#have to write THIS or i would never be in peace

[p0orbaby]

All I Want for Christmas

summary: your daughter didn’t get the one present she really wanted

warnings: none !

a/n: thank you for the request, i hope you like it !

word count: 2.9k

-

You notice something’s off with Eliana two days after Christmas. At first, it’s subtle—an anomaly so slight it could almost be chalked up to post-holiday fatigue. Normally, mornings with Eliana are chaotic in a way that feels both exhausting and oddly necessary, as though the house depends on her noise to keep it from crumbling into silence. She bursts into the day like a firework: her small feet slapping against the wood floors, her hair a wild halo of dark curls, her voice ricocheting between pitches as she narrates her life in real time or belts out whatever song has recently embedded itself in her psyche.

Today, there’s none of that. She lingers in her pyjamas—a pair with faded unicorns that she refuses to let you throw away despite the fraying cuffs—long after breakfast. When you remind her to brush her teeth, she drags her feet, her movements lethargic in a way that feels rehearsed, like she’s trying to stretch each step into eternity. It’s the absence of urgency that unsettles you. Eliana thrives on urgency. She once cried because Alexia beat her to the front door when the postman rang.

But this morning, there’s no competition. No noise. No off-key rendition of Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo echoing from the bathroom as she “forgets” to spit out her toothpaste. You’re struck by how quiet the house feels. Not peaceful—just wrong.

By lunch, the feeling hardens into certainty. Eliana picks at her sandwich with the detached precision of someone performing a task they’ve been paid to complete. She peels the crust away slowly, meticulously, her small fingers working like a jeweller inspecting a flawed diamond. The crust sits in a neat pile beside her plate, untouched. So do the carrot sticks you’ve artfully arranged into a star shape—an attempt to disguise healthy food as something fun. Usually, she’d at least nibble on the points before declaring them “too crunchy.” Today, she doesn’t even bother with the charade.

And then there’s the Coke. You could write a thesis on Eliana’s Coke-stealing habits. How she waits, biding her time like a cat stalking prey, until you’re sufficiently distracted—mid-sentence, mid-bite, mid-thought. The moment your guard drops, she strikes: clutching the can with both hands, her face breaking into a grin so triumphant it’s impossible to be mad. You always let her have one sip, though you draw the line at more. She doesn’t push her luck; she knows where the boundary is and takes satisfaction in skirting it.

But today, the Coke sits untouched. You leave it on the table deliberately, watching her from the corner of your eye, waiting for the familiar rustle of movement. It doesn’t come. She doesn’t even glance at it.

Alexia notices it too. She’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the cutting board she insists on hand-washing because the dishwasher “ruins the wood” (a claim you’ve never verified but don’t argue against). “She’s been quiet today,” Alexia murmurs, glancing towards the living room. Her tone is casual, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

You follow her gaze. Eliana is curled up on the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on top of them. The TV plays some saccharine animated film about magical snowmen and plucky penguins—one of those films where everything sparkles unnaturally, and the characters blink too often. Normally, Eliana would be transfixed, laughing at all the wrong parts and narrating the plot aloud despite everyone already watching. But today, she’s motionless. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, as though the screen is a window to a world she can’t quite enter.

“Maybe she’s tired,” you say, though you don’t believe it. Eliana doesn’t do tired. Even as a baby, she fought sleep like it was a personal enemy, crying herself hoarse rather than admit defeat. Sleep was a battle you rarely won outright; most nights, you settled for a stalemate.

Alexia doesn’t look convinced either. She dries her hands on a dishtowel, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” she says. “This isn’t like her”

It isn’t. And that terrifies you in a way you can’t fully articulate. You watch her from the kitchen doorway, your hand resting lightly on the frame, as though bracing yourself against an invisible weight. She looks small. Fragile. The kind of fragile that makes you want to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her from the world.

But it’s not her size that unnerves you—it’s the silence. Eliana’s silence feels like an absence, like something crucial has been taken away without your permission. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, though you don’t know what.

And that, more than anything, is what scares you.

-

You get your answer that evening, during bedtime. Eliana’s room is a testament to her devotion to pink—a monochromatic sanctuary where even the air seems tinged with a rosy hue. The walls are painted a soft blush, a decision you regretted halfway through applying the third coat but one you could never take back once she saw the finished product and declared it “princess perfect.” Her duvet cover is a riot of pastel stars, most faded from repeated wash cycles and the occasional chocolate milk spill. On her bedside table sits a lamp with a shade adorned with tiny ballerinas, their poses forever frozen mid-pirouette.

The bookshelves, crammed to the edges, are an organised chaos of her literary life. Picture books dominate the lower shelves—familiar titles with tattered spines that you could recite in your sleep (Guess How Much I Love You has practically become your mantra). Higher up, a collection of chapter books gathers dust, ambitious purchases she insisted on during a trip to the bookstore, her eyes wide with determination. She struggles with the longer words but refuses to ask for help, insisting on piecing together syllables with the kind of stubborn grit that feels both infuriating and endearing. She gets that from you.

You tuck her in with the practised efficiency of someone who has made a ritual out of bedtime. She clutches Mr Snuggles, a stuffed rabbit so battered it looks like it’s survived a war zone. He’s missing an eye, his fur matted beyond recognition, but to Eliana, he’s irreplaceable. You know this because you’ve tried to replace him—multiple times, in fact. You’ve scoured boutique toy stores, online shops, and even eBay, searching for a plush rabbit with vaguely similar dimensions. Each attempt has been met with disdain. “It’s not him,” she always says, clutching Mr Snuggles tighter as though you’d threatened to take him away permanently.

“You’ve been quiet today,” you say, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. Her hair has reached that awkward in-between length where it’s too long to leave unchecked but too short to do anything meaningful with. She hates the hairdressers, the stiff capes they drape over her, and the stylist’s endless chatter about her favourite Disney princess. You’ll have to bribe her with ice cream to get her there.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze drifts upwards, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it holds the answer to some unspoken question. Her fingers tighten around Mr Snuggles, her thumb absently stroking the spot where his eye used to be. Finally, she speaks.

“Santa didn’t bring me what I wanted”

Your stomach twists in the way it does when you know something is wrong, but you can’t yet identify what. “What do you mean?” you ask, keeping your tone light. “He brought you loads of things. That dollhouse you’ve been asking for since May, the colouring set with the glitter pens—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice soft but resolute. “I wanted a sister”

You blink. “You wanted what?”

“A sister,” she repeats, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he didn’t bring me one”

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Your brain cycles through a series of fragmented thoughts: What? When? How? You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Alexia to materialise in the doorway, her presence offering a lifeline. But the hallway is empty, save for the faint hum of the washing machine on its spin cycle. You’re on your own.

“When… when did you ask Santa for a sister?” you manage, your voice strained with the effort of keeping a straight face.

“At school,” she says matter-of-factly. “We wrote letters. Miss García said we could ask for anything we wanted”

“And you asked for a sister?”

She nods, her expression solemn in the way only a six-year-old can manage when they think they’ve been wronged.

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me? Or Mamá?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise”

You press your fingers to your temples, as if physically holding your head together will help you process what you’re hearing. A surprise. Of course. Eliana watches you with wide eyes, her expression expectant. It dawns on you that she’s waiting for an explanation.

“Well,” you begin, your words slow and deliberate, as though carefully navigating a minefield, “Santa doesn’t… bring people as presents”

“Why not?”

Because it’s illegal. Because Santa isn’t real. Because your wife and I can barely handle the one child we already have.

“Because,” you say instead, stalling, “that’s not how it works. Sisters are… different. You don’t get them from Santa”

Her brow furrows, and for a moment, she looks startlingly like Alexia—her small face drawn into a frown of concentration, as though dissecting your words for hidden meaning. “Then where do they come from?”

You pause, the weight of the question settling over you like a heavy blanket. There are a dozen ways you could answer this, most of them wildly inappropriate for a six-year-old. You settle on, “From Parents, sweetheart”

She considers this for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side. “So can you and Mamá make me one?”

The question hangs in the air, absurd and sincere in equal measure. You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh. Or cry. Or both. “It’s not that simple, Eliana”

“Why not?”

Before you can answer, Alexia appears in the doorway, her hair pulled into a loose bun, her face flushed from the effort of folding laundry. She takes one look at your face, at the strained expression and the faint sheen of panic in your eyes, and bursts out laughing.

-

Later that night, after Eliana is finally asleep, you and Alexia sit in the living room, letting the weight of the day settle over you. The room is dim except for the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, blinking lazily in alternating patterns. The air smells faintly of pine needles and the remnants of the vanilla candle Alexia lit hours ago but forgot to blow out. There’s an almost sacred stillness in the house, the kind that feels rare and precious when you have a six-year-old.

Alexia hands you a glass of wine, her fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than necessary. She sits beside you on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her and pulling a blanket over both of your laps. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie—yours, you think, judging by the way the sleeves swallow her hands—and a pair of faded joggers. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves around her face, and there’s a faint smudge of mascara beneath one eye that she hasn’t bothered to wipe off.

She looks tired but beautiful, the kind of beauty that feels effortless and intimate, like a secret only you’re privy to. It makes your chest ache in a way you don’t entirely understand.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “our daughter asked Santa for a sister”

You exhale, shaking your head as you take a sip of wine. It’s red, something bold and expensive that Alexia brought home last week. She has a knack for choosing good wine, even though she always claims it’s pure luck. “She did”

“And she’s heartbroken Santa didn’t deliver,” Alexia adds, her tone half-amused, half-disbelieving.

“She is,” you say, setting your glass on the coffee table. The table itself is covered in the detritus of Christmas: an abandoned roll of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and the instructions for the dollhouse you spent three hours assembling on Christmas Eve while Alexia supervised with a glass of champagne in hand.

Alexia leans back, stretching her legs across your lap. Her socked feet are warm against your thigh, and she wiggles her toes absently as she looks at you. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice light, as if she’s testing the waters.

“About Eliana asking for a sister?”

“No,” she says, her lips twitching into a small smile. “About giving her one”

You laugh, a short, sharp sound that feels more defensive than amused. “You can’t be serious”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat, incredulous. “Because we barely survived the first time around. Do you not remember the colic? The sleepless nights? The time she screamed for three hours straight because she didn’t like the colour of her bib?”

Alexia tilts her head, as if genuinely considering your words. “She was a baby. That’s what babies do”

“Exactly. And you want to do it all over again?”

Her smile widens, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes now. “Maybe”

You groan, leaning your head back against the sofa. “You’re insane”

“I’m not,” she insists, nudging your thigh with her foot. “Think about it. Eliana’s older now. She’s more independent. She’s in school most of the day. We’re not in the trenches anymore”

“The trenches,” you mutter, reaching for your wine again.

Alexia shifts closer, her foot still resting against your thigh. “I loved it, you know. All of it. Even the hard parts”

“You loved it?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I loved being a mum to a newborn. Watching her grow, seeing all the little things she learned every day. It was… magical”

You glance at her, and the soft, wistful expression on her face makes something inside you twist.

“And you,” she continues, her voice lowering slightly, “you were amazing”

“Alexia,” you say, a hint of warning in your tone.

“I’m serious,” she says, her hand finding yours beneath the blanket. Her fingers are warm, her grip gentle but insistent. “You were. You still are. And when you were pregnant…”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

She grins, her teeth catching the light. “You were insatiable”

“Oh, for God’s sake”

“It’s true,” she says, laughing now. “I could barely keep up with you”

“You managed,” you mutter, taking another sip of wine.

Her laughter fades into a softer, more thoughtful smile. “I’m just saying,” she says, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again”

You study her, trying to discern if she’s really serious or just testing the waters. But there’s something in her eyes, a quiet certainty that unnerves you.

“You really want another baby,” you say, not quite a question.

She nods. “I do”

“And when were you planning on telling me this?”

She shrugs, looking faintly sheepish. “I don’t know. I guess I was waiting for the right moment”

“Like now? After our daughter guilt-tripped us with her Santa request?”

Alexia laughs, and the sound is warm and infectious. “Exactly”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable”

“I’m practical,” she counters. “Think about it. We can afford it. We have the space. The time. A great support system. Mami would love to help us out again”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to tell her we’re thinking about having another baby? You know she’ll start knitting booties the second the words leave your mouth”

Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “Let her. Eliana would love matching booties for her and her sibling”

The image of Eliana holding a tiny, wriggling baby flashes in your mind, unbidden. It’s too cute, too perfect, and you push it away before it can take root.

“It’s not just about logistics,” you say quietly.

“I know,” Alexia says, her voice softening. “But we’ve done this before. We know what to expect now. And we’re not the same people we were back then. We’re stronger. Better”

You glance at her, at the quiet confidence in her expression, and feel a pang of guilt for doubting her. She’s right, of course. You’ve come so far since those early days with Eliana. But still, the thought of starting over feels overwhelming.

“I don’t know,” you say finally. “It’s a lot to think about”

Alexia nods, her thumb still tracing slow circles on the back of your hand. “I’m not asking for a decision tonight. Just… think about it”

You nod, letting your head rest against her shoulder. The wineglass dangles from your fingers, forgotten. The weight of her hand on yours, the steady rise and fall of her breath, grounds you.

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Then Alexia speaks again, her voice so soft you almost don’t hear her.

“She’d be a great big sister,” she says. “Don’t you think?”

You close your eyes, letting the words settle over you. In your mind’s eye, you see Eliana again, her wide, hopeful eyes as she clutched Mr Snuggles to her chest. You see her laughing, running through the park with a smaller version of herself trailing behind her.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “She would”

[satkru]

੭* ‧₊° ichigo kurosaki x male reader

*๑♡՞ . rough sex , enemies to lovers , barely legal adults , little to no respect for one another during sex , raw sex , public sex

p.s . i have literally little to no idea how accurate my writing abt ichigo will be as i've really only watched the series until like ep 8-9(??) i'll probably pick it back up once i find the motivation to but rn im freeballing this 💔

ichigo and y/n had a rivalry known throughout the entirety of the whole school. a rivalry so bad that the administration of the school had to put them on two different floors with two different schedules in order for them to not engage with one another, otherwise it would end in an intense scrabble of sorts.

but that still didnt stop the two from sharing nasty glares at one another from time to time, no one really knew how they started such a rival-ship, but some just say that they stepped on the wrong foot and never recovered from it.

the true reason for such an intense relationship is that they both had an eye for the lovely lady known as Orihime. Her gorgeous orange eyes paired with her flowy ginger hair was a match made in heaven. Both of them could not keep their eyes off of that girl.

but one faithful day, after school had ended and the halls were empty. the two were set up to clean the rooms, with a teacher on the scene of course. Each time they came close to the others proximity, it was like watching two territorial dogs growling at each other, waiting for the other to strike.

but that strike never came as long as the professor was around. Eventually, the period of peace had to come to an end, as the teacher exclaimed they needed to use the restroom. "dont you two dare lay a hand on each other while im gone, or else you two are suspended for the rest of the year", the words burned into the nerves of the two.

"so, do you still like orihime" y/n asked as he swept the remaining dust on the floor, "why is that any of your business" ichigo spat out, a hint of anger laced his tone. "just wondering, you know. she has been looking at me twice now".

ichigo gripped onto the handle of his own broom, trying to contain his anger. "shes been getting quite.. close, to me" y/n said with a chuckle, he knew what he was doing was ticking off his rival, but the sensation of pissing someone off just called to him.

"she asked me to go to her house today, but dont worry, i'll make sure to save some space for you" kurosaki couldnt hold his jealously anymore, although he knew y/n was bluffing, the thought of him with his crush agitated him. and with that, he found himself throwing the broom across the room, almost hitting y/n in the process.

the man grinned, an annoying feature ichigo had always hated whenever he and y/n got into disputes. "uh oh, did i make sweet kurosaki angryy" y/n said with fake innocence in his voice, pouting his lip and laying a finger on his chin to enhance his "sweetness".

"shut your mouth already" kurosaki growled, his hands clenched into fists as he watched y/n continue to piss him off. "you'll never be with such a girl, soon enough, she'll be begging for me and my dick soon, her pussy will remember the shape of me and make enough room to fit me. she'll never think of you again after i go over to her house."

each word out of y/n's mouth pissed ichigo more off than before, his eyes were glued to the floor to not meet eyes, otherwise, the situation would get out of hand. the teasing man began walking towards kurosaki, his face still in an annoyingly smug expression.

"c'mon kurosaki, look at me, remember my face for the rest of your goddamn life. remember that i'll be the one taking care of who you thought was going to be your future wife." ichigo couldnt take the amount of disrespect he was experiencing, causing him to throw an unexpected punch towards y/n, making him fall to the floor with blood dripping from his nose.

although it was sudden, y/n expected such a reaction, this was all apart of his plan of course. ichigo reached down and grabbed y/n by the throat and pulled him up so they could be eye to eye. "you fucking bitch, youre getting me all riled up for what? huh? do you get off of this?" y/n chuckled dryly, "and what if i do?". such a response threw ichigo off guard, causing him to receive a heavy punch to his cheek.

"dont tell me youre gonna kink shame me, kuro" ichigo steadily hoisted himself up with the help of the desks, his breath more heavy than before. "god do you ever stop talking" the ginger haired man whispered under his breath, barely audible but still loud enough to be caught by y/n's hearing. "dont be so mean ichi-" before he could finish his sentence, kurosaki lunged forward and managed to grab a hold of y/n's hair, twisting his hair enough and slamming his face into the desk.

"i can see you've gotten a bit more intelligent when it comes to fighting now, is that black haired girl training you?" kurosaki froze, how the fuck did he know about rukia? ichigo tumbled over his words, trying to make up excuses and babbling on about stories that made no sense. "you know, there is a way to keep me from outing you" y/n said, his voice drenched in hunger and lust. the ginger sneered, "oh fuck it"

and with that, ichigo hurriedly unbuckled his belt and shuffled his boxers down. leaving no room for hesitance, "god, all of your teasing has made me rock fucking solid.." kurosaki said as he watched his own cock puylse and twitch. y/n hummed as he too began to undress his lower half, slipping ichigo's hard on between his ass.

"i cant take anymore of your games" ichigo growled as he then thrusted himself into his once rival, earning a loud moan from him. each thrust was ravenous, filled to the brim with both anger and frustration. "youre so tight.." kurosaki groaned, his hand intangled with y/n's hair strand then sharply pulled back, earning another ear piercing moan.

"yes..! just like that ichigo! fuck me harder!!" y/n screamed as he reached back to spread his ass more, helping ichigo's long and hard cock reach more places y/n didn't even think could be reached. both kurosaki's and y/n's loud and lustful noises could be heard throughout the entirety of the hallway.

"you never were actually after orihime were you.. fuck.. you were after me" ichigo said with a strained voice, his time was ticking and he knew it. y/n's obnoxiously loud noises never quieted down, instead, they grew louder, more hungry for action. "use me ichigo! use me as if im your sweet orihime! fuck my ass as if its her pussy!" y/n yelled on the top of his lungs, his body was becoming heavier and sweat drenched him entirely.

"im cumming..! goddamn your tight ass feels too good!" kurosaki exclaimed as his grip on y/n's hip grew tighter, and his hand incased in the locks of his rival began to waver in strength. "youre going to take my cum.. like the slut you are. do you hear me?" y/n eagerly nodded, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to untie.

with a few more ass-reddening thrusts, ichigo's load quickly filled y/n's hole, traveling deep through his guts. as ichigo was dumping his cum into y/n's ass, the once smug and arrogant man was at his own witts end. spreading his own cum across the desk in front of him and crying out in pure bliss.

the two men stood in silence, the only thing heard being heavy breathing and the squelching of cum escaping y/n's ass. "dont think.. that im done with you yet y/n.. meet me at my house tonight, 10pm sharp.. got it?" ichigo said between huffs. "got it..!" y/n said with cheerfulness in his tone. he'd finally gotten what he was hoping more, good for him.

[londonfog-chan]

Emperor Caracalla x Reader: Asklēpiós

A/N: I promised one day I would write for my precious little lad. Now that day has come.

Also, if you’re not nearsighted and legally blind without glasses like me, you are now. Congrats.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect, prostitution, STD/STI mention, Female Reader

Credits: dividers by @strangergraphics

“Come now, Agapi, won’t you be agreeable?”

Caracalla’s lips pressed tightly together into a thin line. Head turned to the side in defiance.

Slender fingers tapped against his pock-marked cheek— a gentle coax to open that pretty mouth of his. But as usual, he scrunched his aquiline nose and shook his head in vehement protest. Night time was a gamble with Caracalla. One never knew what version of him they would get. Would you have the monster with enough physical strength to turn over a lectus with someone laying upon it? Or would you have the sniveling, crying angel, who buried his face in your breast and begged for affection.

“You promised, Agapi.” you said, running a finger along the length of his nose bridge, “You said you would take your chinaroot for me.”

“The horse piss herb?!” He whined, swatting your hand away, “I don’t want it!”

“You did promise me you would take it as I asked.” You said, using your calloused fingers to brush his strawberry blonde bangs from his forehead, “Or did you lie to me, Agapi? Me, of all people.”

Pink lips pouted in quiet contemplation. You could see the conflict in his slate blue eyes. Below the surface of his pink cheeked charm, a feverish, maddened mind was working to determine whether or not to deny, lash out, or seek forgiveness. Treading carefully when it came to your emotions, you knew he was warring with his own impulse.

Since his affliction, the other concubines of the realm refused to lie with Imperator Geta’s brother or even go near him at all. Not since they had given you to him had anyone bothered of late to reciprocate his touch. The isolation was fraying his nerves. He became moody, volatile. Constantly lashing out when he called out for pleasure, and only got you instead.

“I want pleasure! Not this piglet!” Caracalla screamed that first night.

You were frozen under Geta’s clutching of your shoulders, and gasped softly as you were pushed forward into Caracalla’s furry chest.

“You’d infect our courtesans with your disease, take what I give you and be grateful for that at all!” Geta had growled back, a cupful of wine to the face enough to silence his brother as the both of you were drenched in sanguine liquid.

You were not stupid enough to question your place. They gave you to Caracalla as a joke. Lesser goods for the lesser brother. You were not comely and lithe like the others. Admittedly you were rather plain, a Hellene from Chora who had been treating the infected in the concubine’s quarters. More of a servant’s apprentice than a vessel for the imperator’s bastards, and for a time you preferred things as they were. Treating the sick. Nursing them to health. It was a peaceful existence.

Not even the praetorian guard dogs wanted to touch you. Another aspect of the general disinterest was the semi state of blindness you lived in. It got steadily worse from childhood until now, when you could not perceive eight paces before you, without the world dissolving into an unfocused blur. Everyone either pitied or despised you, believing that your affliction was something to be controlled. You made your peace with it a long time ago, just as you made your peace with being Caracalla’s pleasure dregs.

“… As you wish, give me your piss herb.” He finally acquiesced, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Thank you, Agapi.”

But unlike the others who fled from his touch, you were gentle with Caracalla, and you would continue to be. The coldness of his stormy blue eyes softened and became ensconced by pupils dilated in affection, his cheeks a blushing rose pink as you held out a bronze cup steeped with the juices of a dried rhizome.

Even in his feverish state, he could tell the difference in care. You treated him with tenderness. Not like he was an invalid, but more with affection and respect as a spouse would for an ailing husband. You kept his cubiculum tidy. Carefully selected his ensembles of jewelry and silks for the servants to dress him. Every other day you bathed him in milk, scouring his body with a pumice and then moisturizing him with beeswax and oils. Dressed his wounds and perfumed him with patchouli, even going as far as to perfume his breath by having him chew clove and mint on occasion.

Subconsciously, the co-imperator picked up on your kindness. Instead of raining blows on your head with freakish strength, the man would reach out and cling to your stola. Speaking tender words of affection, and seeking at some points to make you pleased with him.

“You’re a wicked harpy.” He huffed, his soft hands over yours on the bronze cup.

“I know.” you murmured, gently coaxing the lukewarm liquid between his lips, “But I am a harpy that plucks at the mites between her nestling’s feathers, seeking to soothe his itch. Now drink.”

The chinaroot did not go down smooth, it never did. Caracalla gurgled and gagged the liquid and rhizome all the way down his gullet, slender hands wrapping around a pale throat as he chewed and choked. It was painful watching him try to swallow, but he had to. Without the chinaroot, the regression would have only gotten worse, and he would have succumbed to the infection from his chancres.

“It’s like gargling a goat’s testes!” He whined as he pulled away.

“You gargle them well, Agapi.”

Caracalla coughed, throat puffing out in a gag as you wiped his chin with a clean scrap of linen.

“It’s awful! It doesn’t work!” He croaked.

“Have you been hurting or noticing new sores?” You asked.

There was a penetrating silence. So still was the air around the room, you could hear the flame licking against the wick in the oil lamps, as well as the fire crackling in the imperial hearth. While allowing Caracalla to answer, you stood from the bed, shuffling to the diminutive night table– equipped with a brass bowl of hot water that now cooled– to take a brief moment to scour your hands with hot water, natron, and vinegar.

You knew the answer, even within his silence, your beloved was as transparent as blown glass.

“No…” Caracalla admitted ruefully, “But that doesn’t change things. I don’t want it anymore! You said it is medicinal, but it tastes of utter shite and I hate it! I hate you!”

“I love you, Agapi.”

Your voice was so low it was almost a whisper. A breathy squeak that made him stop his fuss, and lean in. The stormy gray of his feverish eyes focused entirely on your form as you wiped your clean hands on a spare piece of dry linen.

“You… you love me…?” Caracalla whispered.

“Yes.” You replied earnestly, “I do. That is why I treat you.”

The sick man leaned back into his pillow, rolling onto the side. Curling up like a pill bug at the slightest hint of a threat, he lay there contemplating your words in the finery of his linens and wool blanket. Crawling on all fours back to the imperial bed, you followed him to lay down. Draping over his hunched back like a rucksack, you lay your head beside his, fingers stroking the cold skin of his shoulder and leaving goose pimples in the wake of your touch.

“No one has ever loved me before…” he mumbled into his pillow.

“I know, Agapi.” You murmured, nuzzling his hair and inhaling the sour scent of vinegar, “And that is very sad. Everyone is deserving of love, my darling, even you.”

His trembling hands pulled your arms around his chest. He held your hands in front of him, whole body shaking.

“Everyone is repulsed by me. They avoid me, they won’t touch me. My own brother pushes me away. But not you… why?”

“You’re just ill, Agapi.” You replied softly, “The rash, the chancre sores… It’s just an illness, like any other. Would you push me away if I told you I had a chill?”

“No.”

Caracalla rolled onto his side. Blue eyes boring into yours as he cupped your cheek tenderly. He pressed his forehead to yours, the two of you inhaling in unison, as if absorbing the essence, the life breath, and sharing in it.

“No… I would never push you away… I would make you rest in my bed, and lay your weary head upon my goose down cushion. I would feed you the piss herb, and tell you stories to make you feel better whilst you choked down the bitter broth.”

You smiled at the innocent sentiment, enjoying the softness of his hot lips as they brushed against yours.

“Just as I did with you when Geta first bade me care for you.” You said, “Remember, Agapi?”

“I remember.”

To placate his brother’s demands for sex even in his feverish state, Geta summoned his manservants to rouse you from your bed at all hours of the night to give yourself to the youngest of the co-emperors. You knew even then he was dreadfully ill, and despite your pity you did not want to get infected yourself. While they dressed you in a shrunken gossamer stola woven so fine the dark of your nipples could be seen, you steeled your heart and prepared for a battle with your leather pouch of herbs.

Geta threw you at his unkempt brother, delirious with fever. Instead of fighting him, you talked softly to him. Coaxed him into letting you care for him by washing his weeping sores with vinegar, sprinkling natron to keep them clean, and ripping his bed linens into bandages to dress the open wounds. You even made a brew of the dried chinaroot rhizome, and after holding his mouth closed and rewarding him with chewed sugarcane to cut the taste, the youngest co-emperor learned to expect the sweet after the bitter.

From then on, Caracalla was your creature. Wholly and entirely.

“You wanted to look after me, even though Geta made you wake from your sleep to pleasure me…” he said, his tone lucid.

“I did it because I love you.” You said softly, showering his bumpy cheeks with kisses, “And I know you love me too, even if you say you hate me.”

“I didn’t say it!” He whined.

His cry was so piteous, like a kitten, that it was easy to forgive the lapses in memory whenever it came to his more biting comments.

“I didn’t say I hate you… I would never…! I love you… I… I don’t know what I would do without you.” Caracalla choked, the warm of his tears staining your stola.

You understood this better than anyone else.

You knew he didn’t mean his vitriol.

“I know, darling…” you whispered, and you fully embraced him as he began to cry, “I know… You shall never have to worry… for I will never forsake you…”

It was one truth you knew you could say and mean, despite your talents as a concubine, a soothsayer… You might have been the only soothsayer in all of Rome who meant it when she said she cared for the youngest, forsaken co-emperor.

[eroscomet]

Cellmate Prisoner 516

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Pairing: Vi x Prisoner!Reader

Warnings: Mentions wounds and violence (I think that's all.)

Word count: 2.1k+

A/N: Hey, lovelies! So, recently I finished Arcane and I immediately got to writing after finishing it. I'm thinking of releasing a Cait fic as well but i'll see how this Vi fic does first. I hope you guys like this, and i'm not sure if anyone else has done this idea yet. Let me know if you guys would want me to continue releasing chapters for this fic! If this is your first time reading my work and enjoy it, there's more on my page! I'm sorry in advance for any probable mistakes.

Proof read.

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Days in Stillwater seemed to blend for the inmates, especially those who knew they’d never return to normal civilization. The inmates had created a community there in the prison. It was rare to see inmates fight, most who did were newer inmates who didn’t understand that everyone in there had long accepted their fates. They weren’t willing to fight after they’d come to terms with the fact that they were to be bound by the walls of the prison for life along with the others. Why hold a grudge, right?

However, the lack of fights didn’t mean total peace for the inmates at Stillwater. Enforcers were often the ones who'd steal that peace that inmates tried to keep. If anyone were mouthy for even a second, it’s a beating with the enforcers that they’d face for it. Most were driven to stray away from having fights with the enforcers. There's a saying that goes around, you become the uniform you wear, whether it’s a prisoner uniform or an enforcer uniform. 

That always stood, inmates knew their place and enforcers forced theirs. All but one inmate applied to this saying, inmate 516. The livewire, the undoing of the enforcers, the one with all the audacity. If not called inmate 516 by enforcers, most around the prison knew her as ‘Pink’, a name that she gained from the color of her hair. She had resilience, fight, a fire in her that never ceased. No matter how many times enforcers would beat her for her mouthy talk, it never stopped her.

She’d once roamed the prison on the higher levels where land and nature were still visible. Where the air she’d inhale was the same air as everyone else’s. The more she causes a commotion, however, the lower the level she’d be taken. She never stopped her ‘fuss’, so eventually she made it to the lower levels with the inmates who would never see the light of day or breathe fresh air from the outside. 

Constantly being placed in new areas of the prison, different levels, different blocks, different cellmates. Anything to piss enforcers off, she’d always thought ‘If they’re getting a kick out of my misery, I can at least get one as well’. She lived by that in prison. Her previous cellmate had complained so much about having her as a cellmate that enforcers had finally had enough and moved her to another cell.

This happened to be your cell. Tidy, an organized mess, if you will. You didn’t talk much to the other inmates, only when you’d require trading for different materials. You had a knack for the creation of all kinds, sketching, building, and mapping. Pink, however, had a knack for destroying of all kinds, kicking, punching, training for whatever it was that she’d often mutter angrily about.

“Great, now I'm paired with Mute here.” She groaned as enforcers pushed her into the cell before shutting it. People in the prison had created a nickname for you since you’d never bother to tell them, Mute, they called you for your lack of speech. Which was a choice for you, after realizing that if you’d stopped speaking, people would simply assume that you were mute and wouldn’t have to bother with other inmates.

When she was pushed into the cell, you had momentarily looked away from the sketch on the cell desk. Your eyes met hers, anger was all that you could see in the glint of her eyes. She had a lot of rage, for a reason that you did not know.

“Don’t stare at me like that.” She nearly spat as she looked at you. Your expression hadn’t faltered as well as your gaze on the pink-haired girl. 

“Whatever, at least this time I didn’t get paired with someone who can’t shut up.” She threw her pillow onto the empty cell bed before sitting on the edge of it. Your silence with the inmates at times caused a bit of a ruckus, not all were happy with the fact that you wouldn’t respond to their conversations or threats. Sometimes they resulted in a one-sided fight.

You never fought back, you felt no point in doing so as the inmates loved to bring along a friend or two to accompany them to their ‘fights’. They’d say they were teaching you a lesson by beating you up, a lesson you obviously never understood considering the fact that this often reoccurs with other inmates. You could feel her eyes examining your black eye as you returned your gaze to your sketch.

“Why do you let them do that to you?” Her voice seemed a bit softer and inquisitive as she spoke. You had paused for a moment before deciding to shrug and continue to sketch.

“Tch, why did I even bother asking?” Her words seemed more like a statement to herself than a question as she responded to your silent statement of shrugging, “That is exactly why, because you don’t speak. I can see how that makes people get all worked up.”

Her eyes averted from your black eye to the desk, watching your pencil move swiftly, “What’s this?” She asked curiously as she neared your desk, grabbing a gadget, you quickly swiped it out of her hands. She put her hands up in surrender as she saw you defensively hold the gadget to your chest.

“Hey, hey. I meant no harm, I was just asking.” She said with her hands still up. For a moment, you looked down at the gadget against your chest. You extended your hand and allowed Pink to examine the item. She recognized it as the headpiece of her little sister, Powder,’s grenades, the signature colorful drawings on the headpiece.

“Where did you get this?!” She asked, now with a bit of hostility. Your lack of response angered her as you extended your hand as if asking for the item back, and she quickly slapped it angrily. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, you'd expect it from the other inmates, but Pink? With the way that she is with enforcers, it shouldn’t be surprising but it was. You held your hand with the other as you brought it to your chest, still feeling the stinging sensation.

“What do you know about this?!” She asked, her voice momentarily faltered, barely caught by even your own ears. The way that you seemed clueless to what she was saying, gave her the answer she needed. She scoffed as she tossed the headpiece of a flame chomper to you. You quickly caught it in your hands, safely putting it under your pillow away from Pink. 

“I’d get more out of talking to a wall.” She said with a scoff as she got into bed, shifting onto her side to face the wall.

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About two weeks passed since Pink had become your new cellmate. At first, she had been holding a grudge with you, giving you the silent treatment in return which you didn’t at all mind. You had always preferred silence. Eventually, she broke and began speaking to you, despite not hearing a word in return.

“I want to apologize for what happened a couple of weeks back..” She said as she continued punching the wall as she so often does, you’d taken note that this was a habit of hers to do every day. You’d gotten used to it quickly, assuming it was another ‘training’ thing of hers. 

“It’s just that I recognized that piece—the drawings. My little sister used to make gadgets and draw on them. Bombs, particularly.” She said as she paused her punching, staring at the wall as she spoke. This made you pause as well, the headpiece of the fire chomper in your hand. Your finger had been lightly caressing the cool metal, looking over your shoulder for a moment as Pink explained further.

“I guess it triggered something in me. I'm not a bad person, " she said as she caught your gaze.

You stood up, padding over to her and gently grabbing her hand. You opened her hand and placed the headpiece on her palm before moving her fingers to close around it. After the action, you sent her a small smile, to which she responded with a surprised look.

“You really don’t have to-” She began to speak before you had moved her hand to her chest. You gave her a nod, to which she finally understood. She nodded in return, understanding that you were giving her the item.

“Thank you..” She said quietly and hesitantly. You nodded once more as you returned to your desk. The two of you were silent for a moment before she put the item into her pocket and began punching the wall again. 

“Her name was Powder.” She said, speaking up after having punched the wall a few times. 

“I don’t know if she’s alive or not but what I do know is that when I get my first shot out of here, I'm going to find her. Or at least the man who took her from me.” Her voice was determined like she had thought about this many times.

“That man..took everything from me. He. Will. Pay.” She said a bit more aggressively now as she landed a harder punch on the wall. You winced at the sound, knowing that if it were you punching the wall like that, it would’ve hurt but Pink seemed to handle it like it was nothing.

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Time with Pink in your shared cell felt a little less tense than your first meeting with her. She had gotten a bit more comfortable and you knew that from the way that she’d open up a little every once in a while with stories of her past. She talked of her father, whom she seemed very fond of from the way she spoke of him, she talked of her sister Powder a lot, small stories of memories when the two were younger that warmed your heart.

You’d see that she was a lot more cooled down, with fewer fights with the guards as well as reduced ‘training’, she now seems to only punch the wall a couple of days a week. Everything seemed fine until a new inmate arrived, a man who was bald with many tattoos that seemed to run through his entire body. You’d heard the news that Pink had beaten him up with a tray during dinner, breaking his jaw. When returning to your cell, she was smug but also seemed bothered by the situation.

She muttered to herself as she sat on the edge of her cell’s bed, “A week without leaving the cell, that’s what they gave me.” She said as she looked at you, her gaze was hardened. Your jaw is slightly clenched with a bit of worry for the girl.

“No meals, nothing. That prick deserved what was coming to him. He knew it from the look in his eye when he saw me.” She muttered with a scoff.

One of the perks about trading often with the cook at Stillwater meant special treatment. Often the cook gave you a bit of a better meal or something for dessert. For the next three days, you had snuck food back into your cell for Pink to eat.

“How’d you get this brownie anyway?” She asked with her mouth stuffed, you shrugged it off to no surprise.

“Any news on bald guy?” You shook your head in reply to her question. “Good, I hope to hear not a peep out of him after that.”

There it was again, the rage in her eye you had seen when she first came into your cell. She was angry again, more now that this man was in Stillwater. But you couldn’t figure out why.

“He’s a part of Silco’s henchmen. Dirty rat finally got caught.” She said with a scoff as she continued to eat. You hesitantly placed your hand on her shoulder, she looked up at you with surprise. She sighed as she paused, once again allowing her shoulders to no longer be tensed.

“Yeah, I know. He just..ticks me off.” You simply nodded to her words in understanding before gently patting her shoulder. 

“Thanks anyway, for the food or whatever..” She mumbled as she continued to eat, you smiled softly before heading to your desk as you usually do. A bit of silence came over the two of you before she spoke.

“Do you like that they call you Mute here?”

You paused for a moment as you shook your head.

“Then why do you..not talk?”

You seemed to be in thought as you shrugged again.

“I'm not trying to be mean but maybe people would get off your case if you spoke. Can you even speak at all?” To which you nodded to her words, she only took a moment to examine your face which had healed from the black eye she first saw you with.

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A/N: Guys, let me know what you guys think. If you guys want me to make this a series or not, if it is, it might be a little bit of a slow burn, I will include the other characters later on as well. Thank you so much for reading, new readers can check out my works on my page. Everyone is welcome to request stuff as well!

[alexrosa13]

New Year's Eve

Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel; Sylus; Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff/suggestive(Rafayel, Sylus)

Warnings: minor writing suggestive content!

Note: Happy New Year you all <3 my last year as a kiddo comes to an end lol - twins fic is still in the making... 20k words already in, it will be up next year, sorry for anyone who's waiting :c

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Let's start the new year with...

You lying down on his chest with a blanked thrown over you, your palm resting next to your head, toying with the fabric of his shirt that found itself between your fingers. One of his hands on your head, playing with you hair gently while the second rests under his head.

His gaze focused on you, he felt at peace, his heart beating slowly, calm, unrushed. The night chill could be a problem, but luckily tonight it wasn't as bad. You and your lover were lying on top of the rooftop of the apartment bulding you two live in, on top of a blanket and fluffy pillows.

It was close to midnight, New Year will start soon, and you will welcome it - together, in each other embrace.

None of you cared enough to actually look up the time on your phones, how much time was left? It didn't matter at the moment.

The fireworks started to fly up, dark sky lightning up in countless colors. But instead of the once-a-year show, you were looking at each other. His eyes expressing the love he holds for you.

"Happy New Year Xavier." your soft smile bringing warm to his heart that he hoped he could keep there forever.

Your body slowly turning to come face to face with him, your hand from his chest wandering to his face, your lips getting closer.

"Happy New Year, my star." with little to no patience left, his hand on your head bringed you even closer to him, your lips finally connecting in a sweet kiss.

The sounds of celebration all around the city encouraging you to live in the moment, the hand he was resting on up until that moment moved in search of your hips, your body collapsing on top of his with your lips still moving against each other.

Even the cold midnight air were no match for your bodies which seem to be getting hotter with every passing second.

Suddenly you felt a tear in your eye, trying to break free from under your eyelid, as if all pain of the past year were to disappear together with it.

So you let it fall - right on Xavier's face, but before he could have the chance to understand the situation and move away to ask what's wrong, you pulled him in deeper, all your sorrows went away, leaving only bliss and happiness.

He was there with you, the sorce of your joy and the owner of your heart. He hopes you know, that his own belonged to you since what seem like forever and he wishes for you to never let go of it.

View of Snowcrest behind the window of your room bringed out memories from the past. The happy ones of you and your loved one, but also the ones of his pain and sorrows. The weird nostalgic feeling found it's place deep inside of your heart.

The half full mug of hot chocolate in your hand and your silhouette sitting on the rocking chair with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and with your knees brought up under your chin came into the view of your lover the moment he entered the room.

"Is one blanked enough? I don't want you getting cold." his soft voice distracted you from your thoughts, your head turning away from the window to look at him.

"I'm perfectly content here. However there is one thing that I would like, if you want me to be as comfy as I can be here." the mug in your hand meet the surface of the table nearby.

"And what is that you need?" closing the door quietly he made his way towards you.

"Love." your hand reached out to him. He couldn't help the soft giggle that left his mouth at your statement. He let you pull him closer.

You stood up and made him sit up in your place before getting comfy on his laps, like a kitty getting ready to sleep on it's favourite human.

He embraced your form cuddling up to him, your head hiding in his neck. He fixed the blanked around you, making sure to keep you warm and content in his hug.

The chair slowly stopped rocking with your movements coming to an end. His gaze fell from your form towards the window before him, the night sky making the snowy mountains look even more breathtaking that usual.

"Zayne?" he felt your warm breath on his sensitive skin, giving you a gentle hum to let you know he listens "What time is it?" your voice sounded tired, as if you were ready to fell asleep in his arms.

He looked at the clock on the wall, the moonlight bright enough for him to read the time.

"A little past midnight." your head peaked up from his shoulder, your eyes meeting.

"Happy New Year." your tired eyes gazed into his, your lips forming a soft smile.

"Happy New Year my love." your hand wandered from under the blanked to the back of his head, his eyes closed and a second later your lips found his, meeting in a soft unrushed kiss.

None of you knew for how long it lasted, maybe second, maybe minutes. You slowly pulled back, eyes not opening and your breathing getting steady. The blanked close to falling of your shoulders.

Without any word leaving him, Zayne stood up with you in his arms, one of his hands catching the blanked from falling completely.

He laid her down on the bed, making sure to tug her in nicely under the comforter and kiss her on the forehead.

With no rush he got into the bed too, lying down next to her under the cover. Her almost sleeping form turned to him and without any hesitation he pulled her closer to himself.

"Sleep well, my love."

Rafayel's art studio was full of laughter and colors today, it all started with the proposition to spend the New Year's Eve together. What was supposed to be an innocent painting session turned out to be a joyful disaster, with your faces, bodies and clothes covered in paint.

"Wait Miss Bodyguard, don't move, you would look so good with a heart painted on your neck." his paint brush touched the sensitive skin, your laughter proved to add a little challenge, the shaking of your body making the lines come out a bit messy, but the whole image still turning out pretty notherless.

"Can I draw some blue scales on my favourite fishy?" you voice full of joy reached his ears and a moment later your hand started to move his hair away from his face, getting ready to paint a masterpiece.

"Aww you better make me look like the most handsome fishy in the whole sea." he smiled, having the perfect opportunity to stare at your focused face, while you were busy with your work.

He was so mesmerised with your face that he didn't even noticed your eyes turning mischievous until it was too late. In a second his lips became covered in blue paint, he opened them in shock, taken a back.

"How dare you!" instantly in his mind there was a plan for a revenge.

You saw his gaze turning towards the red paint sitting on the floor close to you. Both of you froze. Staring into each other eyes.

In a manner of seconds you tried to stand up and run away from him, but able to predict your next move he moved faster than you, trapping you underneath him, your laughing form trying to apologise and break free didn't budge him.

He held your wrists above your head, pinning them to the floor with one of his hands, while the second took a hold of the paintbrush dipping it in the red paint.

"Rafayel do not! I'm sorry!" your pleading didn't help and in the next second your mouth got covered in paint which smelled and tasted just like... strawberry?

"Now we're even." his smile growing larger at your happiness. Suddenly you heard a loud noise outside of the windows, and a countless more following.

"Midnight." your out of breath voice bringed his attention back to you.

"Happy New Year Miss Bodyguard." he helped you sit down, the eye contact unbreakable and more intense with every second.

"Your lips are still blue." your gaze fell onto them.

"And yours are red." he saw where your eyes went, searching for an answer to his silent question in your gaze, which didn't went back up.

He saw you getting closer to him, you smeared with paint hands went up to his face, holding it with love, and messing up your previous work.

"Want to make purple with me?" your half-opened eyes finally reaching to gaze into his. He swore that you looked like you were about to faint if you didn't get what you wanted - or rather, needed.

"Anytime cutie." your lips came crushing into his, the sounds of breathless making-out meet the loud noises of the fireworks, his hands grabbed your hips, pulling you up onto his lap. His palms leaving obvious traces on your clothes.

Unexpectedly you broke the kiss, your rapid heartbeats trying to outrun each other, hot breaths mixing.

His drunk from lust gaze searched for your eyes, expression on your face matching his. He took notice of your purple lips, your tongue sticking out of your mouth to taste it.

Suddenly your hands left his face but before he could open his mouth to question you, he witnessed you taking off your shirt in hurry and throwing it somewhere behind you.

"Happy New Year baby." managed to leave your mouth, before they came back to his with twice as much passion and yearning than a moment before.

A Happy New Year indeed.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask, he covered your eyes with a black ribbon back in the car and proceed to carry you princess style to who-knows where.

"You'll see soon enough." once again your curiosity didn't get satisfied. You let out a huff of disappointment, your head falling down, as if pretending to faint, but your arms wrapped themselfs tighter around his neck. You couldn't see it, but you knew that his lips turned into a smirk at your attics.

That man made you wear one of the prettiest dresses you own, telling you to dress up because he is taking you out. After enjoying dinner at some fancy restaurant he brought you back to his car, telling you that there's one more place to go tonight and tying the blindfold over your eyes gently, as not to ruin your make-up.

Soon enough he finally put you down onto your feet, his hands gently took a hold of your waist, making you stand exactly where he wants you to.

"Ready?'" you heard his quiet voice right next to your ear, he stood behind you, his hands staying on your waist.

"As I'll never be." you state with a confident tone. With a quiet and short laugh he finally reaches for the ribbon, slowly pulling one end of it, making it untie itself before his hand comes back to it's former place.

Before your eyes is a huge window taking up a whole wall, you were probably standing on 20th floor of some high building. You try to took in your surroundings.

The huge room is decorated in your signature colors, you're quick to take notice of the pile made out of presents, and a banner hanging from the ceiling above it:

Happy New Year Darling

There were flowers all around the floor, you couldn't help but smile at the fact that they matched yours and Sylus' aesthetics perfectly.

"I've decided to spoil you one last time before the end of this year." you felt a kiss on your neck. Turning around in his hold you wrapped your arms around his neck just like before. His eyes glancing into yours, seeing the happiness in your gaze warmed his heart in a way he never knew were possible before meeting you.

"You really didn't have to." joyful smile found it's place on your face, Sylus wished that he brought Mephisto with him to capture that moment forever, but he had to settle for saving that image in his head instead.

"I know, but I wanted to. I love spoiling you kitten, you know that very well." one of his hands reached up to caress your chin before coming back down to take a hold of your hips.

"I love you so much." managed to reach his ears before your lips caught his in a breathless kiss. He was quick to match your passion, kissing you like he yearned for that moment to happen since forever.

One of his hands wandered to your thigh, making it wrap itself around his hip and holding it in place, while the other found your back, gently but firmly making your body arch to his liking, his face now right above yours and your bodies pressed together.

The loud sounds from the outside world caught your attention. You broke the kiss with a heavy breathing arching your body even more, as to see the window behind you, the upside-down image of the sky lighting up in a variety of beautiful colors meeting your eyes.

"Happy New Year kitten." you felt your lover's hot breath on your neck, before his mouth came to meet it, wet kisses making you close your eyes for a moment in delight, before your head went back up and your eyes met. You took notice of the pink blush adoring his face before speaking up.

"Good luck with putting up with me in the new year." your face came closer to his, giving his lips a quick peck before pulling back to say something more "I raise the stakes this year." with a grin on your lips you noticed his eyes lightning up and you could swore that you saw a hearts in them.

"Try me, pretty girl." his lips came crashing onto yours once again.

Oh god how you loved this man...

"Stop it!" your scream broke through the laughter, but the man above you wasn't planning on letting you win that easily. He pinned your hands above your head, not caring one bit about your kicking and squirming under him.

"Give up!" his mocking-like laugh reached your ears.

"Okay, okay! You win! Let me go you bully!" you couldn't stop your giggling even if you tried. Your play fight finally comes to an end, letting you catch your breath.

"One more insult and I won't let you go for the next half-an-hour." his second hand came to join his other one, both of your hands now in his hold.

"Please no. I'm too tired for this." your head dropped down onto the sofa's cushion, your eyes closing up to show the truth behind your words.

"Sure, sure, as if I'll believe that one of the best Linkon City's hunters has this low of a stamina." his hands finally letting go of yours. You felt his body straightening up and sitting on your hips, but not putting his whole weight onto you.

Your eyes opened, one of your hands coming to lay on your forehead. His gaze already focused on you, the grin on his lips speaking loudly about the fact that he was enjoying this.

"You better be careful and take care of one of Linkon's best hunters instead of being mean to her and making her almost die from laughter." with a soft laugh he finally pulled himself up from your body, making his way towards the kitchen area in your apartment without fixing his crumpled T-shirt.

To say that you ogled his walking form was an understatement. Gosh how could someone look this good FROM BEHIND?

Supporting yourself on your elbows you lifted your upper body a little higher, looking at the still running tv. The little clock on the bottom left corner showed that it was only 30 seconds before midnight.

You shot up from your seat and ran to the window with the view on the whole city.

"Caleb! It's almost the time!" the man was quick to put the drink he was holding up onto the countertop and join you in your waiting.

With your gaze still focused on the window you hugged his body tightly, one of his hands returned your embrace, while the second held up his phone to look at the time.

Seconds later the numbers on the screen finally showed midnight, and together with it colors lighten up the sky, making a spectacle of saying goodbye to the old year and welcoming the new one.

His phone dropped to the pocket of his pants and his other arm wrapped itself around you.

"Happy New Year pipsqueak." his lips touched your forehead, planting a quick kiss on it.

You looked up at him, the happiness perfectly visible in your eyes.

"Happy New Year Caleb." standing up on your tippy toes, your lips touched his in a sweet kiss for the first time this year.

It'll be a happy one, because it will be with him.

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ hidden deep inside ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ percy jackson x mortal reader ୨୧ is it foolish to think that greek mythology is real and that your boyfriend is a part of it? find part one: i know all your secrets a/n: (1.4k words) finally part two is here! sorry it took so long x 🩷

A month. You had a month until your lovely boyfriend Percy Jackson had his birthday.

You'd walked through almost every store in your city eight times before realizing you had no idea what to get him.

As horrible as it sounded it was true. What kind of a girlfriend couldn't think of a good gift?

You'd quickly given up trying to find clothes he'd like. Which shade of blue would he like best in his shirts? Was it too easy to give him clothes in his favourite colour? What if you'd overdone it and he no longer likes blue?

No clothes then.

You'd look at jewelry, you knew he prefers silver over gold. but he didn't like things that jangled and made noise. A ring then. But as you looked at the prices of the few you thought he'd like. Your heart broke as each one rose higher than the last.

No rings then.

You'd thought about cologne, none of the stores had the specific one he liked most. 

Then you saw a store that sold skateboards but you knew his friend, Annabeth, was getting him one. she'd thankfully told you before she bought it what she was getting him so you knew not to get it.

You briefly passed a bookstore before remembering how Percy made clear how he had difficulty reading. 

Everything you'd thought of it just didn't feel right. It didn't feel enough. Percy always put thought into the gift he showers you in, and while you try to reciprocate that, his birthday was different. 

This had to be the gift.

He had mentioned a restaurant he'd found, one that served all his favourites and you'd tried to get a reservation but they were all booked out.

He'd told you stories about how his mother used to give him blue candy from the store she used to work at but when you talked to her on the phone she mentioned how she was gifting it to him once again.

He'd tell you of the times he'd go to montonk with his mother but you had no idea how to get him there without him noticing. 

Perhaps you should just tell him. Tell him you didn't have any surprises but you still wanted to spend time with him. You could make his favourite food and do whatever he wanted. You could stargaze and he could relax, he could tell you more stories and have a peaceful day.

Stories. Percy loved stories! Of course, if you couldn't buy him a present you could just make him one. He couldn't read English well, but you knew he could read Greek, ancient greek. 

You'd been on a date at a museum and there was a statue holding a slab of writing. Offhandedly you said that you wished you knew what it said, Percy automatically read it out. He'd quickly brushed it off that he was joking but you knew better than that.

Over the year you two had been together and the year prior you both were friends for, you knew to take notice of the odd little slip up he has. 

When he's asleep and mumbles something in another language, one you'd bet was ancient greek. 

When you both visit the beach and his tanned shoulders and back over various scars. the odd white streak in his hair that he never has to dye to stay there, and from the baby photos sally showed you, he wasn't born with it. 

And finally there was his father. You'd never met the man but Percy often talks about him, and the strange family business at sea he works for.

You were researching and trying to learn greek, modern greek so at least you might have a headstart on the ancient language next. Planning to write the story, his story in a language he could understand.

But the more Greek mythology you read the more foolish you thought you were becoming.

A part of you, the part who loved a good fantasy story enjoyed the idea of it all. Stories of tragedy, love and war. Of heroes and gods alike. It all seemed far fetched of course but a nagging part of you wanted to believe it to be true.

Which was ridiculous. How could both science and mythology be true at the same time? 

Could the Earth rotating on its axis be the reason for the sun rising or could it be Apollo and his chariot? 

The reason for thunder and lightning is that Zeus was having a bad day or that there's a buildup of electric charges in storm clouds? 

Do you dream because your brain still thinks it's awake while you sleep or because Morpheus blessed you with a dream?

Is it possible for both to happen at once? That the sun is both at once? That the lightning is both together? That dreams have reasons?

Surely not... that would be absurd.

However it would make more sense about the weird horse that follows Percy everywhere, seriously that horse has strange vibes. Like he can understand your questing gaze, not to mention if you looked at him close enough you're sure you can see wings.

Or the time you briefly met Percy's brother on the way to work. You were running late and Tyson, you later learned his name was, knocked on the front door looking for Percy. 

They had something to do at work together and had come to pick him up. You were in such a rush to not be later than you already were, it wasn't until later when you thought back on it. 

You were sure Tyson only had one eye, but it was blurry like one second he was fine then next his eyes shifted into one in the middle of his face, before quickly disappearing again. You just assumed it was because of the busy morning you had.

The more you remembered the more that deep nagging feeling in you got stronger. To the point of it almost hurting.

Nevertheless you kept learning and kept writing, it wasn't completely accurate (not by a long shot), you just hoped it was somewhat understandable.

By the time you were finished the entire book percy had almost spoiled the surprise for himself three times. You could tell he was becoming more and more suspicious especially when you would continue to brush his questions off.

But it would be worth it. Hopefully.

His birthday couldn't have come any quicker. You both promised Sally to visit and have dinner with them but you got him all to yourself in the morning.

Everything was going to plan.

You'd made him his favourite breakfast without any error. 

You'd both gone on a morning walk around the city just like he said he wanted to, all without any incidents. 

You'd both bought lunch to take back home where you two watched a movie he got to pick.

After all of that, you finally worked up the courage to give him his gift. You'd left to grab it where you'd hidden it away. 

You looked over the birthday wrapping paper double checking everything was still perfect before running back into the living room where percy patiently sat.

"I really hope you like it, Happy Birthday love" You mumbled nervously as you handed the wrapped gift to his waiting hands.

"I know I will, beauty" His easy smile soothed your worries.

He carefully unwrapped his present, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he flipped the book over. His eyes followed the greek letters on the handbound cover.

The Tales of Perseus Jackson.

A modern day hero.

Written by his love sick poet.

He delicately opened the cover to read the dedication page.

For Percy,

Whether love is a chemical reaction or a arrow shot by Eros

I love you more than words, although the muses can try.

Happy birthday my love.

He looked up at you, tears threatening to fall past his waterline. He looked at you like you'd just hung the stars in the night sky, suddenly you felt a little silly. Why were you ever worried?

He raced up to tightly hug you, his head buried in your shoulder. His whispers of 'I love you's and thank you’s' melted your heart. 

It was all worth it. The late nights, the travelling to libraries, the endless studying.

You realized you'd do just about anything to see that wide smile on his face.

[brittle-doughie]

oh em GEEEEEE, I need a yandere silent salt headcanons or yandere mystic flour headcanonss - I love ur writings so much I can't explain how much I love your stories/headcanons !!!!! <3

If you make my request I'll be over da moooonn !!!!!

If you see this I hope you have a really really good day/night !!!!!!

Bye byeee !!!!! <33333

Mystic Flour Cookie can sense the deep emptiness within your heart, she can tell…

If it weren’t for you, she’d not have a care in the world. You were the only Cookie she had care for, the world would be nothing but white and she’d be okay with that so long as she had you.

Whenever you felt any sort of anguish, she’d go to you, wishing to ease your burden by holding you close to her, even if she was the cause of it.

She can’t guarantee that she can make things better, but if you chose to stay with her, she’ll make sure your mind will be peaceful and free as ever…

But do not mistake her apathy as a lack of care for you, a Beast will always make sure that any Cookie that belongs to them stays that away.

It’s for the best that you aren’t caught conversing secretly with other Cookies or even think of betraying your loyalty to her.

She’ll make you watch as she reduces them to nothing with a slow, yet powerful motion of her hand. Having to see the Cookie you were just talking to slowly turn to flour and drift away, as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

She can turn everything and everyone you ever care about into nothing if she thinks they’re in the way between you and her. Never test a Beast, for their love for you extends beyond their demeanor that can have fatal consequences if ignored…

[shitpostingsapphic]

I had a thought some time ago, about a small story beat change: what if Vi had chosen to let go herself, rather than Jinx forcing her? Like, she realized Jinx was at peace with dying (as far as she knew). Would it make sense for Vi to have grown to a point that she was ready to let go of the past?

More than anything, I'm just curious as to how likely/unlikely this would be.

My opinion? Vi would have never been able to let go. It's her fatal flaw but it's also her most admirable trait--Vi won't give up on those she loves if she believes she can still reach them. Jinx made that choice because she knew this. For better or worse, that choice was made out of love for Vi. And it's also one of the first where we see an exchange of dynamic between Vi and Jinx--usually, Vi is the one to sacrifice her wants and desires for the sake of her sister. This time, Jinx does this for Vi.

I wish people were more open to understanding the writing choices made with season 2, especially regarding Vi, Jinx, and Caitlyn. It's great to see these types of stories--ones that aren't happy but emotionally moving. It makes people talk. It makes people think. It UPSETS YOU to watch. Oh, but it's so beautiful and so moving.

Too many people call media that upsets them bad writing. It's an emotionally stunted take. There's so much more to be discovered about yourself when you're okay with being upset and sitting with that, seeing what thoughts and feelings it brings up within you.

[sundew199]

The comfort of them

a/n: sort of a continuation of this thought, also just an excuse to write domestic/dad!zoro :)

tags: roronoa zoro x f!reader, post-canon, fluff, domestic, family dynamics, dad!zoro, family bliss, just cute stuff tbh Kōji means prosperous, peace and happiness. Kiyomi means beautiful

Gentle rustling of leaves against the wind silence the thoughts in his head, matching his slow concentrated breathing as he centers is mind, body and soul. Zoro had the rare morning off from teaching, no students causing a ruckus out in the courtyard as he attempts to refocus them to the lesson. Life had been so unnaturally slow since succeeding in his goal to become the greatest swordsman, deciding after years of adventure he was ready to settle down. And thank goodness you took him up on his offer, returning with him to Shimotsuki village so he could take over the dojo from his old master.

Over the years, the dojo earned itself a name, students from around the world clamoring to secure a spot to learn the art of the sword from the world's greatest swordsman. Despite his new title, Zoro was humble, never boasting or revealing who he was in the rarity someone didn't know. The fame wasn't what he wanted, never was, but knowing he fulfilled his lifelong goal in honor of his childhood friend made it easier to enjoy the life he was given.

The dojo wasn't the only thing that grew over the years, now instead of one Roronoa, there were few newly added additions. Shortly after taking over the dojo, Zoro asked for your hand in marriage, fulfilling another goal of his in making you his wife. He worried you would decline due to the new title bestowed upon him and the target that came with it, but you embraced it, taking on his last name and solidifying the missing piece to the other half of his heart permanently. Everything he could've ever wanted was right here, within his grasp and protection.

Peaking his one good eye open, Zoro took the stick of incense and extinguished the flame, concluding his routine meditation. The air wafting around him reminded him of his life out on sea, a familiar citrus and salty smell that kept those memories alive. He could admit that he did miss those times, the fun and the danger that came with Luffy being the captain, but he had something so much sweeter now.

Rising from the floor and grabbing his dark blue haori from the hook on the wall to drape over the plain black yukata, Zoro quietly shuffled out of the room and down the hall to check on everyone else living in the compound that connected to the dojo. Truthfully, Zoro wasn't fan of having such a large home for just him and you, but that mindset changed when a certain addition was added to the family.

Checking the room his boisterous son was supposed to be in, discovering it was empty like most mornings, Zoro let out a sigh and turned down the way he just came. Kōji was five now, born a year after he married you and took over the dojo and Jesus he was a force to reckon with at times. Koushirou constantly reminded Zoro that his son was just like him when he was that age, but Zoro didn't want to acknowledge that fact, at least not to his old teacher. Ever since Kōji turned five earlier this year, he's been begging Zoro to let him enroll in one of the classes he taught, having such an affinity for his father's swords and wanting to be just like him. You melted every time Kōji tried to find a new way to ask, but he was still a year too young to enroll and Zoro wasn't going to make an exception just for his son.

"Have you seen Kōji?" Catching one of the staff members for the dojo and asking if they've seen his son by any chance.

"Last I heard he was out by the cherry blossoms with a couple of practice swords." The man responded simply, giving a small bow to Zoro before slipping down another hall.

Zoro couldn't help but groan aloud, not that he despised the idea of his son wanting to take after him, but because he knew by the time he reached Kōji, he'd have a new bruise or scrape from trying to "practice".

Soft grunts and whistling of wood blades cutting through the air came into earshot, a strong willed figure with dark teal colored hair moving erratically like they were trying to copy someone else's movements. Zoro hung back for a moment to watch, unable to help the small smile seeing his son wield three swords exactly how he did.

Kōji lunged forward with a battlecry that was so muffled by the practice sword in his mouth, Zoro chuckled. Though the humor quickly disappeared as he watch his son trip on his feet and land face first in the grass with a whine and a small sob. Sighing rather loudly, Zoro made his way over to where Kōji now sat slumped with the three swords resting by his side and in front of him.

"Let me see."

Surprising the boy with his sudden appearance and hand on his shoulder, moving to hold under his chin to see the busted lip he earned from slipping face first with a sword in his mouth. Kōji frowned and almost scowled at Zoro trying to wipe some of the blood away, whining under his breath that he was fine and to let him get back to practice. Zoro laughed at his weak attempt of a declaration, scooping him off the ground and into his arms.

"Let me practice!"

"Not with a busted lip, your mother will kill me."

Kōji crossed his arms and pouted, glaring at Zoro while held in his arms, making his way back inside to doctor up the very noticeable split in his bottom lip. Zoro empathizes with his son and his insistence in wanting to learn and train, but he also wasn't going to bend the rules just for him. In the big picture, this served as one of the many lessons Zoro taught to his enrolled students: patience.

"Can't join the class and now you won't let me practice."

Zoro shook his head to hid the smile and chuckle at his son's irritated rambling, Koushirou may have been onto to something when comparing his younger self to Kōji.

"How about this?" Proposing to the boy as he sat him on the bench in the bathroom, watching his eyes light up with interest. "You can come with me to the afternoon classes today and watch the older students."

"Really? Okay!" Answering instantly and sitting up straighter with a smile that pulled at the wound in his bottom lip, causing a new trail of blood to run down his chin. Zoro smiled endearingly, wiped it away with his thumb and grabbed the damp warm rag to clean the split, holding the back of Kōji's neck to keep him still, knowing it would sting. He winced maybe once, trying to keep the little tears forming in the corner of his eyes from falling in front of Zoro. Something warmed his heart a little to see how much Kōji was trying to impress him when he didn't have to, his son didn't have to go to great lengths to impress him but still a little flattered that he did.

Leaving the bathroom together, Kōji took off down the hall to presumable go find you and tell you about getting the opportunity to join him for the afternoon classes, Zoro not far behind. Most days you hung out in the compound with the youngest Roronoa, his daughter who was just shy of turning six months old.

Finding you in the bedroom with the shojis open to let in the cool spring air, you smiled and opened your arms in an embrace to Kōji. The sleeves of your dark blue simple kimono that matched his haori, draped and engulfed around his son as you held him tightly to your chest to annoy him, pressing smothering kisses to the cheek that wasn't tightly pressed to your body. You had embraced the traditional clothing from Wano after coming here with him and after the discovery of Shimotsuki village's history. Even while in Wano, all those years ago, Zoro had an inkling that the name of this village and one of the clan's daimyo were connected and not just a crazy coincidence. And he was right, Koushirou revealing the history of this village and the connection it had to Wano, and even Zoro's connection to the Shimotsuki clan, and the direct line he had to Ryuma. Of course, both you and him had days where you wore regular clothing around, but most days comfort was found in the soft fabric of the kimonos and yukatas.

"Dad's going to let me come to the afternoon classes today!" Kōji excitedly exclaimed, sitting in your lap and looking so proud of himself. You were nodding absentmindedly to the statement, focused on the new injury your son had, brushing your thumb over the split in his bottom lip.

"Oh? Today?" Processing your son's words and looking up to Zoro who now cradled his daughter in his arms, pecking a couple of kisses to her forehead.

"Yea, just watching. Why?"

Deciding to join you on the floor, adjusting his hold on his daughter and faintly smiling as she further began to wake up from her nap.

"I forgot you had afternoon classes." Dividing your gaze between Kōji and your daughter Kiyomi in Zoro's arms.

"Yea, you can have a girls day or whatever with Kiyomi." Joking with a smile. Having his son with him during the class wouldn't be a big deal, the students attending today didn't need to be herded or watched like a hawk, all around thirteen-fourteen years old.

"Are you sure?"

"It's afternoon classes, baby, I can teach and watch my own son" Scooting close enough to kiss your cheek, letting out a little laugh to his own words and also to Kōji's soft sound of disgust at the display of affection between his parents.

There were still a few more hours left until the students would begin to arrive, giving Zoro some much needed uninterrupted time with his family. Kōji attempted to get Kiyomi to laugh by doing tricks that consisted of acrobatics, which had you gasping and clutching onto the sleeve of his haori. Having a son, that took after him, you were accepting the fact that he was going to get hurt and just not have as much care as you'd like, but you or Zoro were always there to comfort him when he scraped his knee or elbow, or hit his head a bit too hard.

Both of his children adored him, Kōji using him as inspiration for who he wants to be one day and Kiyomi always finding security and safety when in his arms, Zoro truly wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

After instructing his son to go change into the jumper worn by the students during class, Zoro hung out in the bedroom with Kiyomi while you changed to head out for the afternoon. She gurgled and cooed back at his whispers, smiling when Zoro would barely kiss her forehead and melting his heart. His daughter's hair was dark, but not black like either of you assumed when it started to thicken over time, Zoro swearing she had undertones of green like him and Kōji but you weren't as convinced, insisting it were closer to a brunette color more than anything. Only time would tell.

"Are you sure you're okay with having Kōji for class?"

Hearing your voice draw closer as you exited the room connected to the bedroom used to store yours and his clothing, looking up to see you dressed in loose fitting trousers and a blouse and smiling at how effortless you always looked.

"Yes baby, he'll be fine. Plus today's class isn't anything rigorous."

Standing up and balancing his daughter in one arm to wrap the other around you, bringing you in for a soft kiss. His calloused hand held the side of your face and brushed across your cheekbone, smiling at you in adoration.

"Okay." Whispering back and taking Kiyomi from him so he could grab his swords from the locked display in the bedroom. Rarely did Zoro ever find himself walking around the compound with them on his hip, proving over time to just get in the way, instead he chose to wear them to the classes he taught and when out and about. Taking all three of them and placing them on the futon, he went to fetch the holster for them and adjust the sash of yukata to hide the holster, not liking how bulky it looked.

Handling them each with care, Zoro secured his blades in order, securing wado ichimonji last. Taking Kiyomi back from you and leaving the bedroom together, neither of you bother to check if Kōji was in his room, knowing he would be patiently waiting for him out in the courtyard. And the assumption was correct, finding Kōji sitting at the top step with his hands in his lap and staring at the gate the students would come in.

"Say bye to your mom." Instructing the boy and smiling when he perked up to his feet to hug you around the legs, muttering a goodbye and accepting the kiss to the top of his head as you bent down.

Zoro stood beside his son, handing Kiyomi over to you after gently pressing a kiss to her cheek and muttering a hushed goodbye watching you leave, giving you a lingering look that read only of the three famous words constantly repeated.

"C'mon, we've got a few minutes until everyone gets here." Tipping his head back inside for Kōji to follow, leading him down to the same room he had been meditating in earlier. Zoro could tell his son was nothing but nerves and excitement, absentmindedly holding onto his fingers as they walked down the hall together. This would be the first time Kōji would be joining him for a class, having not been allowed to in the past. And not because Zoro didn't want him too, but because when he first started to show interest in swordsman ship, the students at the time required all of his attention and didn't need the distraction of his overly excited son there.

"Mom says you like to have sake before class, is that what we're doing?" Asking once in the room, a low table now placed in the center with a reasonably sized jug and a single serving cup. There was also tea, which was hardly touched by him ever, but allowed Kōji to partake in the little pre-class ritual of his without feeling left out.

"Mhm, helps me focus." Giving him a little smirk as he let go of his son's hand and sat on the opposite side of the low table. He poured the tea first for Kōji and then sake for himself. With a little nod, they downed their respective drinks, letting out similar sighs and placing the cups back down.

"Now, during class I want you to stay by me and listen. My students are here to learn and I don't want you distracting them." Letting his tone fall serious, watching his son's face do the same as he listened.

"Yes sir."

"Good, this will give you an idea of what it'll be like for you some day so make sure you're paying attention."

Kōji nodded again, only with a little smile now at the mention of him getting to join the classes his father taught. Zoro smiled softly seeing his son's smile, pouring another glass of sake and throwing it back quickly, knowing the students would be here any minute.

"Master Zoro, the students are arriving." One of the assistant teacher said, poking their head into the room. It didn't go unnoticed how their eyes widened seeing his son with him, but kept his comments to himself.

Zoro gave a nod, standing up, Kōji returned to holding tightly onto Zoro's middle and ring finger as he walked beside him, walking closer and closer to his side as they approached the courtyard once again. A few more glances at his son accompanying him were give by the staff and assistant teachers, and again none of them saying a thing on the matter.

Out in the expanse courtyard, twenty or so students around the ages of thirteen and fourteen stood in lines of fives, stiffening when Zoro walked through the open shoji door, standing in the center with a neutral expression. Kōji did his best not to cling to his father's side, standing tall and tightening his small hand around the fingers he held onto still.

"Begin with your stretches." Commanding in a sharp tone, his demeanor flipping like a switch now that he was teaching a class. Kōji stiffened at the new and unfamiliar tone used by his father, looking up at him and briefly smiling at the wink Zoro gave him, a little gesture of affection that soothed the nerves of his son.

All the students began the routine drilled into them from the very beginning of their enrollment, staying within their own space and staying mindful of the other's around them. Zoro let go of Kōji's hand to cross his arms over his chest, watching with a careful eyes to ensure there were no stupid mistakes being made with the simple instructions.

"Master Zoro, we know your wife left just a few minutes ago, would you like one of us to keep Kōji entertained?" An assistant teacher asked in a low voice, probably taking notice of the students wandering eyes and trying to firgure out who the young kid standing up by their teacher was. Zoro led a private life, people knew he had a family and was married but only ever saw you on occasion, some of the students completely unaware that their teacher had children.

"No. He's with me for the entirety of the class, and won't be an issue."

Firmly responding to the assistant teacher, who meekly bowed at the response, returning to where he stood a little behind Zoro with the second assistant teacher and watched the children out in the yard warm up their muscles before class.

Stretching concluded with the students standing tall with their hands behind their backs, waiting for further instruction. Zoro took a seat right where he was, Kōji doing the same, sitting in a criss-cross position, mirroring Zoro the best he could.

"Last class each of you were given a blade and instructed to care for it, by cleaning and polishing it for this class." Pausing as he unhooked a part of his holster and set his own three blades out in front of him. Kōji stared in amazement, never getting to see his father's blades this close before, subject to looking at them in the display. Carefully, Zoro unsheathed Sandai Kitetsu from the guard, holding it at an angle where the sun would catch the blade and bounce.

"Your blade is an extension of yourself, and must be treated as such." Straightening his arm out in front of him with Kitetsu facing horizontally towards the students. "Treating it just as a blade will never get you as far as you think, wielding it as an extension grants you a higher possibility of winning a match against an opponent."

Kōji was enraptured with his father's words, even if he couldn't quiet grasp exactly what he was saying it didn't negate the fact that Zoro was speaking with such passion and truth about the blade he now held vertical in front of him. Zoro glanced at Kōji, wide eyed and lost in the amazement, flashing him a small soft smile before speaking again.

"One by one you will present the blades to see if they match the standards that I keep mine." Proclaiming sternly, moving the other two unsheathed swords in front of him back to the side his holster was on, placing Kitetsu down in front of him. The students gave an in sync response to their teacher, grabbing their blades from the ground next to them and filing into a line to present the weapon to Zoro to inspect. The assistant teachers moved to help, until Zoro held up a hand for them to stop, wanting to conduct this all on his own, very particular on this sort of matter.

Kōji tried to sit up straighter, tried to exude the commanding presence of his father, despite being five years old. He watched the first student approach, bow at the waist and hand over the sheathed blade to his master. Zoro carefully revealed the weapon, holding it at the hilt and looking it over thoroughly.

"Good."

The one word response was give to the student, sheathing the blade again and handing it back, glancing at the next student to come forward. Kōji didn't exactly know what his dad was looking for, the first few looked shiny and clean from his point of view and wondered why Zoro spent longer than a few seconds examining it.

Student after student presented their blades, some passing the assignment, others coming close if it weren't for the few missed imperfections that were spotted. When they were spotted, Zoro would only frown and name what he saw, either it be a smudge of the smallest streak of leftover polish or dirt, and leave it at that. The student wouldn't necessarily fail, but they didn't pass either.

One of the students towards the end of line was next, proud smug expression written on his face when approaching Zoro, confidently passing over his sword. Kōji saw the way his dad's neutral expression falter to irritation for the briefest second, his curious mind wondering why it shifted for this particular student only.

Thumbing over the blades edge, turning the hilt in his hand, Zoro's frown deepened immensely, narrowing his gaze at the student.

"What is this?"

"The polished and cleaned sword Master Zoro." Increasing the effort on his end to keep the confidence present in front of his teacher.

"Who polished this?" Almost snapping at the student, causing Kōji to jump a little while watching the interaction.

"I did Mast-"

"Lie again and you'll be expelled."

Confidence completely drained from the student, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, and managing to keep his gaze centered on Zoro who scowled angrily.

"My Father."

"Why? The assignment was for you, not your father." Rising from where he sat, sheathing the sword he loaned to his student and handing it to one of the assistant teachers.

"Because he is a swordsman like you, and wanted to show me the correct way to clean and polish a sword." Words carrying a slight tremble as he spoke, trying to resist in picking at his fingers in nerves.

"Then why are you enrolled? If my methods of teaching are incorrect then there's no reason for you to be in my class." Zoro watched as the student shrunk where he stood, realizing the depth of his actions and the consequences that were sure to follow.

"yes I-"

"You're dismissed for the day." Speaking over the student's stammering in a surprisingly calm tone. For a moment, Zoro thought he would protest further, instead bowing at the waist and grabbing the last of his things and shuffling out of the courtyard. Everyone watched with wide eyes and nerves, never witnessing such a thing before. Zoro wouldn't expel the student, but lying and not even completing the task that was assigned got him sent home from the class. There was no success in letting others do the menial and somewhat pointless tasks, the path to mastering the art of swordsmanship was all up to you.

Zoro didn't waste anymore time on what had just happened, sitting back down and waving forward the next student. She was one of the few girls in the glass, introverted but picked up on things fast. Zoro tried not to play favorites with his students, wanting to remain fair in honor of his journey and the person who set him on the path in the first place, but there obviously the students who advanced more quickly than others.

"Well done." Handing the girl her blade back, glancing at the last two students. Kōji's eyes followed her as she walked to joined the others, the girl giving him a small wave out of view of her teacher and Kōji giving one back.

Now that all the student's blade have been inspected, Zoro stands, walking down the steps, looking back at his son and holding out his hand for him to take. Together, with Kōji holding onto to the two same fingers from earlier, they walked over to where the students had gathered, awaiting further instructions.

"We'll be going over footwork first and focused, precise moves." Taking Enma out of the cover, Zoro dropped Kōji's hand to give a brief demonstration of what the students would be doing. Placing one foot behind the other, bending his knees just enough, Zoro spotted his target out of the peripheral of his good eye, inhaling deeply.

Kōji and the other students watched, some never having seen the world's greatest swordsman use his blades and some anticipating the excitement of witnessing it again.

Turning on his back foot, Zoro's waist twists in the direction of the practice dummy, Haki flowing furiously down the arm that held the Enma at the hilt, swinging his arm just enough and speaking the name of the famed blade. In an instant, the top half of the dummy was cut diagonally, top half sliding down and hitting the dirt. Nothing else besides the dummy took a damage, Zoro now possessing years of control and practice with this specific sword to center his attack on only what he wanted, a feat he worked hard to achieve.

Gasps and murmurs followed the single move, students exchanging looks with one another in pure amazement, the title of their master living up to its name.

"One person explain how I was able to achieve that" Tucking Emna back into its scabbard and returning to stand in front of his students. Kōji quietly made his way to stand closer to Zoro, shuffling his feet in the dirt and looking up at him as he waited for the answer to his question.

"You centered yourself first, then chose a target to aim for." A student answered, clutching the scabbard of his own blade to his chest.

"Good. Foot placement may not always be achievable in certain situations, but it's a way to center yourself before an attack. Throwing out unfocused and sporadic attacks could land you at the other end of the blade, which is why treating your sword as an extension of yourself and centering your being will get you results and not on the wrong end of blade."

Zoro allowed himself a small smile seeing the slow nods from his students, experience mingling into his words as he spoke and feeling confident that his students were absorbing every word.

"Find a dummy and practice some of the basic moves from previous classes. Aim for precision, center your mind, body and soul."

Immediately the students broke off from each other, following instructions and unsheathing their blades from their scabbards.

Zoro took a moment to make sure everyone was where they were suppose to be, before turning his attention to Kōji. He was awestruck still, blankly staring out where the students were and leaning into Zoro.

"Having fun?" Asking with a chuckle when his son's head popped up, a smile breaking out on his face.

"That was so cool! How did you do that? Can all of your swords do that? Will you teach me-"

"Slow down," Laughing under his breath at the influx of questions pouring from his son, the amazement and pure excitement swelling the organ in Zoro's chest. The excitement from his students just didn't feel the same as his son's excitement, the admiration Kōji held for him was so dear and special.

"All of my swords are different and used for different moves and attacks. And someday, when you're old enough, I'lll teach you, with your own."

Kōji let out a lengthy gasp, stars forming in his eyes. This was the first time his dad had ever given him an answer to his constant request for him to teach him. Zoro palmed the top of his head, brushing back some of his hair and continuing to give Kōji the promising smile.

The remainder of the class, Zoro corrected students who needed it and indulged in his son's occasional questions. He could picture doing this with Kōji, and was kind of excited to pass down his passion to his son, completely different than passing it down to students.

By the time the last student had left with their parent, Zoro could see you approaching with Kiyomi and a few additional items. Kōji was already inside getting washed up for dinner by the time you got back.

Before you could even ask how the day had gone, Zoro was taking his daughter from you and ushering you inside, to discuss about the excitement that took place while you were out. Kiyomi smiled wide now that she was carried by Zoro, gurgling as if she were saying actual words back to him as he made similar hushed noises in return.

Within the bedroom, Zoro kept Kiyomi occupied as you changed and put everything away.

“How was he?”

Hearing you ask, sauntering out of the closet in one of your more simpler kimonos, reaching for Kiyomi as if you hadn’t been with her all day. Zoro sighed, like he were defeated at his daughter being “stolen” from him, but laughed under his breath at how enamored Kiyomi was at the moment.

“He’ll be counting down the days till his birthday, the day he’ll want to enroll.”

You hummed, holding out your free hand for him to take so the two of you could grab Kōji from his room and head down for dinner.

“And I’m assuming you’ll let him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He was so excited to just sit in on the class, a kid in a candy store sweetheart.” Shrugging as if he weren't just as excited at teaching his son the passion that's had him in a chokehold since he was Kōji's age.

The cooks had things set up in the small dining area of the compound, where the four of you would eat every night. But the setting sun and the cherry blossoms swaying in the wind made it all the more enticing to eat out in the garden. Giving a quick request to have everything moved to enjoy the nice evening, Zoro felt content run warm through his body. All those years out at sea, pondering what would become of his life after he achieved his goal now seemed so, minuscule. Look where he was now, Master of his dojo and holding the title of "greatest swordsman" and married to the woman he would stay up late at night admiring, hoping the feelings he held for you would always be reciprocated.

"I finally got to see dad use his swords in class and, and, it was so cool!"

Kōji excited exclaimed while sitting on the blanket across from you and Zoro, holding and onigiri in one of his small hands, looking at both you and Zoro with the widest eye either of you have ever seen.

"Which sword was it?" Indulging your son, adjusting your daughter on your lap as she playing with some of the food within reach.

"Um, it was...oh! Enma, right dad?" Sounding kind of confident but then second guessing himself and looking to Zoro for confirmation.

"Mhm, my most famed blade, received that one in Wano, as a gift sort of."

Kōji somehow looked even more entranced, like what Zoro was saying were that of legend and fairytale, but to be fair, Enma was a legendary blade by all standards. You leaned more into his shoulder after giving Kōji an answer, nostalgia and reminiscing coming off of you in waves at the mention of where and how he received that particular sword.

"One day, I'll be just like you dad, or better." Kōji now stood, shoving the onigiri into his mouth and reaching for a rice ball now, smiling proudly with a full mouth, making Zoro swell with pride and maybe something even greater than pride.

"We'll see, you haven't even been enrolled into classes yet." Leaning back on his palm, welcoming Kiyomi, who had now crawled from your lap to his, bringing her to his chest and kissing the top of her soft hair.

"I'm going to practice."

Breaking off from the small blanketed area to go grab his practice swords, almost tripping over his feet but catching himself before managing a repeat from earlier. Zoro could hear you sigh sweetly, feeling your body come to press against his, running a hand through the longer hair towards the back of his neck.

"God I can only imagine what you were like his age."

All Zoro could do was hum humorously, lean over and kiss the top of your head, as if he were agreeing with the statement and thoughts you hadn't voiced yet.

"Much worse baby."

Now you laughed heartily, smacking his arm and moving to lay your cheek on his chest, placing a hand on Kiyomi's back and focusing your attention to the horizon where the sun teased to dip behind. Zoro sighed again, contently, looking in the same direction you were. All his life he was zeroed in on one goal, a goal that led him to now, which he came to realize much later in his journey this is all he could've wanted. the title bestowed upon him was nice, Zoro would admit, but all those nights on the sunny where you and him were curled up in the small cabin, where he worried if once he achieved his goal and helped Luffy achieve his you would still want to be with him. The thrill part of it all is what Zoro swore is what held your love for him together, but god was he relieved to be wrong for once.

"I'm going to try to do what dad did earlier, watch." Kōji declared, now having returned to the garden with three swords, carefully placing the two he didn't need at the moment to the side, trying to mirror the stance Zoro had earlier during class.

As Zoro watched the wooden blade cut through the air with a whistle and a small excited squeal from his son, he looked down at his daughter and then to you and thanked the universe and every god out there that this was his reward for the end of his adventure, the comfort after a long journey of achieving his goals and honoring a close friends. There was nothing more he could've asked for, and Zoro wouldn't dare ask for anything else unless it was more of this.

[onwesterlywinds]

I've been thinking a lot again about the implications of the title of "viator" translating to "traveler" (prompted by Writing Things), and while there's been a lot of discussion about its relation/parallels to Azem, I feel like I've seen a lot less, if anything, on how "viator" plays into the overarching narrative of Garlean imperialism as well. For a relatively small detail, it's honestly one of the things I really think Endwalker did really well in its portrayal of Garlemald and Zenos.

Throughout XIV's history, we've been shown countless perspectives for why the Garleans invade and occupy other nations, whether it's [insert Nael's Bahamut tempering], Gaius' claims that peace can only come from a strong leader, the racism we see entrenched in Garlemald's colonial rule in Stormblood, etc. Endwalker, however, doubles down on the role of Corvos in Garlemald's history and elevates it to a founding narrative: the idea that the Garleans are justified in invading other nations because they themselves were driven from their own ancestral land thousands of years ago.* This is by no means the full scope of Garlean history (as just one example, Return to Ivalice posited that many other Garleans are likely descended from the technically-minded people of Goug), but it's still very consistent lore-wise and thematically for Endwalker to present the Garlean people's expulsion from Corvos as a creation myth for their empire, and the way this plays out in 6.0 MSQ lets us see the extent of the damage that that myth has done to those who have made it their worldview.

And introducing the term "viator" at the end of that arc as the name for the Empire's most loathed, reviled, and shunned class - the exile - ties into this idea so well: the greatest punishment the Garleans can give for one of their own is to make them a wanderer - to ensure that person is forever denied the home that they prize so highly in their society. This is a classic example of scapegoating, which has deep connections to empire throughout history and Western literature.

It's also such a fitting conclusion to Zenos' relationship with the Garlean Empire, too! One of the reasons I've loved Zenos as an antagonist since 4.0 is that despite treating the workings of imperialism as beneath him and irrelevant to his true desires ("Ala Mhigo and Doma and Garlemald be damned!"), he has a sense of entitlement to the peoples and lands of Ala Mhigo and Doma - and to you, the Warrior of Light! - that is extremely Garlean. The fact that (to paraphrase Lyse) he did all that just so he could feel something is what makes him such a perfect antagonist for Stormblood in my book. But to the Garlean people, that lack of care for his homeland - be it because (their own) people were tempered/killed from his actions, or the very sexy patricide/regicide, or that he caused the Empire itself to fall into ruin when he "should have" succeeded Varis - was to them the greatest crime he could commit. To put it another way, he probably would not have been named Zenos viator Galvus if he had first been Zenos zos Galvus.

And despite me forever lamenting the fact that the 5.X-era plot thread of Zenos having dreams about Amaurot never actually went anywhere, even that ties into his eventual role as viator: the only place with which he has ever had any real connection is gone forever.

Which makes a grave at the end of the known universe feel almost fitting in its tragedy.

(*On a serious note: While I do think the writers were intentional - and, mostly, thoughtful - around leveraging imperialist rhetoric, the fact that this particular framing is often used to justify an ongoing genocide is one of many reasons why I would be very happy for future Garlemald stories to stay on pause for the next few years.)

[deonsx]

Hiiiii

I wanted to request a story about sae itoshi because I ran out things to read. Uhm so I saw one of your writing about sae being a dad and it was so cuteeeee so maybe you could write more about sae being a girl dad. It helped me with coping my daddy issues to be honest.

Any way, if you're reading this I hope youre having a good dayy. Thank youuu ❤❤

Hii girl i hope you like this have a nice day^^

Sae being a girl dad pt2

First Smile

Sae thinking his daughter is quietly sleeping in her crib, notices a small smile forming on her face. His heart races as he looks at her for the first time in such a way “She smiled… How sweet” he thinks. The simplicity of his daughter’s smile deeply affects Sae. In that moment, he puts aside all his selfishness and embraces the feeling of fatherhood

First Words

When Sae hears his daughter’s first word, he becomes so excited that he doesn’t immediately grasp how meaningful those words are “Dada… dada…” His daughter says. Hearing this, Sae feels overwhelmed with emotion “She said it… I never thought I’d experience this” This moment marks the beginning of Sae’s journey into fatherhood

Standing on Her Own

One morning while playing with his daughter, she suddenly pulls her hands away and tries to stand on her own. Sae panics for a moment but then notices her determination. “I know you can take another step” he thinks, watching her take another step and then fall. Sae doesn’t rush to catch her instead, he smiles as he watches her “You took your first steps… You’re really growing up”

Bittersweet Goodbye

One morning, as his daughter prepares to go to kindergarten, Sae watches her leave through the door, and a wave of sadness washes over him “Time is passing” he thinks. As his daughter holds his hand for a final hug, Sae realizes she’s becoming more independent. This moment marks the beginning of a new phase in their relationship

Worrying about his daughter

One day, his daughter suddenly falls ill, and as Sae watches over her, he feels a deep sense of worry. This is a turning point for Sae “What would I do if something happened to her?” he wonders. His usual strong and composed demeanor fades away, and for the first time he feels genuine fear and concern for her. Seeing her recover gives him a peace he has never felt before

Enjoy!

[fairfoxie]

That's exactly it; rules need context!! I like the way you've expanded upon the context in which the rules would make sense.

I've had a lot more thoughts about this since I originally posted it, so uh, prepare for some tangents.

I like allegories to online safety in the sense that it really is up to your own discernment to tell the difference between a nasty trick and a genuine offering of peace and friendship, in the same way you would between a sketchy email and a real job offer. Both come down to a moment of "does this feel right? Or does this feel off?"

As for entering the circle. In material reality I have watched people step in and out of circles and nothing happens, because it's bold of people to assume that the circle was even activated in the first place. Internet safety isn't all that relevant if you don't know how to turn on the computer. I think it would be a rare kind of human who could step into a circle in the right state of mind to be able to activate it themself or even just access the otherworld from the material plane. Otherwise people getting lost through portals would be a more common issue.

Some people spend their whole lives trying to contact the Fae and just never get through to them. It takes a lot of psychic tuning to even get to a point where any rules would become relevant. Again, you have to turn on the computer and open your browser before internet safety needs to matter.

I will openly admit this; my connection to Faerie is weak and I often lose it for a time. I have lost my belief before. In those times I have no connection at all; I am sleeping internally and operating by the rules put before me by humans. And even now with restored belief and strong community, I find the hammer of doubt to be more effective against any kind of entity out there than any iron talisman. By closing one's mind to even the possibility of an entity, one severely limits the power it holds against them on the material plane, no matter how real it is.

Sarah only escapes the Labyrinth when she remembers that Jareth holds no real power over her except that which she gives him. At this point the whole underground world vanishes and Sarah is safe back at home again. What's more, she can still call upon her goblin friends when she needs them.

Think too of The Last Unicorn, who was viewed as a horse by most people, to the extent that Mommy Fortuna had to use her illusions to make people see a false Unicorn, right where the real Unicorn stood. It takes a certain way of seeing the world to even get close to seeing things for what they are.

And hey, maybe the Fae would pose just as much of a danger to someone who doesn't believe in them. That person still only needs fear what they understand. If two people are struck by lightning, only the one who believed in God was being struck by God, the other was a victim of chance.

Anyway I'm rambling and not sure if this makes sense. But it was fun to write. We are all on our own journeys.

Anyone else get annoyed at faery etiquette guides like this that only cover what you don't do? I feel like it contributes to the fearmongering that elemental spirits are all jumping at the chance to scorn and enslave you and it's simply not true. What's the point of making a guide to interacting with the Fae if all you're gonna say is don't do this or this or this like okay but what do you do???

I've always had better luck with taking my cue from nature. The wind will show you where to go. The birds will guide your senses if you listen. If you see an interesting stump or tree compliment it. Most common tree spirits are close to humans and actually like to be thanked and appreciated. Listening is often more important than looking. A genuine smile goes a long way. If you get a trick played on you, laugh it off, it's all in good fun. Faeries appreciate a good sense of humour, childlike wonder, and carefree singing. Let them approach you rather than approaching them. If you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you will hear the whole forest breathe, and feel more connected to Spirit than ever. And as for what you shouldn't do, don't bring your phone! It interrupts your aura and makes you appear more threatening.

THESE are the things I had to learn on my own that have actually been helpful on my journey. I hope they help you too.

[snovyda]

Fanfic Plagiarism alert!

Attention, especially for the people in the following fandoms: Mission: Impossible (specifically Benthan) and Top Gun Maverick.

It brings me no joy to say that we have a big problem in these fandoms - a shameless serial plagiarist who copies other people's fanfics from other fandoms, changes character names and sometimes a few desciptions of the settings or adds a few sentences or paragraphs when they feel generous, and posts them as their own. It is literally Ctrl+C / Ctrl+V type of thing.

My friends and I have reported this person repeatedly on ao3, but we still have not received any response from the staff.

Seeing posts from fellow Benthan fans who are excited about the fact that we are getting close to having 1000 Benthan fics on ao3 makes me sad because of this, because I know quite a few of them are just not legit, and, since ao3 has not responded in months, I guess I have to do a good old public call-out.

This person is known on ao3 by the pen name rosexpetals. If they are reading this, I can only recommend them to delete the stolen works (not just the ones listed in this post, if more are stolen, they can be found later anyway) and take a long look at themselves and reflect on their actions. I wish for them to discover the actual joys of writing something of their own, of expressing their own feelings instead of hijacking other people's.

Below the cut are the links to the works and their sources that I and a couple of friends were able to find using just a simple quick Google search. Out of their 96 published fics, at least 29 are provably stolen (and those are just the ones we were able to find via simple searches), which gives off a strong feeling that none of their work is really original. Some of them were copied from the same source twice. 9 more fics are copies of each other, but in different fandoms (very likely just copied from the same sources). As you will see below, sometimes they didn't even bother to change the title of the original fic they were stealing from or its summary:

Fandom: Mission: Impossible (Benthan)

Fic: where's the trophy? (he just comes running over to me) Plagiarized from: where's the trophy? (he just comes running over to me) (by riceenthusiast)

Fic: and i'll hold onto you Plagiarized from: Tender Loving Care (by as_with_a_sunbeam)

Fic: bedroom eyes like a remedy Plagiarized from: Keep Me Afloat (by Atalia_Gold)

Fic: i'm sinking, our fingers entwined Plagiarized from: Kisses to Make it Better (by steviewashere)

Fic: the way you hold me (is actually what's holy) Plagiarized from: scars. (by letthesongtakeflight)

Fic: call it what you want to Plagiarized from: care & feeding (by glim)

Fic: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Plagiarized from: Their Fingers Run With Blood (by FoundInTheStars)

Fic: cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Plagiarized from: Shrill Wails That Steal The Air (by Metalbvcky)

Fic: wherever you stray, i follow Plagiarized from: the fate of a con (by shrewritesall)

Fic: fall into me and i'll catch you, darlin' Plagiarized from: Safety II (by zozofia)

Fic: i hear the sound of my own voice, asking you to stay Plagiarized from: ['til you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn] (by tacos_are_tasty)

Fic: all's well that ends well to end up with you Plagiarized from: would it be enough if i could never give you peace? (by playthetyrants)

Fic: this most assuredly counts Plagiarized from: Must've Done Something Right (by fides_rationem)

Fic: something to rely on Plagiarized from: Unguarded (by trufflemores)

Fic: your string of lights is still bright to me Plagiarized from: your string of lights is still bright to me (by blueberriesandcream)

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Fic: bigger than the whole sky Plagiarized from: Bigger Than The Whole Sky (by catrasredemption)

Fic: look at this godforsaken mess that you made me Plagiarized from: for you i would ruin myself (by mraudersmoon)

Fic: i love you, i adore you (i lay my life before you) Plagiarized from: All That I've Been Yearning For (by Sokkas_First_Fangirl)

Fic: starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night Plagiarized from: Of Speeches and Sofas (by as_with_a_sunbeam)

Fic: i don't wanna lose you (that's the kinda heartbreak time can never mend) Plagiarized from: would it be enough if i could never give you peace? (by playthetyrants) - yes, same fic copied again

Fic: you can see it with the lights out Plagiarized from: Tender Loving Care (by as_with_a_sunbeam) - yes, AGAIN

Fic: and i'll forget you (but i'll never forgive) Plagiarized from: Hold Me Closer (by sweet_symphony0)

Fic: you can hear it in the silence (you can feel it on the way home) Plagiarized from: I'd search you in all of my lives (by sunflwrs)

Fic: and my destination (makes it worth the while) Plagiarized from: Pushing Through The Darkness (Still Another Mile) (by Sokkas_First_Fangirl)

Fic: give up on you, my dear (i will never) Plagiarized from: I Lay My Life Before You (by Sokkas_First_Fangirl)

Fic: as if you were a mythical thing Plagiarized from: The Ghost in the Attic (by as_with_a_sunbeam)

Fic: you drew stars (around my scars) Plagiarized from: Value (by trufflemores)

Fic: in my life (i love you more) Plagiarized from: Whistle, I'll Be There (by lovetheblazer)

Fandom: The Beatles RPF

Fic: can't ignore the rest of the world; can you stay and make me feel better? Plagiarized from: love me, always (by darkdisrepair)

Self-copied fics posted by the same person in different fandoms (possibly copied from the same sources)

Benthan fandom: sit with you in the trenches Top Gun fandom: you're all i want, i'll never let you go

Benthan fandom: i vowed i would always be yours Top Gun fandom: standing at the crossroads, no desire to run

Benthan fandom: can we always be this close? Top Gun fandom: in all your pain (i will carry you, always)

Benthan fandom: i know you're scared (and your pain is imperfect) Glee fandom: i'll never let you go The Beatles fandom: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

[spiderb00]

Hi!

So after the jealousy thoughts, I've been wondering how the kats and their girlfriends would react to their first serious fight.

I feel like Sophia and FamOut!Y/N would be very mature and would talk things out; Manon and her girl would be very angry to each other and would resolve things throught sex; and Lara would be angry at first but then would start crying and would be very sad.

I don't know...

Anyways, love your writing.

-<3 anon

No, but I imagine it the same way, anon!

Manon and her girlfriend are crazy, they are both very intense, so when they have their first fight, it is not pleasant at all. I feel like their fights always have three phases.

The first one is always a scream, In the first one, there is always shouting, arguments being shouted at each other and anger eating away at their chests. In the second phase, they would stop scream and scream, their breathing slightly irregular, and they are in some corner of the room looking at each other from afar.

In the third, they would talk about the reason for the argument more calmly, now really listening to each other's points of view, before apologizing and kissing calmly. The calm kiss doesn't last, because they start making out and advancing on each other, until they are inevitably in bed, naked and now truly making up.

Sophia and Famout!Yn would be very mature. They almost never fight so when they do, they want to resolve it as quickly as possible.

They sit down and talk about what's bothering them, always trying to reach an agreement that is good for both parties. Like any argument, it is very stressful, but they think it is better to sit down and resolve it calmly than to shout and leave.

After they sort it out, they would just carry on as if nothing had happened, they had already resolved what was wrong, there was no point in remembering it.

Daniela and her girlfriend are comical, Yn doesn't fight back, she just lets Daniela throw everything at her. It's like Daniela is screaming and throwing a tantrum and Yn is passively waiting for the latina to calm down so they can talk.

When Daniela finally calms down, Yn will try to resolve the situation, which always works. She simply tells how it can be resolved and Daniela is like "Oh, she's right.", But Yn still apologize first.

Lara is not much different from Daniela, she would be yelling at you (most of the fights are because of her jealousy) while you just look at her and wait for her to calm down.

However, once Lara stops screaming, she starts crying and blaming you, she would say that you make her emotional.

This is your time to act and hug her, telling her that nothing was happening and that you only love her. Lara would surprisingly apologize first, she is aware of your jealousy, and so she would apologize to you and say that she would try to control herself.

Megan and Yn are something else, usually Megan just has a sullen face until Yn notices and asks what happened. When the redhead explains what made her upset, Yn will talk and try to make the two of them feel better.

Megan would internally agree with the peace offering Yn was offering, but externally she would continue to sulk. The first time this happened Yn didn't understand, but over time she figured out what she needed to do.

All Megan needed after a fight was junk food, movies and lots of your kisses. It was easy once you understood the rule.

[whateverloomis]

👽 Alien Covenant x Scream (1996)

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x AFAB Reader (Ft. Xenomorph from the "Alien" movies)

Gosh, I get these crazy ideas but take so long to write them because the block is still present but here it iiiiiis. Another bathroom scene and movie crossover has been born. I hope you guys enjoy this one, I emptied the little energy I have in my brain to write it :')

Warnings: AFAB reader (no pronouns,) shower sex, unprotected sex, double penetration, poly!Ghostface, lot's of making out including a triple kiss, Stuilly moments, a hint of degradation, alien x reader, major character deaths, gore, revised: December '24

Word count: 1.7k

It had been two years since you departed Earth and a little over a month since the team woke up from artificial hibernation. You didn't exactly have the most peaceful wake, the captain and safety guard, Randy, had to stop hibernation before the designated date because there was a lifeform detected in one of the ship docks. Those kinds of detection errors were more common than one might think, but for some reason Randy was more concerned than usual about this one.

“Listen, something doesn't sit right with me, okay?” he said during the third meeting of the week.

“Randy, we haven't received any other warn-” - “You're not listening to me! YN, I keep hearing something crawling in the air vents and it sure as hell isn't a rat because why the hell would we have those in here?!” he counted and you sighed.

“Well, what do you propose we do? We never get far with these freak show reunions of yours so what's the point?” Billy said and Tatum silently agreed. 

“Look, all I'm saying is we should lock ourselves in dock A until we land on planet 96”

“Maybe we should consider what Randy's saying, guys. This clearly isn't a joke, especially if this is a life threatening situation.” Sidney reasoned and you nodded.

“Oh c'mon, he's just trying to spook us since it's Halloween tomorrow! Nice one Randy” Stu says sarcastically. The boy had been decorating with orange lights since the day before and he wasn’t taking anything seriously. Less than usual, at least. It was all a prank to scare us. Nothing is real, just a joke. Right? Right…

Everyone glared at Stu and he faked defeat, hand expressions and all.

“Look, all I'm saying is that there's nothing to worry about, ‘kay? Look, we'll stay in dock A so Randy’ll stop shitting his pants every three seconds and we'll be good, alright?” Stu reasoned and Randy stood up, annoyance and anger written on his face.

“Sure, whatever. When you guys get eaten alive by an alien don't come crying to me in hell.” he says and walks out of the pod into the control room.

The girls left the room slowly until it was you, Billy and Stu alone.

“So we're not using the shower in dock B tonight?” Stu asked, trying to hide a suggestive smile.

Billy poked the inside of his left cheek with his tongue and looked at you, searching for an answer.

You sat there in disbelief. The two freaks wanted to fuck around again knowing there could be actual danger and Randy might not be crazy after all.

“Oh c'mon, you're not serious.” you say, exchanging looks with both boys.

Stu walked over to Billy who was sitting right across from you and he squeezed his boyfriends shoulders, running his hands down his biceps afterwards. “Oh c'mooon, you know you want to.” Stu said and smirked. Billy had his own grin across his handsome face and you couldn't handle the temptation. I mean, maybe feeling a bit of danger could heighten the fun between the three of you. You could moan freely. Hell, even scream if you wanted to. 

You couldn’t deny that you missed their touch. The hunger to feel them all over you, inside you. Fuck, it was too much and so easy to give in when they’re both craving you as much as you were at that moment.

Fuck it.

•

You found yourself in the shower with your lovers, sandwiched between them. You were jerking Stu off in front of you while grinding against Billy's cock behind you. The height difference between the three of you allowed the boys to make out slowly over your shoulder and fuck, the sight had you soaked between your legs and throbbing uncontrollably.

Music was blasting through the intercom masking the moans you were releasing along with your boyfriends and the fact that you could be as loud as you wanted heightened the excitement. 

Billy positioned his cock between your thighs and started to fuck himself while biting your neck softly. 

Stu pulled both of you closer towards him, their warm bodies wrapping you up. The warm water cascading over you melted your skin into their touch.

Standing on your tippy toes, you captured Stus lips with your own and moaned desperately while Billy pinched your nipples while nibbling on your neck. You needed to feel both of them inside you.

You turned your body, shoulders against your boyfriends chests and grabbed a fist full of their hair at the same time, pulling them towards into a triple kiss. 

The three of you made out slowly, tongues brushing against each other's lips and saliva mixed with water dipped inside each other's mouths. Deep moans escaped from Billy and Stus mouths. You couldn't help but whine.

After what seemed like the longest most delicious makeout session you've ever had, you crouched down and started to suck on Billy's cock while jerking Stu. 

“Fuck… you look so pretty for us,” Billy said and grabbed a fistful of your hair, fucking into your mouth slowly as if he were the one savoring you. 

“So… So pretty,” Stu agreed before pulling Billy into another slow kiss above you. 

Fuck, they were driving you insane and you wished you could fit both of them in your mouth at the same time. 

Switching between their cocks you drooled on yourself freely. The best thing about playing in the shower is that you can get as messy as you want and the water will take care of everything in an instant.

You rested their cocks on your tongue occasionally sticking your tongue out for them to show how much of a slut you are for your boys.

“That's enough,” Billy said, his voice deeper than usual. 

He pulled you up by your hair and pressed your back against Stu. They exchanged a look only they could understand and before you knew it they were holding you up between them while fucking both of your holes at the same time.

You were putty in their grasp. They could do anything with you at that point and you didn't care. All you wanted was to be filled up to the brim.

Your eyes rolled back and you bit your lip occasionally. Billy had the honor of looking at those cute expressions and he couldn't help but chuckle in satisfaction.

“Gosh, I wish you could see these cute little expressions,” he told Stu and grabbed your face harshly, “Such a cutie while taking both of our cocks,” he continued and Stu laughed between moans, enjoying his boyfriends degrading behavior.

“Mm, turn around baby, I wanna see that cute little face,” Stu told Billy behind you and pulled out of your asshole, leaving you empty and begging for more.

As you were lifting your leg to wrap around Stus' waist you felt something cold slither up your leg. It was smooth and ridged, unlike anything you've felt before. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as it brushed your thigh and slowly make its way up and over your pussy, slithering over your clit, eliciting a bolt of pleasure. It felt good, better than it should've given how fucked up it was. The cold heightened the pleasure, but before things went any further you looked between your legs. You saw a huge tail that looked similar to a scorpion's. The sharp point was practically playing with your pussy and when you looked up, next to Stu stood a creature. It opened its mouth and exposed sharp metallic teeth. You gasped at the sight, the fear consumed your body to the point where you couldn't move.

Before you knew it, the creature opened its mouth slowly. What seemed like drool dripped down its mouth coating each of its silver teeth. It was almost hypnotizing and you could feel the cold temperature radiating from it. Suddenly, it released a second pair of teeth from the inside. It quickly impaled Stus skull and blood splattered all over you. The guttural scream you released echoed all over the bathroom and through the hallway to the point where Randy heard it and grabbed one of the guns in the safe as quickly as possible, running towards the source of your scream.

Billy pulled you away from Stus body and snapped you back to reality.

“Move!” he shouted as the creature burst through the shower glass and ran towards you.

You tried to run, but slipped several times due to your wet naked bodies. 

“Fuck, here. Hide in here,” Billy said while pushing you into a locker. Only you could fit in it and worry immediately took over you.

“No! What about you?!” You asked, panicked.

“I'll be fine, ok? Just–” as he was about to finish his sentence the creature wrapped its tail around his ankle and pulled him away from you.

“Billy! No! Fuck!” You screamed but you wouldn't dare move. You were scared out of your mind.

Closing the locker door, you sat down and wrapped your arms around your knees, crying quietly. Why did you let yourself be persuaded by those idiots? Lust took over you knowing that there was danger surrounding the ship. You were weak for them and you hated it. Billy and Stu were DEAD and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. Killed right in front of you. How fucked up was that?

“YN?!” you heard Randy call out from the entrance of the showers. He searched for you carefully, gun pointed forward the whole time. 

You opened the locker door as quietly as you could and grabbed a towel, finally feeling some warmth and a sense of comfort around your body.

“Randy?!” You whisper screamed and he instantly identified your location. 

Randy quickly grabbed your arm and you both ran out the door as quickly as you could. 

Suddenly the creature landed in front of you and another unavoidable scream escaped from your mouth.

“Get the fuck out of here! I got this!” Randy said and instant worry consumed you.

“No! I'm not leaving you!” You said and Randy started shooting at the creature. At the sight you instantly ran away.

What the fuck had you gotten into?

[naehja]

More ideas

Gods saying nasty comments about He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan snapping at them while He Xuan Clone is like "what"

Shi Qingxuan thinking that He Xuan is disgusted by him because he has never touched him. Xie Lian tries to reassure him and Hua Cheng is like "that's terrible comedy"

Hua Cheng proposing He Xuan to be his marriage counsellor. He Xuan tells him to go to hell and minding his own business. Hua Cheng proposes to reduce his debt. "Why?" "Listen hearing this poor boy craying because he think you disgusted by him is annoying! And it anger Gege!" "what do you mean he thinks i'm disgusted?"

Hua Cheng giving….books to Shi Qingxuan. He Xuan confiscating them as soon he sees them. "Why?" "I….It's just…You don't need that!" "Need what?" "CRIMSON RAIN!"

Bad thing: Shi Qingxuan understands what were the books and thinks even more He Xuan doesn't want to do that with him.

(Hua Cheng: My proposition to be your marriage counsellor is still valid.)

It's after that event that Shi Qingxuan starts to write letters to He Xuan and slide them under his bedroom door.

He asks one of the domestic, in charge of buying things to buy calligraphy stuff with Qingxuan's own money. He asks the cook to let him make one dish for He Xuan's dinner. Or at least the dessert? At first it's a disaster, but the cook is very patient and Qingxuan learns quickly. He Xuan notices some dishes are different but doesn't understand why until a point, when one of his dinners is full of dishes he loves and never asked to his cook.

Qingxuan asks to some of his followers maritale advices. The followers are very surprised. But the women are happy to help.

He tries to knit some kind of scarf for He Xuan and fails miserably.

He Xuan finds the failed scarf and understand that it was for him, so he keeps it.

The Humans have learned that The Water Master was the Lady of the Wind's brother, not husband, and they were VERY embarassed to have done this mistake. They also learn that the lady of the wind married Black Water for the peace on the sea since the Water Master has been banished from the Heavens. So that she sacrified herself to marry a ghost for their safety on the seas.

He Xuan may have created a hot spring on his island, with a beautiful surrounding. Not to please Qingxuan. Not. At. All.

Shi Qingxuan paints a lot and let his paintings everywhere in the manor. He Xuan often notice a new one in one room. "it wasn't here yesterday"

In Summer, the gardens was beautiful and Qingxuan spent a lot of time outside. She invited friends to picnic, even if He Xuan was annoyed to see Hua Cheng (after his return). Before that, he was 100% ok that Shi Qingxuan make Xie Lian happy because the former prince was really depressed.

Still in summer, Qingxuan decided to swim with the bonefish. He Xuan would have had a heart attack if he was still alive.

It acutally take months for their relationship to change, to become friends again and then lovers.

Beefleaf fanfic prompt

AU where He Xuan changes his mind just before starting his revenge and decides to go in another route.

Not because he fell in love with Shi Qingxuan. Nope.

He reveals everything to the gods about the switch.

He asks for Shi Wudu's punishement. He wants to see him lose everything, loses everything he manages to have since he became a god, he wants to see him being banished. Being helpless. Killing him would be too easy. Too quick. He wants him to suffer.

But it's not all.

He asks to marry Shi Qingxuan. He'll not accept that Shi Qingxuan loses his divinity because he does a good job and has a good heart, and he's innocent but "since Shi Wudu sacrificed me to keep his brother, then i want his brother. Shi Qingxuan took my life, even if it wasn't his choice and that he wasn't aware of it, so he belongs to me!"

So no only Shi Wudu will loses EVERYTHING but he'll also lose his brother and will never see him again. He'll know that his brother will stay a god, even under He Xuan's control but he'll know that he'll never be authorized to see him again. He'll never know how his brother is treated, or stuff like that. He'll know that his brother has to marry a powerful ghost who want him to suffer.

That's the worse for him.

Worse than the lose of his divinity.

Shi Qingxuan is a little terrified and devasted (yeah no wonder) and thinks he'll be treated badly/will be a prisoner, maybe a slave, but he's treated very well.

He has has a big comfy bedroom in He Xuan's manor, nice clothes, delicious food and wine. And He Xuan will never do something he doesn't want.

"You are not putting me in a cell?

What kind of husband do you think i am Qingxuan!?"

Edit:

The Gods are reluctant about the situation, but it was their only situation to make He Xuan satisfied. They didn't want to risk a second version of what Hua Cheng had done with 33 gods. They lost the Water Tyran, fine. But they have still the Wind Master. They could have lost both. and what would be the heavens reputation after that? Jun Wu has insisted for that Shi Qingxuan assists to the most important reunions. He Xuan was reluctant but he let his wife/husband being a god(ness) so he can't really say no. He always leave a clone to watch him and says that Pei Ming and Ling Wen can't interact with him because they are his brother's friends!

So at first, Shi Qingxuan doesn't see a lot He Xuan. The ghost avoids him, thinking that the wind master doesn't want to see him. Or that he misses his old life in Heaven, his brother...

So after the first night where nothing happened because He Xuan doesn't want to force him, they barely interact.

They still marry to ghost city as a kind of "fuck you" to Heaven and to Shi Wudu. And so Hua Cheng has increased He Xuan's debt because of that.

He Xuan had also engaged people from Ghost City to work at his manor, so it would be comfortable for his husband/wife. Soi he engaged a cook, and two persons to clean and a gardener for the little garden of his manor.

Shi Qingxuan has a big comfy room, with a living room in the next room where he can paint, does calligraphy, plays music, reads book. But he's quickly bored. He speaks with the employees, asks if he can help. They all refuse because it's the lady of the manor. Their master's wife/huband.

The Gardener accepts to listen his requests of plants he would like to see in the garden. And the cooks listens when he asks for a particular dishes or dessert.

But Shi Qingxuan is SO bored.

He always eat alone.

He can leave three hours by days for help his followers.

But he can't exactly travel. Or visit locations. Or go the theater for exemple. He doesn't dare to ask He Xuan.

He goes out of the manor too, and walk on the island. He has a bracelet who stop him to leave the island when he's not busy to help followers. So he can't leave and nobody can make him leave, except Black Water.

He can walk in the little wood, among the trees and the wild plants. He can stay on, the beach, watching the sea and the bones fishes who ome to the surface to watch him too. He has even pet some of them after some time.

But he spends a lot of time alone, even if he can speak via spiritual array with Xie Lian and some gods like Lian Qianqiu.

He decides to write letters to He Xuan and slide them under the door of He Xuan's bedroom. Since the guy avoids him. (How dare he? Marrying him and neglected him. Well it's better than killing him he guess)

And so they start to exchange letters at first.

The events of the ends of the book happens.

And Then, after everything is over, He Xuan starts to show up to eat with him, even if he doesn't speak a lot.

Then he starts to answer to Shi Qingxuan.

He lets him go in the library of the manor who was close until now.

He lets him visit Xie Lian as much he wants. Or return to the Heavens to visit friends if he wants. The only rule is to not see Shi Wudu or going close of Shi Wudu's friends. Because that's still a punishement for Wudu after all.

Prompt free for adoption =)

If you are inspired, you can write it =)