#hate this level of touch starved where i just feel like I want to explode

[aaaaaaaaaaaa-a]

need to find a real life way to be sluttier and get felt up more, I love horny posting on Tumblr but I am so desperate to just find and give touch in my actual life.

[shadow--writer]

Hello there, hope you're having a great day! What about mc×main 6 from the arcana in a bitter argument? (Angsty as possible pls) thank-you and have a great day❤️

I AM SO SORRY THESE TOOK SO LONG LOL. I had most of them written out and then the muse decided to LEAVE. *shakes fist at the sky* 

I hope you don’t mind me going buck wild with Lucio lol. He is PRIME for this kinda angst. And as a reminder, COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR PARTNER. 

Requests are open! I move at the pace of a sedated turtle but I WILL GET TO THEM LOL. 

Enjoy!

Main six x MC argument

~~~~

Julian

Fights with Julian get a little...intense

He’s not really good with the whole, fighting with the person he loves things

Will probably cry from frustration

It also gets LOUD. You both will start at a normal voice and slowly it will rise to yelling 

Never hurles insults, but hearing the hurt in his voice? Almost worse. And hearing how hurt you are? Man that’s a gut punch

He’s most likely gonna storm off (dramatically but I digress)

Sorry it’ll take him quite a long time to cool down

Feels SUPER awful about what he said in the head of the moment

Like just plain: “I’m a terrible person” awful

Brings you flowers to apologize. His voice is always super soft and nervous

You guys don’t fight super often but they can blow up when you do

Bring him flowers after you fight please. He’ll keep them on either his desk at work or on his bedside.

When he sees you’ve cooled off as well he’s going to hug you. Scoop you up if he can in a nice strong hug.

Asra

Asra fights get um...super nasty. You two know one another super well and things get blown up super quickly

They don’t happen often at all. Only when something boils over

But it’s always crying and almost incoherent worry and yelling. They’re a mess over you, running their hands through their hair so much you fear they might tear it out

Will leave to let you calm down and give you space. Usually goes to the dock to cry by himself and think things over. Faust is always conflicted when you guys fight

She doesn’t want to leave you to die again. 

Asra never stays mad at you long, just needs time to cool down

Says tons of things he doesn’t mean but in the moment it’s all he has. Of course you throw things back and loads of feelings get hurt

Always feels terrible after. Always. Sometimes he even cries quietly to himself if it was really nasty

After arguments might take him hours or days to cool off enough to apologize

Likes talking things out with you over pumpkin bread and tea over big extravagant gifts

After an argument they’re good at talking things out with you. Always ends with a hug and him rocking you back and forth while trying to memorize your feel and smell

Nadia

Her words are SO sharp and they cut SUPER DEEP

Doesn’t hold back sometimes it feels like her words are tiny knives being thrown at you

If she says something truly uncalled for, her eyes go wide and she covers her mouth with her hands

She’s always a poised kind of angry. When she’s super upset she’ll be in tears. 

She has siblings, she knows where to get you where it hurts. She aims to hurt in arguments 

Never means it and always realizes in HORROR what she just said to you

Stays in another room for a bit after the fight. Depending on how bad the argument was she cries herself to sleep

You don’t fight with any of the Main Six often but sometimes things happen and people snap

Fighting with Nadia usually happens when she’s exhausted and you want her to sleep and things just explode

She’s usually the one coming back to you to apologize. Even if you were wrong, she hates upsetting you. When you apologize back her feelings come to a head and she just moves in to hug you so hard your back pops

Muriel

He kind of spaces out 

Like he’s super upset but his replies to you are usually little grunts and he doesn’t quite meet your eyes

Unless you did something. Then he’s all up in arms, upset and sometimes he’ll tear up (especially if you put yourself in a ton of danger and he almost lost you)

He tries to keep his voice level. The first time he raised his voice at you you flinched and he ran away after seeing the reaction

He tries not to raise his voice at you, but sometimes it’s hard and usually you two will be loud at one another. Inanna is no fan

Fights with him are once in a blue moon. Usually they’re little lectures and you two understanding one another. But sometimes they do happen and they are just awful for the both of you

Feelings are up in the air, anger and worry is palpable. If you don’t take care of yourself, who will? kind of stuff

Wants to hug you after you’re done so bad, but stays stiff as a board to watch your reaction. It hurts sometimes

Makes you a little gift as a peace offering, (bring him back forget-me-nots)

Will hold you for a long time after you make up after a fight. (cuddle him PLEASE I BEG OF YOU)

Portia

Lots of yelling. Not intentional she’s just loud and you have to yell to be heard as well

Pepi usually runs to hide when you guys fight

Portia is the type to pace and throw her arms in the air. 

And she’ll cry. She hates it, but she cries when she’s furious. Who knows what you two are mad and fighting by this point everything comes bubbling to the surface 

She’ll storm out of the house to cry alone somewhere and get herself together 

It can um...get fairly nasty at times. Hurling insults doesn’t really happen but her breaking down sobbing with every word does

Not a pretty sight 

It’s hard arguing with someone you love so much, so she’ll come crying back as well. She just wants a hug ;-;

It’ll be awkward for a while after, but after you failed to bake something as a peace offering it’s broken. She’ll help you bake something new (cottagecore WIFE)

Lucio

So the question is what do you guys NOT fight about

Lucio is a tricky guy to be with I’m not gonna lie. He’s done some shitty things and doesn’t understand a lot of those

Will take time for him to get there and fully understand why people don’t like him 

But man is it a sore spot and he will fight with you about it. A lot. And it just...lord it gets really bad 

He’s not the type to cry during an argument. After though? Fair game. 

And he always wants to be by you after. Talk to me I’m lonely type beat. If you don’t want to talk that’s further salt in the wound

But things just blow UP. He’s dramatic, childish, and ANGRY. His voice is so thick with fury it hurts to have it directed at you 

Like chest heaving, near tears, regretting everything you just said kind of spats. When Lucio is mad he is MAD. Like Nadia, his words are like ice 

Without meaning to, he aims to hurt you. And hurt he DOES

When he comes to his senses he’s running away 

Will come to you first, with gifts anywhere from super extravagant to something only he would get you. And apologizes. Even if you caused the argument he blew it all up

He’s lonely and touch starved, he’s not gonna let you go (and he’s gonna be crying)

Cookies are a good thing to give to him back. It’ll prolly make you two end up on the bed snacking on them while just talking and cuddling. 

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

How about an au where punz doesn't show up during the disc War final

That was one of the first AUs I ever planned out in my head, eventually getting refined into my protege!innit AU. So here you go my lovely anon, here’s the concept, slightly refined. (Also, quick warning that Tommy does use some accidentally ableist language in this! Also, this is INCREDIBLY dark)

Tommy clung onto the headless body of Tubbo desperately, sobbing and sobbing and praying for somehow a way for him to come back, his cries echoing throughout the underground vault the only sound. Hands grasping onto his hair, stern but not harsh, barely brought him back into reality.

Dream sighed. “Tommy. Follow me.”

“No.”

His hair was tugged, harshly. “What do you mean, no?”

“No. I’m not coming with you.”

Dream held out the bloodstained axe, dripping with Tubbo's blood. It nearly made Tommy sick to see it again. “You don’t have a choice. Come with me or you will die here.”

“Maybe that's what I want! Maybe I’d rather die and be with Wilbur and Tubbo than be your fucking toy to torture or whatever!” Tommy shouted, the broken voice echoing.

Dream sighed again. “If you’re going to be difficult…”

The axe handle hit Tommy's head. All went black.

He woke up in a cell too dark and too bright, suffocatingly small and blistering hot with the heat of the lava. The yellow orange red mix was mesmerising. It should be so so easy to just touch it and end everything and go to whatever came after. It must be better than being a psycho bastard's personal punching bag.

He passed out from the pain when he tried to stand. He woke, again in the bed in the cell. It was surprisingly comfortable, better than the bed he had managed to put together in exile, and he hated it. That implied a level of permanence to his hell.

Wilbur's coat was gone, he noticed. He was pretty sure he was in a different set of clothes, too. He would not have the time to worry about those things soon.

(Meanwhile, a skull with ram horns and a bloodsoaked red and white hoodie and a patchwork longcoat wash up on the shores one day. They are taken to a home where a half-exploded beanie sits waiting for its wearer, and there are three extra seats at the table that will never be filled.)

Tommy had no idea how long he was alone in the cell. It could have been hours, days, weeks, an eternity. Time meant nothing, anymore. He still felt far too sick to leave the bed, the headache and bleeding from when his head was hit barely getting any better along with him feeling weaker and weaker, desperate for any water, any food.

He was certain he was going to die when he, half conscious, heard footsteps and was sat up on the headboard. Water was held to his lips, his throat and lips so dry he could barely take sips. When he’d finished the bottle, he was hand fed warm bread, so hungry it tasted like ambrosia on his tongue and so delirious he couldn’t even muster the energy to be angry he was being fed like an animal.

When warm hands were moved away, and he heard footsteps on the floor, Tommy let out a confused, animalistic chirp, barely aware what was going on but just knowing he didn’t want to be alone again. A laugh echoed from the walls, and a hand was run through his hair. Tommy leant in, purring like a cat. As he fell back into unconsciousness, all he could do was beg whoever was there in a voice scratchy and barely audible to please, please not leave him alone again.

He didn’t dream anymore. That was too much thought, hurting his head and making him almost sick, though he didn’t have enough food in him to be sick anymore. He just let himself be consumed by the darkness, and he slept well for the first time in a while.

He was alone again when he woke. Almost alone. A ghostly figure sat cross-legged at the lava keeping him prisoner, the green of his shirt almost invisible through the red stained blood, and his head in his hands and not on his neck. Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going mad already or if this was like Ghostbur, but either way he felt less alone with the ghostly form of Tubbo with him.

Ghost Tubbo disappeared when the lava parted, Dream entering into Tommy's prison. Tommy glared at the masked man, and he laughed. “Last time I was here, you were begging me to stay.”

Tommy felt himself turn red slightly at the memory of that, but continued glaring. “Fuck off.”

“Tommy, don’t speak to me like that or you’re not going to be able to eat today.” Dream said, with the tone Wilbur got when he used to tell off Tommy when he was doing something stupid. It made Tommy's blood boil.

“I don’t care,” he said, even as his throat ached and stomach throbbed. “Just let me die.”

Dream shook his head. “You’re too fun.”

Tommy growled. “And you’re a fucking sociopa-“

Tommy's cut off to hands around his neck, claws digging in deep enough to bleed. “I’d advise you listen, Tommy.” Dream said, voice as cheerily calm as always. “Or I’ll make you listen.”

Tommy sputtered for breath when his neck was released. “What do you want?”

“I just want to spend time with my only friend. Is that so hard to believe?” He laughs at Tommy's disbelieving expression, looking for the hidden meaning in the words. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? You know, things would be much easier if you stopped trying to defy me.”

(By the time Dream left, Tommy was holding a broken nose, black eyed and bruised, starving, and defiance in his eyes slightly dimmed.)

Life fell into a sickening routine. When Dream wasn’t there, Tommy slept. He was too dehydrated to cry anymore, so he just stared at the wall when he was awake. Ghost Tubbo was there, sometimes. When Tommy dared speak to him, he was mechanical, emotionless, entirely dedicated to protecting Tommy but painfully aware he couldn’t do anything but watch.

When Dream was, he’d bring food and water. Most of it ended up discarded, Tommy being deemed as too disobedient to deserve it. Sometimes he gave in and acted good being so desperate and hated himself for it. On those days, Dream talked with him, messed with his hair and hugged him and treated him with a twisted form of the affection Tommy recognised from Wilbur, or maybe Phil. On most days, Tommy was “punished.“

He’s not sure how long it took, but Tommy noticed as he slowly lost sight in one of his eyes as he took more and more blows to the head, how his left arm started hanging completely limp after being broken one too many times, how the web of scars covering his entire body only grew, both larger and deeper.

The first time Tommy died, it was unintentional. His head was hit against the obsidian, and something inside him broke, and he’s dead before he could even realise he’s dying. He wasn’t sure whether the afterlife is better or worse. It’s dark, and empty, and Wilbur is frightening, but there’s Tubbo- the Tubbo he knew, not the dull eyed ghost who as Tommy had learnt from Ghostbur was a separate entity.

It’s a month in the afterlife, apparently, before he’s brought back, the cell a mess of colour and noise and heat and touch and all of it too much, too much. Dream is excited, enthusiastic, asked him everything he can about the afterlife. Tommy refused to talk, and the slap across the face he received was a far, far, worse pain than gouging claws and broken limbs. He talked after that, through pained tears.

After that, it became a part of the routine he grew worryingly accustomed to. Like clockwork, every thirty visits he was killed, and like clockwork, he was always revived after one month in the afterlife, one day outside it. Dream asked him inane, weird questions about the afterlife. Sometimes he took Tommy's blood, sometimes he gave him weird injections. Dream was always weirdly kind on those days, and Tommy grew to long for them in a twisted way. He hated himself for it.

Bruises grew around his neck, refusing to heal. Deep deep cuts on his neck and his wrists stayed open, bleeding slightly when touched. Stab wounds and axe cuts covering his torso did the same. His hair turned white in chunks. Dream started dying it blond. It hurt and got into his wounds on his head. He learnt to tolerate it because when he squirmed and tried to get away it upset Dream and that's worse.

It’s easier to behave, so he does. He barely talked for a while, but he learnt that’s another thing that upset Dream. He bit his tongue and pretended it’s Wilbur, it’s Phil when Dream held him in his arms and ruffled his hair and talked gently to him. One day he brought in a jukebox and played the discs. It reminded Tommy of a time before the cell. He couldn’t remember the colour of grass or how the sunset looked. He hated it. Dream offered him the discs if he behaved, later on. Tommy grabbed them from his hands and shattered the plastic in two, because he didn’t want them, he didn’t want them to even exist because what was the fucking point of caring about anything anymore? Not discs, not people, not anything. Dream laughed and laughed.

(A ghostly teen, head held in his arm, gathered the shards. He stood at the door of a snowy house, uncaring of the pain as his body dissolved in it, not even reacting. When inside, he explains, monotone, to a paling looking angel and a crowned anarchist who’s hunger for blood increased by each word.)

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge.

[kryzobi-wan]

Dancing in the Dark

"What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?"

---

Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey <3 Completely self-indulgent Reylo angst and fluff. Plus a little slow dancing 🥲

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN

Ben Solo had learned what it meant to be lonely. Growing up surrounded by droids instead of family taught a kid that particular lesson pretty quickly. Still, that aching longing for human connection never quite left him, even after so many years of immersing himself in the cool, unfeeling darkness in hopes that it would drown out that part of himself. He had everything he had ever wanted, he tried to convince himself. Power, control, strength… it should have been enough.

But that flicker of light—of warmth—within him that he never could quite get rid of felt like the piercing, burning bite of a lightsaber wound on his flesh. If the light was supposed to bring comfort and peace, then why did its presence hurt so much?

After his solitary childhood and early adulthood, it shouldn’t have been possible to feel any more lonely than he already did. Then she had come crashing into his life, entangling their respective destinies in a mess of unacceptable feelings and emotions, and leaving Kylo more unbalanced than he had ever been since joining the First Order. Her light had illuminated the truth of every crude approximation of connection Kylo had forged over the years in his chosen place of belonging. Where once the officers of the First Order, the Knights of Ren, even Hux, had provided some semblance of stability and companionship, he now saw them for what they were: hollow, resentful beings who couldn’t care less if he lived or if he died.

For a few brief moments he had thought that Rey might fill the gaping hole this realization left in the very depths of his soul. How naïve that had been. Now she had left him, scorned him, and he was truly on his own, with not even the sickening but constant presence of Snoke to keep him company.

Weeks passed. Hux had finally stopped reprimanding Kylo for his failure on Crait, and in fact hadn’t spoken to him in days, leaving him without even that sense of consistency. In the quiet isolation of his chambers, the weight of his father’s death at his hand finally settled firmly on his shoulders. With Snoke gone, his recollection of that fateful moment came with a different kind of clarity that was most unwelcome. This kind of introspection was dangerous, and he did his best not to entertain it. But he was weak. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to those peaceful moments in his childhood—as rare as they were—where for just one moment he thought his parents might really care, that he wasn’t truly alone. The ache of soured happiness came attached with those memories, now that he had been disillusioned from their lies.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he had once believed in the beauty of the galaxy. Ben—Kylo—remembered a time when the stars seemed brighter, the air more pure and refreshing. When he could feel the bubbling of joy and frivolity in his chest, giving him the sensation of weightlessness as he passed through life ignorant of how truly alone he was.

Oh, how he longed for that beauty.

He had always been drawn to such things. The artful strokes of calligraphy, flowing from the tip of his pen. The feeling of soft, green grass between his fingers, and the touch of cold, crisp water on his toes. The gentle lilt of music playing somewhere in the distance, the tune floating through his bedroom window as he closed his eyes in sleep.

What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?

There was no such thing. Kylo Ren could never be worthy of it. Every beautiful thing he touched met its end sooner or later. He was poison to it, so fundamentally contrary to everything it stood for that it could be corrupted by his mere presence.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Rey had closed their connection. Since that moment on Crait when she looked down on him in his defeat, he had only seen her a handful of times, and only long enough for her to scowl at him and shut him out.

So he was alone. As usual.

Wandering the halls of the new flagship star destroyer, Kylo was acutely aware of this fact. Some days were worse than others, but this was bad as it got. Something inside him was begging for someone—anyone—to see him. To remind him that he wasn’t just some ghostly apparition with no corporeal form.

Not a single passing trooper or officer acknowledged him.

Perhaps it was his own fault. After all, you can’t have both the fear of your subordinates and the good opinion of them. He had chosen what made sense for the leader of an army, and he refused to consider any other option. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He did what he had to do.

As it turns out, it’s lonely to be the one on top of the pyramid.

Kylo passed by a group of stormtroopers, his cape billowing behind him. They seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps one of them had received a promotion or passed a particularly difficult round of training. They patted each other on the back, excitedly chattering in low whispers about whatever it was that spurred this reaction. Despite the armor and helmets, he could see the camaraderie they shared. They were happy.

That was enough to trigger another episode.

They were coming more frequently now. It was different than his bursts of anger and violence, where he could reach some sort of catharsis by tearing apart his immediate surroundings with the slash of his fiery weapon. This kind of attack did quite the opposite, causing him to shut down completely, barely able to move or speak until he could manage to calm himself down to an acceptable level. His breathing quickened and he was forced to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

Kylo sucked in a deep breath as he willed the prickling of tears in his eyes to go away. He felt exposed without his mask. His traitorous expressive face betrayed every emotion that he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He couldn’t let his subordinates see this weakness, or he’d be ousted by a mutiny before the end of the day cycle. No, he had to get away before he went catatonic. Stumbling and suddenly dizzy, Kylo made his way toward his chambers. The lights on the walls and ceiling swirled in his vision like the flash of stars through hyperspace, and it was all he could do to remain upright as he burst into his quarters and shut the door behind him. Immediately upon entering, he ripped his cape and the outer layer of his tunic off, feeling suffocated by them. Removing his heavy boots, he focused on the chill of the cold durasteel floors seeping through his dark socks, connecting him to his surroundings.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned out the lights and collapsed onto the nearest chair, resting his head atop his knees, and clasping his hands behind his head as he tried his best to stop trembling. He allowed the quiet darkness to envelop him like a blanket, hiding the tears as they streamed from his eyes.

Whenever this happened, it felt as if the air around him was pressing inwards as it slowly crushed him. He needed something real, something physical to ground him. No matter how tightly he clutched at his own body, how much he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stem the flow of tears, it was not enough. The pain radiated outward from himself. It was as if he were a bomb threatening to explode at any moment, at which point he would cease to exist entirely. He could be floating in the lifeless vacuum of space for all that he felt. There was nothing to hold him together.

Completely and utterly alone.

He was well-practiced by now in self-treating these sudden attacks. It may take several minutes, but eventually he would be able to breathe out one last shuddering breath and still the shaking in his shoulders and knees. The floor stilled beneath him, and he no longer felt like his screams were trapped inside his body, begging to be let out.

All he felt in the wake of an episode like this, was numb.

He stared tiredly at the floor, now propping his head up on his hands as exhaustion flooded his body.

It was frustrating, feeling so out of control of one’s emotions. Despite the fact that his master was now dead and gone, he could still feel the disappointment he would have had in his apprentice. The words Snoke would have said echoed through his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. You are too unstable. The darkness will reject you. Your emotions cause you to fail. Everyone who ever claimed to care about you threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them.

Perhaps he had been projecting a little when he said those last words to Rey.

As if his thoughts had caused it, he suddenly felt the familiar shift in the Force that signaled the start of a connection. The rumbling sounds of his ship faded into a comfortable silence that was, for once, welcome in the aftermath of his anxiety attack.

He breathed out a sigh of relief before opening his bleary eyes and lifting his head slightly to peer about his room. She was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to stand to go look for her, Rey appeared in his doorway, looking irritated and disappointed as usual as her eyes settled on him. She promptly turned with a huff and disappeared from view as fast as she had come, though the connection remained open.

“Rey, wait,” Ben (because he was always Ben during these connections) called out to her before she could shut him out. He stood abruptly, rushing to stand in the doorway. She stilled, her back to him and apparently awaiting his next words before she decided to leave him anyway or not. “Please don’t go,” he hated how fragile the words sounded as they escaped his lips.

Rey let out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Panic began to rise in Ben’s stomach again as he felt Rey start to force the connection closed. “Stay! Please, just for a few more moments,” he said desperately. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He wanted to pretend just for a little while that he wasn’t alone. Once he regained his stability, she could leave if she wanted. He just needed someone for a few minutes to keep him from falling apart.

As if she could sense this, she turned to face him, setting her jaw firmly as she stared at him with caution behind her eyes. Relief flooded his veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out with one hand and clutched Rey’s arm, using it to keep himself upright. She didn’t move a muscle, though she stared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. He bowed his head, breathing deep, calming breaths in and out.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment.

Rey nodded once but said nothing. Her silence had become the usual ever since Crait, and as much as it pained him, he was grateful that this time she at least acknowledged his existence.

Once upon a time, she had told him he wasn’t alone. That had meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same things to her. He just wanted to feel like he did in that moment. When they had touched hands, he felt a flutter of happiness and a spark of hope that he never thought he’d feel again. He saw a flash of beauty, like something had peeled back the dark shroud that obscured his view of the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could be happy with her. That neither of them would ever have to be alone for the rest of their days.

Ben’s eyes flashed up to where his gloved hand met her skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a chill running up his spine. He lost himself in the feel of human contact, nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation after so long without it. Perhaps the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down was that layer of leather still between them.

Slowly, as if he were not even in control of his own movements, his other hand gingerly brushed against the same arm, inspecting the fresh scar there. His hands were trembling as they traced the contours of her arm, down, down, down to her hand where they stopped, cradling her fingers with the softest touch.

“Ben?” Rey finally spoke, breaking him out of his entranced state. He looked up to her, tears pooling in his eyes once more. His hand instinctively tightened around hers.

“Will you dance with me?”

His words were unexpected. There was something about being there, with her, that made him wish more than ever for the things of beauty in this galaxy. They seemed to have reached a temporary truce, considering the fact that Rey hadn’t ripped her hand away from his yet. He couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Rey asked incredulously. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Ben began to feel the tug of her hand against his, hesitating but wanting to let go.

“I just—” Ben stepped closer, patting her hand lightly with one of his and bowing his head again to look only at their hands rather than her face. He shook his head in disappointment with himself as it became clear that he didn’t have the words to articulate what he was trying to say.

I need you, he finished in his mind, but Rey seemed to hear it loud and clear. Her eyes softened, though a hint of hesitation remained.

“Okay.”

Ben’s gaze snapped back to hers, his mouth parted slightly in surprise that she had actually said yes. Something like nervousness or excitement fluttered in his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He nodded, speechless and blurry-eyed, and dropped her hand long enough only to remove his dark gloves, casting them carelessly on the floor. When he stepped into her space again, the corners of his trembling lips teased the smallest hint of a smile, which was reflected in his widened, somehow younger-looking eyes.

Slowly, in his disbelief that this was really happening, Ben scooped up each of her hands in his own, clutching them to his sweater-clad chest. There was no music, but the beating of their hearts seemed to be amplified in the space that stretched between them and their bond. It was the only sound they could hear, aside from the shaky breaths each was breathing in anticipation for this new closeness, this tender moment.

Rey moved one hand to Ben’s shoulder, allowing him to wrap his arm around her. His palm splayed across her back, reveling in the feeling of her textured taupe-colored wrappings on his fingertips. Electricity sparked where their hands met, and he saw it again. A vision of beauty. Togetherness. The rightness of it all.

He pulled her in close, resting his cheek against her silky brown hair and closing his eyes to soak in the peacefulness of the moment as they began to sway. Fresh tears trailed down his cheek, mingling with her hair. She hesitantly leaned her head into his chest and brought her hand up to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking it comfortingly. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, exactly why he had asked her to stay. Could she really see through him that easily? Or was the bond stronger than they thought? If so, what could that mean?

He knew who she was. She was a nobody, right? Then why did she feel like everything to him?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

They danced, in the calming darkness of the night. Peace washed over Ben Solo, evening his breathing to quiet, content breaths. There were so many things he wanted to say; confessions he needed to get off his chest, apologies, explanations… but nothing could get past the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with looking out the viewport behind Rey, taking in the majesty of the stars beyond. Long ago, he had lost the sense of wonder and awe he used to feel when immersed in the view of open space. The endless black expanse began to feel empty and cold. It reflected his own loneliness back at him.

How had he missed the numerous stars and planets that dotted the sky? They shone brightly, their warmth reminding him that there would always be life, hope, and a future—beyond.

Skywalker… Ben heard an unfamiliar voice, gravelly but laced with amusement. Still looking to the horizon…

The world around them had disappeared. The two swayed and twirled amidst the infinite vastness of space, and Ben felt weightless, like they were floating through the galaxy without a single worry or care. There was no Resistance, no First Order, no Jedi, and no Sith. There was only Rey, and the stars that illuminated her glistening eyes.

That same sense of awe, the hope and contentment of his boyhood innocence, filled his heart with every brush of her hand against his, every time their eyes met, the beating of her heart next to his own…

Rey pulled back a few inches, enough that she could tilt her head back to study his face. The hand he was holding in his dropped before she placed it on his other shoulder, her hands firmly but gently gripping them. If Ben were told that her touch was the one thing keeping him from shattering into a billion pieces, literallyholding him together, he would believe it without question. Her fingers tangled in the loose fabric of his thin sweater, rubbing soft circles over his skin. It was a comfort he was not used to, a balm for the crawling discomfort of starvation from human contact which he had felt for so long.

His eyes fluttered closed and he could scarcely breathe. They continued to sway as Ben moved his free hand up to Rey’s face, experimentally trailing his fingertips over her skin with a touch so light, she might not have even noticed had she not been so in tune with what he was feeling.

When he opened his eyes again, he observed her image through his lashes, unbothered by the sadness or pity she held for him in her eyes. He did not care what thoughts or emotions kept her here, he was just glad that she was.

In his exploration of the contours of her face, his hand brushed against a stray piece of her hair, drawing his intense focus away from her soft skin. He held it lightly between his thumb and forefinger in fascination and wonder, tousling it gently before following the path of her hair to the three buns at the back, which he threaded between his fingers.

Following his lead, Rey cupped a hand over his jaw, setting his nervous system ablaze. It was almost too much to handle. His head dipped forward until his forehead was practically touching hers, all the while they continued to sway. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, mere inches separating their lips from each other’s.

Before the situation could slip any further out of Ben’s control than it already had, Rey pulled back, her body stilling as she stared at him as if in study. His arms felt suddenly empty, but the sharp pain of loneliness from earlier had faded to a dull ache. He no longer felt like he was at risk of imploding, which was a relief to his tormented soul.

Eyes meeting hers, he silently conveyed his gratefulness for what she had done, finding words to be insufficient. He worked his jaw absentmindedly as his gaze flicked over her features, trying to gauge what she might be thinking in that beautiful mind of hers.

Without warning, she rushed forward and enveloped him in her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. The embrace was as short as it was sudden, but it was like heaven coming down to him. He had barely managed to reciprocate the action before she released him and stepped back, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Her voice came back in little more than a whisper, and he thought he saw a tear escape from the corner of her eye. “I understand,” was all she said, her jaw firmly set in that look of determination that Ben was so used to seeing.

And maybe she did.

Of all the people in the universe, Rey would know the heartache of loneliness better than anyone. All those years alone, waiting for the return of those who could never come back… Maybe she needed this as much as he did.

Rey stared intently into his eyes, and it felt like she was able to see directly into his soul. She nodded, perhaps in answer to his line of thinking. Perhaps it was just a gesture to reassure Ben that everything would be okay. Either way, he felt a part of himself melt away under the influence of her light, leaving him with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever felt.

With that, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, disappearing without consequence.

Ben breathed out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, stumbling backwards to his couch to think. The ghost of her touch on his skin remained, and it brought him a lasting comfort.

He should have felt scared, or worried, that his mortal enemy knew his vulnerabilities and sorrows so intimately, but he wasn’t. He had shared with her a moment of beauty and of happiness, and something about it told him it would be a significant turning point in the story of the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he could have sworn that he felt her gentle touch on his forehead, brushing through his dark wavy hair in comforting strokes. Tender words of encouragement graced his ears, and whether they were real or imagined, he took them to heart.

He dreamed.

Of the cool, still waters of a lake.

The light of the moon reflecting on its glassy surface.

The velvety blackness of the night sky,

Decorated with the pinpricks of diamonds glittering from above.

And the mountains,

Standing strong and steadfast in the distance,

A friendly shadow on the horizon.

He dreamed.

The woman in his arms,

Illuminating the world around her,

Her light shining like the sun,

Her smile a warm glow that nurtured his soul.

And he danced.

-.-.-

Comments greatly appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed! Much love, Reylos <3

[kazuwhora]

Hiyaaa, may I have a match up for Tokyo Revengers? Thank you in advance! 💕

Idek where to start, I guess with how I look, so I'm go by she/her, I'm straight, and I'm short, being 5'0, I'm plus size/fat, I have kinda long blonde hair and dark green eyes. I also have a few piercing, those being my nose, lip, and ears. I also always have my nails done, they're always long (in a stiletto style).

I guess now I'll do my personality, my MBTI is ISFJ and my Zodiac Sign is a Cancer. I'm known to be very sweet and almost motherly to all of my friends, but I'm very much not the mom friend, as I'm also very impulsive and reckless at times, I do things on the fly and once even made a split decision that ended up with me breaking 3 bones. I am known to be quite feisty and sarcastic as well, and good at come backs if someone insults me or tries to argue with me. I am known to be quite good at multitasking, even being able to keep up with 3 different conversations, but I have a habit of accidentally changing subjects and trailing off and talking about something else. I'm also quite insecure and have a lot of anxiety, this is mostly stemmed from verbal abuse from my family (besides my mom, she's an f'in angel.). My love language is physical touch, and I think I am touch-starved, I never really paid attention, but like I seek out touch and when someone touches me I really want to lean into it and I get goosebumps a lot(?), I think that means I am touch-starved. I came from a very emotionally and physically detached family, so I never really understood emotions well and I tend to just hold emotions in until they explode, as that's what I thought was normal.

I am very into cosmetology, as I like make up, doing hair and nails, etc. I really like nice and relaxing things, like reading and taking nice walks (preferably at night). I also really like learning about history.

I believe that's all! Thank you again!

I hope that was enough! 💕

(Also I meant to send this to you when I first followed you, but I got hella distracted, sorry!)

hi love! im sorry it took so long for me to get to this! I've been burnt out from work so im sorry pls don't hate me <3

originally I thought baji (very close match) but upon a little more thought, I'm matching you up with Draken!

I have a few reasons for this, so lets get into why I chose draken over baji!

first of all, I feel like you've got a lot of contrast in your personality. this is a good thing- it means you're dynamic. it's also the reason why I think draken is a better match than baji. both are estp's, which complement isfj very well with the extraverted sensing function, however draken seems to be on a slightly healthier functioning level than baji- something I think is a better match for what you describe as reckless. while baji would be a great best friend to let loose with, draken is the one to soothe your anxiety, his presence just being enough to regulate your recklessness to a safer extent.

in other words, draken will be the one to prevent you from breaking those bones, but he'll do so usually without overstepping his boundaries. much like you, while motherly you aren't the mom friend, draken has similar instincts but also doesn't want to fall into that role. because of this, he is able to maintain a respectful amount of care without coming across as to controlling of you. your comebacks and comments remind him of baji--- he'll chuckle even though it was kind of mean, and he's great at redirecting important conversations if you trail off, or sitting back and allowing you to talk to your hearts desire if it's not a subject that needs immediate attention.

if you like relaxing things, please let draken draw you a bath. it'll be so sweet, he'll make the water maybe a little too hot because what does he know? but he'll make sure to pick out the prettiest bath bomb, and light the prettiest candles all for you. if you drink wine, he'll bring you a crisp glass of prosecco that be bought just for you, turn on a special playlist of the most relaxing songs he could think of, and he'll leave you alone wanting to make sure you don't feel suffocated by the combination of his contributions and his presence. if you call him back, he'll be hesitant to join you. "babe, I don't want to get my hair wet" he'll say, with a rarely seen pout. he wants to make you happy but boy he does not want to sit in a bright pink bath that smells like a million different scents. this is the same man that uses 2 in 1 shampoo, so if you think he's gonna enjoy it ur wrong. but he'll do it if u ask really nicely.

you might struggle a bit with your love language being physical touch as he's more inclined to acts of service and gift giving than being physical. likely because he grew up with a lack of physical touch essentially his whole life, it isn't something he's particularly familiar with or even really cares about. but I bet you could teach him, and he'll love the way you shiver under his touch. that alone will be enough to convince him that maybe he does like physical touch 🧐

[vindicatedvirgil]

I think I asked this before but I'm not sure if it went through so: some moceit hurt/comfort maybe? with insecure janus being comforted by patton and also maybe there could be cuddles? I also kind of live for touch starved janus so there's that

i got the inspiration for this from a prompt on @promptsforthestrugglingauthor - #636: “It was always unclear which was worse: an ache of the heart or an ache of the head.” i also took inspiration from my own history of migraines!

(also, no, i never got a request like this, so thank you for sending it in again! i’m really happy to write this for ya, anon)

hope you enjoy!

TW: migraines, gross Remus thoughts, bodily fluid mentions. if there’s something that i need to tag here, please let me know!

---

It could never be 100% clear to Janus as to what was worse: an ache of the heart or an ache of the head. 

He often found himself suffering from headaches; being stuck with no other company but Remus for many years did that to a side. But even since all sides had been brought together into one part of Thomas’ mind, Janus found himself getting headaches at even the most minor of events. Whenever the word “FALSEHOOD” rang out through the hallways, signaling one of the twins’ successes at annoying the logical side, his glove-clad fingers would automatically fly up to rub at his temple. 

When he did suffer from headaches, all light needed to be shut out or it would just get worse. Janus would shut himself in his room with the blackout curtains drawn and a sleep mask or a cold, wet washcloth over his eyes until he either fell asleep or felt his energy return to him. Most of the others were understanding of his need to be left alone during those moments of headaches.

Most of them.

Morality, on the other hand, didn’t seem to know when to leave the deceitful side alone. He’d knock on the door excitedly, bring in tea and say encouraging things in that sing-songy voice of his. Most of the time, Janus ignored Patton until he went away. 

But this latest headache was not within the same league as the others; this one was a migraine, and Janus felt the deep need to tear his brain out of his head, or that perhaps it would explode and leak out of his nose and ears. If he ever had any indication that it would actually happen, he’d be sure to let Remus know, since the mustached side seemed to take an interest in any weird… body phenomena.

Janus had secluded himself like he would in any other situation, but he made sure to lock the door to his room to prevent any… unwelcome visitors. He hadn’t yet realized his grave mistake: the sides didn’t need doors to get anywhere; it was just a formality. 

So when Patton popped up in his room, a cheerful smile on his face, a plate of freshly baked cookies in his hand, Janus growled. He sat up on his bed from where he was curled up in the fetal position and threw a pillow so hard at the moral side that the plate (and the cookies) clattered to the floor. Patton looked startled as he glanced down at his feet.

“Get. Out.” Janus’ voice was a hiss, and he was certain that his left eye was glowing with a ferocity he usually only reserved for Remus. “You’re such an annoying, meddlesome, useless man. Get. Out.” He ignored the hurt look that crossed Patton’s features.

“But–”

“NOW!!!” Janus’ voice boomed throughout the room, making his brain ring in his ears, the pain making him feel like he was splitting in two; he was certain that the others heard his scream, and he barely registered Patton picking up the crumbled cookies and sinking out of the room. Once he was alone again, he covered his eyes with a cold washcloth and eventually dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

Until he was awoken by a slap to the face. His eyes shot open as he reached for his cane, a low growl coming from the bottom of his throat, until he realized that Virgil was standing above him, the anger obvious on his face. Janus’ migraine had dulled to a minimal headache, but getting slapped awake did not help the situation.

“What the hell??” He asked incredulously, noting that Roman and Logan were also in the room, their faces hard and arms crossed. 

“You need to go and apologize to Patton before I slap you so hard that you lose all of your snake traits,” Virgil’s voice was low and deep, and it startled Janus to hear it directed towards him. Janus decided to try to explain himself before he was forced out of his bed to apologize.

“He bothered me while I had a migraine–”

“Tough shit. Patton tries to help you during your headaches because he used to get them, too,” Roman spoke up, and Logan nodded beside him. “He may have accidentally been a little loud, but he had only good intentions, and yet you decided to call him annoying and meddlesome and useless.”

“I was lying, I just wanted him to leave–”

“Lying or not, Patton is now refusing to leave the comfort of his own room because he feels like he is no longer important,” Logan adjusted his glasses. Janus half wondered why the logical side was so concerned about the situation, but his wonderment did not last long as Logan kept speaking. “Without him, we will not be able to maintain our current productivity levels. You need to speak to him immediately.”

Janus sighed, rolled his eyes, then nodded once, glancing at all of the sides. Logan sunk out first, followed by Roman. Virgil gave Janus one last angry look before sinking out, and, with a mumble, Janus, too, sank out of his own bedroom, popping up into the room of the moral side. He hated going into the room, it always made him feel melancholic and sentimental, reminding him of the times he had spent on the far side of Thomas’ mind.

Patton was sitting upright on the bed, his hoodie discarded on the floor and his face buried in his hands. Muffled noises were coming from him, and Janus realized they were sobs. 

“Patton–” Janus started, causing Patton to jerk his head upwards so their eyes met. He had definitely been crying, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “I wanted to come in here and, uh, apologize. I definitely should have said those things,” he hoped that his sarcasm wasn’t too much for this moment. “You’re not… any of them.”

“I just wanted to help you, kiddo,” Patton said, sniffling softly. Janus felt the need to go over to the moral side, scoop him into his arms, and cuddle him close, but he was always so hesitant to interact with everyone else, let alone Morality. “Why do you constantly push me away?”

Janus didn’t say anything. It definitely wasn’t because of the fact that Janus had this weird ache in his heart whenever he saw Patton smile or laugh. It also had absolutely nothing to do with the way Janus’ skin burned whenever he was touched by someone else. He craved cuddles and soft touches so much, but he knew his skin was cold and that it could be off-putting, so he never said anything about it. 

He didn’t have an answer for Patton. Silence once again filled the room as Patton tried to regulate his breaths, and Janus shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “You don’t need to stay, Janus. I’ll… be fine. Thank you for your apology.”

“Patton, I–” he started, his body trying to pull itself towards the other, but he resisted, hesitating. “I push you away because… I don’t want to get hurt.”

“I would never hurt you,” Patton said plainly, as if he were stating the color of his own polo shirt. “I know that you’re… self-preservation, and all, but… you can ask us all for help, too.” Janus looked down at his feet but nodded.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted quietly. He didn’t quite register the other standing up and walking towards him, but when he was brought into the soft, warm embrace of the moral side, his whole body lit up with serotonin and contentment. Patton seemed to realize Janus’ need for soft touches, so he led them both to sit on the bed, and pulled a blanket over them. Janus curled into Patton’s side, breathing easier than he ever thought he could, and inhaled sharply when Patton wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Thank you, Patton. You’re… very useful.” The moral side snorted then began laughing at this, and eventually, the two dozed off, the only thing they could each focus on was the other’s arms, their soft whispers and apologies, and the soft kisses that Patton kept pressing into Janus’ hair until their lips met in apology and adoration.

[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

i live for your ot4 + 1 stories omg... Could I have like,a super fluffy one?With lots and lots of smooches and cuddles?Thanks xx

Thank you Darling! I adore the OT4+1! I do hope that you love this one too!

~

It had been a month! One entire month since you had all gotten together and actually be together like you were intended. Your relationship was something that you took great pride in and while you didn’t mind one on one time with one of your boyfriends or even if only some of you got together, there was always that missing feeling, that missing piece of being able to have all five of you together as was your normal.

So this morning when you had woken up with only a stuffed Chocobo in bed you had to admit you were getting a little lonely! When you’re used to sleeping with four other people sharing the Behemoth King sized bed, it got really lonely really fast to wake up as the only person in the bed.

Whoever the jerk that coined the phrase: ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’, never went a month without a proper dose of affection!

This month was a busy one for the Royals, it was meeting upon meeting, traveling, and balls. Strengthening allies and forging bonds! It was a tradition as old as the beautiful city you called home. 

You knew that falling in love with these men meant falling in love with a job that would take them away from you. You yourself could only attend so much of their lives, the more glitz and glamor parts. You appeared at every ball, every media event that required you to be there to be the “Prince’s Girlfriend”. All the political stuff was far beyond your realm of understanding or caring for that matter, so your presence didn’t apply when it came to the day to day meetings.

 Still, it didn’t mean that your heart didn’t ache for them when they were suddenly gone so long that their scent no longer lingered on their pillows or clothes in the apartment.

Prompto got a lot more time off than your other three boyfriends. Granted he didn’t have a 9-5 type of job, some of his shifts would run him days at a time, and even then he still had to go to training with Cor. For the past month, he had been out of the house with Gladiolus at 5am almost every day.  Only to return home at 11pm, getting something in the stomach. a shower, and you were then putting him to bed.

Gladiolus, on the other hand, was use these long stints. He had been training for it for all his life, he knew how to train that wonderful body to withstand pretty much anything that could be thrown at him. But you could count on one hand the amount of times that you got to actually cuddle with him. He had to spend quite a bit of time at the castle second only to Ignis.

Ignis was a very dutiful man, you often worried simply because you feared he would crash. He was so stoic and always held such a strong powerful demeanor that if one didn’t know the Advisor they wouldn’t notice the slights in his posture and gaze that showed even he was at a limit. He would only return to the apartment on nights that Noctis could sneak away, but even those moments were so short and in between.

Noctis was the one that often would apologize to you when something would take him away, but you couldn’t blame him. You never blamed him! It wasn’t his fault that he was such an important person. You felt the lingering hold he gave you when Ignis would awaken him to take him away for the day.

You were often offered a room within the Citadel, which you only took up when a party ran late, or there was no one to escort you home for the evening. You didn’t wish to have them worried about you and your needs when they had so many more important things to worry about. Besides having to sneak into their rooms to get your cuddles and kisses was only fun for the first couple of times.

You knew it was hard, not just for you, but for them as well. So you were determined to always get up, walk them to the door, no matter what ungodly time in the morning it was that they would have to leave to start their days. Providing a kiss and a hug and a sweet “Have a nice day! I love you.” before they were gone for who knows how long this time, and you’d return to a large empty bed.

At least that was your normal until this week when suddenly the bed and apartment were empty all week, due to them taking lodging at the Castle as it was easier to stay there. No amount of video games, shopping, reading, or sleeping seemed to make the time go faster. You’d get a quick voice message waking you up, or telling you good night, or a text when on a break but that wasn’t filling this void.

So today when you were ushered into the car by one of the Crowns Guard you couldn’t help but stop smiling. Your carriage was whisking you away to the Citadel, where the Farewell party was to take place within the next few hours. You’d finally get the missing pieces of your heart back!

 Even just being in the same building as them, made you feel so much better. You had caught a glimpse of Noctis and Ignis on their way to another meeting. Noctis stopped looking ready to take off towards you, only to be halted by Ignis, who you knew if he wasn’t trying to keep them both on schedule would have run to sweep you up in his arms. 

So for the moment, you settled for a smile, wave of the hand, and slight bow of the head.  You watched them disappear first on their way, before continuing to your perfect evening. You sat through the primping, the styling, squeezing into the slimming dress, all of it with a smile because tonight would be the night you got to be just the tiniest selfish. But you so earned it!

As it was normal for you now, you stood before the large doors to the ballroom. Wearing one of the latest dresses that you were certain cost way too much for the fabric, but you knew that it was part of the package. One more quick over by those lovely ladies that helped you get ready, and you were left alone.

“Announcing…”

You took a deep inhale, it was easier to do this with one of the others, but you had figured that they all actually had to be within the room, so you were forced to go in alone. The doors cracked open, as you counted to three like Ignis had told you to, before taking a step forward. 

The entrance faced the throne, where you were greeted to King Regis and Clarus but your Prince was missing, and knowing that at least Ignis and Gladiolus would be by his side it kind of confused you. Only for your eyes to move to the dance floor, finding Noctis standing there, along with Prompto and Gladiolus all three of their eyes trained to you as if you were the only person within the room, but where was Ignis? 

If you weren’t so worried that you would have tripped over yourself you would have rushed down to the dance floor immediately to launch yourself at them but luckily you remained calm and level headed. Only to make your way down the stairs, immediately finding a gloved hand assisting you down the final three. A huge smile on your face as you felt Ignis lift your hand to his lips before escorting you to King Regis for your customary greeting.

A curtsey to the King and you found another hand before you, this time finding Gladiolus, another quick press of his lips to the knuckles where only a moment ago Ignis’s lips had been, before he moved you over to Noctis, his large steps shorten. You couldn’t tell if it was so that he got a little more time with you, or because he didn’t want you to trip in your dress, but either way it was nice to have him there.

Your hand pasted to Noctis, as you bowed again, only customary, as Noctis hated it but the royal protocol and all that jazz required you to bow to your Prince. You felt Noctis move you to the dance floor, having to stifle a giggle, as you heard the flourish of the band started.

“What’s so funny?” Noctis asked, as he began the dance.

You smiled nailing the first spin easily, “You.”

“What about me?” He inquired, parting from you before spinning you back towards himself.

“You would save the first dance for me?” You jokingly asked, making certain to stay far enough away, the last thing you needed was a repeat of practice when you accidentally hit his injured leg and took the both of you down.  Granted that got you babying him all evening, which Noctis absolutely adored.

“Well yeah.” Noctis chuckled. “Had to fight Prompto for the spot.”

“Where is that ray of sunshine?”

“He’s with the Marshal on duty, but he said to save him a dance,” Noctis replied, as you giggled. Those blue eyes lowered for a moment, before focusing back on you, “Y/N, I’m…”

You hushed him as you pulled further into him, “No apologies, I love all of you. This is just a part that I love too, granted slightly less but still, I love it all the same.” 

Noctis chuckled, “Thank you.”

By the time you were all in the car heading home together, you had to admit that you suddenly felt that all those teasing moments of affection made you, even more, touch starved for the others. Common courtesy and Royal Rules made PDA very difficult to come by. You could only get so many hand kisses, and dances before you felt that it wasn’t doing enough. You wanted actual kisses, cuddles, and affection not these four-minute dances and second long kisses.

It was your affection and cuddles and you wanted them…

NOW!

“You all right?” 

You almost didn’t hear the question, so focused on trying not to jump across the car to one of them and just explode in affection. “I’m good.” You lied, noticing the apartment come into view, you could hold it in! You did so for a month, what was just ten more, long, grueling agonizing more minutes?

You put all your attention into holding onto the hem of your dress, lifting it so that you didn’t get it caught in the car door, or the elevator door. You entered the apartment after Gladiolus and Prompto as always, the two guards making certain that the room was safe to enter, trailed by Noctis and Ignis who made certain that you didn’t get caught in the door. 

You told yourself that you’d wait until you were out of the dress until you could remove your makeup and your hundreds of bobby pins. But then you saw the suit jackets being removed, the removed necktie, the slightly messed up hair, and the relaxed nature.

“Y/N, would you…”

You weren’t certain of who you had grabbed first, only to drag them towards you as you finally got a kiss that you wanted for so long. Only after a moment did you realize that it was Ignis you had closest to you, more than likely asking if you wanted help getting out of your dress before you grabbed him.

“How long have you been holding that in?” Gladiolus chuckled, only to grunt as you unexpectedly reached up, grabbing the first thing you could get ahold of, which was, unfortunately, his hair, yanking him towards you as you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“She’s worse than you Prom,” Noctis chuckled, as you turned wrapping your arms around Prompto’s neck, pulling him forward as you pressed a kiss to the blonde.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Gladiolus laughed, managing to hold a daze but happy Prompto up, as you cupped the Prince’s cheeks, pulling him into your final barrage of kiss attacks.

“My love,” Ignis called, as you released Noctis, turning toward the man with a flushed face, judging by the others, he couldn’t tell if there was more lipstick on your lips or the others. “Shall we get you out of the dress and we can properly provide you with the affection you so rightfully deserve?”

You managed to get yourself under control for just a moment, before nodding, “You have five minutes, I’m getting my cuddles, dress or no dress.”

“I vote no dress.” Gladiolus chuckled, moving over to scoop you up in his arm moving you back to the bedroom.

“I second!”  Prompto cheered from behind the big guy.

“Third!” Noctis echoed, working on removing his collared shirt.

Ignis chuckled fondly, “It’s unanimous. Shall we then?”

You would be more than happy to fulfill that request, no questions asked.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

Two thoughts for your garbage fire extraordinarie!

I would love hear your worst holiday lines for your unholy trinity! “Santa’s not the only packing a big sack,” etc!

Or, if you want a break from that shit lol. Here’s one of my personal Clyde HCs that you use as you please! Since you asked...

So, I’m not not super into dad kink myself, but I totally see Clyde as been like super dominant, but polite about it lol. Things like “maybe if ya tell me real nice why you think ya deserve to cum, I’ll let ya.” Or “now, ya just know how much I hate doin’ this to ya, darlin,’ but ya had to keep goin.’” “Ya know good n’ well that a lady’s supposed to say ‘please’ when she’s askin’ for my cock.”

I also think he’s a freak in the sheets with one of the filthiest mouths and I think he has a breeding kink! He’s gonna give you a lot more than just a present under the tree and he’ll make sure “your Christmas is gonna be extra white this year, lil’ darlin.’”

I feel ashamed.

FUCKIN OMG @safarigirlsp I LOVE THIS TIME OF THE WEEK BECAUSE OF THE DEPRAVITY BETWEEN OUR BOYS AND THEIR STUPID CATCHPHRASES! SO AS AN XMAS GIFT TO YOU AND EVERYONE SURROUNDING THE GARBAGE FIRE IM GONNA ANSWER ALL THE QUESTIONS FROM THESE CRAZY AU’S TO THE BEST OF MY CRACK BRAIN KNOWLEDGE!

HERE WE FUCKIN’ GO! 😂

Favorite one liners from our holy trinity....

The first being our resident Sea Fury, Capt. Flip SS “Blowhole” Zimmerman BDE, who now that I think about it must not really know what Xmas is, given that he sails the seas constantly and could give a rat’s ass about holidays in general. After all, he’s got treasure to find for himself and no time to dilly dally with stupid festivities such as Christmas. 

Sure, there’s an occasional snow storm on the high seas, which freeze him and his crew’s dingle berries to raisins when it blows through, but there’s no lights surrounding the massive Jolly Roger, no festive music of any kind because he runs a tight ass ship, clean as a fuckin’ whistle at all times with no fuckin’ funny business, except in the case of fuckin’ around with you that is. 

On the eve of the 25th, pirate time, the both of you are settled in your dining hall, a feast of succulent seafoods, baked to perfection via the resident cook on the ship, lay before your starving eyes. 

Your clad in one of your synched corsets, hardly able to gulp down the wine he’d poured because the waist is knotted so damn tight, causing your tits to practically explode onto the table, like he would so badly welcome at this point. 

He sits perched in his captain’s chair, dressed in his finest buccaneer garb, feathered hat and all, swirling his chalice as he devours your body with his eyes in the candle light. 

Watching your every move as you choke down the drink, throat moving to push down the liquor as you take a deep inhale, expanding your gravid chest as you push your self more into the seating. 

Noticing your boobs bounce with every motion you make to add food to your plate, the ebbs and flows of your soft tits as they beg to be set free from their cage. 

His cock twitches in his pantaloons as he catches himself boring into your chest, clearing his throat to take a swig of his wine as well, before gathering himself back into reality. 

“Where did ya go sailor?” chuckling as you watched him chug his spirits down his gullet, watching his Adam’s Apple bob as you salivated thinking about sucking a huge bruise on the appendage. 

He forced the glass on the table, shaking the food as he exhaled from his gulps, gathering his thoughts for a moment and then turning back to your position, eyes darkened with mischief. 

“I was... thinking,” he cooed, spreading his thighs wide, showing the mast that had erupted in his pants, “I heard the men conversing about this day being a special one of sorts,” taking his hat from his head to run his thick fingers through his hair. 

“And?” you paused from taking a bite of shrimp before he continued further, “what does this have to do with what you were staring me down for Phillip?” cocking your head to the side as he watched your tits waver from your motions. 

“I was thinking of making it a special one for us as well, my sweet siren,” cooing as he leaned himself closer to your side of the table, “what do ya say ya sit on ol’ captain’s mast and tell him your deepest desires?” coaxing a finger to lead you to his thick meaty thighs as you blushed, thinking about him impaling your pussy on his whale cock. 

Now onto our noble land warrior, This Is Sparta... 

I had to do some digging on this one because I know the Spartan’s had several festivals they celebrated because of their many Gods and Goddesses they worshipped and made sacrifices to... So, the closest I found was the tradition of Gymnopaedia (or the festival of naked youths as it’s translated) which is celebrated for over a week and honoring the three mythical beings Apollo, Artemis, and their mother, Leto and showcased bachelors and their marital and athletic capabilities (similar to the Olympics but naked) to the single women of the city of Sparta. 

SO LET’S HAVE SOME FUN WITH BACHELOR WARRIOR FLIP SHOWIN’ OFF THE GOODS TO HIS BRIDE TO BE! 

The streets were fraught with nude and glistening warriors of all abilities. Their bulging muscles, thick meaty thighs, and their endowments on display for all the thirsty women of the city to pick and choose their best suitors. 

You sat perched in your spot as you surveyed the music and majesty before you. A face in a crowd of hundreds of hungry women, each devouring their male counterparts, itching to be filled with their potent seed as they tossed discus and arrows to show their strength and protective capabilities. 

None of them were catching your eyes, however, even if they all were desperate for the attention, demonstrating their wares for the most beautiful woman in the village. 

Each begging to be the apple of your eye, practically injuring themselves as they showcased their endurance and stamina to get you to pick one of them from the crowd of body oil and testicles. 

You sighed, shooing away the suitors one by one, earning scoffs and side eyes from the other women, telling you to stop being so picky or else your womb will dry up from your negative outlook on the sea of cocks clouding your vision. 

You craved something. You weren’t sure what it was, but you desired a man whom desired you in the least desperate sense. Who cherished your independence, your thoughts, your body, and your soul. None of these suitors were capable of fulfilling your womb in that sense, so you kept with the shooing as you searched for your perfect mate. 

Suddenly, a valiant warrior appeared from the crowd, his muscles rippled and his cock swinging at attention as he made his way to the front of the line of men. 

His hair and inky frame over his chiseled face as he bent over to grip the disc laying in wait, encircling the rock with his humongous hands as his back and legs flexed from him lifting the weight above his head. 

Your womb ached as you watched him effortlessly throw the object further and more accurate than any of the other boys present during this festival of games, the heat causing a bead of sweat to form over your heaving tits clasped under your white robes. 

He huffed as he descended from his perch, moving his way to the crowd of hungry women, each fawning over his size and strength as they clawed to get his attention. 

He paid them no mind, zeroing in on your goddess-like posture, not giving him a single indication that you were interested, even if inside you wanted to scrape the ever loving fuck out of his thick pectorals. 

Your eyes met as he trudged through the seas of desperate cries and declarations of love from the girls below you, pushing them off like flies as he came to your eye level. 

You crossed your legs, pushing your chest out like the lady you were, not breaking eye contact with the brave soldier before you. 

“Y/N,” he muttered out amongst the music and cheer, his face the picture of seriousness as he spoke it to you. 

“Phillip,” you recanted back, smoothing your garment over your midsection, only to look back up to see his cock, half hard and leaned to the left, precum leaking from the tip as his pecs rose and fell from his glistening chest. 

“Will you join me in a dance?” moving a large hand in front of him as he begged you with his darkened eyes, to move off your throne of sorts, “please,” his voice changed slightly in desperation for your delicate hand. 

You sat there, taking in the moment as it came, moving a hand to envelope in his as you lifted your effervescent figure to come to his nude form, feeling his cock press against your thigh as he took you in his arms. 

“This way my dove,” he calmly led you through the mess of scowls and scoffs from the other bachelorettes, knowingly irritated at the fact that you’d bagged the hottest and most fertile warrior in the city. 

It was the best festival week of your entire life, ending with the betrothal between the both of you, sealed by the Gods themselves. 

(I’m sorry there’s no funny catchphrase I couldn’t find a way to weasel it in this kind of story lmao, but I did say cock a lot so there’s that!)

And last but certainly not least, the Holy Ghost himself, Rootin’ Tootin’ Shootin’ Cowboy Rustler Flip Zimmerman (Huckleberry) 

It was a good ol’ fashioned country Christmas on the homestead, complete with snow, ice, and of course you tied up on the dining room table being stuffed seven different ways to Sunday like a holiday honey ham. 

You’d already sustained your precious cowboy mercilessly face fucking you, cumming an unholy amount deep in your throat, the remnants mixing with your saliva as you laid spread wide open on the wood furniture. 

Your breath heaving from your chest as you begged for Flip to continue his holiday quest of stuffing you full of him for Christmas. 

“P-please Phil!” you begged, exhausted and wishing he’d touch you in the spot you so badly craved, “I-I!” stammering as he chuckled above you, lighting a cigarette, with is cowboy hat atop his head, and his naked hulking body heaving from his attack on your precious mouth. 

“Ya know I love it when ya beg ta be stuffed like a Christmas stocking ma sweet vixen,” inhaling a drag of sweet nicotine as he watched your cunt gasp for his cock, dripping in anticipation as he made himself hard again watching your asshole pucker from the air in the room. 

“Yer lil’ pussy’s beggin’ for me ain’t she?” he exhaled a cloud, gripping his half hard dick, smearing the remnants of your spit on his girth as he threw his head back form his own touch, “beggin’ to be stuffed like that damn turkey in the oven,” he cooed, ashing his filter in the tray by the doorway, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed your pretty figure, laid out for him. 

“She o-only wants y-you,” whining as you tried to wrench your head around to see where he’d found himself, hoping he was mere inches away from your heat as you writhed in your restraints. 

“Mhmm,” he mused, running his thick hands on your ass, smoothing the skin as he reared one hand to slap it with all the might he could, the ripple from the heat of the blow causing an instant five-star to bloom on the pristine cheek. 

“I love these honey hams a yours darlin’,” he cooed, slapping the other cheek to match its twin, “there so, juicy,” eyes growing dark as he drank in your whines from the pained blows you’d sustained. 

Stilling your hips to prod his thick cock at your weeping hole, the pressure causing you to lose your ever loving mind as you felt him penetrate your walls with a painfully slow motion, making your cunt eat him centimeter by centimeter. 

“P-Phil!” screaming out and begging for more friction, trying to break free from your expertly knotted ties on the legs of the table. 

“Uh huh darlin’,” he tsked, still inching himself in as you cried out into the living room, “naughty girls don’t get presents, don’t ya remember how the song goes sugar?” he chuckled, stilling himself for what seemed like hours before he started his assault on your tight little hole. 

HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. I CANNOT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I WROTE I HOPE IT’S DECENT ENOUGH TO BE WORTHY OF THE WHALE COCK VIBES! 

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

[adventures-in-poly]

0 Posts in 2020

You’d think that I’d have something Very Profound to say about the interactions between the pandemic and poly, but it turns out I haven’t wanted to write about that subject very much at all. I won’t say that the pandemic has sucked all the inspiration from my brain, just that it has shuffled inspiration around in unexpected ways and away from writing.

The pandemic has felt like it’s pressed the pause button on my poly life. My husband (M) can’t go out on dates because OTHER PEOPLE ARE DANGEROUS. I also can’t go out on dates for the same reason, but moreover, I choose not to go on dates because I’m just So Damn Exhausted. I’ve seen my boyfriend (Crow) only three times this year: once before the pandemic and twice since, and that’s only possible because his house has this large porch where we can do social distancing outside. I haven’t kissed him since January and I’ve only hugged him once, masks on and faces turned away, and I held my breath the whole time. I haven’t had sex with anyone in over a year, and I can’t even “blame” that on the pandemic. It’s a choice. Guess I’ve gone full asexual, and I say “guess” because, while asexual is an accurate descriptor, I still don’t feel really great about adopting that as a personal identity. I’m not even upset about the no sex part though. I’m happy about it. My Magic Wand knows exactly what I want and all the nuances of my body and it’s much less painful than skin on skin.

The pandemic is NOT a good thing. It is NOT a good thing that millions of people have died, and it is NOT a good thing that we as a community are touch-starved and relationship-starved and can’t seem to figure our shit out.

That said.

I’m going to be honest. It has felt nice not having to worry, poly-wise. I hate that that’s a thing that I feel, but this blog is and has always meant to be about honesty. It feels like a relief knowing that I am not going to be in a situation where I have to watch my husband drunkenly and sloppily hit on other women at parties that we are meant to both enjoy. It feels like a relief knowing that he isn’t going to tell me, “I’m going to meet someone that I’ve been talking to on Tinder”, that the bomb isn’t going to fall on me. Because that’s what it is. “I came in like a wrecking ball.” The fear that someone else will enter our lives - my life - and I’ll have no control over it, and I’ll hate it, and I’ll lose myself.

I have a lifelong fear of being replaced. Of being “not good enough”. I hesitate to call it a fear of being unlovable, because I’ve never doubted that people love me and like me. I think they do. But the fear is that, when my needs butt up against someone else’s, theirs will always win. As a child, my parents taught me all about caring for other people, being generous, being self sacrificing, being kind. They immigrated to the US from England a few years before I was born, and as a result, I was brought up with a European mindset (others before yourself) in an American environment (look out for number one). And, as a result -- even though my parents were extraordinarily caring, even though I was an only child, even though they were generous with their time and attention, even though I had a very happy childhood -- I somehow learned that I would always be second place. Always the one to sleep on the floor at sleepovers so the guest or the host could get the bed. Always the one to get a boring piece of cake so a louder and therefore more deserving child could get the piece with the flower. Petty shit like that that translated into real adult problems. Just two nights ago, on New Year’s Eve, I had told my husband I’d wanted us to change the sheets, and as I ascended the stairs to bed I forlornly reminded him that we hadn’t changed the sheets - terrified and fully preparing myself to be let down because he was having a good time at an online New Year’s Eve party and of course that meant that my needs would subside. (They didn’t. The world doesn’t work like that. My husband shows me over and over again that my needs are important to him, and yet I Still Never Learn.)

I can say with full honestly that I am no longer really jealous of my boyfriend and his wife anymore. I used to be, a little. I used to be jealous that he would want to visit her at her shift before he came over for dates, or that he’d want to bring her to casual outings with me, or that at any point the two of them could decide they’d want to move back to San Diego and that would be that. I don’t feel those things anymore. I haven’t for a long time. It’s some sort of consequence of she and I becoming legitimate good friends, plus me and my husband moving an hour away, plus just being too damn old and too damn tired to give shits anymore.

Then again, their relationship was never the kind that was going to prick my skin up and put me on guard. I was the new person, not her. I don’t have a complex about older, more established relationships.

But the idea of my husband finding somebody new, even though our relationship is solid? Sends me into chaos. Even now. I wish I could say that it’s changed in the 5 years since we opened things up, but it hasn’t. It hasn’t really at all.

I’d wanted this blog to document my journey from new to seasoned poly, from a jealous wreck to someone who had learned to love herself and meditate through the pain. That’s not what happened. I’m not sure if it’s ever going to happen. My husband hasn’t had enough actual relationships to give me practice experiencing the very discomfort that makes me want to scream until my insides explode out, and the few times it has happened, I felt like I was living in a shock chamber and turning into the kind of person I don’t want to be.

I wanted to evolve, for the sake of my readers, into someone who fully accepts a poly lifestyle. To show that it can be done. No -- to show, specifically, that I could do it, that I could logic and reason my way through all the shit and prove myself to be better than my jealousy. I don’t think that’s what’s going to end up happening. I think it’s no secret at this point that I don’t really love this whole poly thing. I am still actively choosing it, but not always for reasons that I endorse. What if I decided I didn’t want to do it anymore? Would I lose my husband? Would I lose my boyfriend? Could I ethically give up my relationship with my boyfriend to create monogamy with my husband? Could I ethically ask my husband not to go on dates while I still retain my relationship with my boyfriend? It’s all shit, really. None of it is a good outcome. And the pandemic has allowed me to stall my non-decisions for a year because it’s not like we can see other people anyway. And isn’t it great when some external force gives you a reprieve from the things you’re afraid of.

But while the pandemic has put my poly life on pause, it’s put my healing and growth around poly stuff on pause as well. Sure, it feels fucking great on the surface, but it’s not actual growth. I’m not forever in a place where I will feel secure. It’s going to end eventually (vaccinate me, babyyyyyyyy!!!), and the parties will start again, and the dates will start again, and my terrified introvert ass is afraid that everything collectively will swing in the opposite direction super hard. Free love! Casual sex everywhere! Everyone wants to hang out all the time! How could you possibly want to be alone at a time like this! And that fear extends beyond poly stuff and beyond just me and my husband - I’m not ready for the world to become a giant party. I don’t want that world. I don’t want to live in that world but I also don’t want to miss out on the collective bonding experience that is almost sure to come from the end of Covid. So the reprieve I’m feeling now is only surface level great because it’s a pause, not an end, and I don’t feel any more equipped to deal with my jealousy and my social anxiety and my feelings of not being good enough than I did at the beginning of this damn pandemic.

Part of me wishes I could “get over my shit”, and part of me wants to cling onto my shit and defend it. Like why am I the one who has to change, why am I the one who has to evolve, what’s wrong with feeling the way I feel? Why is this a “my shit” thing, like I’m alone and all my problems are caused by my own feelings? Why do other people NeEeEeEeEd to go on dates and have sex. Why does my husband need that. Why am I not good enough. Why is the problem that I feel jealousy and insecurity; why is the problem not that he feels [insert whatever he feels here. unsatisfied? no, that’s not it. incapable of being fully satisfied by a single person? that seems extreme. incapable of surrounding himself with platonic friendships in the way that comes so naturally to me and many of my women friends, and much more able to connect with people he is in a romantic/sexual relationship with, and so needs to create many romantic/sexual relationships to fill that void that otherwise would be filled with friendships - which is not actually something I believe about him, I think he could make really great friendships with the right tools, but is something he’s expressed to me and is also something that’s pretty common around people raised as men? is that too harsh?]

I’m trying to look for a good ending for this post, but, like an explanation for my feelings, I don’t think I’m going to find satisfaction here.

[chicago-reeed]

Detroit Evolution

So

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S  IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say  c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k  right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH  S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

[whumpsblog]

for another command, I want to see Connor allow Hanna to leave if she wants to and treat her like a normal person, but at the same time I want Hanna to not be able to leave as a command and watch her freak out that she can’t take the opportunity to leave like she wants to >:)

A prompt from @eatyourdamnpears. Man, talk about an emotionally brutal prompt! Thanks Carly for the continuing support and the wonderfull prompt! Please, keep ‘em comming! The events in this prompt DO NOT occurs in the actual plot.

Tag List: @bloodandbandages, @broken-horn, @eatyourdamnpears, @butwhatifyouwrite, @justplainwhump. If anyone wants to be added to the list or removed, contact me.

>> CW: panic attacks<<

Guards collected Hanna from her room and imediatly she assumed they were taking her to the basement for another . . . disciplinary session. She fought back, thrashing and kicking and biting and bucking, but their grasps on her arms held tight.

“Can you stop fighting us!” The guard protested. “Please! Just calm down! We’re not going to hurt you.”

Hanna refused and continued to fight back harder. With an anguished scream her hands started glowing. In truth it didn’t matter if they were taking her to the dungeon or not. Conner was more that willing to torture or humiluate her in any of the rooms in the mansion, be it the kitchen, living room, garden, or master bedroom. 

She could feel her hands as they glowed brighter and warmer, and as they did so the guards vocallize their concerns.

“Her hands!” Said the one guard panicked.

“I know! I see!”

“Can we knock her out?” 

“Conner said not to hurt her!”

‘He probably told them that beacause he wants me in prime torturing condition.’ She thinks to herself.

Behind her back she shoots a beam of light and hears the lound sound of shattering glass behind her. She releases another and this time, it’s followed by the sound of splintering wood and heavy falling objects. She keeps going. 

“SHE’S DESTROYING THE ROOM!"

“Just shut the hell up and do your job! We’re almost --”

Hanna releases a blast from her left hand and it catches the guard on her left in the stomach. He gets blasted away from Hanna, and she uses her free hand to blast away the guard on her right. It wasn’t her strongest attack, but it managed to push them both back about ten yards. It doen’t give her much time, but it would have to do.

She sends it down the hallway, not knowing where she’s going, but running none the less. At the end of the hall she gets to the elevator and once inside she punches the button with a “G”. Impatiently, she yells at the doors when they don’t close fast enough, and then blasts both of guards back again to ensure that their arms don’t prevent the doors from closing. The the doors finally close with a chime she hits the floor breathing hard and out of breath. On the other side of the elevator door the two guards can be heard yelling and pounding on the metal with their fists.

She sighs. She did it. She got away from the guards. Now all she had to do was get out of the elevator and run. She was fast and nimble and if she booked it to the woods she could probably disappear and find a town nearby. There had to be a town nearby, right? She shook her head. It didn’t matter if there was a town nearby or not. She would walk until she stumbled across something, and from there get situated. First thing on the list was food, then money, followed by proper cloths. Currently she wearing gym shorts and a white tank top. She’s illlprepared for the woods and she knows that she’s going to be spending the next couple days  cold, wet, covered in scratches, and hungery.

The elevator hits the ground level floor and she stops moving. She picks herself up off of the floor and when the doors open and she peaks outside cautiously. Apparently the “G” button didn’t stand for ground, but instead garage, because she finds herself standing in an empty three car garage. It was dead silent in the garage, and from the looks of it there weren’t any cameras either.

‘Change of plans. Steal a car and fuck walking in the woods.’ 

Hanna jumps into the blue Jaguar and inspects the steering colum. With most old cars one could rip open the steering column and expose the wires underneath. But newer cars posed a small challenge, and required screwdriver and some dismantling. She checked and found that she indeed needed a screwdriver. 

‘Shit.’ She hated wasting time but risking three minutes now could save her massivley in the long run. Jumping out of the car she starts searching the garage quickly and frantically for a flathead. She finds an old toolbox and digs though it loud enough and long enough to not notice the elevator as they open.  

Screwdriver in hadn Hanna turn and jumps when she sees Conner. She drops the screwdriver and it clangs to the ground, and she aims two glowing hands his way. So far every time Hanna attempted to escape Conner managed to stop her. But this time would be different. This time she was well rested, fed, and had plenty of light in the room to form several decent attack. 

Her hands start glowing and she drops to body defensivley. “You’re not going to stop me this time.” She growls. “My time here, is over.”

Conner frowns and though her desperatly wants to retort with some cheeky comment, he refrains. Instead, he extracts the keys to the blue Jauguar from his coat pocket and gives them a tight squeeze to steady his trembling rage. He looks down to the ground and closes his eyes. Everything his parents ever taught him goes against what he’s about to do.

With angry and forlon expression he averted gaze from Hanna and walks to the driver’s side of the car. He sticks the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

“The nearest town from here is south about fifty miles, so when you pull out of here take a left and keep going straight.” He stands up and watches her watching him with her glowing hands still raised. She didn’t trust him at all, and she was right to. He had held her against her will, humiluated her, tortured her, and starved her. And though he knew he couldn’t make up for his actions, he hoped giving her freedome would help offset some of his sin. “If you open up the engine you should be able to get there in twenty minutes, and from there its another two hours to the closest large city.”

He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. “This baby gets seventy miles to the gallon because its half electric, and it only takes about forty dollars to fill the tank. Here’s all of the cash I have on me. It’s not a lot but it should be enough for you to buy a one way plane ticket to anywhere within the states.” He places three hundred dollars in cash in the glove compartment and then walks to the front of the car. “I would give you my card but then I’ll have to report you for stealing it, and then the police will get involved. Which I’m assuming isn’t something you want.” 

Hanna watches and listens to him, but she can't seem to comprehend his actions and words. “What - what are you doing?” She asks.

His brown eyes meet hers and Hanna is startled by the pain and anger within them. “I’m helping you.” He says.

Hanna powers down and her arms drop to her sides. She’s still on guard, but she feels that his confession is genuine. A horrible feeling bubbles in her chest and stomach and she fights against it.

"You're free.” He continues. “Go. Find your friends. Get your family back. It's over. I’m letting you go." He hits a button on the side of the wall and the garage door behind the Jauguar rolls back loundly. 

She still doesn’t understand. ‘Her captor had bought her. He liked torturing her. So why in the world, after only a week of possessing her, was he letting her go.’ Hanna continues to stand there stunned. She’s never seen this part of him before and for some reason it’s making her. ‘Was this a trap?’

“Go!”

Hanna jumps like a startled dog being scolded, but instead of moving towards the vehicle, she takes a step away from it. The bubbling feeling in her belly builds, rises to her chest, and squeezes at her heart. The feeling is all to familular and she realizes with horror that she’s having a panic attack. Just like when she was a little girl and a prisoner at Syrtex.

‘But, why on earth was she panicking? This was it! This was her moment. She was so close! All she had to do was jump in the car and drive. So why was she panicking? What triggered her?’ She takes another step backwards and when she bumps into the toolbox it clanks loudly, which startles her even more.

“Hanna?” says Conner with concern in his voice.

Hanna laces her fingers behind her neck and tucks her head into her chest in a desperate attempt to calm herseld down. Closing her eyes, she tries to determine the trigger so that she can stop the attack.

“Hanna?” Conner slowly advances on Hanna and though he’s multiple feet away and not threatening her, she backs away. She breaths harder and harder, unable to draw air, and unable to calm her racing heart. Hanna wraps her arms around her head and slides down the face of the tool chest. Small whimpers escape through her weazy shaky breaths. 

Conner’s kneels before her alarmed and with wide brown eyes that are looking for her face. He’s never seen her like this before, not even during their disciplinary sessions. This side of her was completely new to him. “Hanna what is it?” He reaches out to rub her back. “What’s wrong?” His hand touches her and the physical contact causes Hanna to snap.

A sudden burst of light explodes outwards from Hanna’s core and the force it knocks Conner several feet backwards and onto his back. The lights in the room flicker as her rolls onto his side and looks up at her. He still has no idea whats going on.

With her head still pressed into her knees Hanna’s claws and pulls and her hair. Her whole body is glowing faintly and the sight is something Conner has never seen before.

“You need to get away from me.” she moans.

Conner doesn’t get any closer to Hanna, but he fixes himself so he’s sitting upright. “No. Hanna, I’m not -- ”

She cries and releases another surge of uncontrollable power. This one pushes  Conner, who had been kneeling infront of her, backwards again violently. On the ground he flips over so he’s on his stomach and looking up at Hanna.

She’s looking down at him with green teary eyes that are wide and terrified. “Please. Just. Go.” She begs with a broken voice.

The desperation in her voice convinces him to move back and give her more space. He moves to the elevator and remains sitting there patiently until it’s over, refusing to leave her alone in this condition. 

>>Master List for The Story of Hanna Light<<

[halaa-mua]

How do you think Yandere Markus Connor and Kara(if you can do all three, if not just Markus) would react to to their s/o tried to escape, under the assumption they had kidnapped them?

I had never done anything Yandere related, but to my surprise I really liked making this! You can always request some more Yandere stuff! :)

---

Yandere trio reacting to S/O trying to escape

Yandere Markus:

Posessive Type Yandere

He can't believe his eyes

he had just come home and as he was walking up the stairs to the front door you ran out from the backdoor. How was this possible? You didn't even noticed him.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Adrenaline started to flood in your system, It pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. It feels like your heart will explode. Your eyes became wide with fear. You wanted to run fast for the safety of the hills, but instead you remained where you stand. Let's face it, there is really only one thing I can do: Pray that he doesn't hurt you. 

Markus approached you furiously. He will teach you a lesson. Now he was right in front of you. You started to shake violently. He was pleased by the fact that you where scared. Now you won't disobey him.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you directly in front of his face. “You are going to regret this.” He grunted. You tried to scream, but the inside of your mouth lacked any moisture and a croak was all that issued from your  gape.

Markus started to drag you back inside. Luckily you didn't try to hesitate. You were now once again under his control. As you two walked to the house you started to whine all kinds of apologies and excuses. It started to piss him off.  

Now you and Markus were standing in front of the front door. He pulled his keys from his pocket and opened the door. As you were walking inside, he pushed you violently to the floor. You whimpered in pain. Markus slammed the door shut. Then it was eerily quiet. You watched him from the floor, meanwhile he was faced away from you. Minutes had passed, but he didn't move. You where too nervous to stand up, so you just had to wait for his next move.

Then Markus snapped. He started to scream from top of his lungs. He started to look violently around, like he was searching for something. Then his palms struck to the nearby chair. He gripped the sides beneath his hands with a thundering clasp. Consumed by anger, he launched the chair against the wall with a might grunt. The chair broke in half.

You couldn't breath, it felt as if someone was choking you. Your heart was racing and all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save you. But no one would, no one was here. A choked cry forced itself up from your throat as you felt a drop run down your cheek.

He was a ticking time bomb. Any provocation, no matter how small or insignificant and his temper would blow. 

After that, Markus stopped. When his breathing had become more steady, he turned around and looked straight in your soul.

“There's only one way you can escape from me. In a bodybag.”

Yandere Connor:

Obsessive Type Yandere

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He has never seen something like this even in his worst nightmares. But that was only because his brain always woke him up before such a horrific image would cross his mind. 

Connor had decided to leave work earlier so he could surprise you. He had brought you some of your favourite chocolates and flowers. He had imagined how happy you would become and how you would hug him and how you would just show him that you loved and cared for him.

but he was so wrong

His eyes were wide from the shock. The flowers and chocolates, fell on the floor. There you where trying to escape trough the window. Your other leg outside on the rooftop and other one in the bedroom. You didn't even noticed him as he stands in the doorway.

“darling?” 

Connor saw how you froze from the fear. You slowly turned your head and looked him over your shoulder. Terrified was written all over your face.

He was so heartbroken. He thought that you loved him. It was already hard enough to learn understand his emotions. Now a storm of emotions rushed trough him and he hated how it felt.  

“Connor I- umm I know this looks bad but listen-”

“There is nothing that you can say. You can't change the fact that how hurt I am right now.”

It was so frustrating. After all he had done for you. He would die for you, sacrifice himself for you. He would do anything for you. Other people don't even appreciate you as much as he does. No one would love you the same way as he does. Why can't you see that?

“You must be wondering why I came home so early. I left work earlier because I wanted to surprise you. I even bought you some flowers and your favourite chocolate because I knew you would have been really happy about it. But here you are, escaping. That breaks my heart.” Connor said with a shivering breath. 

“I love you so much. I have done so many things to show it to you.. I only wanted to make you happy.. and protect you.. and love you. So why... WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME?!?” He yelled. Connor saw how you jumped because of his scream. It made him even more angry. Are you scared?Are you afraid of him?

Connor flounced towards you and grabbed your hand really tight. He started to squish your arm to the point it started to feel like your bones where going to shatter. Then he threw you back inside to the bedroom floor. You whimpered in pain. 

He threw himself on you after that and pinned you down so you couldn't move. You started to breath shallowly. You could see how Connors brown eyes flashed with anger. There was nothing you could do now.

”Dont you want me? Oh honey, I will make you want me!”

Yandere Kara: 

Manipulative Type Yandere

she can't believe it

Kara had just come home from the grocery shopping and she sees this. She sees her beloved trying to pick the backdoors lock up. 

“S/o, what are you doing?“

She sees how your whole body became tense and how you where just so terrified. You tried to say something to her but nothing comes out. Words left you as you stared into those blue eyes burning with pure anger. “Answer me!” She roared. But you couldn’t move your lips. Your mind was blank and with wide eyes you stared at Kara in horror. 

“ I- um Kara, let me explain I-”

She felt devastated 

“Don't you see that I'm doing this for us? I’ve dedicated myself to you! It would be fair that you do the same.” 

Kara had his head held down, hair covering her face. She clenched her hands into fists right beside her. Kara started to shake. Only thing that was heard was your shaky breathing. 

Then Kara looked up to you. Tears streamed down her face.

“You get angry because of the things I do, but don't you see?! You're the one who made me obsessed! Its all your fault!” 

Kara started to walk towards you. Every step she took forward to you, you took a step back away from her. And another step and another step. Then to your horror you noticed that your back was pressed againts the wall. Kara had you cornerd up. You breathed in and out but it felt like air wouldn't enter in your lungs. Starved for air, your heart started to race at tremendous speed, and your lungs shallowly rose and fell in time. You were so scared. What she was going to do to you?

Then Kara leaned towards your ear. You felt how her hot breathing touched your neck. 

“If you ever try to do that again, I will kill someone. It could be me, you or someone you really care about. If I were you I wouldn't take that risk.” She whispered to you. 

In the grip of silent panic you dropped yourself on the floor. Kara watched as you started to hug your legs with your hands and how you stared to rock yourself from side to side. Then you started to cry. It felt like your brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of your every pore. From your mouth came a raw cry.

Then Kara kneeled down to your level. Then she smiled a smile so sick that it made your stomach twist.

“I won't be as nice next time when you misbehave.”

[moonlightjinko-kun]

Saviour (Q Fic)

Done for @kyusakuyumenoprotectionsquad Q’s debut commemoration event! 

Rating: Trigger warning for depictions of violence and verbal abuse (idk what is everyone’s tolerance level for this but please be warned!)

Genre: Angst/ sort of good ending (?) (again idk what to put for this)

Words: 3300++ words 

Summary: Q gets rescued by the ADA after the events of the Guild abduction. Upon saving them and having made sure that they was alright and for the safety of the ADA as well as for everyone else, the ADA found a safe location to temporarily hide them away. Not before Q decides to break out. 

Read it on AO3! 

A/N 1: This is something headcanon-ish I had for Yumeno for a while, and also I just wanted to portray Yumeno being able to be their own badass and being able to fight for themself. This is another warning that this work contains depictions of violence (towards Yumeno and Yumeno showing it) and also verbal abuse towards Yumeno, if you are uncomfortable with any of such depictions, please absolutely scroll past this post. Also, would like to caution about one of the guards using the wrong pronouns for Yumeno, because I felt it would fit the guard’s personality more. 

My eyelids fluttered open slowly, greeted by the darkness that enclosed me within. A metal door fitted with a tiny window was in my line of sight. Nng… this isn't Mori-san's door… it isn’t Dazai-san’s place too… A feeble streak of moonlight shone through a window high up on the wall behind. To the left of the window, the silhouette of a simple desk was discernible with the help of the moonlight. I turned my head a little, towards the far left corner. A dark shape resembling a toilet came into view. Confusion flickered in my eyes as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Where am I… now?  Questions flooded my mind as I pushed myself to a sitting position. I leaned against the metal bedpost, and darted my eyes around nervously, trying to find answers to the tide of questions in my mind. My gaze lingered at the door and I slowly formulated a plan to get some answers. I stood slowly, legs wobbly, and held the bedpost for support. With my arms outstretched, the right sleeve slid up my arm slightly and a flash of white caught my attention. A scream tore from my throat when I realised what was covering my arms.

                                                                                          ****

Clong clong. The harsh knock on the dull metallic door resounded throughout the corridor. 

                                                                                          ****

With what little strength regained in my legs, I scrambled to the door and pounded back. Curses spewed out of my mouth, the anger at them removing my doll and razor blades that had flared inside me being directed out.

A pair of dark pupils loomed in front of me, looking down through the tiny window. Ignoring the pain shooting through my arm from the fist and encouraged by the audience outside, I pounded even harder. 

Klik!

Before I had time to react, the door slammed into my face, knocking me over. Droplets of blood trickled from my broken nose, staining my white gown. I hurriedly wiped my nose on the right sleeve of the gown while retreating further in. He stepped into the room, an enormously built man with a square face and dark eyes. Lifting me up easily with one hand, he tossed me back to the bed like a rag doll. The thin mattress did little to cushion the impact, and pain grew in my lower back. A sharp cry of pain escaped me, inciting a harsh laugh from him. I curled up into a fetal position, tuning him out, as I felt the pain searing through my body. If only I had my doll, if only… The pile of bodies that my doll would bring, the hurt that this man would feel, the pain that he would cause… A crooked smile twisted my lips at the images of destruction flashing through my mind. The shut of the door snapped my attention back and I stared around, hoping that he had thrown my doll in. Of course, he wouldn’t. A small sigh escaped me at the realisation.

The soreness in my body stung. Bitter hatred coursed through me with each stab of pain I felt as I moved. The thin blanket I had pulled over myself was barely keeping me warm, as the cold night dragged on. I let out a soft whimper as tears rolled down my cheeks. Tired and aching all over, my eyes started to droop close, and I finally gave in to a dreamless sleep.

I need to get out of here. 

                                                                        

I stirred at the sharp knock at the door. The bright rays streaming through the window landed on my face, waking me up. Instinctively, I raised my hand to shield from the glaring sun. The door was pushed open and the guard from last night walked in, carrying a food tray. He set it on the table and without a glance at me, headed out of the room. Spurred by my hunger and curiosity, I found myself hoping for a decent meal and crossed the short distance to the table. I narrowed my eyes in dislike at the pathetic meal served – rice, soup and a tiny portion of vegetables. I took a sip of the soup. It was cold and disgustingly bland. Eww, this is... gross.  I crossed the short distance back to the bed and sat, staring at the door.

The door opened after sometime. A wave of revulsion washed through me at the sight of the ugly smile plastered on his face. He walked to the table and picked up my barely touched tray. He stopped right in front of me, putting his face inches from mine. “Ho, starve to death then.” His breath stank of stale cigarettes, the foul smell choked me. I stared back and saw the same hatred in my eyes reflected in his. “Starve, you –“ I jumped and flipped the entire tray, spilling its content on him.

Adrenaline surged through my system. I leaped out of bed and squeezed past him, reaching the door. I reached my hand out, the handle almost in my grasp, when I felt a hard blow to the back of my skull, knocking me to the ground. Blood trickled from a scalp laceration, my head throbbed with pain from the impact. A weak groan rose from me, as I tried to push myself up. The next moment, an ear-rending scream of pain reverberated in the room. My scream.

“ – dup, shaddup – “ The rest of his words were drowned out by my screams of pain. “- fucking brat!”

Without warning, another sound of bone crushing sounded. This time louder and from my left. My eyes darted to the left, and a monstrous scream wrenched from me at the horror before my eyes. Two of my digits were horribly splayed to the left at an unimaginable angle. Tears slid down my cheeks at the unimaginable pain. The large man pressed down on me and covered my mouth with his thick, callused hand. My shouts were reduced to mere groans.

The door was thrown open again and two new guards ran in. “Andou, Yamamoto! Tie him down!”

I felt the weight shift, before I was pulled up and dragged limply to the bed. The large man stood by the bed, arms crossed, his face twisted with anger. Shouts tore from my throat at the impending horror that would befall me. The thicker one of the pair pinned me down while the other quickly secured a white strip of cloth over my mouth. With the makeshift gag in place, only groans issued from me. I kicked out in anger and frustration. “Andou, tie his legs first. Yamamoto, push down harder on the legs,” barked the large man. My legs were pushed close together. Yamamoto, following the large man’s directions, almost broke my legs with the enormous strength exerted on them. I felt the coarse cloth on my ankles, as it was wrapped around them. I felt a quiver of hesitation before the rope was pulled tight. My eyes met those of the guard who had bounded my ankles and I saw a flicker of unease in them.

“Andou, ball his hands up.”

My eyes widened with shock and horror. I looked at Andou, a silent plea shining in my eyes. Andou shot a quick glance at my damaged hands, and uttered, “Okamoto-san… I…” Okamoto held up his hand and fixed him with a menacing glare, silencing him.

“Hurry.” Okamoto barked.

Andou placed his hand gently atop mine. His hand was quivering and his gaze was on my broken fingers. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling with hesitance and uncertainty. “Okamoto-san, this isn’t right. We can’t do this.”

A tense silence followed as Okamoto glared at them.

“Andou. Get out.” Rage exploded behind Okamoto’s eyes. Cowered, Andou dropped his hands and dashed out like a dog with its tail between its legs. Okamoto crossed my arms together in front of my chest and held them down. “Yamamoto, get the thick ropes.” The force on my legs lifted for a second before it was replaced by Okamoto. A moment of silence settled between them before the clang of the door broke it. Okamoto picked up the cloth and touched my hands. Madness gleamed from his eyes, a wicked smile twisting his face.

“Ah, you fucking brat.” The smile on his face widened. “God has finally delivered you to me. 9 years. I’ve waited for 9 fucking years.” A muffled shout escaped my lips. “Shhhhh, no one’s coming. An unloved brat like you deserves to rot in here. Fucks like you always do.” I could feel another bout of tears coming. “Trash like you should have never been born.” Fresh tears flowed at the touch of his hand on mine, as I knew what was to come. “For my son.” I felt the crush in my right hand. Black spots flared across my vision, and darkness came.

                                                                                          ****

The constant pain in my fingers woke me up. How long…? I could feel a tight compression upon me and I realised that I was tied down to the bed. I couldn’t feel any trickle of blood from my scalp. I wondered if the bleeding had stopped. Would I die? Why isn’t anyone from Port Mafia coming? How do I get out? The endless list of unanswered questions swarmed through my brain. I need to get out, I hate this place. I hate it, hate hate hate hate hate hate hate it, I hate it so much. I started to think, fighting the building pain in my head. There was only one way, one weak link. I forced myself to think and perfect the plan, through the pain pounding in my head. My lips twisted into a small smile at the plan I had formulated, knowing that it would put the people who had hurt me here into an unstoppable, burning hell.

The pain in my head peaked, escalating the hatred and anger I had felt with the words of the large man. The image of the blonde who had me bound surfaced and the hatred I felt intensified. No no no no no no, I… I… I am… Tears streamed down my cheeks. Everyone who had abandoned me, who had hurt me, who had not love me, I will drag you down to hell myself. But I don’t want to be unloved anymore. I just want …  I want it too. I carried the thought into my sleep, hoping to seek comfort in my dreams.

I want to be loved too.

                                                                          

“- keep the kid asleep –“ A flash of white. “- not gonna –“ A streak of black. “ – out, every – “ A pair of yellow wings. Darkness enveloped me yet again.

                                                                                          ****

I stirred at the thud of the door. I rubbed my eyes wearily and stared at the door, trying to make out the figure. A… woman…? “You’re finally awake.” Finally? How long had I slept?

The staccato clicks of the heeled shoes echoed off the floor as she made her way closer, her eyes fixed on me. My gaze flickered over her face before settling on the gold hairpin on her hair. Butterfly not just wings. It was her.  

“Are you feeling better?” She sounded different from then, softer and warmer now. I gave a small nod. “Can you eat?” My stomach growled then, drawing a small chuckle from her. “The food’s coming, wait a little.”

She crossed over to the table and sat, her eyes once again riveted on me. I stared back, while the gears in my mind churned out questions. My head tilted a little to the right as my brain worked at the questions.

“Do you have something you want to ask?”

My head shifted back at her words. I drew in a deep breath and voiced the biggest question that had been lingering in my mind since I first woke. “Where am I?”

Her face remained expressionless while she took a moment. “A cell.” My eyes rolled upwards instinctively. A tinge of annoyance flashed in her eyes and a sigh followed. “A cell in a medical institution.” Shock flitted through me even though I had expected the answer. I wanted to probe further at the location but she had turned her head to the door. A moment of silence settled in the small cell.

“Um,” I started again, breaking the silence and gaining her attention back, “how long has –“

The click of the door brought her to her feet. I turned to look at the door and saw the guard from the other night walking in, his hands leaden with a meal tray. His mouth was open, ready to speak, when the woman waved him off and pointed to the table instead. He nodded his understanding. Drawn by the sight of the brightly coloured dishes, my eyes tracked them as they were carried to the table. I watched as he set the dishes down, the smell of the food filling the air in the tiny cell. My mouth started to water as I waited for the small table to be filled.

With the table filled, the guard sunk into a bow, greeting the woman. “Sensei, you need to go. Your colleague’s been waiting at the gate for a while.”

“Thank you, Andou-san.”

He returned another bow. The woman turned and walked back towards the door, the click-clacks of her heels ringing in the cell. I climbed down the bed and shuffled towards the table. The guard, Andou, shifted away from the table, following silently behind the woman. The click-clacks paused for a moment, and the click of the door resounded in the quietness of the cell. Then, she spoke again.

“Four days. That’s how long you’ve been here.”  I turned my head back in surprise at her. A twinge of what seemed like sadness crossed her face. My mouth dropped open, ready for me to put my gratitude into words. But, my throat tightened into a knot, trapping the words at my throat. I closed my mouth and just stared at them. The clicks of the heels resumed seconds later. Once out of the cell, Andou pulled the door shut behind him.

I stood frozen for another second before moving over to the table. I sat myself down and took in the spread before me. Rice porridge, miso soup, pickled radish, grilled mackerel, egg roll and sautéed vegetables. I pushed the vegetables away and pulled the egg roll closer to me. That revealed a piece of paper. I picked it up and read it. Now, this is interesting, but it can wait. I put the note aside and pulled the bowl of rice porridge towards me. I took a spoon of rice porridge and let its warmth spread in my mouth before putting a piece of egg roll in. The egg roll was soft and sweet. A satisfied smile formed upon my lips as I ate. Happiness flooded through me with each mouthful I take.

                                                                                            ****

I sat on the bed, knees to my chest, my hands clutching tightly at the tray hidden under my blanket. The note had already been torn into shreds and mixed in with the vegetables, and I hope no one would dig into it and find it. Success is near, I can’t fail now. I was done waiting for people to save me. I’d waited and waited for so long in the previous facility, but no one came. So now, I will save myself. Determination built in me, lending me strength to finish this.

The click of the door heightened my senses and I waited with bated breath, hoping that the guard who would step in would be the one I was waiting for. Adrenaline coursed through my system and I shifted my right leg slightly forward. The door was pushed open and he stepped in. Andou.

His gaze flickered over to me, knees drawn up tight against my chest and an innocent expression on my face. His tough demeanour cracked a little and sympathy flitted across his face. He turned to the table and stood with his back to me for a moment, before tilting his head to his right.

“Hey, the tray –“

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the dull clang of the metal tray on his head. The blow was enough to confuse him, and he staggered a few steps to his side with his hands clutching his head. I kicked out several times at his knees with increasing force and finally his knees weakened. Andou sunk to the floor with a pained groan. I leaped off the bed and smashed the tray over his head again and again until he had fainted. I sat to the side, breathing hard. My fingers relaxed and the metal tray fell to my side with a loud clang. Its once shiny surface was now spattered with blood. The realisation of what I had done sending waves of shock through me, but I had no time to stay shell-shocked. I took a deep breath and reached over to Andou, trying to ignore the stream of blood that was flowing from a laceration on his skull as I searched his pockets for any keys or cards that would get me out. Finding both, I took them. I stood up slowly and was about to walk towards the door when I heard it. 

BAM BAM BAM. The loud knock on the door resounded in the small cell, stopping me in my tracks. Surprise overwhelmed my shock and I stood rooted to the ground by the bed. Shit shit shit shit shit!

“Oi Andou, get to the main building once you’re done! Emergency there!”

I looked towards the door, my gaze meeting that of the man across the small window. He banged on the day once more, a cruel smile twisting his face. “Sit down, kid, or I’ll smack ya til ya cry later!” He banged on the door again before he left.

I listened and waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade into the silence. I stood on my tiptoes and peeked through the window. The corridor outside was empty. I put the key in and turned, hearing a click. I pulled the door open and stepped through into the empty corridor.

The lights in the brightly lit corridor blinded me momentarily as my eyes adjusted from the dimness of my cell. I looked to both ends of the corridor and saw the bright green ‘exit’ sign atop the steel doors to my right. I ran towards it and swiped the card at the reader beside the door. The reader blipped green and swung open.

A soft breeze flowed toward me, lifting my hair. I sucked in deep breaths of the sweet night air, I was almost out of this place. I just need to find a way back to the streets now! I ran towards the left, away from the cluster of buildings. I saw a thick plume of black smoke rising into the sky from the direction I had come from. An orange fireball was engulfing one of the buildings, and it was quickly spreading to the neighbouring buildings. The fire was lighting up the area, and I could see a small side gate a short distance away. I ran towards it, and swiped the card at the reader. It blipped green again and there was a click. The card slipped out of my hand as I pushed the gate open. I took a tentative step forward before running towards the forest which bordered the facility.

                                                                                          ****

A soft hum filled the air around me as I walked down the empty streets, dressed in nothing but a blood-stained white gown. My hair was disheveled from running through the forest, and the twigs had snagged at parts of my sleeve, leaving tiny holes. It’s fine, I look kind of cool with it. A bright smile lit up my face as I stared at the moon shining above with the stars twinkling. It was the most beautiful night I’d seen in a while.

I was my own saviour.

A/N 2: I hope this was enjoyable (?) I kept working on this on and off because of the angst and pain. Please do let me know any comments that y’all have after reading it. This is based on my take of Yumeno as a character and I admit that there might be differences in how everyone sees them, but it’s also based on what I really wanna see from them. If I screw up the formatting on tumblr, I’m sorry but it would probably get fixed on AO3. Thank you as always for reading to the end!  

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 6--Magic and Memory

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo remembers his last night at home. He and Demyx discuss their pasts, and what their relationship might mean.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo dreamt again about that night.

It had once been vague in his memory, cauterized, but as he grew older, the magic revealed it to him, bit by bit.

The beautiful castle in Radiant Garden, Father. He’d just barely fallen asleep on a night like this one, one full of moonlight, to Father’s soothing voice reading stories. He woke suddenly to a tang of magic aching within his own, and a different stink, a stink of smoke--

“Ienzo! Ienzo!” Even grasping at him, hauling up, but he was eight now, just a little bit too big to be easily carried--Even managed it anyway, stumbling.

“What happened?” he asked, gazed. “It smells like--”

A deafening bang. “There they go! It’s him! He’s got the girl!”

Even ran harder, sending out as harsh a wave of magic as he dared, but it weakened him--Ienzo reached out to lend him his energy, his strength. “Thank you, child,” he muttered. “It’s not much farther--” He squeezed Ienzo so hard it was difficult to breathe.

Aeleus’s voice. “Even?”

“We have to go now, Aeleus, that fool is here and she has reinforcements. ”

“I know. The whole west wing is up in flame. Broke through our wards--there must’ve been a rat.”

“The west--but Ansem--did he--”

“It doesn’t matter. You and Ienzo have to go .”

“What about you?”

“It is my duty to get you out safe--nothing more.”

“What of Dilan? Where’s he?”

“Enough questions-- go .” Aeleus pressed a rough kiss to Ienzo’s head. “Get him out safe--that’s what matters.”

Even ran, and ran, through basement pathways--eventually he set Ienzo down, and they ran together, breathless, clutching stitches, the smell of smoke getting worse and worse--

A smooth, gravelly, deep voice. “There you are.”

Even threw an arm in front of him. “Xemnas? We have to get out of here, that fool Maleficent is--” Then, “the… wards. You--why?”

“Even, you know as well as I do that this system isn’t working. This… oligarchy. People are dying, starving in the streets--you’ve no idea the hell Ansem has wrought over this land.”

“You swore an oath.” He scooped Ienzo up again. “Now let me through.”

“Else?” The smell of smoke grew thicker, then Ienzo realized… it wasn’t just smoke. Thick, dark creatures emerged from the shadows. “Give me the princess, Even. I promise no harm will come to her.”

“Why should I believe another word coming from your filthy mouth? Ansem… he loved you, Xemnas, and you-- betrayed us. Why?”

“Give me the princess.”

Ienzo saw the creatures, their hungry gold eyes, their long sharp claws… he started to pull at his magic, remembering what Merlin had taught him.

“My father has big plans for her.”

“I will kill her myself before I allow him to lay one finger on her. That fool. You were supposed to be different. You said you were, and Ansem believed you--"

Ienzo felt the coldness of a shard of ice against his throat.

“You’re bluffing.”

Even pressed the blade against him a little harder.

The man tapped his long fingers together.

“Better she die quickly than live a life suffering in the darkness.” Even leaned in. “Now, child,” he hissed.

Ienzo screamed and threw the magic with all his might, pulling from places deep within himself he’d always been encouraged to keep hidden, to keep under control. The magic exploded from him, piercing all of the Heartless, striking Xemnas in the chest--

Pain budded in his eyes, growing stronger and stronger as he cut through more Heartless.

“Enough, child, that’s enough--”

The pain peaked.

“You have to stop .”

Everything was going dark, agony exploding from his right eye. “I can’t.”

“You can. You can. Listen to me. Child. Breathe, rein it in. We’ve got him. We’ve--” A strangled noise, and Even disappeared from view, and Xemnas’s hands were wrapped around his throat--

Ienzo screamed and released more magic, and everything abruptly went dark.

---

He always hated that dream. His eyes were damp as he woke, slowly treading consciousness. He sat up and touched his right eye.

Xemnas had betrayed them at his father Xehanort's request, revealing all their weaknesses to the sorceress Maleficent, spilled darkness like ink all over Radiant Garden. They'd been running ever since. All the easier for Xehanort to slip in, to instill control… and Ansem's grip on the rest of the city-states collapsed completely. How on earth was a resistance going to be able to counter that? Then Maleficent ended up “mysteriously” dead, and Ienzo… was half blind. It remained a permanent warning of what would happen to him if he used too much magic. The energy alone will shred you, Even had told him. Literally.  

It was ludicrously early, but he got up anyway, dressing slowly, his skin still so sensitive, achy, almost.

Zo! Good morning! Busy later?

Demyx.

Ienzo never thought he'd have come out of this with a… what, exactly? Boyfriend? Mate? Partner?

Even said there were ways to break this bond. But why should he? He'd never had anything to himself before, and besides, if Demyx could jam him, all the safer. But true… they may have made out for hours yesterday, but they barely knew each other.

He could fix that. Reveal his… truths.

Ienzo exhaled. One thing at a time.

---

He went to class. Eraqus's junior-level industrial/organizational psychology class was interesting, and then there was the class Demyx TA'ed. He hadn't been able to test out of art credits, and found himself glad. He wondered… this was all magic. He hadn't consciously chosen Demyx. Would he have, if he could? He'd never been allowed choices. Was it the magic suddenly finding attractiveness in those features, or his own budding sexuality? Did he have free will at all?

(Thinking of the electricity of that kiss, did it matter? Clearly his magic and body both thought they were things worth seeking.)

Ienzo suddenly wished dearly he had a friend to talk to about all this. All he had were Aeleus and Even; the former had been pulled away by his work, and the latter had been too enraged to speak to him this morning.

Ienzo wished for his father, thought of another sort of coming out--he'd only been seven or so, but knew it was truth down into the core of his being. Going to Ansem in his study. Asking him why he was a girl, receiving a lecture about biology, then stating point blank--"what if I were a boy?" Ansem had been confused, but then, "do you think you are?" And when he said yes, all Ansem did was smooth the dress Even had stuffed him in and say, "then we'd best get you more suitable clothing." It took more time for everyone to get used to calling him the proper pronouns, and even then, they kept the truth of his gender within the inner circle, to wait until he was older. Hence… Xehanort never knowing.

He thought of this as Demyx rounded him up after class, his expression so soft as he looked at Ienzo. "You ready?"

"Quite."

They made their way towards town. "Can I… hold your hand?" Demyx asked. "Or…"

"Perhaps… not just yet."

"Okay," he said, clearly disappointed. "So… Riku's got class then work until like 8, is my place okay? It's still warded and stuff."

Did Demyx think there would be more kissing? (Ienzo cursed the fact that the idea excited him.) "...Alright."

He smiled. "Great."

The inside of the small apartment smelled like garlic. “Ah--sorry,” Demyx said quickly. “I was cooking yesterday and I completely forgot--”

“You like to cook?”

“Yeah, I’m told I’m not half bad at it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nice to--be good at something objective. Which music so totally isn’t. I’d offer you some of what I made, but… Riku demolished it all after he went to the gym.” A shrug.

“Are you two actually friends, or is it merely an arrangement that works?”

Demyx snorted. He pulled a bottle of juice out of the fridge. “Well--yes, and yes. Want some? I made it myself.”

“...Sure.” He was given a glass of something pinkish and cloudy. They sat on that same horrible couch. “I need to… know more about you. All of this is making me wonder--”

“If we even have free will?” Demyx winced. “Yeah. It’s, uh, a conundrum.”

“You’ve known about this bond longer than I--is it… genuine? That is to say--” He had no idea how to put any of this.

“I’ve tried dating,” Demyx said. “Like, not to be a slut or anything, but I’ve dated a bunch of people, of all different genders. And it was fun, and nice, and sometimes I even liked them a whole lot, maybe loved them a little. All I know… this feels a lot… more intense than that.” He bit his lip.

“But this bond. Is it… merely lust and infatuation, and that encourages more stable bonding? Or--”

Demyx let out a long breath. “My parents had this kind of relationship. But the long and short of it is… yeah. If we really… go through with it… if we… choose it, then… it’s kind of a forever thing.”

“What do you want?” Ienzo asked.

“I want… I want to be happy. And I think… this could help.” He swallowed.

Ienzo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “There are a few things you have to know about me, then,” he said quietly.

“Like what?”

“Firstly… I’m transgender.” The word felt odd in his mouth.

Demyx shrugged. “Okay. No big deal. I’ve been with--” Ienzo heard him catch himself. “It doesn’t bother me, or anything. Why would it?”

His flushed worsened, and so did his anxiety. “So… I was once a girl. And my name… it was--”

Demyx raised a hand. “I don’t need to know your deadname.”

He felt his eyes watering. “In this case it is important.” He tried to slow his breaths. “It was _____.”

Demyx blinked. Then he looked at Ienzo, really looked at him. “As in…” He sputtered. “ Princess _____? You’re--”

“The prince. Yes.”

There was just a moment of shocked silence. “Holy shit ,” he said. “I mean--I’m sorry--ah--your highness--”

Ienzo scowled. “No. None of that bullshit.” He exhaled. “I came here to try and have a normal life… while the resistance… tries to rally itself against Xehanort. To stay alive. ”

Demyx went pale. “I kissed a prince. God, that is probably so--”

Ienzo exhaled. “For the record… I did like it. But-- you won’t--”

“Tell anyone? I’m not a fucking narc. I just can’t believe--everyone thought that the… sorry, princess, is dead and shit.”

“...Precisely. My transition is part of why I’m still alive.”

Demyx tried to gather himself. “Ienzo. Listen, my… people, or whatever, have been hunted for fucking ever. I’m not going to turn you over--to anyone.”

He believed it. “That is… a comfort.”

Demyx touched his cheek. “Is that why I’m so drawn to you? Because you’re uber powerful?”

“Quite possibly,” Ienzo said. “Though… I feel it, too. For you to be able to block me… your power isn’t insignificant.”

“So what do we do?”

“I need to know more about seekers. ...And Riku. Whatever you know about your people. We can… see how this might be of use, to the resistance, or ourselves.”

“Otherwise?”

“Otherwise…” Ienzo trailed off. “I want to… explore this further.”

“Right,” Demyx said softly. He leaned in and kissed him, and like the kisses before it seemed to wake up Ienzo’s whole being. He couldn’t help but respond, already feeling a gathering warmth in his belly. He felt Demyx’s tongue against his lips and let it in, for a moment fascinated by the strange texture of it before Demyx was making him feel things he didn’t think it was possible to feel, making him feel so utterly… turned on, aware suddenly he was sweating. All of him screamed I want. Demyx’s hands wandered over him, exploring slowly, as if to savor it, and he was eased back onto the couch. Feeling their bodies pressed together--Demyx’s hand slid down between his legs--

“No,” he said softly. “No. Not yet.”

Demyx pulled away. “I’m sorry, I… it just kind of happened--I should've asked--”

“It’s okay.” He sat up and neatened himself. His body screamed at him for refusing the touch. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“You’ve never… done anything?”

“No. When would I have?”

Demyx shrugged. “We should probably try to… wait,” he said. “On anything, anything.”

“Until we know each other better? That’s a good point.”

“Because…” He whistled a little. “I mean. Sex kind of seals the deal. You know?”

“Consummation?”

“When you put it like that.” He wrinkled his nose. “Once you… start having actual feelings , and then act on them, it--gets messy.”

“...This is more complicated than I thought.”

“Tell me about it.” He drummed his fingers on his knees. “Tell me about you,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

Ienzo hesitated. He wanted to trust Demyx so badly. But yet… “What is there to tell,” he murmured. He sighed.

“Not the… royal stuff. You . What you like to do.”

Ienzo blinked. “We kind of touched upon this before. But I… like to read. I like to learn. I used to… write, once upon a time, very bad poetry. Growing up like me often made me… quite angsty.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wrote about it--thankfully it’s all long gone. But I don’t need to write, the way I assume you need to create. If I read or learned, I could pretend… my isolation was voluntary.” He flushed. “And this all sounds rather pathetic.”

“Not pathetic , but it does suck.” His eyes were so pitying. “You never… had any friends, or anything?”

“None that lasted--aside from my guardians. Though it seems you are something of a social butterfly.”

Demyx shrugged. “Kinda comes with the territory,” he muttered. “I don’t, like, try to charm people. Or enchant them, or whatever. But like fucking everything I do, it’s not conscious. It just makes me wonder--” He scoffed. “How many of my friends really like me, or are drawn to me because of what I am?”

“I have the opposite problem,” Ienzo said, with a smile. “People hate me because of what I am.”

Demyx smiled too. “It… doesn’t exactly do wonders for my self-esteem. I wish I could turn it off. Part of me… almost has this fundamental fear that I’m unlovable, and the magic just convinces people otherwise.”

Ienzo blinked. “Surprising, then, that you’d consider a pairbond.”

He fiddled with the pendant. “I… know,” he said. “It makes no sense. It’s part of me. Part of my kind. That’s even harder to resist. So I just tell myself it’s a choice. And it is.”

There was a moment where Ienzo was unsure of what to say. “So what is your kind?”

Demyx held the pendant up to the light. “Seeker is kind of a… misnomer, I guess you could say? The language is actually so fucking old. When we were first were created , or whatever, we were apparently put here to… protect.”

Ienzo had a feeling he already knew. “Protect what?”

“Whatever we consider to be important, I guess,” Demyx murmured. “That where everything gets weird. In the myths… nobody told us what our purpose was. So we just draw in everything until we… find that something.” He exhaled. “I wish I were just human. I really do.”

“You and me both. My kind apparently served as a liaison between the gods and man, hence my magic. But I can’t hear them the way I can hear the earth. Who knows if this is all just stories?” He shook his head. “What if it’s all something we made up to give ourselves clarity? And people are dying for such stories ?”

“Who knows,” Demyx said softly.

“So your parents were also seekers. And you haven’t heard from them since the islands fell?”

“Since I washed up on the beach,” he said casually. “But that was before that. I was hoping to find them. Considering what I am… actually finding people isn’t that easy. Maybe they’re dead. I don’t know. Almost makes me glad my memories are like swiss cheese. This stupid necklace is all I have from my past.”

“They… are? Your memories?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

Ienzo put a hand under his chin. “Do you think perhaps someone… or something… deliberately cut off access to your other form, and manipulated where you ended up?”

He blew a raspberry. “I mean I guess.”

“Can I see it?” Ienzo asked. “The pendant?”

“Uh… sure.” Demyx leaned forward so Ienzo could touch it. It felt like glass, smooth and warm. Again, that rune. Ienzo was suddenly sure he’d seen it before… but where ?

“Could I… study it?” he asked.

Demyx furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve never taken it off.”

“Nothing ill will come of you if you do, right?”

“I don’t think so, but--”

“Maybe I can help you find your memory. My guardian… knows a lot about such magic. Is that something you would want?”

Demyx held it in his palm. “You think this thing could be holding the memory back? Or--”

“I don’t know.”

After a long moment, Demyx reached up and pulled the necklace over his head. He still hesitated before he handed it to Ienzo. “Don’t lose it,” he said, almost desperately.

“I promise I won’t.” He considered it. The necklace was still glowing, though a bit less so than before. “Do you feel any different?”

Demyx shook his head.

“Let me know if you do at once.” He slipped it into his pocket; it still remained warm. “I’ll look into this right away.”

“Do you think it’ll help?”

“I hope it will.”

[harrieatthemet]

what about harry thinking you're cheating on him because he's been going to the studio more often and having more meetings and you're being suspicious and one night, he hears you talking on the phone with someone like "yeah, he has no clue" and that sets him off and you guys get into a fight and you end up telling him you were planning a surprise party to celebrate his new album

I tweaked it a bit, BUT SAME PLOT. BON APP THE FEET Y’ALL.

He doesn’t like secrets.

Who fucking does? Really he hates them. He hates being left out, excluded. Being out of the loop is such a sore spot for him and it just, makes him twitch with curiosity. And more times than not his mind wanders, usually ending up at the worst case scenario, because nobody clues him and his thoughts are his worst enemy. 

What are you keeping from him? He’s onto you, now. Somethings off, he can feel it, even when you’re gone and out of the house, somethings off. 

He wakes up, and the bed is cold. Stiff, almost. And each time his eyes peel open, your pillow has morphed back to it’s usual size, and the fact that there’s no indent from from your head tells him you’ve left a while ago.

Where are you creeping off to? You’re not even downstairs, there’s no noise in this house aside from the purring of the fridge and irritating tick of the clock in the hallway just outside the bedroom.

He wants you to be home in the mornings, like you usually are. He can’t even remember the last time he woke up with his nose pressed to the back of your head. And it’s been a while since he’d crept into the bathroom to join you for a shower. 

Oddly enough, he misses being woken up by the sound of glass shattering. You tend to have a bad habit of breaking your coffee mugs, scurrying around the kitchen with your head on backwards that the mug manages to break free and descend to the kitchen tile. Usually, he’d be halfway downstairs to assist in cleaning up the collateral damage, when he’d hear the first curse come flying from your mouth. Like you were shocked it broke, shocked you dropped it, even though 5 out of 7 days a week he’d have to go out and buy a new mug. And the second curse word would follow shortly after, once he’d land at the bottom of the steps, and that’s when he knows you cut your finger on a coffee mug fragment. 

The kitchen is painfully quiet, and his stomach twists when he opens the cabinet and there’s an excess of coffee mugs. Because you haven’t touched one in weeks. You leave in the morning, and stroll back in past late afternoon.

He doesn’t like secrets. And he wants to know where you jet off to, and where you disappear to for hours, when he knows work is not that long.

“Hi,” you call out, “sorry m’late.”

Your bleak apology means almost nothing to him, as he hears the door close behind you from the confines of the living room. The TV’s, you can hear the dull lull of voices floating down the hall. It’s white noise for him, a way to avoid you because he’s not really sure if he’s in the mood to talk right now. 

“Hey,” you breath, and he can tell by the proximity of your voice that you’re standing right behind him, “did you eat? M’starving.” 

He didn’t eat, he’s starving too. But he feels compelled to clear the air before he sits down for a meal with you.

Clearly, you’re in a different mindset. And you’re all perky and giddy, weird, because you’re this amped up after a day of work. Your hair is done curled differently than usual, makeup all done up, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t raise a couple red flags. 

“What’s wrong,” your pretend pout usually works, though right now it’s not doing much, “writers block?” 

He just shrugs, peering at you over his shoulder as you slide your scarf off your neck and toe off your work shoes. You’re so hard to be mad at, when you’re all cute like this, but he still doesn’t feel right. Something doesn’t feel right.

He doesn’t like secrets. 

“Want me t’make us something?” You hum, settling into the seat right beside his.

He wants to tell you no, he would rather ask you where you’ve been for all these hours. But God, it’s so hard to do that with you fingering a few of his curls and making circles with your thumb atop his hand. 

“Yeah,” he submits, damn it, “s’fine.” 

He frowns while you slither off the couch, over to the kitchen, because he’s such a fucking sucker, especially for you. 

And he’s gotta take a minute before he follows, slowly, building up the courage to just come out and ask like he should’ve done when you initially came in. 

But he feels nervous, now more than ever, as he sees you’ve already poured him a glass of red, the cooking pan already on the stove as you meal prep. 

“Where’ve yeh been all day?” He respires, lip tucked uncomfortably between his teeth.

“Just,” you exhale, “work, like every other day.”

He nods his head, a little curious as to why you felt the need to keep your back to him when you answered his question. And so his hand goes to aimlessly swivel his filled wine glass as you throw something into the pan. 

And he’s about to ask another question, until he’s rudely interrupted by the untimely ringtone of your phone.

“Gimme one second.” You ask, practically sprinting to the living room to get to your phone. 

But it doesn’t keep him from wandering into the hall, loitering just outside the doorway to remain in earshot of your conversation. It feels wrong, but honestly, he doesn’t think he can help himself.

“That’s perfect,” you giggle, “no, he’s got no idea. So we’re fine.”

And it’s than that he’s about ready to explode, his patience withering away and his blood boiling. What doesn’t he know? And he’s completely shell shocked at your boldness, how you were brave enough to take this call with him waiting just in the other room. 

He’s got no problem inserting himself in the room, with an expression unlike one you’ve ever seen, brows furrowed and eyes almost engulfed in flames. He’s livid. 

“Can yeh hang that up please?” He growls, and you shoot him a confused look.

“Harry just give me-”

“(Y/N) jus’ fucking hang up th’phone.”

You deliver a brief, short goodbye before you’re finger falls on the end button, slipping it back into your purse. And you’re not really sure where he gets off taking that kind of tone with you, speaking to you like that, so unprompted and uncalled for. 

“Kinda rude, no?” You hiss, and he merely rolls his eyes.

“Who was tha’?” He snaps, and he earns a brow raise from you.

“Is it really that important?”

“Yeah,” he laughs bitterly, “really is.” 

“No,” you retort, “it’s not.” 

“S’important t’me t’know who y’cheating on me with.” 

Your face falls stiff, and your body soon follows, as the accusation flows so freely fro him. And for a second, you have to repeat what he just said once over, twice over. 

He’s not sorry he said it. Maybe a little, he’s not sure if what he’s so confidently accused you of doing holds any water, has any truth to it. But honestly, he’s relieved he said it. Even though he knows he just took the lid off of an argument that’s seconds away from snowballing.

What’s that look on your face? Did he catch you in a lie? Is he right? He’s having a hard time figuring out, you’re expression isn’t very telling. But it’s because he just sent you into a spiral, your mind is working faster than your mouth, words clawing at one another in the back of your throat but nothing is seeming to make it’s way out. 

Say something. Say anything, for the love of God just fucking speak. 

“You’re such a fucking prick.” You choke out.

Ok, maybe not the best choice of words. There was definitely a better set of words you could have strung together, but it was the first thing that came out and there’s not much you can do now to take it back. 

“Me?” He scoffs, “How’s tha’? When yeh leave without telling me, come home late. Hair’s done, I mean really, (Y/N), when do y’ever wear y’fucking hair like tha’?” 

He knows he’s getting too loud, too cross and he’s feeling himself feel the urge to rip your head off right now. Christ, he can hardly even look at you. 

Though when he does, after you let out a rather brass chuckle, bitter toned and stand offish, he watches you knot your scarf back up. And then your hand reaches for the coat thrown over the sofa, your arms stuffing themselves into the sleeves before you’re frantically doing up the buttons. 

“Guess you’re off than, yeah?” He jeers, a little nervous that you’re readying yourself to bolt, “gonna go call it off with whoever?” 

“Yeah,” you mock, “yeah, m’off Harry. I could just call your mother back and tell her to forget the fucking surprise party we’ve been planning, but I figured it’s worth the drive.” 

Immediately, his stomach turns to a knot, and a ball forms in the center of his throat. As he’s coming to realize that he’s definitely overstepped, probably at unredeemable levels, he’s feeling an in proportional amount of guilt. And he sees how his unwarranted allegation has really thrown you for a loop, as your sweeping your purse off the table and pacing towards the front door. A surprise party, how the fuck was he supposed to know? Of course he wouldn’t have known, it’s a fucking surprise party. 

“Alright, can y’jus’,” he exhales, following you to the front of the house, “hold on, hold on.” 

“Maybe I’ll go stop at my other boyfriends house on my way to your moms.” you hiss, sliding your shoes on before you head out to the car.

[jd07201990]

(First Pic by @texanstrong) Trevor might not have been the humblest dancer at the school, but he was the most talented. The dance academy he was attending was mostly for the rich, but he’d managed to get in on skill and talent, having been seen practicing at a park in town. However, because he was middle class, while the rest of the boys were quite well off, he tried too hard to stand out. Being cocky, arrogant, putting the other boys down when they’d make a minor mistake. One of the boys he targeted most was his rival, Kyle. Kyle was of equal talent, but came from the most powerful family in the city. Rich, spoiled, he was used to getting everything he wanted, and when Trevor would one up him, or steal the attention with some flashy show of skill or prowess, he would fume, sometimes even exploding into a signature rich boy tantrum. He vowed he’d get rid of Trevor, one way or another. His chance came one day while Trevor was practicing alone in the open studio. Twirling, jumping, going into hip crushing splits with ease, he wasn’t paying attention, the music too lout for him to hear the door open, and footsteps coming closer. Trevor Started to whirl around on his toes, lifting his leg up at a 90-degree angle to gain speed, when his foot collided with something solid and he went crashing down to the floor. He found Kyle, sputtering next to him, blood gushing from his face. His nose looked crooked, with a harsh bump in the bridge. Obviously Broken, Kyle was screaming, hurling threats, when the security guard on duty came running in. Kyle immediately found his opportunity! His demeaner changed instantly, from rage to painful, desperate plea. The guard asked what happened, and before Trevor had a chance to explain he accident, Kyle said that Trevor had roundhouse kicked him in the face, after he’d tried to help him with his balance. He told the guard Trevor flew into a rage, and broke his nose, telling him he was a pretty boy and needed to be taken down a notch. Of course the Guard, being employed by Kyles parents, believe the story. He called the police, restraining Trevor until they came to arrest him. He spent days in the county jail waiting for his court date, not being able to afford bail. His public defender was useless, and so, with all the money and power backing Kyle and his family, Trevor was sentenced to, “1 year – 175lbs” Neither His parents or Trevor knew what this meant. Only finding out when He’d been bussed out of town to a remote facility that looked like an old Military base, hauled inside, and met with the people who’d be running his life for a year.

He’d been shocked at first to see that all the other inmates were massive. The entire building reeked of stale locker room funk. They ranged in age from 18-25, but looked to be the size of a professional, and sometimes offseason lifetime bodybuilder. Some where shy, some more aggressive. Some seemed to change, their personality being warped by whatever was happening to them. Trevor would find out exactly what that something was. Given his uniform, He went through the orientation, they explained that, by the time he left, he’d be 300lbs. The weight the judge had sentenced him to finally made sense. He’d be turned into one of these massive muscle freaks! Losing his cool, he fought, screaming about his future dance career, how this was illegal and so on, until they sedated him, put him into his cell, and started the Hormone infusion. A cocktail of drugs designed to speed up growth, send his body into a second puberty of sorts, and coupled with his new routine, He’d grow into the hulking brute this facility specialized in. He had moments where he’d lose it, crying, or screaming at his instructors, he learned quickly not to, as the punishments were brutal, often life altering and permeant. His first, was a dose of something they called B-O 120. It was a set of shots given under the arms, and just above his cock. For days he had no idea what it’d do, but after a week, he realized its effect. He woke up one morning in a cold sweat, shivering, but noticed immediately the funk that filled his cell. He thought maybe one of the other boys had come in, they always seemed to stink. But realized with horror, it was him. He was sweating like a pig, and the musky scent was coming from his underarms, which, even more to his horror, were filled with a dense wiry bush of matted hair.

Another punishment had been less physical. A few months in, after he’d gained a considerable amount of bulk, he threatened the laundry attendant, because his clothes always came back with the deep pit stains he’d grown accustomed to. This got him a week of “classes” which was really him, sitting in a cold metal chair, staring at some stupid movie about behavior. However, he never really knew what the movie was about, always waking up yawning when the instructor slammed a ruler on his desk. The effects were slow, but soon he realized what they were doing.

The movie was changing his natural behavior. He was starting to walk differently, swaggering, swinging his arms heftily, and worse, scratching at himself unconsciously. A grope at his shorts, or a quick pit scratch, even a long scratch or pulling at his shirts where they’d crawl up his newly beefed up muscle butt. Worse, He vocabulary seemed to include more than his typical level of cursing. Nearly every sentence riddled with swearing, like the dumb meatheads he hated from school. Finally, the words Dude, Bro, Bruh, and so on became common, he knew it, heard it, and hated it, but he couldn’t stop. One final infraction, against another inmate, had sent him to the facility barber, who sat him in the chair, strapped him in, and lowered what looked to be a hair drier helmet down over his head. The barber himself never touched his head, but with a few buttons, the machine went to work. His head felt on fire, heat spread over his scalp, while tingling sharp pains shot over his skin like 1000 mosquito bites. The barber had to gag at one point as his yelps and shrieks of fear were getting too loud. An hour later, the helmet released, lifting off his head, to reveal a brutal new haircut, and his hair was a totally different color. No more classic dark wavy locks. Now, he had his hair in a brutish fauxhawk style, longer and floppy, and brightened into an orangey brown color. To his horror, he was told this was permeant. He’d be able to grow it out, but the color was his forever.

The year went on. He’d outgrown his uniforms like clockwork. Week after week, having to be issued new, larger sizes. The jockstraps and boxers they forced him to wear seemed to be the fastest to be replaced. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew his cock and balls were growing. He’d been average, not small, but now he had a salami and two large chicken eggs dangling between his thickly beefed thighs. He blushed every time he sat down, having to immediately go onto a lewd, “man spread” legs held wide to not crush his goods.

He smelled worse than some of the boys, obviously the result of his first punishment, and he was only allowed to shower at the end of each day. Having to go through classes, morning workout, the hard labor in the yard, more classes, another workout, and dinner before having 5 minutes to shower under the cold water and go to bed.

Finally, his year was nearly up. He’d gained all the weight he’d been sentenced to. The instructors had even followed the side notes in the court order to focus attention on his legs. He was massive. Bulky, his thighs as thick as a mid-sized tree trunk. His calved were like footballs. His torso was not spared though. HE was built bigger than most NFL players. Arms like ham hocks, hands calloused from all the lifting. His tshirt sleeves seem to always bunch up under his arms, soaked in reeking sweat. He was forced to lumber around, almost waddling from the sheer bulk of his body. He was eating like a starved man, easily consuming enough to easily feed a family of four. He was a brute. A big, smelly, brute. Although he hadn’t lost any of his intelligence, his personality and mind were his own, you’d never know it from the swearing, crude Bro-talk he’d been programmed with, and his ever-present lewd gestures of scratching at his mass. Groping his massive cock, adjusting his lemon sized balls. He was, on the outside, the epitome of what he hated most. A big, Dumb, Meathead.

A week before his release, he was brought to a room with an obvious one-way mirror. Told to stand still and left alone for 20 minutes. On the other side of the glass, Kyle, his accuser, was cackling at what had been done to his rival. There was no way he could dance, that talent scout was going to pick him now that the best dancer in the school had been bloated up into a monster. He was delighted, but his cruelty was ever growing. He gave Trevor a once over, head to toe, then smiled up at the Facility manager, handing him an envelope with cash, and a letter promising more funding from his family if his demands were met. “I think Trevor needs one more thing, just to make sure he can’t manage to learn to dance with that bulky body. Is it possible to make his feet, more, disproportionate? Bigger?” Kyle asked with malice. “Of course. We’ve got compounds and treatments that can do just about anything. This,” The manager waved the stack of cash, “should cover it.” Kyle shook the man’s hand and left, while Trevor was collected from the room and brought to the Facility treatment center. He was told to relax, as they strapped him onto a table, locking his legs in stirrups. He struggled just a little but was too afraid to misbehave. He asked questions, what was happening, why, but no one talked to him as a few of the treatment staff put an IV into his arm, and then started to strip his sneakers, socks, then started to rub and massage his already large size 17’s with a warm grey looking goop.

It took no time at all for him to feel the dull, aching pain he’d come accustomed to, as “growing pains” from his year of forced growth. His toes splayed, and he grunted, as the IV pumped the activator through his veins. The goop was soaking into his feet, his muscle, his bones, and was starting the near instant process. He felt his bones pop, then crack, screamed at the sudden sharp pains, but watched horrified as his feet grew, and grew. 18, 19, 20, 21, stopping, minutes later, at a whopping size 22 wide. The second side effect took only a few seconds to manifest. A sudden, musty, strong stink filled the room, as the goop soaked in and forced his feet to sweat profusely. He’d soon find that he’d be going through several pairs of socks per day, drenching them, and filling his sneakers with foot stench, no matter how clean he kept them. He cried, his deep voice bellowing dumbly as he wiggled his thick sausage toes now and knew for certain he’d never dance again.

It took the rest of the week for him to readjust to his massive new feet. They made him clumsy, oafish, and he knew if he ever tried to balance and spin on his toes, they’d snap under his immense bulk. They released him back to his parents, who cried and threatened to sue for what they’d done to their baby, but it was no sue. Trevor was shortly picked up by the local college, and had no choice to bot give up dancing, take the scholarship they offered, and play football as the big, bulky brute he is.