

Curse of The Fold (4)

Chapter Four: The True Demon of Salem

Description: The year was 1692, a time where women, children, and men feared for their lives of possibly being accused of witchcraft. Two men though, don’t allow this mass hysteria to come between them. Even though the madness Janus and Roman manage to keep their relationship a secret…That is until the summer of 1692.“The only thing that could hurt us. Is the curse of the fold.”

Characters: Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Remus Sanders, Janus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, and Thomas Sanders

Relationships: Roman/Janus

TW: Unsympathetic Patton, Unsympathetic Remus, major character death, death by hanging, death by fire, executions, witch trials.

Other(s): Based on Salem Witch Trials and not fully historically accurate.

Chapter TW: mentions of hanging, mentioned anxiety attacks/panic attacks, stalking, forced kissing, Unsympathetic Remus, Remus being creepy. 

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

February 25th, 1692 Salem Massachusetts

Roman was restless, he hasn’t gotten the chance to try and see Janus again, nor has he been able to catch Virgil in a moment of one of his fits. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“What’s the matter, Ro-Ro? Bored sitting around here? Father, did say there was some housework to be done, why not do that?”

Roman grimaces and looks over to Remus, they were twins, but Remus was the youngest, born five minutes after Roman.

They were identical save for Remus’ ratty mustache and manic look that seemed to be on his face every waking moment and even in his sleeping moments. He and Remus were built the same, broad shoulders with lean frames, Roman wishes that they weren’t so similar.

“Why don’t you do them? You never seem to do anything anymore,” Roman replies.

Remus grins and shrugs his shoulders, he tilts his head to the side causing red bangs to fall in front of his wide green eyes.

“I figured I would go for a walk, it’s a lovely day out so I would hate for it to go to waste.”

Roman frowns as he watches Remus walk out the front door of their home, his brother has been acting unusual, more unusual than he had beforehand.

‘ What are you planning, you little demon…’

Remus leans his head back as he walks through the woods, he hums in content as the sun washes over his face. Five days, he’s spent five days trying to catch a better glimpse of the man his brother snuck out to see that one night when Remus caught him sneaking out.

He’s come up empty-handed each time, there've been moments when Remus thought he’s caught a glimpse of the strange man, only to find out it was the mere shadow of a nearby tree.

“Honestly, it’s a shame that Ro-Ro gets to play with this guy and I don’t even get the chance to say hello! It’s quite rude,” Remus grumbles as he trudges ahead.

What did the guy even see in his brother? Roman was the boring one! Whereas Remus was the interesting one, he stood out. Roman only blended in a stupid people pleaser among the other mundane idiots that prowl around in the town.

“When I go, you know you can’t follow me into the darkness. Where I go you may not make it through the night~,” Remus stops in his tracks when a gentle voice sounds from his left.

He turns and sees a path that he’s never noticed before turning down into a small slope, Remus looks around him before a grin breaks out. He slowly inched his way down the path, straining his ears so he could hear the singing again.

“Only those who aren’t afraid to lose it all. Are the ones who may make it out alive~,” the voice sings again, accompanied by the gentle sound of splashing.

Remus inched closer before ducking behind a set of bushes, he slowly peeks out and grins brightly.

Now, mind you this wasn’t where he followed his brother all those nights before, no, this wasn’t a stream that ran right through the woods that separated Salem from the town next door. This was a large round lake, the water looked black from a distance, but Remus knew that if he were to be closer it would be clearer.

A white long sleeve shirt hung up on a low tree branch along with a pair of brown trousers and ratty looking socks that were probably once white, even from a distance Remus could tell that the clothes were dripping wet.

“Father, forgive them though they do know what they do. The reason resides in the rise and the fall of these times~.”

Remus follows the sound of the voice with his eyes, at the edge of the lake, was the man that Roman had met days prior. The man’s strawberry blonde hair was damp, he only had on a pale blue nightdress. A scar shaped like claws stands out on the man’s pale face, Remus immediately feels his grin widen, ‘ Oh, I know who you are…’

“Seems like Ro-Ro’s fallen for our resident witch… Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Roman watches in fear as Virgil thrashes and screams, he pulls at his hair and pushes himself into a corner as Patton prays over him, in hopes of helping the young man fight against this horrible ailment.

“Father, maybe I should help? I could cover his mouth to muffle the screaming so you can concentrate?” Roman offers as he watches Virgil struggle for breath, a strangled sob ripping its way from his raw throat.

“You can try, but be careful, it’s hard to tell what beast is living within him, Roman.”

Roman nods and takes a hesitant step forward, he makes sure to shield himself away from his father’s view as he slips the bottle of medicine from his pocket. He looks down at the pale pink liquid and breathes deeply.

‘ Please work, he doesn’t deserve to be hanged…’

Virgil cowers away from him, pathetic whimpers leaving his trembling lips. Roman sighs and kneels beside him and takes the cork out of the bottle.

“Virgil it's going to be okay… This is going to help…” He whispers as he forces Virgil to look at him, Roman pry’s his mouth open and forces him to drink a bit of the mixture before placing his hand over the trembling man’s mouth.

“Swallow it,” Roman hisses before glancing back at his father, “Go on, finish the prayer father. I’ll keep him quiet for you.”

Roman relaxes when he sees Virgil’s throat bob as he swallows the liquid down, it shouldn’t be long until it kicks in, or at least Roman hopes it doesn't.

He listens to his father pray a few minutes longer before Virgil finally begins to calm down, his tense body finally relaxing after being tense for almost two hours now. Roman slowly moves his hand away and is relieved when he sees a smile on Virgil’s face.

“It works!” Roman cheers.

“Of course it works, the lord's prayer always works, Roman. Virgil, how are you feeling?”

Roman almost refutes his father’s claims before stopping himself, Patton didn’t need to know about the medicine.

“B-Better… I… I feel a lot better than before, am I allowed to go home?” Virgil asks, his voice is soft and his eyes droop slightly from exhaustion.

“You may need to stay here another day or two… just so we can make sure the demons are out of your system. Then I’ll speak to Logan about letting you out because I don’t believe you’re a witch Virgil.”

Virgil nods and glances at Roman.

“Father? May I speak to Virgil alone for a moment?”

Patton smiles and nods, “Of course, you deserve a chance to be alone with your friend. Try not to take too long though, we need to get home before Remus does, I wouldn't want another accident of him almost burning the house down.”

Roman and Virgil silently watch as Patton leaves them alone, the door to the cell Virgil occupies closing behind the older man as he does.

“What the hell was that you gave me?” Virgil hisses.

Roman flinches and pulls the bottle from his breast pocket, he quickly replaces the cork before any of the contents spill out.

“It’s… It’s medicine, I met someone the other day. His name is Janus Delvaux a-and he says he makes medicines, he said this would hel--.”

“Did you just say, Janus Delvaux? Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Virgil asks, fear dancing in his brown eyes as he stares at his long time friend.

“What? Do you know him?”

“Know him? He’s the witch of the woods you, idiot! A demon to some, have you honestly not heard the stories of him?”

Roman grimaces, surely Virgil didn’t believe the fables the people in town spun to scare them when they were younger.

“I’ve met him, Virgil. There is nothing witchy or demonic about him, he’s sweet, and if he was a demon or witch he wouldn’t attend a church,” Roman argues.

Virgil blinks, “He attends church? But… Your father… look when I get out of here I want to meet this Janus Delvaux, can’t have my best friend probably getting himself killed.”

Roman rolls his eyes and presses the bottle of medicine into Virgil’s hands, he smiles and shakes his head.

“Of course… Drink a bit of this when you feel a fit coming on, it will help you get out of here quicker.”

The two share a hug before Roman leaves, the walk back home with his father is silent. Roman couldn’t help but mull over what Virgil said.

‘ How could anyone say that the angel of a man is a demon?’

Remus could understand where his brother’s infatuation comes from when it comes to one certain witch that lives in the woods. The man was pretty, very captivating. It’s a wonder how he doesn’t have men and women throwing themselves at his feet due to his undying beauty.

When Janus gathers up his damp clothes after waiting for them to dry, Remus steps out of his hiding spot, causing the witch to jump back startled.

“Heavens, Roman you startled...me… You’re not, Roman,” the smaller man states.

Remus grins and puffs his chest out, “Damn right! I’m Remus, who might you be you lovely and extraordinary creature?”

He grins more when those bi-colored eyes crinkle in distaste.

“I have a feeling you already know who I am, but I suppose I can humor you with a response. My name is Janus Delvaux, now, I believe it is your turn to introduce yourself.”

Remus smirks and bows slightly, “Remus Harford at your beck and call, Mr. Delvaux, or do you prefer to be called the witch of the woods? Or more recently… The Demon of Salem.”

Janus grows tense but keeps his face neutral. He breathes deeply and moves to walk past Remus, his clothes clutched tightly to his chest.

A startled yell leaves his mouth when a hand grabs him by the arm, the air is knocked from Janus’s lungs as he’s forced back against a tree, his clean clothes falling to the ground below.

Janus looks up frightened, bi-colored eyes meet wide and manic green ones, a smirk is plastered onto Remus’s face.

“Freckles, hm? No wonder, Ro-Ro is all hot and bothered with someone like you,” Remus mutters as he leans his face closer to Janus’s.

“Tell me, has he gotten to have a taste of you? Gotta say I’ve always wondered what a demon’s kiss tastes like.”

Janus panics and shoves Remus away when the taller man tries to press a kiss against his lips, he quickly gathers his clothes and glares at the cackling man.

“The only demon I see here is you!” Janus yells before running away, not glancing back once.

Remus smirks and lets out a low chuckle, “I love it when they play hard to get.”

---------

A/N: Re’s a perv-

~Taglist~ @imma-potatoo @feminine-femme