#harsh tone but not untrue

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Scared

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: ANGST, big feels, hurt comfort, possession?, hurling insults at each other, Astarion being a little scary, fluff ending

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“How could you!” Astarion shouted.

“How could I? It’s a book Astarion, it's not that deep.” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “Knowledge is for all, not just you.” you snapped at him. 

“I’m not upset you read it, I’m upset you took it from me without asking.” he corrected you in a harsh tone. 

“I didn’t think it was a problem, you told me I could borrow books…” you looked at him with confusion.

“Not that one! The Necromancy of Thay is not just some book.” he looked at you with disbelief. How could you be so naive and reckless? 

“I’m a fucking cleric Astarion! Magic is kinda my whole purpose!” your dedication to Kelemvor was unquestionable and he was debating you about this? This book that could grant you a gift that Kelemvor had not? Speaking to the dead would be a godsend as clergy for the god of the dead, traveling across Faerun to gods know where. 

“Do you understand the danger of that book? No, you don’t, because you're a petulant child who steals others toys when they can’t have them. All you do is take!” he yelled.

You froze. That was a real insult. This wasn’t a little spat anymore, this was a fight. Your first fight in the whole 10 months together. Your heart cracked a bit, but you filled with fire at his harshness. 

“I take? I borrowed a book for a few hours. You literally take my fucking blood out of me daily. Do you know what that feels like over time? It hurts.” your voice wavered slightly but you held strong. 

“But you were oh so willing as long as I was fucking you while I did it!” that was dirty and untrue and he knew it. He said the most hateful thing he could think of and he knew it would cut you deeply.

Your eyes widened, your mouth hung open. “You think this is about sex?.... You conceited jackass! This is about me being in pain for weeks on end and you being too oblivious to see it. Maybe I am nothing more to you than dinner.” you laughed to yourself, the absolute arrogance of this man had you baffled. 

Astarion marched towards you, his face was unfamiliar. All scrunched up in a way you had never seen directed at you. His crimson eyes were practically glowing with rage. He pushed you back so you were trapped between the desk and his arms. He put his face near yours, he sounded like an animal. The growl in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Maybe I should drain you dry…” he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, fangs barely grazing your neck. 

You whimpered and tears flowed down your face. You were legitimately scared. Astarion always asked before he bit you. Yet here he was, threatening to drain you with his fangs at your throat. Your body shook and you let out a sob, trying desperately not to move as you knew his fangs could tear you apart. 

The sob was what cleared his mind. As soon as he heard it all the anger in him disappeared and he just felt sad. He had never seen you cry and the fact that you were now, because of him, it devoured him from inside. He backed up two paces, you flinched when he moved so quickly and it was like a shard of ice into his heart to know he scared you.

“Darling I… I’m sorry… I wasn’t going to… I didn’t mean to scare you” he said, holding his arms out in front of him, surrendering to you. 

You pushed yourself against the desk, desperate to be away from him. Your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself. “Please… don’t hurt me…” you mumbled. He saw the fear in your eyes. 

“I would never…” he said, his eyes were big and round and yet you were terrified. “Please my love, I don’t know what came over me…” he looked at his new ring, it was glowing a soft red.

You looked to where his eyes were, you immediately recognized the ring. The Circle of Malum. It brought out the wearers worst emotions, and turned them cold. Hostile; in exchange for great strength and cunning wisdom. “Take that off…” you pointed at his ring, still too afraid to touch him. 

“What?” he questioned, sounding defensive.

“The ring is changing you Astarion… You’re not yourself…please love…” you spoke out in a hushed tone, still nervous. 

Love. You still loved him? How strange he thought. He looked between you and the ring before flinging it off his finger. It felt as if it was burning him once he knew the truth of its devious exchange. “Little love… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean anything I said… I was so angry I - I… I felt out of control.” 

You looked deep into his eyes. No malice, not a single hint of irritation. You saw fear and love, both of which were directed at you. You cautiously moved towards him, hands gently reaching for his face. You tilted his chin up, looking into his eyes. All you could see was the guilt on his face and the sorrow that was radiating off of him. “It's ok, you're ok.” you whispered.

He nodded before he pulled you into a hug. A few stray tears of his landed on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a while. 

“I love you…” he whispered with a small smile. 

You wiped the last of the tears from under his eyes before kissing his cheeks. You glanced down at his lips, his eyes watching you flit back and forth. He leaned in but you closed the space. Gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you. “I love you.” you leaned your forehead against his, breathing him in. 

“Were you able to finish the book?” he asked after a few moments.

You smiled at him, such a curious little thing he was. “Yes.” 

“And?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“And… Now I can speak to the dead.” you said, pride building in you. 

“Think you can help me read it?” he asked, taking your hand. 

You kissed him quickly, “I think I can manage that.”

He smiled, for what felt like the first time in days.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello all! I hope this is a good one for ya! Idk I was in my angsty sad girl hours and this was the product. Hope you are all doing well <3 As always, thank your for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Talk soon XOXOXOXOXXOXOOXOXOOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO!!!

[hier--soir]

under the night | five

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, plenty of angst, violence, nightmares, Lincoln [lmao], abduction, alcohol consumption. word count: 6.1k part four | series masterlist | main masterlist

Within a fortnight, two more women were missing. The people in Jackson were on high alert. Wary-eyed warnings were whispered around the settlement. People went to work and they went home, day after day. By the time the sun had gone down, doors were locked, and windows latched. Movement on the streets at night was minimal, and wherever people went, they went in groups. Women walked through the town with linked arms and set jaws, eyes darting around rapidly.

As soon as things escalated, the settlement leaders established search patrol groups. All patrolmen would participate in one of two daily searches. Morning and night, a group would go out the gates, hoping to discover a trace of the women. A sign of anything. But Winter persevered, and the cruel snow proved difficult to heed any clues as to where they could have gone – if they’d even left the settlement. It seemed impossible, that anyone would have been able to creep out that tall gate.

A stream of patrolmen wandered in and out of the stables, where you would help to organise horses for the search. You interacted with more people on daily basis than you ever had in Jackson. Often, groups of ten or more would disappear out the gates at a time, and you’d be left with empty stables, mucking stalls and waiting for your horses to return.

The search roster was posted outside the community dining hall every Sunday night, and every time you wandered past it, your eyes would scan the list for his name. Joel and Tommy, Joel and Tommy, Joel and Tommy, Joel and Tommy, every fucking day. And it wasn’t just them. From almost every house, one person had been called upon to participate. If they were competent, able, and willing, they were recruited. 

You didn’t envy Tommy Miller one bit on the day he suggested you join the effort.

It was a few days after Rebecca Lewis went missing, and you were hard at work in the stables, prepping horses for the evening patrol, when you overheard them.

Your ears perked up in recognition of Joel’s muffled voice, hands stilling on Dot’s saddle. The hearing on your left side was still repairing itself, and a faint buzzing enveloped you in moments of quiet. But you’d recognise his voice anywhere, and you strained to make out the words. “Tommy,” he’d said in a low, warning tone. “You better back off. Now.”

“Joel,” the younger man sighed in frustration. The type of sigh someone did after already pleading their case for the entirety of, what you assumed to be, a lengthy conversation. “It makes sense. Just ‘cause you don’t like it, don’t make it untrue.”

“She almost fuckin’ died,” he snapped in response, voice clearer now; closer. “Last time we took her out there, she almost got her head beaten off. Or don’t you fuckin’ remember? Too preoccupied by the idea of having a new soldier in your makeshift army?” 

You ducked down, pulse quickening as you realised the brothers were talking about you. Their footsteps were audible, shuffling around in the gravel as they hung up equipment and ushered the horses into their stalls.

“Watch it,” Tommy ground out. “I was there, don’t you forget. And she held her own, god damnit. She knows how to read the land; how to hunt, how to track. You’re just too fuckin’ scared to risk her.”

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I AM,” Joel boomed suddenly, and the hairs on your arms raised at the change in volume. “I’m fuckin’ terrified. She still can’t fuckin’ hear right, and you want her out there again? For what? So that she can die too? Fat chance, because I’d sooner go out on a patrol every day for the rest of my damn life, then let you send her outside those gates again.”

Silence descended upon the stables, the only audible sound that of his harsh breathing.

After a moment, Tommy said something, but it was too quiet to hear. You strained your right ear, leaning precariously against the wall in an attempt to stay hidden.

“Of course I do,” Joel replied, his voice softening, and you hungered desperately to piece together what you’d missed.

“I’m not tryin’ to hurt you, Joel,” Tommy said calmly. “But I’m goin’ to ask her.”

“And she’ll say yes,” Joel laughed mirthlessly. “She will, Tommy. So go, fucking ask her, but I swear to god she’s not goin’ out of those gates without me by her side.”

They shared a few more soft words, and you grit your teeth in frustration, wishing they would speak up for your benefit. But they’d finished packing up, and you waited with a frown as they departed the stables, leaving you alone in Dot’s stall.

It hadn’t been a hard decision to make. When Tommy approached you the next day, you’d said no, clean and simple. Not purely for Joel’s benefit, either. It warmed your heart to know that he listened to you; he knew it wasn’t his place to make the decision for you. But the truth of the matter was that he was right. You were terrified to go outside the gates, and so you’d never turned down an offer so quickly.

So you and Joel operated on separate schedules, but it set you both at ease to know that you would be staying in Jackson. For those few weeks, you saw him sparingly. Between time spent at the stables, and the daily searches, the pair of you passed like ships in the night.

When you did find yourselves alone, Joel would pull you in close and his hands would roam freely across your body, eager to feel you against him.

“I missed you,” he’d whisper forlornly, pressing desperate kisses into your skin.

“It’s only been a couple of days,” you’d smile, and soon enough all words would escape you as his hands slipped beneath your clothes.

“You’re supposed to say you missed me too,” he’d grunt, and you’d laugh, watching him kiss down your stomach, trailing his fingers along the hem of your pants, before you would relent and breathlessly admit you felt the same way. 

One night you’d waited at his place for him while he was on the evening patrol, and he’d returned a nervous wreck. He’d paced the hardwood floors of his bedroom, ringing his hands together in front of him, muttering about how they still hadn’t found anything.

“There’s no fuckin’ sign of them,” he’d told her. “And even if there was, how would we find it through all that fuckin’ snow. We’re searching day in and day out, and it’s fuckin’ hopeless.”

“Joel,” you tried to soothe him, although your own chest ached with anxiety. “I’m sure something will come up.” It was easier for you to lie in the moment, than pile your cynicisms atop his.

“This place is supposed to be fuckin’ safe. And now suddenly women are disappearing out of thin fuckin’ air?” His boots thudded heavily on the ground, leaving scuff marks and dirt on the wood. Scratching his beard in frustration, he turned to look at you with sorrowful eyes. “I told you it was safe here, that you were safe here, and now,” he paused, gritting his teeth. “Now I don’t even know if that’s true.”

“We don’t even know what happened to them,” you offered. “Maybe they decided to leave.”

But he wouldn’t hear reason, and fell heavily onto the edge of the bed. Joel looked up at you and shook his head slowly. “I need you to be careful. You and Ellie, I can’t… if something happened to one of you,” he cut himself off, hands shaking in his lap. His fingers traced his palms, squeezing every now and then, keeping himself focused,  present.

“Hey,” you whispered, stepping forward and placing a hand over his. His movements stilled instantly, and his wide brown eyes gazed into yours. It felt like everything in the world stopped when those eyes were on you. “I’m always careful. No one’s gonna get the drop on me, I’m a big girl.”

“Darlin’,” he breathed. “I know you’re strong, stronger than half the people in this town. And I know you’re safe with Cal. But if he’s not around, you gotta stay here, with Ellie. Don’t be alone. I need to know you’re somewhere safe when I’m out there. And I-“

“Okay, Joel,” you acquiesced, nodding. You cupped his check in your palm, thumb stroking through his coarse facial hair. “I hear you, I will.”

After what seemed like weeks of self-imposed curfews and endless patrols with no new information turning up, things began to naturally return to normalcy in Jackson. Although the searches persisted, with no new disappearances the sense of fear had begun to settle.

So much so, that when a few of the women at the stables invited you for a drink after work one afternoon, you said yes.

The Tipsy Bison was humid and the walls reeked of history. Picture frames littered the walls, showing faces of people and families who’d lived in Jackson over the years. A framed image of Seth, the bartender, with two of his sons was hung by the bar, displaying the three men with broad grins on their faces. A fire roared in the corner, and small tables were scattered throughout the hall, chairs sprawled around them housing groups of friends chatting and drinking. It was a picture of regularity, and if you squinted, it almost looked as easy as it had beforehand; before the disappearances. But looking closer, a tension lived in people’s eyes; a distinct uncertainty that reared its ugly head when someone unfamiliar approached their table. 

You couldn’t help but feel out of place with the two women. Cath and Louise were kind, and welcoming. They openly shared stories about their lives, and their families. Smiles and laughter seemed to come easy to the pair. With soft, feminine features and long hair, you were sure you stood out like a sore thumb between the pair. All sharp angles, rough edges, and scars, you tried to shake away feelings of inferiority. Alcohol helped. It brought a warm buzz to your body, and lowered your hackles somewhat. When they asked questions about you, you found yourself sharing with more and more ease. You divulged tales about the small settlement in Washington where you and Cal lived as teenagers; about his older brothers who had felt like your own.

You steered clear of sharing that the settlement ended up being raided. That the people of Spokane were slaughtered, their houses looted and burnt to the ground, and that the pair of you barely escaped with your lives, dragged out of the gates and into the wilderness by Cal’s brother Paul. For a year it had been the three of you, working as a tight knit unit to survive. You and Cal were still young, and naïve to the harsh realities of life outside settlement gates. When Paul was bitten, that all changed. You were forced to harden, to face the reality you were forced into, and survive. The decade after you lost Paul had stretched on aimlessly; two nomads wandering the states, with no goal in sight except for survival – until you stumbled across Jackson.

After an hour, a tipsy buzz had taken over your senses, and you found yourself slouched in your chair, laughing naturally with the women as they joked and gossiped about their partners, and other people in town. And only when Joel Miller walked into the room,  did your attention stray.

A delightfully tipsy buzz held you captive by the time you noticed Joel enter the room. The conversation turned to white noise in your ears as you watched him approach the bar. Those old jeans fit him so well, and he wore that brown jacket that showed off how broad his shoulders were. Your mouth was dry suddenly, and you excused yourself from the table, before heading towards him.

You sauntered up on his left and rested your elbows on the bar. “Hey cowboy.”

Joel’s head ticked to the side and a smile formed on his lips. “Howdy.”

He reached out to run his index finger along your forearm, so light you almost didn’t feel it. The small show of affection made you smile, and you shivered.

“How’re Cath and Louise?” he nodded over your shoulder towards the table you’d been sat at.

“They’re good,” you hummed, licking your bottom lip. “Chatty.”

“Chatty is good,” he agreed unconvincingly, and you exhaled a quiet laugh. As his eyes scanned over your face, taking in your demeanour and the way you leaned heavily against the bar top, his grin widened a touch. “You’re drunk.”

You scoffed, eyes widening in defence. “Says who?”

“Says me, drunky,” he bumped his hip against yours softly, and the giggle that fell out of your mouth would’ve embarrassed you in any other moment.

As the barman approached, Joel’s hand fell back and you cleared your throat, attempting to act natural.  

“Joel,” Seth nodded. “What’ll it be?”

“Glass of red.”

As Seth served you your wine, you gave Joel a teasing smile. “Are we sharing?”

He chuckled, “All yours, darlin’. I’m just here to pick up Tommy before we head out.” A pout formed on your lips without your permission.

“Tonight will be fine,” he smirked at you. “Good crew, too. Bet there’ll be more shit talkin’ than actual patrollin’.”

“Wow, very professional,” you nodded into your glass. When Seth had disappeared down the other end of the bar, you slid your hand over Joel’s and ran your fingers over his wrist, trailing towards his forearm. The alcohol had brought a warmth to your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time, and all you longed for was to feel his skin underneath yours. To lead him out of the bar and get him into bed.

“Handsy,” he murmured lowly, stepping closer to you, so the warmth of his side pressed into yours.

“Joel Miller,” you drawled, leaning in to place your lips against his ear. “I want you to blow off patrol and come home with me.”

A strangled noise left his mouth, and one of his hands gripped your waist suddenly, thumb pushing into the flesh above your hipbone. Your hand continued its movements, trailing over his watch in the direction of his bicep.

But before your hand could get far, a jarring pain appeared in your finger. Hissing, you pulled back instinctively, holding your hand up to get a better look.

“What’s wrong?” he soothed quietly, eyebrows drawn tight in concern. His hand hovered over your wrist anxiously, but he didn’t actually touch you, wary of causing more pain.

“I cut my finger,” you frowned, glancing down at his wrist. The wrinkle between your brows only deepened as you took in the sight of his watch, the one he wore every day, and found that the glass was splintered and cracked. A small shard had gotten caught in your fingertip, and you plucked it out gently. “Your watch is broken.”

Joel’s face went blank, and you both stared at it for a moment.

“What happened?” you were alert suddenly, the fog in your head clearing as you wondered if something had happened on his patrol the day before.

“Nothin’ happened,” he murmured, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Been broken for a while now.”

“For how long? I never even noticed,” you muttered. “How did I never notice that?”

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, not quite meeting your eye.

“You wear a broken watch?” you asked carefully, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Sentimental value,” is all he said, taking the glass from your hand and stealing a small sip.

Your lips parted to push the matter further, but Tommy’s sudden appearance interrupted the conversation.

He patted Joel firmly on the back and offered you a tight smile. “Alright, old man, let’s get a move on.”

Joel’s eyes flashed apologetically as he handed the wine glass back to you. Leaning into the side of your head, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your earlobe as he whispered, “Wait for me tonight, okay? I wanna come home and find you in my bed. Promise not to be too late.”

Heat flashed through your stomach, and you wet your lips eagerly, wishing you had the guts to kiss him there, in front of all those people. But he pushed away from the bar and gave you a meaningful stare, saying, “Walk home with Cath and Louise.” So you just replied with a quick nod before watching the brothers walk out the door.

Turning back, you let your eyes wander across the bar, attempting to read the labels on the bottles displayed. Before the outbreak you’d been too young to drink, only ever having tried wine once or twice. The fact that they’d managed to create their own liquor in the settlement never ceased to amaze you, and you were pleased to indulge every once in a while.

As much as you tried not to dwell, you were picturing Joel’s watch in your head.  Surely it hadn’t been broken this entire time? Wracking your brain, you tried to picture it without the large cracks running across the clockface, but you just couldn’t.

A voice came from behind you. “Your man off on patrol again tonight?”

You turned, eyebrows raised, to find Lincoln. “What was that?” 

“Joel,” he nodded his head toward the door. “He’s being going on all those patrols, the searches, right?”

When you didn’t say anything, he chuckled awkwardly and gave a faux shiver, his shoulders raising to his ears. “I could never,” he smiled. “Never was the big, brawny type like those Miller boys. Too scared.”

You gave a slow nod, sizing him up where he stood, small frame shrouded in a large winter jacket. “What can I do for you Lincoln?”

He sipped amber liquid out of a crystal glass and gave a meek shrug. “Thought you might be lonely up here. I so often see you wandering around by yourself.”

Your eyebrow arched once again, the pleasant tipsiness wearing off in his absence. “I’m fine, thanks though, Lincoln.”

“Linc,” he corrected. “Please.”

“I’m fine, Linc.” You couldn’t help the scowl that had fallen upon your face, the good mood Joel brought to your evening long forgotten since he had left.

“Of course,” he backed off, hands raised in the air. “My apologies, I shouldn’t assume things of a woman I don’t know.”

“Right,” you frowned, pushing away from the bar top. “I think I’m gonna go.”

Downing the last of your wine, you left the hall without saying goodbye to Cath and Louise.

From where you stood on the street, you could see the stables down the road, lanterns lighting up the barn for the patrolmen. You thought about going to find Joel; he’d probably still be saddling up, and you could say goodbye to him properly before they headed out. But you thought better of it, and decided going to sleep in his bed was good enough.

Ellie was still awake when you got there, lounging on the couch in a grey hoodie and loose shorts. You noticed a blanket and pillow folded up on the end of it, and wondered briefly what they were for.

“What do you think of tattoos?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

“Tattoos?” you stopped short, your wine soaked brain whirring trying to catch up to her train of thought. “I think they’re fine, why are you asking me about tattoos?”

“I’m thinking of getting one,” she said, not quite meeting your eye-line.

“Ohhhh,” you dragged out the vowel, trying to think of what a responsible adult would say. “Cool, how would you do that?”

“Cat does them,” Ellie said, her eyes lighting up when she realised you weren’t shutting down the idea. Her lips quirked up into a cheeky grin. “Uses a single needle, makes these insane pictures. She’s got loads of ‘em.”

“Cat, huh?” you raised an eyebrow, picking up on what she was subconsciously putting down.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shrugged, eyes wide. “You guys are hanging out a lot these days.”

“We’re friends,” she said quickly – almost too quickly, tugging nervously on the drawstrings of her jumper. You backed off.

“Good,” you said, launching yourself onto the couch beside her, happy to get the weight off your feet. “Friends are good.”

“Like you would know,” she teased, digging an elbow into your side. You cringed, glaring at her.

“Fuck you, kid, I have plenty of friends.”

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say, oh yeah?

“You and I are friends,” you huffed quietly. Plucking curiously at the blanket beside you, you changing the subject, asking, “What’s this for?”

“I’ve been sleeping in here,” Ellie told you. “Joel’s been nervous about me being alone in the bungalow at night. If I sleep here he can see me when he gets home, and before he leaves in the morning.”

“That’s good of you,” you murmured earnestly. “Giving him some peace of mind.”

“Can’t have the old man dying of a fucking heart attack,” she joked. “With the way he worries, I wouldn’t be surprised if he dropped any day now.”

As you laid in Joel’s bed alone, the only sound in the house was of rain quietly pattering against the roof. Draped in one of his softest shirts, you curled the blankets around your body, enveloping yourself in his scent, and fell asleep wishing he was beside you.

---

“Your friend can’t help you,” he sneered. “It’s just you and me right now. You’re all mine.”

You squirmed beneath him, hips rearing upward to buck him off. But his knees were planted in the dirt beside you, an arm pinning your hands above your head, hand clamped over your mouth. Harsh, panicked exhales left your nose, and your eyes darted around, trying to see Cal. But it was dark, and his face was all you could make out.

Tears leaked out of your eyes, and he cooed down at you. “Don’t be afraid, this will only take a second.” You could hear someone saying your name, but he consumed your senses, muffling the sound. “Don’t listen to them, stay here with me. I’m gonna keep you here, forever.”

Your eyes snapped open as hands gripped the collar of your shirt, yanking you upward. Instinctively you grabbed the hands and hauled him off you, twisting so he was underneath you, pinned to the bed.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” the words slurred out of your mouth, tongue still heavy with sleep. You were seeing red, and you reached down to wrap your hands around his throat, but an urgent voice made you freeze.

“Fuck, fuck, it’s me, it’s me!” Ellie was shouting, face red as she stared up at you in panic.  

“Ellie,” your voice cracked. Clarity came rushing back to you, and you understood what had happened. Your hands hovered a centimetre above her neck, and her hands still gripped your shirt. Pushing yourself off her, you scrambled to the foot of the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ellie. I didn’t know it was you, I swear, I-”

“It’s okay,” she panted, sitting up. She said your name so softly, so quietly, like you were a wounded animal she’d found in the forest, and if she made any sudden movements you’d get spooked and make a run for it. “I thought you were suffocating in your sleep or something, so I came in to check on you, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Shaking your head slowly, you wiped your face hastily. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” you laughed bitterly. “I almost fucking strangled you.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Nightmares again?”

“What do you mean again?” you asked in confusion, still trying to level out your breathing.

“Don’t be mad,” she played with the fraying edge of Joel’s bedsheet. “Joel told me once that you get them pretty bad.” A fresh layer of tears dotted your waterline, and Ellie’s frown deepened. “Maybe he shouldn’t have told me, he was just worried about you, that’s all.”

“I’m not mad, Ellie,” you assured. Hesitantly, you shuffled toward the headboard to rest beside her, and your hand hovered over hers on the sheet. You gave her a chance to pull away in case she was apprehensive you after what you’d almost done. But Ellie didn’t move away. Instead, she reached up and grabbed your hand, interlocking her bony fingers with yours. “I almost…” your voice cracked when you spoke, throat thick with emotion.

“Hey,” Ellie interrupted your train of thought, feigning nonchalance. “Not a scratch on me. I know you would never hurt me.” But her smile didn’t meet her eyes, and you could see a nervousness there; a hint of caution. Because you’d just shown that you even if you didn’t mean to, you could hurt her. Neither of you spoke for a while. You dragged your thumb in small soothing circles over the top of her hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” she said. The whites of her eyes shone in the dark room as she looked up at you. “But I understand how you feel, I swear. I get them too.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Ellie nodded slowly, and squeezed your hand a fraction tighter. “I can see it in your eyes sometimes.”

“See what?”

“The grief,” you murmured, wiping your cheek. “The fear, the anger. I recognise it because, most days, I feel all those emotions too.”

“I’m tough,” Ellie tried to smile, but it cracked when you frowned at her. “That shit’s in the past.”

“You shouldn’t have to be tough,” your lip twisted angrily. “You shouldn’t know what real pain feels like; not at your age. It’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fucking fair,” she scoffed, looking away. “It’s just how it is, and we deal. Right?”

“It gets better,” you told her unconvincingly, and attempted a tight-lipped smile. You almost laughed at the irony of your statement as you sat with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

She rolled her eyes and gave a sad chuckle. “Oh yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

When you didn’t speak again, Ellie shifted forward to rest her head on your shoulder, and slowly draped an arm over your middle.

“You should sleep,” she said. “I’ll wake you up if you start having another nightmare.”

You sniffled quietly, eyes welling up at the promise laden in her words. “Thanks, kid.”

And sleep you did. The darkness took you back into its arms with soft, loving caresses, and it was dreamless. You slept deeply for what felt like hours, until a soft sound in the bedroom made your eyes crack open.

You rose with a start, acutely aware of a tall figure in the doorway.

“Ellie?” you mumbled warily.

“Go back to sleep,” you heard her voice. Blearily, you saw her peak out from behind the figure and give you a sleepy smile before disappearing into the hall.

“It’s okay,” Joel’s voice whispered. The door clicked shut, and he was peeling his clothes off. He slid into the bed beside you in just his underwear, arms wrapping around your body and holding you to his warm chest.

“Joel,” you sighed in relief, sinking into his embrace. “You’re back.”

“I’m back, baby,” his fingers trailed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “I’m back to keep the nightmares away. You can sleep, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

As Joel’s lips ghosted soft kisses across your shoulder, you fell into sleep’s embrace once more. 

--

You woke up alone in Joel’s bed, your hand grazing over the sheet where he’d been laying. It was still warm, signifying he’d only been gone for a short time. Faintly, you could hear him and Ellie chatting downstairs, the smell of eggs floating up the stairs. When you wandered down, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you found him sitting alone, nursing a cup of coffee. He gazed absently at the table, tracing a pattern into the wood, and didn’t notice you come in.

For a moment, you stood in the doorway and just stared at him. His greying curls were messy atop his head, strands still pressed down to his scalp from being shoved into his pillow for hours. You wanted to run your hands through them, trace the strands that grew down his neck. It had grown so much in the past month, and you realised you loved how unruly it got.

“Hey,” you said softly, lowering into the chair opposite him. “I thought you’d be off on patrol this morning,”

“No patrol today,” he said lowly, eyes raising from the table to take you in. Something was off, you realised. You couldn’t pinpoint the expression on his face, but he seemed quiet. Sad, maybe.

“No patrol?”

“They’re relaxing the search,” he explained.

“What?” you said sharply. “They haven’t found anything though.”

“And they aren’t going to,” Joel sighed. “It’s been a month. No one else has gone missing, the snow keeps fallin’, and the people are exhausted. It doesn’t make sense to keep going right now. We’d only be wasting resources.”

“Shit,” you ran a hand through your hair, eyes wide.

When he didn’t speak for a few moments, you felt your stomach twist with a type of nervous anticipation. His finger traced the same crack in the wooden table over and over again.

“Is everything,” you hesitated, cringing as his hand stopped its movement abruptly at the sound of your voice. “Is everything okay?”

Joel’s hand flattened on the table, eyes meeting yours again. Seeing his grim expression, the way his mouth was downturned, had memories of the night before slamming into you in a wave. You balked, mouth turning chalky as you summoned the courage to speak again.

“Ellie told you what happened,” is all you could muster.

Joel gripped his mug tightly, and that was all the response you needed to know you were correct. Your tongue darted out to anxiously wet your lips, but your mouth was like sandpaper. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it just as quick, shaking his head slowly.

“Please say something,” you whispered. You expected anger, but your heart began to pound as you realised that wasn’t what you would get. He looked resigned -  he looked devastated.

He sighed your name quietly, and you felt a crack form in your chest at his despondent tone.

“She’s my responsibility,” he finally said. “She needs to be safe.”

“She is safe,” you whispered, tears wetting your water line.

“She said you had your hands around her neck,” his voice broke on the last word, and he coughed quickly in an attempt to hide it. “Said it was another nightmare.”

It felt like the walls were closing in on you. Everything was too close, too tight. The air felt so thick suddenly, and you were sure you were suffocating. Sweat beaded on your palms and you rubbed them absently into your pants, your chest aching. No, no, no, no, no.

“Joel,” you pleaded. “It was a mistake. I didn’t even know where I was. I thought she was… Joel, I would never hurt Ellie.”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Is she scared of me?” you murmured, holding your breath as you waited for his response.

“That kid thinks the world of you,” he chuckled wetly, and your heart fell as you noticed tears in his eyes. “She’s not scared, she’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.” 

“I’ll get it under control,” you said hastily, desperate to show that you understood, that you knew you’d made a mistake. “I know it can’t go on like this, I would… god if I ever hurt Ellie, or, fuck, or you? I’d never forgive myself, Joel, I promise, nothing like that will ever happen again. I’m so sorry.”

As the last words fumbled from your lips, you realised you were crying. Your cheeks were hot and wet, your chin dripping salty tears onto your shirt. Joel’s hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep you both safe, I’ll tie myself to the damn bed at night, I-I’ll try meditation to stop the nightmares, anything.”

“Shh,” he whispered brokenly. “Stop.” Haggard gasps were ripping out of you, and you felt lightheaded.

“Please don’t cry baby, I can’t stand to see you cryin’.”

“Please don’t think I’m a monster,” a sob tore out of your chest. Please don’t hate me. Joel tugged you forward and wrapped his arms around your back, tucking your face into his neck. Please don’t leave.

He shook his head, mumbling your name over and over into your hair as he held you against him. “You’re good,” he assured, his lips peppering delicate kisses against your hairline. “You’re so good it hurts. We can figure this out, okay? But for now, I think it’s a good idea if you stay at your place when I’m not here.”

“Joel, please,” you tried, but he interrupted with a shake of his head.

“Just until we can find a way to get it under control,” he assured. “It’s not forever.”

“It won’t happen again,” is all you said, with a tone of finality.

“It won’t happen again,” he echoed.  

Your day at the stables went by in a daze. Plagued with images of your dream, of seeing your hands hovering over Ellie’s throat. Her pale blue eyes, shining with terror as they looked up at you, desperately yelling your name. The guilt was consuming, and ugly thoughts scratched at the back of your head, burrowing its way into your brain, screaming, you’re a danger to the people you love. You almost killed her. Joel doesn’t want you anymore.

For hours, you shoved yourself into your work, shovelling and saddling and feeding until your freezing hands were aching, and finally you trudged down the street towards your home.

It was dark out already. Only 6 o’clock in the evening, the sun had long since set, and you made your way home by muscle memory alone.

And when you made it to the porch, you found that the lights were on in the house.

Cal, you thought desperately. Thank god.

“Honey I’m home,” you called softly, voice raspy from not speaking all day. It was quiet, but you could hear him tinkering around in the kitchen. You hung your coat up by the door and brushed the snow off your hair, before wandered towards the sound.

“Shame I can’t smell any food,” you muttered teasingly, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm them. You entered the room with a small smirk on your face, jeering, “What good is having a house husband if dinner isn’t on the table when I get home?”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You heart thudded painfully into your stomach. It was true what they say; that in moments of true terror, time stands still. The room was silent as you paused in the doorway. You could've heard a pin drop.

Standing in your kitchen, leaning comfortably against the sink, was not Cal.

“Lincoln,” you breathed. “What are you doing here? Where’s Cal?”

“Who’s Cal?” he tilted his head to the side, taunting you. His thin lips twisted into a sort of mean smile.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, like the sound of rushing water. You palms clammed up and your brain told you to run, to get the fuck out of the house, but it was like you had tunnel vison; you couldn’t take your eyes off him, and that leering grin.

“You should get out,” you steeled herself, broadening your shoulders. You were taller than him, and stronger, you’d wager. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing walking into my house like this, but Cal will be home soon, so you should go.”

“Oh, he’ll be home soon?” Lincoln stepped toward you and you stepped back instinctively, shoulder knocking sharply against the doorframe. He smirked. “I don’t think he will be, actually.”

Your face was hot, and you could feel fury begin to bubble in your chest. “Did you hurt him?”

“There, there,” he sneered, taking another step forward. “Don’t go getting hysterical on me now, I thought you were-“

You moved in a split second, not letting him finish his sentence before you’d spun on your heel to dash toward the front door. But a hand was gripping your bicep, and a heavy blow had landed on the back of your head.

A loud ringing filled your ears as you hit the floor, black spots forming in your vision as you stared up at him. He had the handle of a frying pan gripped tightly in his palm.  

Lincoln was speaking, but you couldn’t make out the words. Everything was spinning, and the last thing you saw was him crouching above you, before there was only darkness.

part six

taglist <3

@n7cje @sarahhxx03 @missgurrl @nrmnie @casa-boiardi @ghostofjoharvelle

[juminies]

in order to get to the heart

marriage of convenience, on occasion, is not so convenient.

♡ — jumin x original female character. small amounts of canon compliant jumin x reader, but mostly canon divergent (jumin is unhappily married prior to the start of the game). 1600 words. title from heartlines by florence + the machine.

They just say anything to each other these days.

“This façade drains me beyond comprehension,” Jumin confesses the minute he walks through the door. His fingers loop into the knot of his tie and pull it looser around his neck.

“So you say,” murmured half into a cushion tucked up to a woman’s chest as she types on her phone. “It’s not for our benefit though, is it?”

On some level, this is always how it was going to be for Jumin, he thinks. In a marriage stripped to its fragile bones. A sacrificial lamb for the sake of the corporation, for mutual social and financial gain.

He leans down to untie his shoes.

It would be untrue to say there weren’t veiled attempts, in the beginning, to love. When that didn’t work there were attempts to like. None successful, of course. Lately it’s becoming more difficult to believe this arrangement is better than any alternative. Between the two of them there is a lot of nothing.

The woman remains quiet—focused—but nods easily against the woven fabric she’s leaning into when Jumin asks, “Do you not get tired of coming home from work to find me occupying your space?”

He knows that in public they look good together. He knows that their careers slot together effortlessly. Despite what the media may suggest, however, they are human. Jumin included. The way he feels nothing for her does not match the way she feels nothing for him. The way she yells that he is robotic does not match the way he stoically calls her irresponsible.

They do not sleep together, or eat together, or do any of the romantic things Jumin wishes he hadn’t let himself privately indulge in the idea of. And it’s not that she’s not nice—she’s intelligent and beautiful and kind, when it suits her. Perfect on paper until she wasn’t. When she laughs with her chest Jumin can almost imagine a world where she smiles at him like she does others and it makes his heart weak. Part of him wishes, truly, that that was the case. In reality it feels like nothing.

It could be worse, he tells himself—repeats it like a mantra.

Concealed beneath it is fear. You could be like him. You could repeat his mistakes.

She throws her phone haphazardly onto the sofa beside her and looks up to where Jumin is standing in the doorway. He’s mostly backlit from the light in the hall, the lamp beside his wife barely grazing his features but lighting up hers in all the wrong ways. The orange glow casts unpleasant shadows over places she’s usually pretty. He should have the bulb changed to something less harsh.

“Not much we can do if you don’t want the press to kick up a huge fuss, sweetie,” she says.

The pet names are a jest he has learned to tune out.

“Will they not make a fuss over our divorce in three years’ time nonetheless?” Jumin asks. It’s hypothetical, of course. They will.

“Maybe we’ll have grown on each other by then.” Her tone is disinterested; feels almost mocking. Her phone chimes to let her know her driver is outside. “I’m going out. Shall I take my card or yours?”

“It makes little difference to me.” Jumin looks at his watch. It’s almost 10pm but he doesn’t ask where she’s going. A bar, perhaps.

“Could you adjust my necklace?”

She holds her hair up messily, and he does.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he tells her, then briefly wonders if she’ll meet someone tonight and sleep with them. He pictures her naked beneath a stranger. It feels like nothing.

She takes her own card and squeezes his bicep softly as she walks by him on the way out. She shuts the door more forcefully than is ever really necessary.

At some point Jumin suggests she move out of their—his—apartment and into the one directly below; just recently made vacant. He probably would have suggested it earlier had the apartment been available earlier, but their district of Seoul tends to be under high demand.

“I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to live separately,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question. They had done exactly that.

Jumin hums, tired. Tired from his trip and tired from trying and at some point, it seems, he has lost an indistinguishable part of himself to her for good.

“We did. Although I would say that that was long enough ago now for us both to have become quite aware that we do not do particularly well sharing the same space for considerable periods of time.”

“You’re gone a lot anyway. The place is big enough for us to avoid each other if needed, and I like it here.”

She exhales sharply; amused.

Jumin has no idea why until she adds, “More so when you’re not around, to be fair.” And that explains it, just about.

“Stay here when I am travelling if you must,” he tells her. Somewhere along the way his suggestion has morphed into more of an instruction.

“Fine. Don’t tell your father, though. Or mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They buy it outright in her name, the cost split fifty-fifty. Jumin tells her to keep it all when she sells it later. She tells him she won’t.

They argue tonight, as usual, about who will be chauffeuring them to a company gala. They had agreed that Jumin’s driver would take them only for her to assert for the hundredth time at the last minute that she doesn’t trust him, though she has not legitimately spoken to him more than once and he has been working for Jumin’s family longer than she has been alive.

It’ll cause a stir if the two of them show up separately so they end up in her car, as usual. Jumin apologises to Driver Kim via text for requesting him when he wasn’t needed on the way there, and they arrive late.

The venue reminds Jumin of the last RFA party. His wife had not attended despite her invitation, so it is not proper grounds for conversation. However, when they are out like this they are a happy couple like the legal drabble says, so he says it anyway—if just to appear interested in her.

“I’m sure this is nicer than your friends’ charity get togethers,” she replies lightheartedly, and they are called over by her father before Jumin can retaliate.

The façade stays firm for the remainder of the event. Jumin can easily distinguish her fake laugh from her real one, and he can tell when she forgets who he is for a moment and touches him a little more tenderly than either of them really mean.

They are silent on the drive home. They are silent in the elevator, until it stops one floor below Jumin’s penthouse. “Goodnight,” he says. “Sleep well.”

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” she counters, and smiles softly as the doors slide shut between them. “Not when it’s just me.”

Elizabeth the 3rd is snoring softly when he unlocks his door, and it is the only sound he can hear. He basks in the bliss of having nobody around when he is already so mentally exhausted, and takes out his phone to see it’s just after midnight and Yoosung has opened a chat room.

He enters it, multitasking as he changes his clothes and brushes his teeth. His cat patters into the room and jumps up beside him when he perches on the edge of his bed. She smells frustratingly like perfume and something oddly like guilt threatens Jumin with a dull blade.

Wait!! says Luciel. Think someone entered the chat room.

Jumin checks. There is a name on his screen he doesn’t recognise.

Odd.

Who are you? Identify yourself.

“Jumin. It’s me,” your voice is soft and bubbly; maybe a little nervous but still pleasant on his ears. An intriguing introduction. He almost finds himself chuckling.

Jumin moves the phone from his ear and glances down at your name again, just to be certain he’s not imagining things, then focuses in on the plainness of the wall in front of him.

“I hope you realise blurting out ‘It’s me’ is not a proper way to identify yourself to the person on the other end of the line.”

He had hesitated briefly before telling you he is married. Now he has known you for five days and whatever he’s feeling is somehow, ridiculously, already far greater than any emotion he has ever felt towards his wife.

He invites her out for dinner at their usual restaurant the following evening, and she tells him if he has something to discuss with her she would rather keep it simple. As an alternative he invites her to the penthouse and opens a bottle of wine he knows she likes. When she arrives her hair is tied up experimentally and she is wearing a new shade of lipstick. She surprises him when she actually accepts his offer to pour her a glass.

“I am going to talk with my father,” Jumin says, and she knows what he means. It’s only later that he will find out she had already brought it up with hers. “For what it’s worth, however, I apologise that it ended up like this.”

“Me too,” she agrees. Jumin notices the light catch a glassiness in her eyes as she continues, “If I could have loved you, I would have.”

She stays for a few hours and it is the most sincere time they have spent together in three years.

That night, Zen has a dream.

[lvis44]

Freak Like That // LH44 -coming soon

18+, Minors DNI

Notes: This suit has been making me think some very NSFW things. The suit paired with this song gave me way too many thoughts. Freak Like That, coming soon, here’s a teaser 👀

Side note, the Sweet Escape epilogue is still coming, it’s very long and I’m still only part way through, this just needed to be started when inspo hit

Love you all! 😘

. . .

“Soooo,” Lewis draws out, finally looking directly at you, “how have you been?”

“Seriously?” You bite at him, unamused by his behavior.

He just shrugs, taking a sip of his drink, the glass barely hiding his amused smirk.

“What the hell was that? There’s no reason he needs to know anything.” You say, your tone low and harsh.

He just laughs, “There’s no way you’re fucking that dude. I doubt that square can make you cum. Not the way I did.”

“Lewis,” You hiss at him, looking around hoping no one heard him, “he’s good to me, leave him alone.”

“So I’m right, he can’t make you cum can he.” His words come out as a statement not a question, so confident in himself, in his knowledge on your needs.

“Untrue, he’s perfectly fine, and he offers so much more than you ever did.” You throw back at him, not happy at his assessment of your relationship, he has no right to assume anything. Even if he’s partially correct.

“He might not break your heart baby, but I doubt he can break your back the way I did.” He’s gotten closer to you, his voice lower, seductive.

You can feel your breath hitch, the familiar smell of him engulfing your senses, his words going to your core unwillingly. He notices it too, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. All you can think about is how that same tongue has felt in your mouth, all over your body, inside of you, so many times. He chuckles as he watches you get lost in thought, knowing exactly where your mind has wandered.

“He’s gonna be busy for a while, we could relive some old times.” Lewis says quietly, his head gesturing back toward the hall where the bathrooms are.

“Lewis, no.” You say against your will, desperately wanting to follow him mindlessly down the hall and let him have his way with you, but you can’t let yourself do it to your boyfriend.

“Offer stands, always, ya know when you finally get sick of him.” Lewis says casually.

[amourtoken]

OBVIOUSLY 41 with best friend Will

“if i have to stop this car, i’m going to make sure you can’t walk out of it without my help”

When I get my hands on u i stg

I feel like this definitely stems from an argument yall were having. Maybe he went on a date and didn't tell you, ofc you're gonna be upset! Why didn't he tell you? You found out cause you saw a text from a girl pop up while you were changing songs on his phone talking abt the "great time" she had with him the night before. You're best friends, you're supposed to tell eachother everything!!

That being said the drive back from the draft track to your place was well over an hour and he rlly didn't wanna spend that time going back and forth at eachothers throats. He said it after a particularly harsh jab from you about how he supposedly is more honest and loving with random internet whores than he is with you (untrue, but you're hurt and say hurtful things when you're hurt.)

“if i have to stop this car, i’m going to make sure you can’t walk out of it without my help”

in this moment that's not a threat it's a challenge on your end so you continue, bitching at him for everything under the sun and accusing him of every hurtful thing you could imagine which ends up leading to him taking the threat seriously. You end up pulled off on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and Will is visibly seething by now and gritting his teeth to not return any of the things you said. Instead, he gets out of the car entirely and throws the door to your side open. You kinda expected a different reaction or him to get as aggressive as you were but he doesn't even say anything, he just manhandles you onto your stomach over the console and drags your shorts down your legs immediately.

you end up with bruised up handprints all over your ass and Will with his chest to your back fucking you bent over the front seats. He has one arm wrapped around your throat and the other holding himself up but it's so tight you can barely breathe aside from his thrusts being so violent they're knocking the wind from your lungs already.

"I fucking apologized and you're still being a bitch- fuck- could've just gotten the fuck over it-"

"Do I need to remind you you've ignored me for fucking weeks for some dick before? Asshole."

You can't respond, your brain is fuzzy and the arm around your throat would cut your voice off anyway so all you can do is take what he's giving you. He's not even trying to make you feel good, if anything in the moment he doesn't give two fucks if you cum but he sure as hell is going to. He groans in an annoyed tone when you squirt on his cock and end up drenching the seat when it runs down your legs but he doesn't let up, he really doesn't give enough of a fuck to right now.

he's basically holding your entire weight up by the time he cums, you're limp and damn near half conscious in his arms and sure enough your legs definitely aren't steady enough to hold you up on your own, you'll definitely need his help out once you get home and he's nowhere near finished with you anyway.

[yogurtkags]

❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

03. honey moon

♫ … cw: very briefly alludes to childhood family issues if you squint very hard (one liner), language, misunderstandings, dialogue heavy, not proofread

"honey, all i see is you, dressed in the moon, i know. and i know, if we can ever set together, like constellations, we can live forever"

series masterlist | prev | next

some days you wish eita drove, purely for convenience of course. most days you don’t, today is one of those days.

the soft genuine smile on your face seeing him knock on your apartment door with windswept hair and one hand tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, the other holding up his skateboard, can probably rival the gentleness of a pale orange sunrise— not that you believe it, but anyone who can see your face would say that.

the visual before you is so very predictable, so very eita, and you take it all in akin to returning home after a long day.

before you even register it, your body moves on muscle memory and you’re subconsciously bringing a hand up to smooth down some of the wild strands on his head, fully knowing that it’ll all be for naught once you step outside again, the breeze bound to mess it up again. your actions don’t go unnoticed, the faintest of blushes powdering his cheeks in the prettiest of pinks.

“hey, you got everything?”

“yeah, let’s go.” you huff out a humoured breath, swinging your satchel over your shoulders and body and patting it down to make sure all your necessities were in before heading out and closing the door behind you.

getting on eita’s board and wrapping your arms securely around his torso for stability comes naturally, you’ve done this countless times before after all, but this time feels different. it feels oddly intimate, the way his arm curls around your waist to keep your bodies close together, the top of your head just brushing against the apple of his cheek, hair tickling the supple flesh. it’s nothing new, yet today it all feels a little too real, the sensation causing tingles to rush through every nerve and muscle.

shoyo brought it up once before how he’s never seen eita do that with anyone else, no one’s ever hitched a ride on his trusty skateboard, never even come close to getting on it, let alone with him. the thought sent you in an upward spiral of false hope and yearning and made you give him a harsh slap against his arm for planting that idea in your head. you ultimately push it down every time, continuously telling yourself that it’s just because we’re so close.

his words snap you out of your wistful daydreaming, faint and mellow in tone, gentle, “are you okay?”

“hmm? yeah, why would i not be?” taken aback by the sudden question, you look up at him quizzically, eyebrows furrowed.

his eyes remain focused and don't leave the road, hardly sparing you a glance within his peripheral vision. this particular street is empty at this time of day and there’s really no need for him to be on such high alert, he’s not the most reckless of skaters and prioritises safety over anything especially when you’re with him — does he not even want to look at you? “you tell me, it’s been more than a week of radio silence from you.”

oh.

you conjure up a half-assed attempt at deflecting, untrue yet genuinely apologetic, cheek warming in embarrassment, “i’ve just… been really stressed out with assignments, don’t even worry about it.”

sometimes you hate that he knows you so well, it feels like he can see right through you. he’s always been able to read you like a well-loved book, the only sign of age and use being the yellowing pages sandwiched between pristine paperback covers and favourite phrases highlighted and lines annotated, dusted off regularly so dirt and dander doesn’t collect.

you hate lying to him, but it’s necessary this time to protect your heart from yourself, not him — he won’t break your heart, but just the implication of things ever moving forward in your friendship and the potential of it all falling apart shakes a deep-rooted fear in your inner child that you’ll never be ready to confront. not right now, not when it could concern him.

“you know, you’re a terrible liar.” he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to hear over the sound of wayward wind and plastic polyurethane wheels on asphalt. he drops the topic there and then, but what’s done is done. maybe it’s the past week or so of quiet that encourages a stillness to fall over the both of you, but the rest of the ride to campus is done in a suffocating silence.

the walk across campus to the music room was awkward to say the least, you’re looking at the dirty grimey floors more than ahead, letting muscle memory take you to where you need to be. eita trudges along next to you, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as you walk side by side, a thick barrier of tension built up between you. the only thought in your mind is to get to the room as soon as you can, at the very least the boys will be a pleasant distraction from whatever this is.

pushing the door open, three heads immediately lift up from whatever they’re doing in attention, eyes lighting up when they see your figure trailing behind eita, spouting a chorus of greetings.

atsumu comes running over to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “i missed ya! semi-mi doesn’t bring you along often enough.”

akaashi greets with a smile, polite as ever, “nice to see you! it’s been a while.”

your gaze flits over to the youngest in the room, kageyama, “hi kags!” and he cutely responds with a shy hello, eyes averted. the boys dote on him lots and look out for him whether they like to admit or not and you’re no exception.

“i swear you guys are more excited to see her than me.” eita begrudgingly mumbles, flipping atsumu off when he sticks out a tongue in retaliation.

“it’s all in good fun! i missed you guys too.” you reassure, setting your things down and getting comfy on the small two-seater situated in the corner of the room, propping your laptop up on your lap.

eita, seemingly distracted, puts down his guitar case and pauses in his steps for a second before taking a seat next to you, leaving a gap wide enough for you to notice it’s deliberate. “come over here for a sec, we got something to show you guys.”

you don’t like the hesitancy in his actions and it hurt a little to see, but you try to pay no mind, instead focusing your energy into not peeling the skin around your cuticles off in nervousness.

thankfulness looks a little different for you, it’s typically laced with a veil of self-doubt, anxiety and a dilapidating fear of failure. it’s easy to say offhandedly that you’re grateful for the good things that have come out of struggle, but it comes and goes in waves. you love this little community that you have backing you: eita, your roommates, the boys, always at your beck and call — but showing them original creations has always been daunting, even more so than putting your work out on social media. you care more about what your loved ones think that any random faceless nameless stranger on the internet.

coming up behind you to gently massage your sweater-clad shoulders, atsumu leans forward to peer at what’s on your screen, “relax, it’s just us. and yer stuff’s always good, ya never miss.” resounding nods and hums of agreement from the rest temporarily calms your heart, taking a deep breath and hitting play.

as the tunes flow from your little laptop speakers, the rest of the room falls quiet, only the sound of shoes tapping, fingers drumming sound aloud and subtle quips of approval ring in your ears. you zero in on the track and let your mind get lost in the music, only realising that it's ended when the same hands on your shoulders begin shaking you. “it’s so good, what the fuck!”

"tsumu, i swear to god." you barely manage to laugh out as your body jostles from side to side, eyes briefly settling on eita's and letting the tiniest smile slip as he nods, almost to say i told you they'd like it.

"you sound great in this genre, it's fresh, i like it. right kageyama?" akaashi lightly bumps his hip into kageyama’s, said boy nodding with bright eyes and mumbling a soft, “it’s really good.”

with a sigh of relief, the tension leaves your body. you had nothing to worry about, eita said so and his words ring true even now. they always do.

with flushed cheeks, you clap, "okay let's get on with what we were supposed to do. did you have any songs that you wanted to practice?"

akaashi fills you in on the few songs they were planning on trying out today to possibly add to their next gig's setlist. it's almost comical how much they deny being in a band together, yet they're the regular, or rather the only line up every time eita gets invited to perform at an event or lands a gig. one of the songs catches your attention, the title sparking recognition and familiarity in the database of songs that is your head. eita jokingly calls you 'spotify with legs' sometimes much to your chagrin.

"oh i love that one so much." you muse, pulling it up on the speakers as the initial strums of 'honey moon' by holding absence sinks into your skin and seeps into your bones. it’s poetic, it’s lovesick, and full of yearning, right up your alley, and oddly suited to the situation you have yourself stuck in right now.

and so a few warm ups and guitar tunings later, you find yourself seated upright against the plush couch cushions with a microphone in your hand, the boys wired up to their respective equipment and waiting for eita’s cue. you aren’t supposed to sing with them, but with some coaxing you gave in with a lighthearted eye roll and the compromise that you’ll be doing just the harmonies. you’re just teasing, you won’t pass up any chance to sing and they know it very well.

singing comes as naturally as breathing, not that you’re self assured in your abilities but it’s something that’s been ingrained you in since you were a child. letting the sounds weave into the crevices of dead spaces in your heart and mend unhealed chambers, you close your eyes and let the music overtake your senses, losing yourself in the lyrics and clearing your head, self-soothing even if just for a little while.

eita takes the opportunity to trace his sight over your features as your voices meld together in unison. regardless of how you felt, music was always the one thing that could lift your spirits.

he feels terribly guilty that things have taken a turn for the worst today, his thoughtless jab earlier seeming to have struck a nerve with you. he doesn’t want to invade into your space more than he has already done, backing away and letting you welcome him in again in your own time. it just sucks that he knows you well enough to tell when you’re lying, and hopes that it wasn’t because if anything he’s done. did he say or do something wrong that has you pushing him away?

you’re like a kaleidoscope — you’ve known each other all your life, yet it feels like he keeps finding new sides and shades of you that he’s unable to comprehend. especially recently, it feels like something about you is changing, within you, in your dynamic with him. eita doesn’t know what this means but he’s afraid, afraid to be a thorn in your side, afraid that he’s not really what you want after all. he knows he’s being irrational and letting his emotions control him in this moment but what else is he supposed to do?

his thoughts seem to confirm themselves when he sees you packing up your things and making a move to leave with atsumu once the session wraps up. wait, you’re not heading back with him?

— fun facts.

♫ … the music room on campus used to only be used by semi (lead guitar & vocals) and yn until atsumu (drums) and akaashi (rhythm guitar) came in as freshmen and started jamming out together.

♫ … shy aloof kagayema (bass) wandered in the next year and the rest was history.

♫ … yn met akaashi in a creative writing class, and has seen kageyama in passing (met through shoyo) and atsumu's just here for the vibes.

♫ … yn is the closest to atsumu, they just hit it off really well from the get go and he brings out the playfulness in her. if not eita, she often goes to him whenever she needs a male's perspective on something, or just a good time!

♫ … regardless of whether semi and yn show up to band practice together, he always makes sure to send her home, which is why he's a little ??? about her taking off with atsumu unannounced.

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @aozui @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro

@twiishaa @samuel1004 @blueparadis

notes. ruh roh, misunderstanding and jealousy arc!

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will...

Attempting to make the most of your stay with your family friends despite the tension that is still lingering after 70 odd years.

This is the *Fluffy* Part 2 an obscenely long time after the other two parts, Fair warning although it gets quite cute, the beginning is a little angsty cause like Ambrose was a dick and needs to apologise so ya know...

P1 -- Angsty p2 

WC: 1.9k

You gathered yourself, walking down the hall before striking your knuckles twice on his door. You were met with silence, yet just as you raised your clenched fist to knock again you heard from behind you;

“Hi”

"Ambrose..."

His name was simply all you could manage, the determination from mere seconds before had dripped away and settled in the grooves of the floor. Turning to meet his eyes, you allowed your arms to drop as dead weight to hang by your sides, every ounce of you tired from the hours of anticipation and dread.

The extended silence that hung in the air between the two of you felt unending, your eyes had all but glazed over in your trance. The sound of his footfalls was what alerted you mere milliseconds before you were crushed in his embrace, his head rested atop your own, tucking you into himself. There was no space, no air between the two of you, it was admittedly a not unwelcome change but it was cast in the shadows of the discussions that had to follow it.

The exhale that tumbled from his lungs turned into hurried kisses along the crown of your head, the small acts of affection wrought a funny familiarity, It had been almost a century since you conceded to yourself that you would never feel it again, and decades since you last allowed yourself to remember it. His embrace still felt the same, hauntingly, jarringly so, as if it was someone else's distant memory not your own that you were experiencing.

Despite the strange looming feelings the interaction was nothing near short, you clung to each other, fisting the clothes beneath splayed hands for near half an hour.

Pulling back you met his eyes, "It's been a while ey?" eyes falling over his form; "How has it been, being trapped inside?" he simply rolled his eyes as his hands sat on your hips, the warmth of his skin calming in the crisp autumn air, not to mention the scent that remained the same despite the decades that have passed. The smell is every memory, every adventure and experience you had shared, every whispered secret and playful scheme.

"Heaven how I missed you!" He gripped your sides tighter as he pulled you closer once again and spun the pair of you on the spot in the snug hallway. A sound, a mix of a quaint giggle and absurd snort erupted from your stomach at the shock of the movement. "Me too 'Ro. Can't say I expected such a warm welcome though..." you allowed your sentence to hang between the pair of you unfinished, knowing he was the only one who could answer the question you didn't ask. Gingerly, he placed you down on your own two feet, keeping one hand on your waist, he assured you were standing steady before he retreated his hand to rub the back of his neck.

His tone was sheepish as he started up again but his eyes never left yours, "I am so sorry, for... everything; for not listening to you or my aunties, for saying such harsh and untrue things to you. It was all lies and bullshit to make myself feel better about my idiotic decisions. I think I knew, back then, how stupid it was I-I just didn't want to admit I was wrong, that I could fall for such a imbecilic scheme." he ran a shaky hand down the length of his face. "I know how horrible the things I said to you were, and I can't imagine how hurt you must have been. I hate that I was so detestable while you were simply trying to help me and the things you were saying- I feel like I didn't even really hear them until you had left. please just know I am trying better these days, to listen to those around me, the people I care about..."

By the conclusion of his apology his posture had shrunken, his shoulders curling over. No matter ow appreciative of his apology you may have been seeing Ambrose shrinking in on himself was not something you could bare to watch so you moved silently to mirror his prior embrace, tucking his head into your chest. "Its okay Ro, I mean I was quite judgy. I could have bee-" he tugged himself away from you carefully before cupping your face in his hands. "No, please. There is nothing that you did, there was no part of this that was your fault and I cannot bare to think of you blaming yourself." His voice was hurried as he rushed through the words, but as he neared the end his voice changed, diminished into a tired whisper "So please, please just... don't." the final word was punctuated with a long kiss to your forehead, a tradition that was missed in the many years that had passed.

"Okay Ro, I won't, and thank you, truly, for your apology." You pull his head downwards so that his forehead rests on your own. "But now, please don't stress okay? We've lost enough time as it is" a sniffled hum did not satisfy as you pulled back, lifting his chin to force his eyes to meet your own as you raised a brow... "Seriously, Ambrose, let us not waste any more time. I forgive you, you daft idiot." Tugging his head down further you placed a kiss of your own to his forehead before stepping back. Clutching his hand in your own you tugged him towards his room eager to catch up on the years in-between.

Crashing onto the all too familiar cushions that lay always strewn across the floor, you struggled to pull your gaze from his form. In spite of spending over seventy years apart every spot and feature of his room remained the same, the only notable change lay in his presence, even while reclining in his own space he seemed to recede within himself. And yet reiterating your prior reassurance would surely be futile in the way of making him feel any more comfortable so you simply settled on acting as normal as you could manage.

"So... how is the coven fairing? I've heard your cousin is just as much trouble as we were in our day."

"Pssh, she is much worse than we could manage, but her intentions are better than ours were, much less trouble for troubles sake."

"Damn. speaking of trouble who took over after your uncle?" A dramatic and yet genuinely sour look came over his features as he spat out "Faustus Blackwood" as if the name itself was poisonous.

Your brows knitted together as did your lips as you pouted out an "Ew" Considering for a moment your next words were spoken in disbelief "Such a decision is inconceivable, what the what?"

"I agree my dear and yet..." his words trailed off for a moment before his enigmatic grin covered his face as it often did and he continued; "That was, of course, until Auntie Zelda took his position." His chest had puffed out at this point, clearly joyous to share the news. Your face was overtaken itself in a swarm of joy and outrage as you shot up from your seat as if determined to interrogate why Zelda had left that piece of major news out of your earlier conversation, this reaction of course only cause Ambrose's smile to grow impossibly wider.

A playful glare soon latched onto your features as you all but launched yourself into his arms, muttering out all sorts of childish insults in frustration as you pinched his cheeks, ending with a simple jibe of "Way to bury the lead Ro!"

Settling yourself on bringing the topic up later with the other Spellmans present you relented and tangled yourself alongside his limbs as you had done countless times, before you enquired instead as to his excursions after his house arrest had been lifted, at which point you were happily regaled with tales of dates, studies and adventures alongside his trouble-surrounded cousin.

Within what felt like a few moments, night had fallen and with it came the squealing of brakes and the scattering of gravel. Releasing a chuckle, you rose to your feet, lazily tugging Ambrose from the cushions and to your side as you started towards the foyer.

Only releasing his hand as you reached to tug open the door, glancing past the towering figure to the haphazardly parked car out front, you simply scoffed and cocked your head to the side. now looking up at the man if front of you as if confused by his lack of movement. Rocking back and forth on your heels you raised a mocking brow in his direction before jerking your head backwards into the house, all but inviting him in. Emphasis on the 'all but' as he remained stuck on the other side of the threshold. Sparing a glance to your side, you spotted Ambrose, his brows furrowed and his genuine confusion obvious as he looked between yourself and the blonde at the door.

Yet despite your gaze remaining on Ambrose you caught the briefest mutter of "bloody fuck" from the vamp, and turned your attention to him once again. "Well Spike, how was the casino? Lose all of our money already?"

An offended scoff fell from his lips as he fired back; "Course not love, Don't you trust me? Now come on, let's go inside ey?" drawing your face into a pinched expression you gazed to the sky in another bout of mocking consideration, you leave him hanging for an extended moment, until the sounds of the sisters entering the space drew all of your intention, apart from Ambrose who remained studying Spike who in turn met his gaze with a cocky wink.

It was almost laughable how fast the vampire's cocky and frustrated expression morphed into one of innocence as he greeted the women with flattery and kindness. It was just as you thought, the big softie was capable of not being a dick when it suited him best. Yet as soon as Hilda had invited him inside his smile briefly twisted into yet another one of his cockiest smirks as he shouldered past you.

"So you travel with our little one?"

"Yes, I am glad to say I do. And may I say thank you for lettin' me in. Someone was enjoying keeping me out in the cold."

"Troublesome as ever, I'm truthfully not surprised with all the chaos these two used to get into." Zelda mused as Hilda hummed in agreement;

"Always so cheeky these two"

Sharing a look with the man at your side as you rolled your eyes, you knocked your shoulder with his as you followed the other three from the door. Unsurprisingly Spike was arm in arm, flanked by both of the witches and that was pretty much how it remained from then on for the rest of the night as he regaled the women with adventures and stories of your travels, only pausing on occasion for your input as you lay, head resting on the shoulder of your old friend.

At that moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, and for tonight at least you wanted it to stay that way; complex feelings, bruised egos and ancient scars were an issue for tomorrow.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Sand - Cyno

Author Notes: I almost posted a Halfdan fic instead of this one. But here we are anyway. Cyno was interesting to write, but also kind of strange. To be honest, I'm not sure if I like the way he came out or not. As for sand being colorful... That was actually inspired by an experience I had digging outside with my mom a couple of summers ago. We ran across tan, gold and purple, yes purple, sand. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral and I hope you all enjoy this fic.

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 672

Sand. He’d grown quite accustomed to its coarse, gritty texture. The way it turned gold under the sun’s bright light had long since lost its wonder to him as it had to many people of this land.

Sand wasn’t priceless by any means. In fact, it was anything but. Sand was beyond plentiful in the desert lands of Sumeru. It stretched as far as the eye could see and most abhorred it, viewing it as part of what they deemed their lesser lot in life.

Cyno was quite used to it, but that didn’t mean he adored it. No, it just meant he accepted it and went on his way. 

Sand no longer held any fascination or disgust for him. It was just… sand.

And yet here you stood, turning with eyes that were so bright and filled with joy as you met his gaze, gesturing behind you to the endless sea of sand, “It’s so colorful!”

He looked past you, at the endless rolling dunes of gold and white slowly gave way to mountainous rocks of dark orange stone that turned an odd purplish hue in the distant shadows. 

Colorful…. That was a description he’d never heard  of for this place. He couldn’t say it was exactly inaccurate though.

He looked back towards you only to find you were no longer looking his way. Instead, you’d turned your bright-eyed gaze back towards the sandy abyss that made up this area of Sumeru.

“I never knew how colorful the desert was…. I’d always thought it would just be brown.” Your voice was filled with just as much wonder as your eyes had been.

Cyno felt a smile slip onto his face as he watched you. He had wondered what you would think of this land where so many fled in an attempt to escape him. While most viewed the desert distastefully as a last resort, you seemed to find it magical in some way.

But then this wasn’t the first time you’d viewed something in a different way than your peers. Many people who saw Cyno thought he was scary, menacing, or simply hated him on sight. Judging him largely by his job and hearsay. You were one of the few exceptions, because when you looked at him you seemed to view him as anything but scary.

You tilted your head back to look towards the sky, lifting a hand to block the too-bright sunlight as you gazed up at the cloudless blue above, “And the sky is so blue….” You let out a quiet, but contented sigh. Betraying the peace you felt in this harsh land with a single sound.

Cyno found himself stepping up beside you and leaning around to peer at your face with a slight smile that he found reflected on your own face as your eyes met his, “You should see it at night, it’s a sea of stars.”

It sounded as cheesy as it had in his head, but a tiny part of him reveled in the way your eyes sparkled at his words nonetheless. And as cheesy as it sounded, it wasn’t untrue. 

Night in the desert was harsh, much like the day save for the fact it was bitterly cold. But the sky held more stars than one could see anywhere else he’d ever been.

“Really?” He chuckled at your hopeful tone, but nodded.

“Really. I’ll show you someday… But not today. You’ll need a coat for desert nights. They’re colder than what you’re probably used to.”

You bobbed your head in excited agreement, “Alright, but I’m gonna hold you to that promise.”

He snorted despite himself, but nodded, “Please do. It’ll be something to look forward to.” He paused, glancing around at your surroundings before looking back to, “Best we head back now. Come on.”

He turned, letting you follow after him with a hurried shout of, “Wait up!” He glanced around, not quite viewing the desert the same way now.

Sand. Perhaps it was a bit more colorful than he’d first thought.

[devzik]

Conversations that totally 100% happened, between Devzik and the Gang. Part 2 | part 1

Sebastian and Devzik trying to sneak out of the common room past curfew, not wanting to get caught by Ominis

Sebastian, in a harsh whisper: Come on Dev, he said if he catches us again he'll tell a prefect.

Devzik, falling behind slightly: Calm down, he's harmless.

Ominis, coming up behind Devzik: Who's harmless?

Devzik practically jumping out of his skin, Sebastian hearing everything from the top of the stairs.

Devzik: Oh, uh, my cat.

Ominis: Well that's just simply untrue. He attacked me just the other day.

Devzik: You stepped on his tail.

Ominis, rolling his eyes: I'm blind.

Devzik, in an annoyed tone: He's a cat.

Sebastian, covering his mouth to hold in his laughter while listening to his friends bicker down the stairs.

Sebastian and Devzik studying in their 6th year.

Devzik, sighs and places his head onto the book he's reading, as if it were a pillow: I don't want to study anymore. I'm slowly turning to dust.

Sebastian, smirking devilishly: We could always study eachothers bodies.

Devzik, sitting up and glaring at him: What part of what I said didn't click for you?

Sebastian, shrugging in defeat: It was worth a shot.

Leander, walking up to Devzik after class: You know, I never thought you'd be able to beat Professor Ronen in Summoner's Court.

Devzik, looking visually annoyed by the others presence: You know, I never thought you'd actually have the balls to speak to me again after all the shit you talked about my house and friend.

Leander, slightly annoyed at the sudden hostility: I was just wanting to give you a compliment.

Devzik: And I just want to send you to the infirmary, but we don't always get what we want Prewett.

Garreth, frantically running up to Devzik in the hall: Please take this and hide it. Matilda is onto me and she can't find this potion. I'm not done perfecting it.

Devzik then takes the vile with a confused look as Professor Weasley rounds the corner.

Matilda: If that's what I think it is, hand it over right this instant.

Devzik, panicking and downing the whole vile, making a face of utter disgust: It wasn't Professor, Garreth being here is merely a coincidence.

Garreth, looking completely dumbfounded but also worried: I usually wouldn't say this to a Slytherin but, go to the hospital wing right now. I'll send Natty to meet you.

Amit and Devzik doing their astronomy work at the top of the tower.

Amit: Are you not cold?

Devzik, shrugging: No, my body is built like a heater. I prefer the cold.

Amit, looking around nervously and then scooting closer to Devzik: Is it fine if I sap some of your warmth then?

Devzik, chuckling and wrapping an arm around him: Sure buddy, don't go telling anyone I did this for you though.

Amit: Understood.

[asimperingswannsong]

Larissa’s Reluctant Romance

Part 4 of 4?

Larissa/Wednesday

Larissa sat at her desk drumming her fingers. She was restless and unfocused. She’d never had trouble focusing on work before. She sighed in frustration and closed her emails out; sat and stared at nothing for a minute; then sighed again; opened the student database and pulled up Wednesday’s profile. There was the student ID picture of a disgruntled young lady whose parents had made a sizable donation to pawn her off to their old alma mater mid term after a string of failed enrollments elsewhere. She noticed her birthday was coming up soon. Her eighteenth birthday to be precise. “And why is that important Larissa? Why fixate on that number?” She sighed once more and closed the page and her laptop. She gave up completely on work and made her way into her quarters. She was still worrying herself over Wednesday’s response to seeing her on a date and Wednesday was still avoiding her. She grabbed a bottle of red from the side board in her dining room and began pouring a glass at the dining table. She looked up to see Wednesday headed toward the forest. “It’s 10 pm. What is she doing?” She sat the glass down and made her way outside.

She followed after where she’d seen her heading. It wasn’t long before she realized the ridiculousness of her decision. Fall had arrived and it was officially cold at night. The lightweight suit jacket she’d paired with a shift dress wasn’t doing much to shield her from the cold and the four inch heels were a poor choice of hiking foot wear. She caught her toe on a tree root and stumbled reaching out and grabbing the nearby tree to keep from face planting. Suddenly Wednesday was there. She grabbed Larissa’s free hand and her waist to steady her. “Are you alright?” she asked with concern evident in her voice . “Wednesday, why are you out in the forest this late at night?” Wednesday released her hand and looked away. “Are my off campus privileges revoked again then?” Larissa sighed. She’d immediately opened on a harsh note again. That had not been her intention. She reached out and grabbed Wednesday’s hand. “Come with me.” Wednesday tried to pull away. “Please, I’m freezing.” Wednesday glanced back at her the concern back on her face. “Okay,” she relented.

Larissa led her through the forest over to a low dome shaped brick structure covered almost entirely by dirt and moss. She followed her down a set of recessed stairs to an old metal door. Larissa took out her master key and used it to unlock and open the door. It made a hideous sound from disuse that caused her to visibly cringe. She turned the light from her cellphone on and led Wednesday inside.

She scanned the room with the light. It was furnished like a typical studio apartment - couch and bed draped in cloth, coffee table, dresser, two sets of wall mounted cuffs and chains, padlocked door in the floor leading further underground, small kitchenette, etc. Larissa looked as though she were considering building a fire but thought better of it; instead propping her phone on the mantle piece with the light still lit. “What is this place?” “An apartment Nathaniel Faulkner used sometimes.” “And why does it sort of also resemble a dungeon?” “Well it’s not, not, a dungeon. You do know there are wolves and bear in the forest right?” Wednesday huffed. “Eugene insisted to me that there were no four toed salamanders here, but I know that to be untrue because I’d seen one down by the creek earlier and I was on my way to provide photographic evidence in support of my claim.”

“Did that need to happen in the pitch dark, after curfew, in the freezing cold?” There it was again; the tone of a mother scolding a toddler. Why did she keep doing that? Wednesday’s nearly eighteen years old. She huffed at herself this time as she noticed Wednesday had opted for studying her feet intently. Larissa reached out and cupped the back of Wednesday’s head, pulling her into a hug.

Wednesday stood entirely slack for a moment, and Larissa began to question her actions, but suddenly Wednesday returned the hug. She pressed her full body against Larissa and hugged tightly with her arms in the small of her back. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been speaking to you lately, Wednesday.” “Are you planning to see him again?” “No.” Wednesday began walking them backward until Larissa’s back pressed against the wall. They stilled and Wednesday allowed Larissa’s presence to fully envelop her. She had her head buried in Larissa’s chest enjoying the smell of her perfume, the sound of her breathing, and the warmth of her body. She lowered one arm from the small of her back and wrapped it around the back of her thigh, gently moving her leg aside. She pressed herself in between Larissa’s legs, pressing her core against Wednesday’s belly due to the height difference. She could feel the pulse of Larissa’s desire against her belly. Larissa tried to maneuver out of the contact, but Wednesday tightened the arm she had wrapped around the back of her leg and Larissa stilled. Wednesday closed her eyes and committed the sensation to memory. She fought against the urge to drop down and place a kiss between her legs where she felt the pulse.

They stood in silence for a long while. Larissa allowed herself to enjoy the contact, realizing how touch starved she’d been, while also fighting back thoughts of how inappropriate this exchange was. Finally she spoke, “Wednesday, can you please promise me you won’t go salamander hunting in the dark when you can’t even see the bear coming at you so I won’t have to sit and worry about you being mauled to death?”

Wednesday let out a tiny huff, but gave in. “I will go back inside so you don’t have to imagine my gruesome demise.” But she didn’t move. They stayed as they’d been for awhile longer before finally Larissa leaned her head down, placed a kiss on top of Wednesday’s head, and said, “This is lovely sweetheart, but I’m freezing.” Wednesday immediately pulled away; there’s that look of concern again. Larissa reached out and cupped her face with her hand. “Goodnight, darling.” “Goodnight.”

The periodic dinners delivered to Larissa’s quarters started again. Apparently, Wednesday had forgiven her for the kiss she’d witnessed. Larissa found she was once again able to focus on her work.

One evening, Wednesday stopped outside the entry to Larissa’s apartment and as she reached into her pocket to remove her lock picking tools, she felt the door handle turn in her grip. That was odd. She’d never accidentally left the door unlocked before. She shrugged, opened it, entered, and locked it once inside. She made her way to the dining room to plate the food she’d brought but when she stepped inside she saw a gift, wrapped in black polka dot paper with a large black bow attached. “Happy birthday, darling.” She turned to see Larissa standing in her bedroom doorway with a glass of red in her hand. She’d removed her jacket and Wednesday was enjoying the view of her bare arms and shoulders.

She realized she was staring. “Thank you.” Larissa approached her. “Well, are you going to open it?” Wednesday was still busy taking in the view, appreciating all of the curves that were no longer hidden under her jacket. When she arrived at Larissa’s feet she noticed that her heels were making the tops of her feet red, just at the toe line. It looked painful. “Can I give you a foot massage?” Larissa was caught off guard by the non apropos direction they’d taken. “What?” she asked with a slight laugh. “The heels are beautiful but they look painful. Can I rub you feet?” “…for my birthday,” she added as an afterthought.

Larissa laughed again. “You want to give me a foot massage for your birthday?” Wednesday nodded and looked up at her with…puppy dog eyes? “Is she capable of puppy dog eyes?” It certainly looked like she was trying. “Well, alright, I guess. I do like a good foot massage,” she said while stepping out of her shoes. Wednesday followed her into her living room, where Larissa sat and then reclined on the sofa. Wednesday sat at the end, taking Larissa’s bare feet into her lap. She worked the pad of her thumb into the pad of Larissa’s foot, pressing gently and then drawing a circle. As she repeated the process Larissa absentmindedly placed her glass on the table next to the couch and leaned her head back onto the pillow behind her. Wednesday continued her efforts and removed a bottle of perfume oil from her pocket. She’d bought it on a family tour of the tombs in Egypt. It was meant to be a knock off of J’adore; floral notes of jasmine, orchid, and rose. She placed small dabs on her thumb and worked it into Larissa’s skin.

Larissa’s lips parted slightly as she relaxed further and Wednesday enjoyed the view of her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She shifted slightly and it caused her skirt to raise a little revealing part of her thigh. Wednesday realized she was ogling her like an object. She forced her eyes back down. When she finished Larissa’s feet, she moved up to her calf muscles. Pressing her fingertips in gently and working them in circular motions. She could feel the tension in the muscles giving way under her ministrations. Larissa stretched her legs out and then wiggled her toes before sighing contentedly. Wednesday sat with her feet still in her lap and resisted the urge to kiss the tops of her feet. Instead she admired the nail polish that matched the manicure which matched the lips. The woman was exquisite.

When she finally looked up again she saw Larissa staring sleepily at her. “Can I do your neck and shoulders?” Wednesday asked hopefully. Larissa arched an eyebrow at her, thought about it a moment, and sat up, turning around. Wednesday started at the base of her skull, working the skin and muscle between the pad of her thumb and the side of her index finger, gently massaging and working down her neck to her shoulders slowly, before working her way back up. She repeated the process a few times before working out to her shoulders, pressing her fingers gently into the muscles and working out in circles. She relished the feel of Larissa’s skin and the feeling of the tension leaving her body. As Wednesday started back at the base of Larissa’s skull to repeat the whole process again. Larissa let out another contented sigh. Wednesday used more of the perfume oil this time and as she started to work her way out to the shoulders she asked Larissa if she could unzip the top of her dress to move it aside. “Mm, okay.”

Wednesday reached up and unzipped the back of her dress, pushing she straps to the side of her shoulders. Larissa placed a hand at the front of her dress to keep it in place as she felt Wednesday move her bra straps aside as well. Wednesday worked two small dabs of oil into her hands and started massaging them into Larissa’s shoulders. After a few minutes Larissa’s head fell back and Wednesday reached up and began removing the pins holding her hair in place. She slowly removed them all and then worked her fingers in and started gently raking her nails against her skin drawing soothing circles. She worked her way all around the back of Larissa’s head before moving to temples and continuing the circles, this time with the pads of her fingers instead of her nails.

When she’d finally finished she thought Larissa had fallen asleep. She was leaning against Wednesday with her head draped back. Wednesday pressed her cheek into her shoulder blade and wrapped an arm around her stomach to steady her. They sat like that for a while. Wednesday would periodically reach up with her free hand and run over her scalp again or draw more circles at her temple. Eventually Larissa said. “You forgot to open your gift, sweetheart.” Wednesday hummed against her shoulder.

Larissa reached down and placed her hand over the arm Wednesday had wrapped around her stomach. Wednesday pulled back, fixed Larissa’s bra, and pulled her hair up. Larissa reached back to hold her hair while Wednesday zipped her dress back up. Larissa let her hair fall and turned to look at Wednesday. She’d started to get up to go retrieve the gift but she stopped to admire the sight of Larissa with her hair down, falling in waves, past her shoulders. She was stunning. Larissa looked at her questioningly and Wednesday went after the gift.

She opened it to find a velvet lined box containing a lock pick set but this one was a far cry from the one she’d been using. “It’s platinum and ivory but I don’t think that ivory is elephant or rhinoceros. The set belonged to Iggy Itt. It was given to me years ago by an alumni. I figured you’d get more use out of it than me.” “Thank you.” Wednesday surprised her with another hug. It continued longer than hugs generally do. This seemed to be becoming a pattern. “I think your meal is cold now.” “Well now that I’m relaxed, I might surprise myself by actually cooking for once.” Silence again; more hug. Finally, Wednesday offered, “I’m eighteen now…” A pause. “Yes, and are you still one of my students?” Silence again; hug continues. “So graduation day then. Got it.” “Got what sweetheart?” Wednesday pulled away finally. “If you’re going to cook, you should probably start now. It’s getting late.” She stood up. “Right. I’ll drop your gift off tomorrow when you’re in class.” “Right. Graduation day then. Goodnight.” Wednesday turned and walked toward the door to leave. “What about graduation dear?” “Wednesday?” “Goodnight, Principal Weems.” “Goodnight, darling…what about graduation?” she asked to an empty room.

[digitaldoeslmk]

Sorry for being extreme my realm of interest is probably vastly different then the common LMK fan I won’t be so extreme anymore

theres nothing wrong about having specific interests and knowledge, and im sorry if I've come across as harsh in your asks /gen

im studying chinese mythology thanks to jttw, and i know there's big clashing ideas and concepts from it that dont jive with most western fans' own understanding of the world, and are difficult to grasp. ive seen a lot of misinterpretation of the characters due to flawed, missing or preconceived knowledge of the cultural roots of these stories, and i dont mean to shut down ideas, but explain and educate.

i believe that we need to make an effort to meet these different concepts where they are, so we dont accidentally otherize or create a trend that is untrue and unfounded. im coming from a place of caution mostly, and im sorry if my tone didn't read as such.

but hey, you are more than welcome to use your own interests in making a more politically-inclined au for lmk, sounds like it could be very interesting!! :3c

[madmanwonder]

(Prompt Yasundere) Bowsette goes on a rant about Mario stopping her all the time, but some of the comments sound like she has a crush on him. When her wizard minion points this out, she goes full on denial. That is until they see see in the big screen that Mario is having a lovely moment with Princess Peach. Then she is ready to behead the princess and get the hero by any means.

"That stupid son of a Bastard...," A harsh growling voice speak in a low and dangerous voice echoed across the room. "That overconfident lowborn plumber bastard who dare stop me from taking what is mine once again!" Roared Koopa Queen Bowsette I Koopa, a stream of hot-red fire erupted from her mouth in a vivid moment of rage and hate for the short bastard.

Kamek and the minion around the throne room took one tiresome look at the hot-headed, explosive red-haired woman who was once again in middle of her rage-filled taturam about the Hero of the Mushroom Kingdom who ruined her latest scheme to take the Mushroom Kingdom from Peach again.

"Your Malevolence," The elderly wizard said in calm and even tone of voice. "If I didn't know any better. I would say that you hold great romantic infatuation for the Hero of the Mushroom Kingdom." Kamek said in a dry, sardonic voice as the other minion nodded in agreement with the elder koopa eying their queen with a curious look.

The cheeks of the Bowser turned bright red at the word coming from the wizard. "H-How do you t-threw such vile untrue accusation toward your queen!" Glaring at the calm-as-ice wizard with a glare in her red eyes. "I shall have your head on the spike!"

"And today news show us another moment between our beloved princess with the noble hero of the Mushroom Kingdom on a nice afternoon picnic date...."

"....after I kill the blonde bimbo bitch!" Growled Bowsette as she glared with hate and rage in her dead-looking red eyes as her surrounded area begin to melt under the sheer heat of her fire magic exuded out of her body like a tidal wave.

[alastors-oc-sthuff]

⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️ - Abusive Father, Self-Amputation.

‘I wasn’t as smart as my father, but that didn’t mean that I was nothing…

…Right?…

With posters of my image around the world, radios and apps filled with my voice… any father would be proud of their son for becoming so famous, so adored, at such a young age…

But my father? Of course not…’

“Papà, I don’t approve of this…” The Italian teen says with worry in his tone, crossing his arms as his blue eyes gaze at his overworked father

“Since when have I ever asked for your opinion, Massimo?” The father says, slamming his hand against the lab counter, causing Massimo to flinch lightly.

Swallowing, the young Italian takes a hesitant step toward his father “That arm, that mech… it’s a weapon that needs somebody with determination as it’s owner… not somebody-“

“Like you.” The father cuts Massimo off, his own black eyes showing nothing but coldness.

Massimo freezes, his black eyes widening with sadness and shock, his tone faltering “L-like me? I-I built my music career from nothing but-“

“But your own laziness to do nothing but sit in a chair and screech that annoying voice of yours!”

The cold eyes of his own father, the harsh and untrue words coming from that cold and vile man sent Massimo to tears.

The teen scoffs shakily, trying to search for words to defend himself, but his father’s cold and uncaring eyes give him more reason to run off in tears.

‘My father’s new invention made a hit in the engineering world, so much so that Vishkar Corporations contacted him, telling him that they saved a spot in the higher-ups for my father.

Being a teen at the time I was forced to follow him, even if I cared nothing for Vishkar and their views… I just kept making my music, kept my image the same, kept my identity… even if I became an outcast…

Just like him… only he made everything better…’

“If word got out, our families would leave us, Max…” The young Thai inventor says, his tone worried yet loving, his white hair draping over his shoulders as he wraps his arms around the singer, burying his face in his stomach.

Massimo chuckles softly, moving one hand to his partner’s hair and gently brushing it in his fingers, his tone calm and loving, despite the painful words “When has anyone truly been here for us, Bua?”

Niran peaks up at Massimo, a light frown on his lips from the truth of those words.

Sighing, the Thai inventor shifts to sit on the Italian singer’s lap, wrapping his arms around Massimo’s neck and leaning his forehead against his, his hazel eyes looking into Massimo’s blue eyes with the same sad glint “I’m here for you… don’t forget that, Max…” Niran says, his sincere tone above a whisper.

Massimo chuckles lightly, placing his hand on Niran’s cheek with a light smile, his thumb caressing his soft skin “I couldn’t be more grateful for that, amore mio…”

‘I knew that the owner of my father’s invention was going to be no less of a brainless puppet and much to my disappointment, I was right.

The guy had no care for the responsibility that came with the mech, all he cared about was how many people fawned over him, all the fame he got just because “He was so brave to step up”.

I knew that, when the time came, he would run off like the coward he is.

I knew Italy wouldn't be safe with him.

I knew the people would all die with him as our ‘protector’.

I knew I had to make a change to this, but I also knew my cold father wouldn't listen to me.

So, I did something… frankly, something stupid, but it was the only solution…

I could feel the blood stopping. I could feel the coldness settling in.

I could feel my arm dying.’

Massimo’s painful scream cuts Niran out of his casual stroll in the hallways, dropping his device to the floor and whipping his head toward the lab doors with wide worried eyes “Max?!” He shouts, his heart beating in his throat as he runs towards the lab’s opened doors.

His stomach dropped at the sight; Massimo crouched down, holding his left forearm now turned blue, tears in his eyes with a pained frown.

“What happened?!” Niran raises his worried voice unintentionally, rushing toward his lover and crouching down beside him, looking down at his blue forearm with the same wide eyes “I’m sorry! It’s the only way!” Massimo’s pained and shaky words make Niran’s breath get caught in his throat, yet his movements didn’t falter, albeit a bit shaky.

Reaching his right hand to the nearby cabinet, Niran opens it, grabbing a syringe and taking its cap off, ready to inject it into Massimo’s arm; he hoped it wasn’t too late to save his beloved’s forearm.

Massimo’s right hand wraps around Niran’s wrist, shakily pushing the antidote away

“I can save the arm! Just-“ Niran says with a shaky tone, his glazed eyes confused amongst the sadness, looking at Massimo.

“No! Let it die! Please!” Massimo screams, tears pouring down his blue eyes.

Niran froze; what was he to do now? He knows his lover too well to know there’s no debating, too well to know he can’t force him.

Too well to know he won’t listen.

‘I knew my plan would work.

My father is too much of a proud man to let me live without my left forearm. I knew that he wouldn't hesitate to give me his invention, despite me being “lazy and stupid”.

That’s exactly what he did; with no hesitation he gave the mech to me and kicked the guy to the curb.

I knew my father would treat me the same way he always did, and I was sick of him and his ways.

He was no dad… he was barely a father.

So, I left…

I left my father, I left Vishkar and its fake, holographic life; I never felt better.

But, I had to leave behind what I loved as well; no more live shows, no more meet-ups with fans, no more performances, no more music…

And my love… who parted ways with me…

Who I parted ways with, as well…

How I miss him…’

“I-I can’t lose you…” Niran’s breaking voice is above a whisper, a frown on his tear stained face; a frown that looks so misplaced, a frown that Massimo hates to see.

Placing a gentle and loving kiss on Niran’s lips, Massimo sighs shakily as he pulls away, his blue eyes glazed as they peer at him “I can’t lose you either…”

“Then let me come with you. I’ll help you defend Italy… just please, I can’t say goodbye…” Niran responds, leaning his forehead against Massimo’s, his teary hazel eyes glued to Massimo’s glazed blue eyes “No, you know you can't…” The Italian man says with sorrow, his tone shaky as he speaks “With your biolight… Arcology needs you. The world needs it… and you with it…” He continues, his glazed eyes now pouring down the tears he so hard tried to hold back.

Niran swallows the lump in his throat, sniffling “Just like Italy needs Pietra…” He says in the same hushed, broken manner.

The two lovers keep their gazes into eachother’s teary eyes; they both knew this was their goodbye.

“In another life, amore mio…” Massimo says, breaking away from Niran with a forced smile.

Reaching his mechanical hand to his white horned mask with blacked out eyes, Massimo places the mask on his face, stealing one final glance to his adored one before activating his mech by raising his mechanical arm to the sky.

Niran stood there, looking at his beloved with a broken heart as he zoomed away in his mech; this wasn’t how things were supposed to go…

‘With my newfound weapon, mask and name I traveled back to Italy with the determination to fight for her.

The war was difficult, but I knew I made the right choice, because in the end, the smiles of my people are what warms my heart, bringing an unseeable smile on my face.

But I also know that despite Italy being safe now, the world still needs help…

With a weapon like mine, it would be a waste to go back to being Massimo forever…

But sometimes I can’t help but wonder what could have been… of us.

What if we would have never parted ways, 13 years ago?

But dwelling on what could have been only brings tears to my eyes; tears that I know that he would hate to see…

What other choice do I have than to push forward?’

Here it is! His origin story!

I spent way too much time on this! Hopefully, you enjoyed it!

Once again, questions are welcomed!

Stay tuned for upcoming content for Pietra!

[crimsonandgoldthieves]

💬 + "I heard a rumor that you secretly get yourself off to thoughts of me~" He spoke this in a growly, husky tone right into the thief's ear.

@captivatedbyaibou

The thief eyes narrow, hands reaching out to tug the other away from his ear. Hiding the shiver and blush that happened when those words weere spoken...

"Untrue.. that's never happened.. you just wish that it did.." A stubborn reply, a harsh glare to again hide the flustered feeling..

[spef-mp3]

Trying every Taylor Swift album || Lover

Most of the songs I really liked were in the first half of the album, it kind of lost me near the end. I think in general the songs were pretty catchy but most of them weren't really within my genre

Favourite songs

Cruel Summer

I Think The knows

Miss Americana and the heartbreak Prince

Skips

I Forgot You Existed

ME!

Afterglow

Miscellaneous thoughts under the cut

I Forgot You Existed was a weak way to start the album

At first I thought I've been the archer I've been the prey was similar in meaning to Mitski's I've been a forest fire and I am the forest and I am the fire and I am a person watching it. But now I'm realising that The Archer is about the changes you put yourself through in order to stay afloat, and though those changes were necessary, they're also hollow and untrue

Cornelia Street is a great example of how skilled Taylor Swoft is at storytelling

Absolutely in love with the smoother, lower tone of False God

The instrumental and backtrack of Its Nice To Have A Friend is gorgeous and so enchanting but the singing style doesn't go with it. It feels harsh and staccato, contradicting the smooth soft music

[actuallyinvisibleninjah]

“People who are X don’t worry about being X so the fact that you’re worried means everything is fine!” Isn’t a good take. It can sometimes be true that you are worried about something being a possibility that isn’t true, but the fact that you are worried is not what makes it so. Like I just saw a post that said “If you’re worried about being a bad parent that means you’re not a bad parent!” That’s not true. I’ve definitely seen very bad parents ask themselves/people around them “Am I a bad parent?” And the answer was absolutely yes though no one said it to their face in so harsh a tone, and that doesn’t mean they weren’t trying to be good parents, and it doesn’t mean they were bad people, but sometimes genuinely you just don’t have the knowledge/tools to do right by your kids and acknowledging that you’re not doing a great job is better than living in denial about it because you can at least try to figure out how to fix it. Changing gears now. The context I’ve most frequently seen/heard “if you think you might be X it means you’re not X because people who are don’t worry about that” is on “if you think you might be crazy…” and that one, is also a problem. For one thing “crazy” is a super generic term that tends to be ableist especially in this context and can mean a lot of things, but this phrase is untrue for many of them. One case in which it is untrue is people who suffer from hallucinations (these can be visual, auditory, smell, taste or touch) often do, when they seem something abnormal, worry they are hallucinating, correctly so. The fact that they know about it doesn’t stop them from hallucinating it or mean that the hallucination isn’t real. Another thing “crazy” can mean is “having an overreaction to a situation”. I overreacted to a situation yesterday. I was aware of it. That didn’t make my reaction or my feelings any more reasonable. I could give more examples, the list goes on.

Basically if you think that you might be X then that means you are thinking critically about yourself which can be a good thing but that doesn’t automatically make you right or wrong, and you should probably examine the facts carefully and maybe it get an outside opinion before you follow that feeling to any final conclusions.