#i NEEDED to get it out on the first day of pride

[euthymiya]

[ A LITTLE DEATH — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: sometimes, he comes back to you with a beating heart. other times, his body is cold and limp until he reemerges from the flames. you never get used to kinich falling during the pilgrimage, but you’re certainly used to the feeling of his body

word count: 4.4k words of emotional porn. ty & goodnight

before you read: female reader ; major spoilers for natlan archon quest and kinich’s character story one ; kinich falls during the night warden war and resurrects so technical character death (but not for long) ; graphic descriptions of injuries and blood from war ; mentions of gambling, alcoholism and abuse (his father’s lore) ; slight exploration of mortality ; hand jobs ; orgasm delay (kinich to himself) ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; not proof read because i wrote this all in tumblr drafts like the psycho i am

notes: this is an unhealthy progressing obsession. this boy is not good for my health unfortunately

“Will you stop crying?” He sighs softly, thumb tracing your cheek as it catches yet another rivulet of your sorrow.

You glare up at him, lips curled into a scowl as you sniffle and counter, “how about you stop dying?”

Kinich is no stranger to dying. He and death are good friends, in fact—he visits often, and in return, it houses him kindly for however short his visit may be.

He likes traversing the Night Kingdom, likes to speak to those who have borne his name before him. Dying isn’t so bad when you get a chance to see the things he does in the realm of the Wayob.

But you don’t like to see the aftermath. Blood. Bruises. Cuts. Gashes. Sometimes mangled limbs. Every time he falls in battle, the aftermath serves as a jarring reminder that revival is miracle you can’t take for granted.

Kinich doesn’t understand it, but he tries to. He holds you when he comes back, listening to you sniffle into his chest. He’s always silent as his hand rubs along your back, always unsure of what to say.

I lost you, you’ll always whisper first.

I was always going to come back, he’ll always respond.

The Pyro Archon, you think, loves fiercely enough to rival the God of Cryo herself. The Tsaritsa, God of Love, loves clearly. It’s delicate as it leaves chills, and yet, it is reserved, rare to find after she’s hardened herself. The God of War’s love takes form in the exact opposite. It’s blazing. Warm. Unrelenting. Irrevocably bright. It’s a flame that never dies out, that never needs a ceremony or ritual to keep burning like the contending fire.

She loves all of her children—you know that because you see it on her face, too.

The brief, fleeting flash of horror every time she sees a body. The bitter pride that comes with such a noble sacrifice. She loves her people, and that’s why, when your tears hit the ground as you cry for a fallen Kinich, she gives your hand a squeeze right before she brings enters the night kingdom to bring him back.

The people of Natlan are proud of their history. So much, that they find honor in dying for the cause.

You think you’re the only exception.

You and death are not good friends. You don’t like the way it mocks you with the limp hands of the boy you love and his beat-less heart. You don’t like the way it cozies up against him, dragging him away from you with its hand clasped firmly in his.

It never takes him away for too long before it gives him right back, but you don’t like sharing.

Not Kinich. Not with death.

Your broken out of your thoughts when his fingers gently press into your cheeks, squeezing them together as his hand tilts your head up from his chest to look into his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he insists bluntly, but never without that gentleness.

You’d laugh any other time. Always so straight to the point, you’d tease if it were some other day.

Instead, this time, you sniffle once more before you croak, “you don’t know what it’s like to witness.” Slowly, your hand creeps up his body, traveling over his abdomen before coming to a stop right over his heart. “This time…this time it was here.”

This pilgrimage, Kinich comes back to you with a stab through his heart. Other times, he’s returned pierced through his lungs from behind. Or perhaps with a bloodied head, split open by a blunt force.

It never gets easier. This time, however, you think it’s gotten even harder.

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating what to say before he decides to toss the idea of words out entirely. Suddenly, his hands find your waist, flipping you to sit on his lower belly, legs straddling his hips.

Kinich isn’t always good with words. He can count on one hand the number of people he’s had in his life to love. His life has not been kind enough to him to allow keeping all fingers up at the same time.

One for his mother. Down.

One for his father. Down.

And one for you. Up.

He’s sure one day, he might be able to lift a finger for Mualani and Kachina, too. He cares a great deal about them, of course. But love is a difficult thing for him to grasp—perhaps because it’s always been something he never got in full.

Not until you.

More than most people, Kinich understands loss. You know that. He understands it too well, in fact. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d lost his father’s love long before the body was limp and lifeless to show for it. Sometimes, he wonders if his mother ever loved him enough to count as a loss at all. Maybe if she had, then she wouldn’t have walked away. Maybe she never loved him quite as much as she loved herself.

But you’re different for him. You love him more than you love anything else. More than yourself, too. He’s never been loved more than anything else. His father loved gambling, maybe even the burn of alcohol on his tongue, too. His mother loved freedom, and more than that, she loved the idea of living in the absence of fear. Neither loved him more than any of those things.

So, you’re different. You know that, too. You’re a loss he can’t comprehend. Not that he’s ever had to, of course, but his brain cannot handle the idea of being without you.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t fully understand your pain. Maybe that’s why he wonders why knowing he’ll always come back from falling isn’t enough to soothe you.

He’s never loved someone who he knew would come back even in the face of death. It’s a luxury, he thinks sometimes—you get to love him with the luxury of a safety net. But you’re too precious to feel the weight of a real loss. He hopes he can shield you from it for as long as he can, one pilgrimage at a time.

His hands settle for your hips, squeezing once, twice, a third time before he sits up and pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You kiss back easily. Drinking the breath straight from his mouth is best proof that he’s alive. You take it in greedily.

“I’m okay,” he repeats one more time. This time, it’s a much softer tone. Like a gentle reminder. Like a plead to understand.

His hand grabs yours, pressing it right over his heart so you can feel the erratic beating under your palm. Just from kissing you, it’s rapid enough that he almost feels he should be embarrassed. But you close your eyes and let out a shaky breath, making him watch you carefully as he takes in the relief in your face.

“You’re okay,” you nod slowly.

“I am,” he agrees.

You don’t know when it happens or who starts it first. One moment, your hand is traveling under his shirt to feel his bare skin, to have better contact with him so you can feel more proof he’s alive.

Warm skin. Flexing muscle. Damp sweat. When your hand finds his heart again, his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Clothes come off after that. It’s a blur. It’s not until you untie the bandana to uncover his forehead do you really take it all in.

Bare under you, Kinich is alive. The proof his body is breathing and pumping blood through his veins is right there before you—standing tall between his legs in the form of a flushed, red cock. Blood rushed there to prove his desire for you.

“Last time, it was here,” you whisper, thumb tracing a pale, faint scar over his ribcage, right where his lung is. “Did it hurt?”

“It did,” he nods, studying you as you don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t remember much of that, though.”

“Do you like it?” You whisper. “Is that why you do it?”

He’s silent. And then, quietly: “Sometimes.”

“Why?” You breathe, cupping his cheeks as you search his eyes for an answer.

Finally, in a rare moment, he chuckles. “Because it’s good to remember I’m alive,” he murmurs, “right before you die is when you realize you’re alive the most. Why you’re alive, too.”

“I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows in frustration. He smiles fondly, kissing your jaw as he lets out a low hum.

“I think of you,” he whispers, sucking sweetly into your skin, “and then I remember how you’re alive, too. Every time I die, you get to stay alive a little more.”

The abyss never goes away. Now, more than ever, he’s aware of that. It’s a war he has to see the winning side of, no matter the price.

There’s a loss this time that he’s unwilling to pay. Can’t bear to witness. Can’t allow to happen.

You decide you give up trying to understand—much like you do every year. Instead, you throw yourself into feeling him, pulling him into a heated, deeper kiss as your tongue glides against his. You give into the battle fast, letting him take the lead and taste you.

You’re not one for battles, not like Kinich is. You’d rather relish in peace than remember the cruelties of war.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ve never lost me,” he argues.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you admit quietly.

“Then let me show you I’ve always been right here.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches between your bodies, hot and throbbing as it presses against your lower belly. You reach between your bodies, wrapping around the thick girth before your thumb grazes the tip.

He shudders, stifling a groan as you slowly smear the dribbling pre cum along his length, taking gentle care to make sure you don’t hurt him.

You’ve seen Kinich hurt enough times.

“Does that feel good?” You grin slightly, watching his eyes flutter shut as you stroke him up and down, fisting around him in a tight squeeze.

“Feels great,” he breathes, “like I’m very alive.”

“Good,” you nod.

“Fuck,” he chokes when you squeeze around the tip, pace quickening as you glide your palm up and down along him faster.

Faster.

The faster he cums, the faster you’re proven he’s living once more.

But he stops you—right before he can spill into your hand, a shaky wrist comes to force yours to stop moving. You look at him questioningly, and he closes his eyes and takes labored breaths to calm himself from the slow, fading orgasm that would’ve shaken through his body.

“What are you—oh,” you gasp, when your body is flipped to lay on your back, Kinich hovering above you as he stares down at you.

You think love is the look in his eyes when he sees you like this, every time. That longing in his pupils, desperate and almost pained even though you’re right there.

Loving something is always a double edged sword. It hurts just as much as it heals—the scabs forming around your heart from his temporary departure is proof of that.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing along your neck.

I love you isn’t something Kinich says often. You feel his love in other ways. The fresh fruit he brings you on his way back from a commission. The small kiss between your brows he always greets you with, and the delicate kiss to your mouth when he leaves. The hand on the small of your back as he guides you along places, never letting you feel his absence. The pillow he shares with you every night when you invade his space and take up his side of the bed.

You know he loves you. Being reminded is a good feeling, though. Your body shivers as you feel a familiar ache building up between your legs at his sudden confession.

“More than anything?” You ask.

“Yes,” he responds, amused.

“You better not be lying,” you warn playfully.

He chuckles—you’re slowly coming back to your usual self. Causal teasing and playful flirting. You’re all the things he’s not. Open. Vulnerable. So inexplicably bright. You smile and something in him heals. Something in him itches to do better—be better.

“When have I ever lied to you?” He challenges.

You pretend to think for a moment before caving and stretching your lips into a wide grin. The first real smile of the night. You pull him close, kissing him again. Just to kiss him. There’s no heat or desire this time around.

He kisses back sweetly. Just to kiss you.

“What did you see this time?” You whisper when you pull away. “In the Night Kingdom.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, tracing shapes into your hip with his thumb, “I think I was too busy thinking of you.”

Kinich is only flirty when he avoids something. He’s only ever indirect when he doesn’t want you to know something. It takes form in less honest, more playful banter that he learns from you.

You sigh, rolling your eyes half-heartedly as you whisper, “don’t lie to me.”

“I did think of you,” he insists. “It’s not a lie. I always think of you.”

He decided to prove it by dropping down to busy himself between your legs, gently spreading them enough to press his nose against your clit as he breathes you in.

Sweet. You’re always sweet. You taste and smell it. You drip of honeyed, saccharine desire. When his tongue presses between your folds, he thinks he’s dipping it in gold.

“K-kinich, wait—”

“You say that every time,” he raises a smug brow. His fingers press into you, spreading you open as he inspects your fluttering walls. “But you never mean it, do you?”

Filthy, you think. He’s got an air of pure obscenity to him that you’re sure comes only when he’s tired of feeling alone. When he needs to know you’re here for good and not just for the moment.

“You play dirty,” you scowl, twitching when his tongue swirls over your clit, the smooth rumble of his chuckle vibrating against the sensitive bud. His fingers curl into you, pressing against a very delicate, very responsive spot in the back of your walls.

“Is that so?” He drawls, “you don’t exactly seem to mind it,” he murmurs.

And then his lips wrap around your clit, sucking as his tongue rolls in circles against it as you writhe. You can feel the tips of his digits bully into that same spot over and over, making your back arch as you whine.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “baby, please.”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for. He’s giving you what you want exactly how you want it—maybe that’s why you always say it, though. So you can never stop having him. Asking and asking and hoping he’ll give you everything without pausing.

He does, too. Kinich never gives half of himself into anything. For the right price, you get all of him. You pay the price in gentle kisses along his cheek and soft fingertips in his hair. In a warm lap under his cheek when he’s tired and a soft voice to remind him he’s not alone. In a worried look every time he’s scuffed and a soft smile every time your eyes meet his.

You pay the price of your love, and he compensates you with the reward of his. It’s a fair trade.

The only difference is that unlike his other deals, Kinich would still pay his love to you even if you stopped paying yours. He couldn’t stop if he tried. It’s an exception he doesn’t exactly choose to make, but doesn’t necessarily want to change, either.

Lucky for him, you don’t show any signs of pulling away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, whispering the words into your cunt like he’s speaking directly to your desire, “and mine.”

“G-gods,” you moan, hand flying to grasp at his hair and tug as his fingers quicken their pace, fucking into your heat mercilessly as his tongue rolls over your clit.

It’s hot. It always is in the Pyro Nation. But hotter is the growing desire in the pit of your belly, and the heat between your legs that only one person can ignite. The flames lick at your sanity before something erupts in your system and all you feel is a gush of pure, white hot pleasure.

“That’s it,” he praises, working you through your orgasm as you let out a soft cry of his name.

Kinich is alive. You know that because only he could make you feel this way, and he is. He’s making you feel like there’s love between your legs as he coaxes the height of pleasure from you, buried into the apex of your thighs like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. You’re reminded that instead of blood dripping from his fingertips, it’s the essence of your arousal.

You’re reminded that when you need him, he’s never not there. Never leaving you behind from this world into another.

“I love you,” you blurt out in a post-orgasm haze.

He looks up at you with a toothy grin. It’s so rare to see him smile so freely. It’s like a child’s, sometimes. Something youthful and joyful and almost innocent enough that it makes your heart ache a little more than it does feel full.

Only a little, though.

“You say that a lot when I make you cum,” he laughs smoothly, a boyish and sweet little sound. You huff with a roll of your eyes.

“You do too,” you counter. “Maybe we only love each other when we feel good.”

“I always feel good with you,” he grins.

“I can make you feel a whole lot better,” you wink, wriggling your brows in a playful, tempting offer.

He takes it. With another soft laugh, he climbs up your body to hover his face over yours, admiring the sweat clinging to your forehead like it’s proof of his good work.

“Go on then,” he whispers. “Make me feel better. I just died today, you know.”

“I know,” you grumble only slightly, “I remember that very clearly. It was very rude of you.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he offers.

When Kinich was young, love was transactional. His father loved him with a box of sweets when a gamble of wages doubled. His mother was happy enough to afford him her gaze when there were flowers in the vase. He knew from early on not to expect any of it unless the proper price was offered.

And then he learned necessities were transactional, too. To exist is to pay a price. He watched as strangers took away his home, the remainder of his family’s belongings packed away as his mother wiped her tears. Food is not free when she is not there to tend to crops. Clothes don’t come easy when your father spends his days drinking away instead of working.

Without mora, you survive more than you live.

He hated it. Hated not having enough. Not being enough. He wasn’t enough to make his father want to be good and he wasn’t enough to make his mother want to stay. Didn’t have enough to offer for something as simple as unconditional love.

Love with you feels a lot different than what he’s grown up learning. You love him even when he’s closed off and a little cold. When his blunt words are a little too blunt and his words press hard into you with force. When he’s tired, and can’t offer you proper company, you love him, too. When he’s gone for days at a time for a commission further away, you still love him as you wait.

It’s always enough for you even when what he gives really isn’t enough at all.

He stopped trying to understand a long time ago. He’s still human—not everything can make sense with the logic of equal transaction. Sometimes, he just wants. Sometimes, he can’t give enough for what he wants. You always give it, though.

He’s stopped trying to make sense of it all for the sake of finally knowing joy. Peace. Possibly even comfort.

“Why do you love me?” He asks softly, rubbing the tip of his hard cock against your thigh. You rub along his bare back with a gentle hand, feeling the goosebumps raise along his skin under your palm.

“Because it’s easy to,” you answer.

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t life hard enough?” You shrug, “it’s nice having something simple. Loving you is easy, and that’s enough.”

“I don’t understand,” he mirrors your words from earlier. “But as long as you don’t stop, I think it’s okay.”

You want to tell him you’ll never stop loving. Every flame in Natlan will have to burn out before you stop loving Kinich. You’re confident that it’s impossible that will ever happen. But instead of words, you gently reach between your bodies to grab at his cock—it’s been hard and neglected for long enough that he lets out a soft, needy sound at the sudden touch.

You bring him to brush against your entrance, murmuring a soft, “I want you,” before he groans in response.

“Fuck,” he says shakily, “me too.”

And then, finally, he presses his tip into you, pushing past your folds and nudging into the deepest part of you.

He’s alive. You know that because you can feel him in the most rawest, purest way. Bare skin to skin. Warmth on warmth. Sweat against sweat. Body tangled into body. He’s alive and here and you can feel all of him at once.

He’s everywhere. He’s in your lungs as you kiss him and steal his breath. He’s in your heart as you feel it skip a beat for him. He’s in your soul as it burns at the very idea of him. And he’s in your cunt as he presses himself into you with a roll of his hips.

You love him when he’s alive.

You love him when he’s dead.

You love him when he’s resurrected.

You love him when he’s yours like this.

“Kinich,” you gasp, letting out a breathless moan as his tip slams into that spongy spot in your walls, “there—y-yes, like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs, grinning a little smugly enough that you feel embarrassed to already be this fallen apart. “I know exactly where.”

“Smooth talker for someone who ruined my whole day,” you huff.

“I told you I’m okay,” he grunts lowly. He kisses your throat, right over your pulse as he whispers, “I’m right here.” You whine as he rolls his hips particularly harshly to slam his cock into your most delicate spot.

“Knowing something is coming back doesn’t mean you like losing it,” you argue. “I don’t want you anywhere but here.” He gasps when your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as you squeeze tighter around him.

You hate seeing Kinich fall because you’re reminded it’ll happen one day for real. There’ll come a time where he won’t be resurrected. You don’t like being reminded of this simple truth.

He doesn’t understand it because he’s always too busy denying your fall. He’s too busy making sure he fights every battle to win this war so you can live beside him. So you don’t have to succumb to the cruel likes of the abyss.

Neither of you can seem to grasp the other’s mortality very well. So you try to forget in the feeling of being lost in each other’s bodies. Where proof of life blooms in every inch of skin. Every labored breath and drop of sweat, every flex of muscle and rapid thrum of a heart.

You’re alive, and so is Kinich.

He’s not alone, and neither are you.

No one has had to bear a loss, and that’s all that matters. For now, at least.

“You feel so good,” he says hoarsely, letting out a soft, low whine when your walls flutter around him at the praise. “C-can’t…can’t live without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you sob, reaching your limit, “enough talk about living. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay,” he breathes, “then just cum again for me. I want to feel you do it around me this time.”

Your second orgasm makes you forget Kinich is alive. You’re too busy feeling the rush of life yourself. Your body burns with pleasure through every nerve, the familiar snap of pressure between your legs that has your entire form spasming under Kinich.

“’M c-cumming,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, muffling your sounds into his mouth as he swallows them whole.

“For me,” he hums.

“F-for you. Always for you.”

And then he cums too. Hard. For the last time, you’re hit with the evidence that he’s here with you and not somewhere else. Somewhere unreachable. Somewhere in a world apart from you.

He’s spilling warm, sticky cum into your walls with shaky arms holding him up above you, desperate rolls of his hips as he lets out choked sounds.

Skin slaps against skin and a combination of your arousals leaves a mess smeared between your legs, spilling down your inner thighs.

“Fuck—ngh. I’m…I’m…” he trails off.

He’s never been good with words like you. So instead, he buries his head into your neck and presses his nose into your skin, letting you cradle the back to his head so he knows you’re there.

“I know,” you pant, letting him fuck himself into you and ride out the high of his orgasm.

I know you need me. I need you too.

When he slumps over your body, you can feel his heart beat against yours. Rapid. Erratic. Harsh. Pounding. All of it is proof you’re both painfully mortal as you are alive.

“I love you,” you both whisper at the same time, utterly spent.

“You’re alive,” you breathe out a sigh of relief as your eyes close tiredly.

He hums, lifting his head to press a soft peck to your lips before he slumps into your neck against. “And so are you,” he murmurs in exhaustion.

You both fall asleep together with another year behind you.

Writing an emotional Kinich is actually really hard I’m not sure I even got it right bc we haven’t seen nearly enough of him but 😭 I hope this was not ooc enough that it was slightly believable. IDK I had a hard time deciding how he’d be in an emotionally charged moment of intimacy

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[sistertotheknowitall]

DCxDP Prompt

Because I couldn’t get Congratulations! It’s Triplets! By @rboooks out of my head.

—

Jason wouldn’t say he regret it. Sure it wasn’t what he planned nor was it what he would have wanted, but he didn’t regret it. They didn’t mean to become parents, it was a one night stand. He wondered if this was how Roy felt when Jade had Lian. Like the world had been flipped on its head. Like everything he thought he knew now seemed wrong.

Lian would like his daughter. From what Jason could tell he thought they’d be fast friends.

Christ. His daughter.

He watched as she ran through the front door, her mom following behind. She was talking a mile a minute, her hands flying around her face. Her mom threw her head back, laughing. God he wished he could hear it. Hear what all his daughter had to say. He wanted to be a real dad to her not just a father. Someone she could talk to and trust. However, as Jason continued to watch from the roof across the street, he knew that he could never get that close. This was as far as he could reach.

A crime lord, who was legally dead and had a kill count. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. The two examples he had wouldn’t exactly be considered great role models.

Her mother had named her Ellie, short for Daniella after her late uncle Daniel or “Danny.” She was feisty and a little brash, his daughter. Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some pride in knowing some of that was him. Although he could see the same stubbornness in Jazmine.

He thinks that’s what drew him to her. Standing in a bar on a side of town she definitely shouldn’t have been in, she had held her own against two men trying to drag her out. Jason went to step in when she had pulled a police grade taser out and had both men on their knees in pain before he moved two steps. He didn’t introduce himself that night (she was a little preoccupied with the police). However, he got the chance to a few months later and one thing led to another and they had slept together. He left with barely a goodbye and they never saw each other again. Jason was too preoccupied with his plans for Bruce and the clown to spend time thinking about one night.

As for her, he knew she was a student at Gotham U and figured she had also spent little time thinking about that night.

Imagine his surprise when he stumbled upon her again but with a child. His child.

He didn’t know how to really feel about it, about her, Ellie.

As much as he hates to admit it he spent the first week getting drunk and despairing at being a deadbeat. He eventually calmed down and reasoned that it wasn’t his fault nor Jazmine’s. He had given her a fake first name and they hadn’t exchanged last names. Even if she did want to tell him she was pregnant she had no way of finding him.

And he never thought he needed to be looking for them.

—-

Jazz could feel them being watched and did her best to act normal. She never gave away that she was aware of him. She didn’t want to frighten Ellie and she was still unsure of how to handle the situation. It has been weeks and he never once seemed interested in harming them. Yet.

He just watched. Not all the time- not every day, but at least once a week she could feel him staring from a roof, a window, the mouth of an ally. He followed them at night and watched for a bit after they returned home. In a way it felt like he was protecting them, but in what sense did this hulking figure have a right to guard them? It also begged the question; what was he protecting them from?

Jazz was near positive that she had never interacted with the mask figure nor any other that roamed Gotham. She did her best to avoid them, all of them.

It could be he was fixated on her as a single mother to a reckless little girl. If that was so, then she was going to have to be more cautious. She didn’t want to even give him a chance to think he could approach Ellie. Stalkers were never a good thing but she knew the GCPD would never take it seriously.

All he was doing was watching.

Jazz knew her daughter was smart beyond her five years of life, but she was still just a child. So while Jazz was certain that Ellie had no idea about their predicament, she knew Ellie could feel something was off. The young girl had started to look around more on their walks home, her head swiveling, looking for something she couldn’t explain. Jazz hated it. Her daughter should be skipping as she told Jazz about her day in pre-school, not gripping her mother’s pant leg, silent as she looked for the source of her unease.

For the life of her, Jazz did not know what the man could possibly want and while it pissed her off to no end it also frightened her. Of course it frightened her. She was a single mother in Gotham City with a stalker. Maybe she should summon Danny or send Ellie to her grandparents for a bit while she takes care of this.

[gotham--fc]

Hotheaded - A Jessie Fleming Imagine

Request: Jessie and R play on the same team and someone gets angry at R and gets in her face and Jessie steps in to stop it

Y/N knows she’s the hothead in her relationship. Jessie is just always so calm and collected, and even when she’s not, she usually vents her frustrations to the ref or her own teammates. Y/N takes her frustrations out on the other team. It leads to confrontations on the field, warnings from the ref and her fair share of cards. If someone is going to push her buttons, she’s going to make them regret it.

It’s a chippy game. Both teams are tired, both in playoff pushes, and both feel the need to take all three points from this match. Games like these always end in a plethora of bruises and feeling incredibly sore the next day, but it’s also games like these that get Y/N fired up.

“You’re not good enough to stop me so you gotta foul me instead, huh?” Y/N says after the other team’s defender trips her again.

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on me you could finally hit a shot on target,” The other player smirks at her and Y/N huffs in frustration.

Y/N leaves the defender where she is and goes to set up for the set piece. The game is deadlocked and Y/N will be damned if the other team scores first.

The kick comes to nothing, and Y/N claps her hands together. Next chance, next chance she’ll score it.

A few minutes later, Y/N streaks down the wing calling for the ball and easily dekes around her defender and dribbles the ball towards the net. She cuts to the middle and she can feel it, this is the chance, there’s only the goalie in her way, and she knows she can beat her, she knows she’ll score, she – she falls face first on the ground. She spits grass out of her mouth and looks up at the defender who pushed her.

“Ref that’s a red!” Y/N yells. The defender scoffs.

“I barely touched you, you dove.”

Y/N ignores her.

“Ref! Are you gonna card her or what?”

The ref runs over and gives the defender a warning, that’s it, a warning and nothing more. Y/N is furious. She’s off her feet trying to plead her case to the ref, but the ref won’t hear it. Y/N stares at the ref in helpless frustration as the ref ignores her.

“Leave it Y/N,” Jessie tugs Y/N’s arm, “Get ready for the free kick.”

Jessie goes to the get the ball, placing it where the ref indicates. Y/N goes to where she’s supposed to stand. The defender jogs past her and looks over her shoulder as she does.

“Yeah, go listen to your little girlfriend. Do you always let her boss you around or are you more than just talk?”

“Why don’t you say that to my fucking face?!” Y/N yells, “Fucking coward, you’ve had enough to say to my back this whole game!”

The defender whips back around, charging forward and getting in Y/N’s face. Y/N doesn’t back down, getting up in hers right back. They’re yelling insults at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move. The defender lightly pushes Y/N back so Y/N slaps her hands away and gives her a push, a harder one. It only dissolves from there, both of them shouting and pushing and their teammates trying to pull them apart, the ref blowing the whistle.

“Stop!” Jessie’s voice shouts above the rest. “You’ll get a red if you keep acting like this! We need you in this game Y/N! She’s not worth it!”

Finally the pair are separated enough. Y/N is still glaring at her, daring at her to say something else so they can start up again. Jessie grabs the sides of Y/N’s face and turns her away.

“Stop it, we need you in this game,” Jessie repeats, “Do you want to win this game?”

“Of course I want to win! I also want to punch her in her stupid–”

“Do you want to win or do you want a red and a suspension for fighting?” Jessie asks, “She’s not worth it, let it go.”

Y/N sighs. She’s not ashamed to admit it, she’s whipped. Everyone knows there’s only one person who can calm her down when she gets like this and it’s Jessie. Y/N would do anything Jessie says, even if it cost her personal pride and street cred. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her, especially the idiots on the other team. All that matters is what Jessie thinks of her, that Jessie knows Y/N would do anything for her.

Jessie scores the free kick and Y/N is the first one to her, lifting her up in the air as their teammates swarm them. As they jog back to half, Y/N makes eye contact with the defender. She smirks.

“It’ll be a long bus ride home to think about the loss, huh?”

Y/N shrugs when Jessie gives her a look. She’ll do anything for Jessie, but she can’t change who she is.

[silverskye13]

Angst prompt courtesy of: @theunderscorwolph

[Part 1 of 2]

Helsknight waited... Probably too long to check in on Tanguish. In his defense, the last time he spoke to Tanguish, he was heading to Hermitcraft, and while Hermitcraft was far from safe, it was, in its own ways, safer than hels. There were fewer people, fewer hazards in general, and there was Tango. Tango wasn't a fighter. As far as Helsknight could tell, he was mostly just squirrelly, and a bit cowardly. But he was fiercely loyal. That went a long way. He had even, misguidedly, attempted to save Tanguish from Helsknight once. Helsknight, who recognized he was a big, scary, angry-looking, armed and armored knight, could respect that. And Tango and Tanguish were friends, and they got wrapped up in each other sometimes, and this was far from the first time Tanguish was gone all day talking to his other half about some project.

It was, however, the first time he'd been gone for two days in a row.

Helsknight didn't really consider himself to be a worrier. Tanguish was an adult. He could take care of himself. And even if he couldn't take care of himself, Helsknight could recognize that everyone had some level of pride. Butting in on someone else's business uninvited was a great way to be a nuisance at best, and a problem at worst. So, Tanguish didn't come back by the evening? If there was a problem, Helsknight would respectfully let him handle it. Tanguish knew to come get him for help. And while Helsknight would feel truly guilty if his dithering caused Tanguish to respawn, he could take some solace in knowing he would wreak holy vengeance on whoever did it.

[That was one of the perks of being a knight: when you pointed at someone and said something along the lines of "Through hels or high water I will smite thee" or some such dramatic nonsense, people tended to get out of your way and let you get to business.]

Day two of no Tanguish, and Helsknight went from being passively concerned, to something closer to open nervousness. He asked, as subtly as he could, around the Colosseum if anyone had seen him. No one had, though Martyn did make a joke about Tanguish finally getting wise and finding a real knight to squire to.

[EB really needed to stop getting between them when Martyn said things like that. The power of a bloody nose on shitty humor was astounding.]

Eventually, Helsknight had given up and decided the best thing to do was go to Hermitcraft and track the little pest down himself. He suited up for what he thought might be a mild amount of trouble -- it was always possible he would run into Wels when he was on Hermitcraft, and if he planned on searching for someone, he wanted to minimize the time he was fighting his double. He donned his chainmail, and the netherite gauntlets and grieves. He made sure the clasps on his boots were pulled tight. He cinched on his netherite sword, and made sure it pulled easily from the sheath.

He picked up his cloak last, and gave it a contemplative frown. In hels, the cloak was a distinctive and somewhat necessary piece of costuming. It was the visual shorthand he needed to inform everyone that he was a knight, and therefore probably knew his way around a sword [and wasn't worth mugging]. For those who knew knights, it told them what Order he was a part of. Useful. On Hermitcraft, however... Being able to tell at a glance that he was a red-themed knight in dark armor, who looked suspiciously like but not quite enough like one of the other server members...

While Helsknight weighed the pros and cons of stealth and subtly, two things he was famously very bad at, the shield hanging on his wall shuddered and kicked, and someone tumbled out of the reflection with a shriek. Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He did a slow count to ten in his head, and tried not to be very, very annoyed he'd just spent twenty minutes putting on armor for no good gods-damned reason.

"Tanguish," Helsknight hummed, when he thought he could keep his voice relatively neutral, "for no reason in particular, I think we should make some ground rules about when you should check in with people--"

Helsknight turned, looked down, and anything else he was going to say vanished out of his head with such abruptness, it made his ears ring. Laying prone on the floor of Helsknight's cell, staring with wide, somewhat terrified eyes and the kind of grin that screamed about recently realized mistakes, was Tango. The Hermit blinked up at him. Helsknight blinked down at him. Somewhere down the hall, somebody laughed at something, which was their only indication that the whole world hadn't frozen with them when they made eye contact.

Helsknight could say, with honesty, he never expected to be put in a situation where a Hermit stumbled into hels, much less into his cell in the Colosseum, surrounded by all the biggest, scariest, most dangerous people in hels. At a complete loss on what to do, he fell back on what he thought was safest: namely, making sure no one got killed over it. Helsknight leaped over Tango -- who screeched ingloriously -- crossed to the door of his cell and slammed it shut. There was no lock -- he'd never needed one until now -- so he settled on turning his back to the door and bracing against it, content in the knowledge that, should someone come inside, he would be the first one to know.

It did not hearten him to see that Tango was still on his floor. He had apparently, when Helsknight stepped over him, curled up as small as he could, anticipating some kind of attack. He'd thrown his arms up over his face, and now peered at Helsknight through his fingers, humming tuneless, horrified syllables.

"Tangotek," Helsknight said, concentrating on keeping his voice very calm and very quiet, "you aren't welcome in my home."

"I didn't know I was going to end up here," Tango whispered back, his voice high and tense as a violin string.

"Go home."

Something flickered in Tango's eyes, something like determination. Helsknight hated that look.

"Uhm. N-no can do. Sorry."

"Can't." Helsknight said, barring his teeth at the Hermit. "Or won't."

Tango made a face at him, tight-lipped and tense. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Uhm. If. If I say won't, will you kill me?"

"Possibly."

"Then I can't. Definitely, definitely, physically can't." Tango looked around, scrambled to his feet, and dashed to Helsknight's bed. He, admirably, only winced a little when he set his spawn -- probably worried hels worked like the nether, and the bed would manage to explode somehow. With a bit more confidence this time, Tango stated again: "Can't."

"I can break that." Helsknight seethed quietly, and tried very hard not to grind his teeth. "It would piss me off. I like being able to sleep here. But I can break that, and send you back to Hermitcraft."

"But you don't want to do that," Tango said nervously. "Because-- uh-- you'd have to kill me, and Tanguish would be really, really upset about that."

"Tanguish isn't here. So either run home, or I will... escort you there." Helsknight put on his most wicked grin, and placed his hand on his sword meaningfully.

Tango staggered a step back away from Helsknight, somehow managing to go paler than he already was. The redstone freckles adorning his face sparked, and the flame of his hair took on a slightly green cast. The idiot Hermit was apparently made of very stern stuff, though, because he didn't flee for the nearest reflection. He took a few seconds to breathe. He had his own sword, a fact that Helsknight only noticed because his hand twitched towards the hilt uncertainly. Helsknight wasn't alarmed. Tango didn't move like someone who knew how to use a sword well, and he was fairly sure the Hermit's hands were shaking so much he would drop it if he tried to draw it.

Tango swallowed hard, darted a tongue across his lips, and asked with only a minimal tremor in his voice, "Uh, T-Tanguish isn't here? Like, not here here, or like... Not in hels, here?"

Helsknight narrowed his eyes. "Is he supposed to be?"

"He left my place yesterday, and said he would be back in a few hours," Tango explained quickly. "I thought-- like, you know, maybe he decided to wait until morning? But. He didn't come back. And I got worried. He. You know. He tells me if he can't make it. It's-- all it takes is a reflection to talk. You know? And I did look in my reflection, but I couldn't see anything, which normally means he's not by one. It was just dark."

Tango crossed his arms. It was a gesture that somehow made him look smaller.

"I thought-- I hoped-- you know. Hopping through the reflection. I could just check on him. Make sure he was okay. I think. I think maybe it just took me to his spawn point."

Tango thought that statement over, then flashed Helsknight an incredulous, almost horrified look, "Why is his spawn point your bed?"

"Tanguish was supposed to be with you," Helsknight frowned.

"You haven't seen him?"

"No." Helsknight rested his hand on his sword hilt, mostly just so he wouldn't fidget. "Could he have gone back to Hermitcraft and you just missed each other?"

"I checked," Tango said, shaking his head. "I have... X gave a few of us console access. I did a few scans... Is there. Anyone you know with that kind of access for hels?"

"Hels and Hermitcraft are different places." Helsknight wrinkled his nose. "Maybe Evil X?"

"Cool! We'll talk to him then!"

"Oh sure," Helsknight spat derisively, "I'll just go knock on the front door to Evil X's tower and ask politely for admin access, will I?"

Tango grimaced. "Will he not... Like that kind of thing?"

"Oh he'd just love it. One more thing to hold over my head." Helsknight snorted. "It wouldn't work anyway. I have a pact that says I can't directly oppose him. If he, for the gods know what reason, has Tanguish, and I knew--" Helsknight made a parrying motion with his hand. "It's better if I don't know. Keeps my hands from being tied."

"Huh," Tango leaned back against the wall, slightly more at ease. Helsknight wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the Hermit was getting comfortable. "I kind of figured you and X-- uh, Evil X, would be friends."

"Why in hels would we be friends?"

"Well, I'm friends with Wels. And. You know. X. I just kind of figured..."

Helsknight decided the best thing to do with this statement was ignore it.

"I will check the house," Helsknight said. "You go back to your server. When I find him, I'll tell you."

Tango shook his head vehemently. "No! Nuh-uh. This is my rescue mission."

"While I appreciate your tenacity," Helsknight bared his teeth at the Hermit, causing him to shrink back a step, "hels is for helsmets. You wouldn't last ten minutes here. And I'm not wasting time keeping you safe."

"You protect Tanguish just fine."

"Tanguish can outrun everything that chases, and out-clever anything else."

"And he came from me," Tango said, crossing his arms petulantly. "I'm plenty smart! And I can be speedy in a pinch!" He sniffed. "We'll just give your house a look-around, easy-peasy."

Helsknight made to argue, and then a thought occurred to him.

"This isn't my house."

Tango blinked. His eyes shifted around the small, relatively bare room. The single desk, shield mounted on the wall, and bed.

"Is it... An outpost or something? You put this up while you were exploring?"

"This is my Colosseum cell," Helsknight said. When Tango only stared at him blankly, "Surely Tanguish has told you about the Colosseum."

"I mean... He did."

"I have a room here. For when I don't want to walk across hels to sleep."

"There's a bunch of fighters out there."

"There is."

"Fighters who... Dislike... Hermits."

Helsknight snorted.

"W-well!!" Tango sputtered, noticeably more nervous, but doing his best to ignore it. "I'm! Still not leaving! So! We'll just have to be quick. And once we get outside--"

"We'll have to walk across hels. Hels, the city, is very big, and has a lot of people in it."

Tango put his face in his hands and let out a keening whine of dismay through his fingers. It was the kind of noise that suggested he didn't know how to growl in exasperation, so he howled instead. Helsknight, begrudgingly, admitted to himself he was being [a little] harsh. He decided, against his better judgement, to have a little mercy.

"You really want to find Tanguish."

"Yes! Yes I do!" Tango snapped, looking up at him beseechingly. "I mean, is it really that hard to believe you're not the only one who wants him to be safe?"

Helsknight's skepticism must've shown on his face, because Tango let out another of his exasperated, half-syllable noises and ran his hands back through his hair.

"Look, I promise I won't get in your way. And I'll go home the second we find him. I just... I'm worried."

Helsknight sighed and tried his best not to roll his eyes. He crossed the room to where he'd left his cloak, and motioned for Tango to join him. Hesitantly, nervously, Tango stood and waited as Helsknight flung the cloak over his shoulders. It would have been far too long, but he gathered some of the length to turn into a makeshift hood, bunching it awkwardly around Tango's shoulders. It took some folding and some pinning, but after a few minutes, Helsknight stepped back and nodded. It was passable anyway.

"Keep this on while we're in the Colosseum," Helsknight informed him, pulling the hood down low over Tango's face. "With any luck, people will assume you're Tanguish. Or at least that you're supposed to be with me."

"And, uh, if that doesn't work?" Tango asked, his voice pitching the barest bit higher in nervousness.

"We'll burn that bridge when we cross it," Helsknight snorted. He checked one last time to make sure his gear was all in place, and, squaring his shoulders, led the way out and into the cells.

Nobody noticed them leave the cells. Or, at the very least, nobody noticed who Tango was. A few people stopped Helsknight to try and talk, but when he made it clear he had places to be, they let him pass. Helsknight's patience was not a thing anyone wanted to shorten, even those few dangerous people who could probably weather the aftermath.

Soon enough they were walking down the streets of hels, Tango hovering so close to Helsknight's side they occasionally walked into each other. Helsknight wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to be even more annoyed by all of Tango's jabbering. The Hermit would make observations as they walked, pointing at buildings and asking questions that Helsknight rarely deigned to answer.

They weren't here to sight-see. They were here to find Tanguish. So when Tango asked him his twentieth question of the morning [You guys have a working water fountain? How do you have water in hels? Is it an update suppression thing, or does hels have different rules than a standard nether hub?] Helsknight scowled and started walking so quickly, Tango had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Panting, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over cobblestones, he couldn't ask any more questions.

[Praise every god and saint in hels.]

Eventually they turned onto the street Helsknight's house was on, and immediately he knew something was wrong. Even from the end of the street, Helsknight could see the front door was open. A cold fist of dread clenched itself in his stomach, and Helsknight ran up the street, Tango protesting as he tried to keep pace.

The house had been ransacked. The door wasn't just open, it had been halfway knocked off its hinges, and the window at the front of the building had been smashed. He hadn't yet stepped inside, but from the red light streaming into the open doorway, Helsknight could see his little dining table and chairs had been knocked over. There was broken glass on the floor, and the pale gleam of metal -- Tanguish's dagger, dropped in a scuffle. There was no blood that Helsknight could see, but that was cold comfort.

"Oh... Shoot." Tango panted, standing beside him. "This is your house?"

Helsknight found himself swallowing past a growing lump in his throat. "Yes."

"Did you... Not go home yesterday?"

"No."

"Shoot." Tango said again, tugging on the edges of Helsknight's cloak nervously. "He left Hermitcraft in the afternoon. Would he-- would he have gone straight to the Colosseum if--"

"Probably."

"So. So this probably happened when he got here," Tango glanced up at Helsknight, gauging the knight's hesitation, and then picked his way cautiously to the door. "Does your house get broken into often?"

"If it did, there would be a lot fewer thieves in this city."

"I'll uh... Take that as a no." Tango stepped gingerly inside, the broken glass crunching beneath his boots. His tail, a liquid, fiery thing like his hair, swept around the floor, glinting off the glass shards like a field of sparks. He picked up Tanguish's knife and flipped it over in his hands, studying it before slipping it onto his belt. "No blood. Obvious signs of a struggle. I mean, he had to have been ambushed right? Otherwise he would've run for it. And they took him alive because, well, I mean, he would've just respawned right?"

The lump in Helsknight's throat got tighter. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"Right?" Tango prompted again.

"How much do you know about helsmets? How our respawns work?" Helsknight asked quietly.

"I know respawn is rough for you guys." Tango raised an eyebrow at him. "Or, I assume, I guess. Tanguish seems pretty scared of dying, anyway. And I know you take deaths in the Colosseum very seriously. A lot of warrior culture weirdness stuff."

Helsknight swallowed. The fear of speaking his thoughts out loud grabbed him by the throat and pinned him still. Adrenaline, cold and sourceless, sent ice through his veins. His fist clenched around the hilt of his sword, his instincts as a knight searching for a source for his alarm to fight and dispatch, even when his logical mind knew there was none.

[He didn't want to say it out loud.]

"Sometimes."

Helsknight cleared his throat uncomfortably. He didn't look at Tango. His eyes wandered around the broken glass at the Hermit's feet, watching the flame of his tail glint off the brittle, jagged edges.

"Sometimes."

He swallowed again. He adjusted the buckle on his gauntlet. It suddenly felt too loose around his wrist. He was too vulnerable to talk about this. He needed plate mail, or a helmet. Hels, he needed castle walls and a full garrison.

"Sometimes we... When the universe... We are. Uhm. We're different than--"

He could feel Tango's gaze heavy on him. His skin prickled with the weight of his stare and his own growing, frigid alarm. Something like panic, a rare and terrible beast, was crawling awake in Helsknight's stomach. It gnashed its teeth against his insides, and he felt the desire to laugh, or shout, or throw something, or maybe just throw up in general.

[Don't say it out loud.]

"Tango, sometimes we dont--"

"Well it's about gods-damned time!"

The amount of relief Helsknight felt at the sound of that hostile voice was profound and dissonant, and incredibly welcome. Mostly though, it was an excuse to focus all his pent up fear on something physical he could kill, and he praised every god and saint in hels as he turned to face the newcomers.

A group of four vaguely thug-like helsmets stood in the street less than twenty paces away from him. Helsknight's gaze swept across them, noting their mix-match of leather and gold armor. Two had swords -- gold and iron. One was twirling an axe in her hand in a flourish that was probably supposed to be threatening, but mostly just told Helsknight she'd been practicing axe-flourishes instead of axe-throws. The person who'd spoken, a rather weasely looking thug with a knife on his belt, grinned with glad maliciousness.

"We've been waiting for you to show up, tin can."

Helsknight didn't rise to the [insult?]. It wasn't worth his time. He cast a quick glance in Tango's direction, catching the fading flicker as the Hermit hid somewhere in the house. Good. Helsknight would prefer he not be under foot.

"Who are you?" Helsknight asked coolly, not really expecting a response. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand restlessly, itching to draw his blade. "And what have you done with Tanguish?"

"Come quietly and maybe we'll tell you," the ringleader said, motioning broadly with one hand for his thugs to fan out around him.

The three fighters moved to circle Helsknight, one stopping just in front of the ringleader, while the other two began stalking further up the street. Helsknight did the mental math of four against one, while he was surrounded, and decided he didn't like the odds.

Helsknight attacked before the first swordsman, the one with the golden sword, could pass him. He turned and drew his sword in the same motion, and the strength behind his cleaving overhead strike shattered the softer metal of their blade neatly. His second swing, lightning quick, took them in the throat. He pointed his bloodied sword at the second swordsman, who froze in shock, blade up in a shaking guard position, as they watched their ally fade into twitching death throws.

"Will you make me ask twice?" Helsknight hummed, his voice as level as the point of his sword.

The swordsman's eyes darted over his shoulder. Helsknight frowned, felt more than he heard the approach of something. He ducked and spun, sword arching over his head to catch a weapon strike that instinct told him was coming. There was the loud clash of metal on metal, and when Helsknight straightened, he found two more thugs had joined from... Somewhere. The roof perhaps. Helsknight backed up several steps, trying to keep the entire group in his sight line, and his back to his home. At least with his back to a wall, no one could get behind him. The four with weapons drawn advanced on him slowly, wary of his speed, and the efficiency of his strikes.

"Throw down your weapon, gladiator," the ringleader called to him. "If all you want is to see your friend again, we'll take you right to him." He flashed a wicked grin. "Though we might rough you up a little first."

At that, the axe-weilder leaped forward -- some uncanny sense of Helsknight's, honed for danger, demanded he duck as a whisper of noise hissed by his ear -- and she fell back shrieking, a bloody hole punched in her shoulder. It was only when the arrow cracked against a far wall that Helsknight realized she'd been shot at close range with a very high power bow. Tango leaned through the broken window, a terrified grin on his face, another arrow already knocked.

"Fight fair why don't ya!" He crowed and loosed his second shaft. This one grazed the thug closest to Helsknight, and he used the distraction to ram his sword through their chest.

What followed was a frenzy of breath and movement, seconds that ticked by as ages that he measured in the studied arc of his blade. One thug, then two, then three, scythed down like wheat in a field, crude skill and cruder weaponry breaking against his fortress of an onslaught. It was only when the last one fell that he realized the ringleader was making a run for it. Silent as a breath, Helsknight yanked his knife from his belt, aimed and threw. It hilted itself in the back of the ringleader's left knee, and he fell to the cobblestones howling.

"Holy-- nice shot!" Tango laughed, the high piping sound of the traumatized and terrified. "What are you--? Wait! Helsknight! Wait a tick--!"

Helsknight wasn't listening. He was angry, and the implication that Tanguish was captured somewhere goaded him on like a burning brand between his shoulder blades. There was a very mean little animal of panic in his chest again, warring with the adrenaline of the fight, and he thought, if he had the mind to, he might tear the ringleader in half with his bare hands.

[It would be easy. One hand on the back of the neck, one at the base of the spine. His boots were heavy, and if he planted a few strong kicks at the knuckles of a vertebrae he was pretty sure he could--]

It was a mountain of restraint that made him stoop instead to pick the ringleader up by the collar and slam him into the nearest wall. His head bounced against the bricks behind him and his breath whooshed out of his lungs, leaving him dazed and gasping while Helsknight leaned his full weight into him to pin him still. Not that he was going anywhere fast with a bad knee anyway.

"Talk," Helsknight growled, nearly nose to nose with the thug. "My friend. Where is he."

The thug whined, eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted in pain. "I'm not-- I'm not telling you anything. Y-you're not that scary."

For a very brief moment, Helsknight was so angry he actually did see red. He pulled his gauntleted fist back, fully intent on putting a dent between the thugs eyes -- when Tango leaped up and grabbed his forearm in both hands, dragging it down again.

"Hey! Hermitcraft to Punchy McMurderface!" Tango shouted frantically, clinging to Helsknight's arm for dear life. "Don't do that!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Helsknight snarled, grinding his teeth.

"Because if he's concussed unconscious he can't answer your questions, skippy!" Tango snapped fearfully, flinching back as though he expected Helsknight to punch him instead.

Helsknight, who had been expecting a much more stupid excuse [Something like, "Oh no Helsknight, don't punch the bandit that's mean and icky!" maybe] was momentarily caught off guard by the logical answer. He stood there, glaring down at Tango, panting as the red tinge the world had taken on faded back a bit.

"I'm st-still not answering your stupid questions," the thug sputtered bravely. "If you th-think I'm going to betray my guild--"

Helsknight hissed a breath out through his teeth. He reached for his dagger at his hip-- and remembered he'd already thrown it.

"Besides!" The thug gasped fearfully, realizing, probably, what Helsknight was looking for. "Y-you're a knight right? You've gotta be! No run-of-the-mill gladiator swings a sword like that! Knights don't torture people! It's against your religion or some shit."

Helsknight, whose anger was boiling up his throat again, considered the implications of renouncing his knighthood for one afternoon. Less than an afternoon. Surely it wouldn't take more than an hour to break a few bones. His Saint could only damn him to a lesser ring of hell. Maybe if he explained it was for something very important when he went to confession--

Tango spoke first. "Yeah but, knights are the law, too, aren't they?"

The thug briefly stopped breathing.

"I mean, they're deputized, technically." Tango continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. Helsknight suspected it was so no one could see them shaking. "At least, that's how knights in my world work. And I haven't seen any cops around. So. He's the law right now. And I don't know a lot about hels law, but I know you cut people's hands off around here for stealing things."

Tango looked up at Helsknight. "What do you think, Killer? I mean, technically they stole a person, right?"

Helsknight, despite his current fury and desperation, and despite his fearsome reputation, and despite, even, his ugly thoughts of a few moments ago, was not a torturer. He had inflicted some terrible wounds on people before, some to the point of what he would call cruelty, but never had he drawn a weapon with the explicit aim of causing pain and suffering. It was a line he had never really dared to cross, barring a few very harrowing fights with Wels, when he had flirted with the idea of that danger and eventually stayed his hand. There were some things a man could not do without carving out pieces of his soul in the process, where the gap between thought and action was a chasm, and to cross it was to never return to safety again.

Helsknight searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to remove someone's hand to get information. He searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to torture someone to find out where Tanguish was. A very sick, cold, empty feeling opened up in the pit of Helsknight's stomach. When he looked to the thug again, he had scrubbed himself of anger, and adrenaline, and, he hoped, fear. His expression must have been truly grim, because he watched the thug's face pale fearfully, his pupils pinpricks in too-wide eyes.

Helsknight threw the thug to the ground, forcing Tango to stumble back a few steps to get out of the way. His boot came down on the thug's shoulder, pinning him against the cobblestones. Panicked hands scrabbled at his ankle, nails sliding off the metal of his grieve. Helsknight was reminded of a rat trying desperately to climb out of a well, drowning.

"Hold your arm out, and hold it still," Helsknight said, his voice deathly calm. He leaned more weight into his heel, eliciting a long whine of pain from his captive. "I would hate to miss your wrist, and take your arm off at the elbow instead."

The thug was clearly panicked. Helsknight honestly couldn't blame him. He was very close to panicking himself. He kept shoving his feelings down into that cold empty place in his stomach, and replacing them with the mask he wore when he played the villain in the Colosseum. He quietly, forcefully, informed himself that this was a role he was playing, and like every role, he would play it very well. And then the performance would be over, and he could feel feelings about it then. After the screaming had stopped, and the blood had dried.

Tango had turned his back to him, his hands clasped over his ears. He did not run away. He did not leave. It was a show of solidarity Helsknight neither wanted nor expected, but found himself grateful for anyway.

"Last chance," Helsknight said. He lifted his sword, ready to plunge it down into the outstretched arm. He thought, in the detached way of the horrified, that if he could catch the tip of his sword between the bones of the wrist, that might be the fastest way to... To...

The thug closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Helsknight let out a long, slow breath. He drove the sword down. The thug screamed. The blade cracked against the cobblestones.

There was no blood. There was no dismemberment. The thug had pulled his arm away at the last moment, and clung to Helsknight's boot with both hands, shrieking. Helsknight's ears were buzzing. He couldn't hear what the thug was saying. His heart was racing, and his mind was so terribly, terribly empty. He felt... Numb. It was very hard to keep his sword in his hands.

A hand tapped gently on his arm. Helsknight blinked down at Tango, feeling vaguely like someone was waking him from a nightmare.

"Let me go!" The thug was yelling, scrabbling with renewed vigor against Helsknight's boot. "I told you what you wanted! Let me go!"

"Did you... Catch all that?" Helsknight asked, trying desperately to pluck coherent thoughts from the droning emptiness in his head.

"Sure thing."

[Ah... Good.]

Tango kicked his boot against the thug's side, more a nudge than anything. "Alright. We're going to let you go. Tell your guild boss or whatever that we'll be outside his place tomorrow at noon. Be ready to negotiate or -- uh -- be ready to get dead, I guess."

It was not a threat that would go down in the annuls of history as a great villain monologue, but the thug, shaking and terrified and in pain, took it deadly serious. Helsknight released him, and he hobbled away down the road as fast as he could on a bad leg. They watched him in silence until he disappeared down a side alley, leaving them in an empty street scattered in left over items from the other fallen thugs.

"Tomorrow?" Helsknight asked, his voice sounding very far away in his own ears.

"Today," Tango answered. "Telling them tomorrow makes them think they have time to prepare, and if they're preparing, they're not, you know, hurting Tanguish."

"Ah."

"You alright?" Tango squinted up at him. "You look like you're in shock."

"Mh." Helsknight dropped his gaze to the ground. His dagger had been left behind. He took a step forward... and sank to the ground.

"Woah! Hey, hey! Easy big guy--"

Helsknight found himself on his hands and knees, shaking, smothering under the weight of guilt and his own potential for horror. His head was buzzing again, a nauseating sound like the static of the void. His eyes found his dagger again, and he lunged for it. Moving on something between impulse and habit, driven by guilt and self-disgust, he ripped the blade across his wrist, spilling blood across the ground. With shaking hands he grabbed up his sword and set the tip against the cobblestones, his forehead pressed against the hilt, eyes screwed shut.

"Saint of Blood and Steel," Helsknight breathed, with all the desperation of a sinner crawling to an altar, "forgive me for what I would have done." He pressed his forehead so hard against the cold netherite of the hilt, it hurt. "Please, please, forgive me for what I would have done."

His nose stung with the smell of blood and metal and salt and sealing wax. His mouth tasted like bile, and he could feel every fluttering heartbeat in the cut on his wrist. The buzzing in his head, slowly, slowly, alongside the speed of his racing heart, ebbed. The animal panic curled up in his chest and grumbled as it started to ease itself to sleep. He realized someone was rubbing circles into his back, and whispering at him, and tugging at his hands.

Tango was not trying to be reassuring. At least, he wasn't trying to be reassuring so that Helsknight would be calm. He muttered things under his breath like, "Okay, easy now, no big deal, it's fine," and "Let it go. Nice and easy. Good knight. Scary knight..." The circles he rubbed into Helsknight's back were shaky and awkward, and very clearly a distraction for his other hand, which worked on uncurling Helsknight's fingers from the knife. Helsknight, his exhausted wits finally returning, had mercy on him and released it. Tango snatched up the knife like it were a snake he feared would bite someone. He grimaced at the blood on the blade, and, not knowing what else to do, wiped it off on Helsknight's cloak, before shoving the knife beside Tanguish's in his belt.

"So, just for establishing the rest of this afternoon," Tango said, when he realized Helsknight had come crawling out of his stupor. "Should I be worried about you hurting yourself randomly? Like, does this happen on a regular basis? Do you have triggers I should be making safe words for or--?"

"No." Helsknight said, trying not to feel ridiculous.

"Right. So that was just a one time thing? Because if it's not a one time thing, I'm not judging or anything. But, like, I might recommend seeing a hels therapist or something."

"No I--" Helsknight had no desire to explain that he had a Saint, and that Saint had tenets he'd sworn to, and he had been preparing to go smashing through them like a sledgehammer, mostly because she didn't want to admit it to himself either. He didn't want to admit that he had been on the verge of turning his back on everything that made him himself, because he was desperate and scared, and he didn't want to admit that if he wasn't a knight, he had no idea what he even was at all. Instead he fell back on what the thug had said, because it wasn't wholly true, but it also wasn't a lie. "Knight. Torture. Against my religion. Or. Whatever."

Helsknight leaned on his sword like it was his last hope of salvation.

"Very, very against my religion."

"R-right." Tango put on a complicated expression. The kind of expression one gives when they're realize they're walking on a minefield. "But. You know. You didn't actually torture anyone. Right? So. God can't be mad. So you don't have to slash your wrists for god, right?"

"I would have." Helsknight's eyes found a chipped cobblestone. "If he hadn't moved... I... Would have."

That feeling of frigid dread spidered it's way down his ribs again to pool in his stomach.

"Well. But. But. You didn't." Tango swallowed audibly. "You didn't. And that's what god cares about, right? And, even if god does care, you were following the letter of the law. And if god cares about that too. Uh. God. God can. Take it up? With me."

Helsknight barked a half-hearted laugh. "You going to defend my honor from god, Hermit?"

"Yes," Tango said uncomfortably. "Because I was the one who told you to do it. So. Double damn both of us, right?"

They looked at each other. They looked away from each other.

"Tanguish is going to kill us when he finds out what we did to find him," Helsknight said.

"I won't tell if you don't."

They looked at each other. Tango offered a hand to help Helsknight stand. When Helsknight took it, they grabbed each other's forearms, and it felt uncannily like a pact, or a promise.

"I won't tell if you don't," Helsknight murmured.

Helsknight sheathed his sword, and ran a hand through his hair, trying, with some success, to pull himself back together.

"We should... Get moving." Tango observed, looking up the street.

"I didn't hear a word he said."

"I've got it all up here buddy," Tango said, tapping the side of his head and offering a half-smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. "So uh... You know anything about a Thief Guild?"

[kurosagi-h8r]

My headcanon on the ghouls in bed 🔞

Idk if anyone talked abt this already but as always you can put them in any place, it's just how i imagined them in my head. This is for funsies ☆

Detailed explanation below. Minor DNI!

Jin would almost say no to bottoming unless he's too lazy and you're too needy. But i feel like he's too prideful to go that way so he'll probably force you to nap with him instead. It's likely that you'd wake up to him taking the initiative first. "Didn't you ask for it?" And he doesn't care if you're still in the mood or not. He is now and it's your responsibility too.

TOHMA SKDJFHSKHD definitely a service top when you're good but becomes a sadist when you deserve to be punished. Either way he enjoys playing both roles and is good at them.

I feel like Luca is one of the best when it comes to aftercare. From the beginning to the end he priorities your need above his and will switch depending on your preference. Guy probably takes it like a study when it comes to please you– excited to learn about your body and all.

Kaito is a pathetic bottom. A perfect subject for mindbreaking. Will cry upon first orgasm and a whimpering mess if you're not stopping (yay overstimulation). So much thank you and sorry despite forgetting his name during the whole thing.

To me Alan is more of a service top but would bottom at first bcs Alan is Alan– he would need guidance on what you like and what you don't like and also reassurance that you're enjoying everything. A submissive top, perhaps. The type to put your needs above his. Probably would take too long fingering you bcs he's afraid he wouldn't fit.

Leo mayyyybee secretly wants to film you going down on him. Will act all sadist at first but really he just wants to see how much it'd take to trigger you. If you give in and be submissive he'd lose interest in an instant because you're too easy. I mean come on do you actually believe people who like spicy food is not into pain? If you want him so bad then take him. The fact that he might resist at first shouldn't be an obstacle to you. He's a brat bottom at its finest.

Sho is pretty simple i guess. Top leaning and would take some convincing to let you overpower him. He'd secretly be addicted to it after the first time but it's because you look hot doing it.

Depending on how his day went Haru would either top the entire session or bottom. A service top most days but would say no to a blowjob or handjob when he has no energy left. I hc him being softer with it when he's drunk bc when the two of you do it sober he'd tease you here and there. But at the same time Haru is still Haru, he has some pent up stress and could let it out through you. So please push him as hard as you can– slap the shit out of him if you need to when it gets uncomfortable.

Should I explain about Towa 😩? He seems sweet at first but the second you show no signs of going along with his tune... also he's probably into roleplay. "Let’s reenact those love stories you've told me before, Dandelion ♡~ You'll say yes, won't you?"

Ren would absolutely refuse being the bottom. Even if he's positioned under you his hands would be on your hips controlling all of your movements. Surprisingly can hold himself being cockwarmed– gotta push rank a bit if he doesn't want to get kicked out of the guild. A bit of a masochist, would force you to be quiet as he destroy you from the inside despite knowing that's what gets you being too loud. Pretending to bottom only to tease you and make you realize how pathetic your attempts were.

Taiga is Taiga.

Romeo is meticulous with everything but everything has to be romantic and worth his while. He's secretly kinky and needs to have all the power on his hand but if you play your cards right, you might just see that side of him that he will never show anyone else. Hot top, pretty bottom.

It's tempting to put Ed in each square. Who knows he's probably the creator of this top switch bottom thingy MAYBE HE INVENTED S3X IDK. Like, he's probably had his fair share of doing everything in the bed. Want him to top? He'd love to! Just surrender your whole being and let him become your God. Want him bottom? Sure. Just be careful and don't get too rough, his joints can only take so much (lol). Either way things will likely be memorable with him.

Ritsu is a top if it's for duty and bottom if you provoke him enough. Bully him; call him a momma's boy and he'll lose his mind soon enough. He would take some time to tame but it won’t be an issue if you like the process.

I imagine even when stripping Subaru would want you to look away and when it's your turn he would be too bashful to look at you. Keeping eye contact is important for him, let him know that he is the center of your world and you'll gladly accept him with open arms. Yes, he couldn’t help but look away everytime, but as long as you distract him with your lips on his he'll ease up bit by bit. He'd probably feel bad not taking the lead but his skill lies on the aftercare (despite him being the one that needed it more sometimes) so please let him take care of you as you did for him.

Haku (lord help me again with this man) will become a greedy bastard if you keep indulging him. "No more round? What a shame. I love hearing my name on your lips." To him being with you feels like a guilty pleasure that's far more dangerous than being addicted to nicotine. He tends to be lazy with other things but will gladly take on the invitation to do it with you whenever you want. "You're tired? It's fine princess. Let me get you some water, ok? Stay right here." And if you think he's stopping after that you're dead wrong. He'll do all the work while you just lay there being pretty. Let him take care of you, ok?

Feminist king. Words of affirmation in the air every five seconds. KING OF PRAISE KINK! Everything you do is beautiful; you are simply an art sent from heaven for Zenji to witness, feel, and devour to his hearts content. I feel like he's secretly a pervert but only to the right person... You are an exclusive muse for his creations that he will never share to others. Everything you want to do to him, he'll agree with no questions asked.

Rui despite being flirty and wanting you to think he's kinky, he preferred to be a gentleman on bed. Don't know how he did it back then with the casual flings but after he's no longer cursed he would cherish every second and every inch of you. Worshipping your body with everything he has until you're sick of it. Mouth, hands, whatever and however you want he'll grant it. Just keep using him as you please; make a toy out of him, he doesn't care as long as your eyes and attention stays on him.

A bundle of nerves in the beginning but if it's driven by instinct Lyca won't even stop when you want him to. He would have his way with you bcs he's too impatient, so you have to really bare your fangs if you want to put him in place.

Yuri is a mess of a bottom. Similar to Kaito but unlike him Yuri's mind will resist before fully submitting. How will he finally submit? When you deny him of his own orgasm. The longer you edge him the more he's losing his mind. He would never admit it but he's grateful that you know when to not go all out, especially when he's tired. Even better when you simply go down on him to be his stress reliever in such state.

Doing it with Jiro is a bit embarrassing at first bc he need you to go verbal with how you want him to do things 90% of the time. Don't get him wrong his mind could break at any moment too (or pass out from exhaustion) so if you make it known to him that he can do whatever he wants... oh boy you're in for a ride. He's looking forward to all the expressions you can make with all the positions he'll try with you, and he'll only stop when he pass out.

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Two

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary and Miller & Sons c”Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So here’s the first chapter as promised! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what y’all think ♥️… I wrote half of this on my iPad so sorry for mistakes 😅)

Series Masterlist - One

After two days of you being frosty towards Joel and Joel desperately trying to make up for whatever he had done to upset you, you decided that it was pointless to be upset with him. He hadn't known your reasoning for going to his house so the fact he had a girl there wasn't really a valid reason to be angry at him.

If you were being honest you were more angry at yourself. Your pride had been wounded and that was something that you needed to work through on your own. So by Wednesday, you were somewhat back to being smiley and sweet but there was still a tension there that you knew would take time to dissipate. You just hoped that your date with Simon would take your mind off what had happened.

Your second date with Simon went even better than the first. He was sweet, taking you to a restaurant he remembered you mentioning you loved, and after, he took you for a few drinks at a new gin bar that had opened up. So inevitably, two dates turned into three.

It felt like with each interaction you shared with Simon, the less seeing Joel every day, and knowing that he didn't return your feelings, hurt you. What you didn't realise was that your budding new relationship with Simon was tearing Joel apart. Simon couldn't help but gush to the other contractors about how special you were or how amazingly things were going.

How he was starting to think that you might be the one.

That statement made Joel want to find a remote canyon so that he could lob Simon into it. Yet he knew he had no right to feel jealous. It's not like he'd ever had the guts to go for it. It was his own fault that he was suffering now. Yet that didn't make him hate Simon any less. What he hated more was you talking to him about the dates that his 'so-called' friend was taking you on.

It was killing him.

"Oh Joel, you would have loved the walk Simon and I went on over the weekend." You gushed as you sipped at your coffee "I would show you some pictures but I'm still waiting for them to come back from the developers so…"

"That's fine." Joel replied, trying to keep his tone from sounding as pained as he felt.

"Perhaps you could take Eliza there sometime." You continued, completely oblivious to his torment "It's so romantic and-"

"Eliza and I are just casual." Joel interrupted and you couldn't help but snort.

"Please." You rasped "She's practically living with you now. Fuck buddies don't spend most nights together."

"We're just hanging out."

"And I'm the Queen of England." You rolled your eyes and how oblivious he was to what was going on straight in front of him "If you're just looking for casual then perhaps you need to tell her that."

"I did! I have…" He argued, his hip cocking to one side as he rested his on it.

"Well, perhaps you need to have that conversation with her again because from an outsider's point of view. You and her seem pretty serious."

Joel's stomach twisted at the thought that he was leading Eliza on. She was sweet and he liked her but he wasn't looking to settle down. Not yet.

"Talk to her Joel." you said sweetly as you placed your hand on his "Don't lead her on."

So talk to her he did.

…

Eliza was in the kitchen when he returned that evening. There was already a tense atmosphere hanging over the house as he entered but he didn't have time to ponder why. Not when he needed to get things out in the open.

"Hey." He said gingerly as he stepped into the kitchen and Eliza turned to greet him.

"You're back late." She stated as she placed a plate of food down in front of him before sitting on the chair across from him, her arms crossed.

"Meeting with the wood supplier ran late." He replied and Eliza nodded.

"Eat up." She said, watching him then as he nervously pushed his food around his plate, little appetite when he had an anvil hanging over his head.

"What's the matter with you this evening?"

"I don't think we should do this anymore?" He stated simply, eyes drifting from his plate to Eliza.

"Can I ask why?"

"When we started 'this' up, I told you that I wasn't looking for anything serious and well… it's been brought to my attention that it kinda has and that I need to be honest with you… Make sure I'm not stringing you along."

"And who said that you are?" She demanded and Joel shook his head.

"It doesn't matter… what matters is that I don't want to-"

"Was Pip wasn't it?" Eliza growled "You know she has feelings for you right? Only reason she's seeing shit that's not there."

"Eliza… Pip, doesn't have feelings for me. This is just about us and I-"

"You really are blind aren't you." Eliza cackled and Joel stopped in his tracks.

"Blind to what?"

"Pip is head over heels for you… She told me so herself back when we went for those work drinks and I-"

"She told you that?" Joel interrupted and Eliza huffed before nodding "She told you she was in love with me?"

"Well, her exact words were that she was crazy about you but she knew you didn't feel the same and so she's never told you." Eliza waved off the statement like she wasn't telling Joel everything he'd ever wanted to hear.

Were you crazy about him?

"Look, I told you that I didn't want anything serious either and I still don't." Eliza stated as she shrugged "If this has gotten a little too cosy then we can cool it."

Joel wasn't really sure what to say. The information that you possibly feel the same way for him is running laps around his head.

"Joel?"

"Right… yeah… sorry." He said and he shook his head and returned to reality "Look I still think it's best that we just call it quits." He stated plainly, wincing at the growl it pulled from Eliza.

"Fine." She practically spat at him, getting up abruptly and grabbing her stuff as she went "I'll see myself out."

Joel didn't even get a chance to speak before she was slamming the door behind her. Leaving him to ponder over the events that had just transpired. What should he do?

Should he talk to you about it?

Is that what you had come here to talk to him about all those weeks ago?

It would explain your reaction to Eliza being there.

He knew he couldn't, not, talk to you about this. He needed to know whether or not you still felt something for him, because if you did he wanted to fight for you. For with you, he wanted something real.

…

Months went by before Joel plucked up the courage to talk to you. Each time he decided it was time, he talked himself out of it. Whether it was a story that you or Simon had told him about your latest adventures as the world's most perfect couple or just him watching the two of you together. But, finally, he had decided that enough was enough… He needed to be honest with you and lay his cards out on the table. He had thought long and hard about what it was he wanted to say and so had arranged for the two of you to meet up for a coffee on Saturday. This wasn't a conversation that he wanted to have with you in the office.

He still had to labour through an afternoon of Simon gushing to the guys about how things were going with the two of you and up until now it had been fairly easy to drone it out.

"So you two finally did the deed huh?" Piped up a voice, grabbing Joel's attention.

Joel had known that you and Simon hadn't been intimate yet. You had confided in him about how you had never been with anyone and that you wanted to save yourself for the right guy. Obviously, you had decided that Simon was that guy.

"Fuck did we." Simon practically growled "Was so worth the wait… Girl's so hot… we-"

"Let's not discuss such personal matters at work, hey chaps?" Joel tried to sound calm but his stomach was twisting in knots.

The knowledge that you and Simon had been intimate was tearing him up inside. Had Eliza been wrong about your feelings for him? Had she lied? Either way, he wasn't sure what to do with the knowledge that you and Simon were now sleeping together.

"Come on boss…" Teased Rick, one of Joel's youngest employees "Just 'cus ya jealous."

"What?" Joel growled as he turned to face the younger man.

"Well, the guys all told me how you're sweet on Si's girl. It's not his fault you missed your shot."

Joel felt his anger start to boil over as he said "Keep it professional Rick or you'll be looking for new employment." Walking away then to cool down.

…

You were just clearing the dishes away whilst Simon wiped down the sides, always the gentleman. 8 months had shot by in the blink of an eye and it felt like he'd blended so perfectly into your home life. It was like the two of you had always done this. Things were so seamless.

"So Joel threatened to fire Rick today." He stated as he wiped his hands dry with a dishcloth.

"Really?" You asked and your brows shot up in surprise "Why?"

"We were talking about you and me and Rick kinda ribbed Joel a bit." Simon replied, shrugging.

"Ribbed him how?"

"We were just talking about how you and I had… well you know and Joel got pissed. Rick kinda teased him about how he's sweet on you and how he missed out on his chance with you."

"One, I'd rather you didn't discuss our sex life with my colleagues… Two, Joel's not sweet on me he's with Eliza and three… even if he was, that's a pretty dickish thing to do." You admonished and Simon chuckled as he replied.

"Joel is still very much sweet on you and he and Eliza broke up."

"What?" You were shocked to learn this information and hurt that Joel hadn't told you.

"Yeah, been like 6 or 7 months now… guys probably got blue balls." Simon chuckled as he tossed the dishcloth in his hands onto the counter.

You'd always talked about everything Joel and so to learn that he had broken things off with Eliza and he hadn't talked to you about it stung a little. Had things between you really become that strained? They hadn't been the same since you'd gone to his house to talk to him about how you felt. They certainly hadn't been since you had started dating Simon.

"You're not sweet on him are you?" Asked Simon, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hmm?" You hummed as you looked at your boyfriend who was watching you closely, analysing every expression that crossed your face.

"Joel, you aren't sweet on him too are you?"

The colour drained from your face as your mouth moved to answer him but no words left your lips. The longer you took to respond, the more frustrated Simon grew.

"You are, aren't you?"

"Simon…"

"No, don't try and spin me any bullshit." He growled out and you flinched at his tone "Are you in love with Joel… Yes or no?"

"Yes… but-"

"I need to leave." Simon choked as he threw his hands up when you tried to reach for him "I can't be around you right now."

"Simon please…" You pleaded but he was having none of it.

He just grabbed his stuff and left.

Leaving you sobbing in his wake. \

…

You sat in the cafe you and Joel had arranged to meet at, your eyes red raw from crying all night and most of this morning. You were sipping on an overly sweet latte. Needing the sugar to try and boost your mood. Joel was already ten minutes late but that wasn't unusual for them man. No doubt he'd be stumbling through the cafe doors in a few moments, huffing and puffing whilst he rambled on about what it was that had delayed him.

Only after half an hour… he still wasn't there.

You were on your second sugary coffee and coming to the painful realisation that Joel had stood you up. Who gets stood up by their best friend? Well, it would seem that you do and you wondered if it was because of what Simon had told you yesterday. How Rick had teased Joel about missing out with you when he'd learned you'd lost your virginity to the man you'd been going steady with for almost 9 months. That thought made you go from sad to plain pissed.

Was he seriously going to stand you up because he was jealous that you had slept with Simon?

Finishing your coffee you stomped out the door and towards your car. You weren't going to let him get away with this. Not after everything you had been through in the last 12 hours.

You don't recall the drive to Joel's house but you feel your anger flare when you see his truck on his drive. You pull up behind him, get out of the car, then make a point of slamming the door in the hope that he'll hear you coming.

You were pounding on the door, not caring if you were attracting attention. You wanted answers and you wanted them now. An exhausted Joel opened the door and you felt anger flare at the thought that he'd stood you up because he'd slept it.

"Pip this isn't-"

"A good time?" You growled, "It never is Joel."

"Please, I'm sorry I stood you up but-"

"No, I'm going to speak." Venom dropped from your words as you poked his chest "Simon told me what happened yesterday and I just can't believe that you would stand me up because I slept with the man I had been dating for over half a year!"

"That's not… I didn't stand you up on purpose I-"

"You what? You overslept? Your latest conquest only just left?" You barged past him with a strength you didn't know you possessed as you started to look around the house.

"Pip-"

"Where is she… where is the reason you decided to stand me up the morning after Simon broke up with me." You choked as your hurt started to slip through the cracks.

"Simon dumped you?" Joel asked and you nodded "Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you Joel… and I-"

"Do you want to scream any louder?" Growled Joel's mother as she walked down the stairs with a bundle in her arms "You're lucky she's so milk drunk. Not even the apocalypse would wake her right now." She said as she handed Joel what you could now see was a newborn with a gorgeous caramel complexion.

"Oh, Pip sweetheart, so lovely to see you." Said Mrs Miller as she pulled your stunned body into an awkward hug "It's been a bit of a mad house for the past 12 hours." She chuckled as she walked over to Joel to give him a kiss on the cheek before pecking the baby's brow. "I'll let Joel catch you up, I need to get diapers and formula. Will be as quick as I can sweetheart."

"Thanks, Mum." He said, smiling at her as she waved at you all and left.

Finally leaving you and Joel alone with this tiny baby you had just learned about.

"You… You have a baby." It wasn't a question.

Joel nodded as he looked down at the tiny person in his arms, a sweet smile gracing his lips as he brought her brow to his lips.

"I have a baby." He confirmed and you let out a shaky breath as you continued to stare at her.

"Is she…?"

"Eliza's?" He finished for you and you nodded "Yeah." He replied as he walked towards his couch and carefully sat himself down, watching as you followed him and sat down beside him "She came by last night. Dumped her in my arms and said she was mine and that she wanted nothing to do with being a mother."

Your eyes snapped to his at this statement and found him looking at you with a tearful expression "Left me enough formula to last me till tonight. No cot, clothes, nothing."

"How could she just leave her?" You sobbed as you looked at the perfect little girl in his arms and Joel just shook his head.

"She said she didn't want to be a mum." He replied "After we broke up she moved back to Austin. Had no idea she was pregnant. Not even Gloria did… then last night she just turned up at my door with her."

"Oh, Joel."

"I'm not ready to be a dad am I?" He asked as he looked at you again, his expression indicating just how scared he was.

"You're going to be the best father to this little girl." You said as you cupped his cheek and moved his face so that he looked you in the eye "You aren't going to be alone in this." You promised him "I will be here whenever you need me to be… day or night I will be here."

Joel nodded. Knocking a few tears loose and you watched as they rolled down his slightly stubbled cheek.

"Thank you, Pip." He breathed, giving you a small smile before he looked down at his little girl again "Her name's Sarah." He said after a short pause and you smiled sweetly at her.

"Hi, Sarah." You said softly as you leaned in to look at her better "Well aren't you just perfect."

"Would you like to hold her?" He asked and you nodded eagerly before carefully taking her off of him and settling into the plush cushions at your back.

You gazed at her sleeping form for what felt like an age. Her perfect little button nose and long black lashes making you swooning.

"I'll let you off." You piped up after a while and Joel hummed he as looked at you in confusion "For standing me up… She's a pretty good excuse."

Joel chuckled as he rested his head on your shoulder, you both continuing to gaze at her.

"We'll get through this…" He said and you nodded.

"Together."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Idk if you ever did an ask like this but I thought it was kinda cute

SO and skelly went out for ice cream, someone then bumped into skelly (or something startled them) and made their ice cream drop. SO, being a great datemate, offers them their ice cream instead. Reactions?

Undertale Sans - Aw. Nah, he gives it back to you. He's not a big fan of ice cream in the first place. He appreciates the gesture though. Just walking with you is already enough for his happiness.

Undertale Papyrus - Nonsense! You're not the one who makes the ice cream fall, it's that random person and he's going to explain the situation to the ice cream seller to have a new one. There's no way he's stealing your ice cream.

Underswap Sans - He's embarrassed and gives the ice cream back to you. He's not a big fan of sugary food in the first place. He's still salty about the money he lost though! Ice creams are expensive in this part of the town and he's so mad he didn't get to eat it. He hopes he won't see that guy again because he might tell them what he thinks of that.

Underswap Papyrus - Oh :( Honey looks at the ice cream on the floor, sad. It's probably his fault, he's too clumsy. He's happy when you propose your ice cream but insists you share it. You paid for that, he doesn't want to ruin your fun. He still calls you his hero though.

Underfell Sans - He doesn't hear you, he's too pissed off by what just happened. Red is going to drag the poor guy to the ice cream stand and make them pay for a second ice cream. You stare from a distance, wondering if you should intervene or let him have his moment of glory as he gets what he wants eventually.

Underfell Papyrus - "NO, THAT'S OK. I WAS TOLD A VERY YOUNG AGE THAT GOOD THINGS NEVER LAST LONG IN THIS PATHETIC WORLD." Ok, wow, now you're very concerned and insist he gets your ice cream even more. Edge is very dramatic about it, but eventually accepts to share yours very reluctantly. You swear he's going to be your end someday.

Horrortale Sans - He stares at you with wide eyes. No, he can't do that! That's your food! What if you starve? You still insist he has it. Oak is very touched and ends up taking it like it's the rarest treasure he ever held. He still buys you a gigantic one later that day because the thought you might be starving still stays in his head. And he doesn't want that.

Horrortale Papyrus - What? No! Keep it, it's yours. He always has random things to eat in his pockets, you need your ice cream more than him. You're a bit concerned if he's having a traumatic episode or not as he seems to confuse a bit the Underground and the real world suddenly. You force him to sit for a bit and go to buy another ice cream so you don't stress him more. He's VERY thankful for that.

Swapfell Sans - No. He's grumpy and salty so he's going to be a pain in the butt and says no to everything. He's pouting, and despite being a literal millionaire, you're the one who goes to pay him another ice cream so he stops acting like a child. He wants to refuse it at first, just because, but you give him the big angry eyes and he ends up accepting it. He won't stop criticizing the taste though lol, just to be annoying.

Swapfell Papyrus - What? No! He could never take that ice cream from you. But that's fine because you know what else he has? A brother holding another ice cream. Nox growls at him, protecting his ice cream, but then Rus says that surely Nox wouldn't want Alphys to know the general of the royal guard can throw temper tantrums over ice creams, think of his reputation! Rus ends up having his ice cream, Nox is a jerk with you for the rest of the week despite all of this not being your fault at all. Only Rus is happy in this story.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He gives you a look of pure disdain. What do you think? That he needs your pity? He huffs, continues to walk and completely ignores you. He has his pride, but it's hard to take him seriously with that huge chocolate stain on his white shirt honestly. You prefer not to mention that, you have a feeling he's not going to like it.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You got a bit scared he might actually lick the ice cream from the floor. Coffee's eyes shine as you give him your ice cream. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! He tackles you for a hug. Your ice cream crashes on the floor because of the hug. ... Ah.

[ihopesocomic]

It's such a shame how many good brother-brother duos or sister-brother duos there are compared to sister-sister duos

I know it stems from writers always feeling the need to add a man in every woman's life

A lot of writers can only make a character who's a sister if she's a sister to a brother and it's a real shame

Honestly I think Nothing from MP is a pretty good example of that

Look at her relationship with her female siblings/cousin vs her male siblings/cousin

Fire ended up being horrible and Feather is a toxic positive "lemme make you feel bad for wanting to change your ableist name even though it literally doesnt effect me" dirtbag

But Nothing had a better relationship with vs her younger sisters/cousins

Farleap and Silentstalk bullied her and Feather's sisters thought she was weirdo though they like literally never interacted

It's just always suspicious when a writer seems to prioritize a female character's relationship with guys over her relationship with girls

Like their gender shouldn't matter but they'll always pick their male characters first

The sexism in writing still to this day is wild. Especially where so-called independent creators are concerned. Because I thought the whole point of being indie was creating stuff you wanted to see in mainstream media but didn't get, but a lot of it is just more of the same crap you get from bigger productions. So either people want more sexism, or its just baked into their brain and they don't even realize it.

A lot of better stories out there are about brothers (well, I could argue that a lot of it is lazy and that there is no point to the characters being brothers, especially when strong emotional friendships between men are practically nonexistent in media.) and anything having to do with sisters is as I said, either petty nonsense or there's no point to being sisters at all.

And then there's as you said, an inherent need by creators for women to have men be relevant in their lives when that same standard is not applied to men. You can throw a rock and hit a movie or show with a female pov where her only motivation has to do with a man. Father, son, brother, husband, boyfriend, abuser. Whatever.

That's not to say any of these are bad stories. But when its the majority of supposed woman-focused media, it loses its edge as woman-focused when the women in question are focused on men. The writers either consciously or subsconsciously don't get that women have motivations beyond men. This even happens with lesbian characters, where men should have even less relevancy? LOL And it doesn't even matter who the writers are, whether they're men/women, cis/trans, straight/gay, everyone does this. You'd expect better from queer creators but even then there's a clear preference. And they're wont to bring up that "gender shouldn't matter" but only when it pertains to asking why they're so opposed to women being the focus. Its quite interesting.

MP is in an interesting position of hating both men and women at the same time while not commenting on how the patriarchy has negative effects on both men and women. Not an easy feat but Tribble sure made it look easy. She made Feather Nothing's prime motivator for leaving the pride, and while I have my own criticisms of Nothing's "subtle" motherlyness towards Feather, that wasn't extended to the female cubs. Fire is Nothing's other motivation for leaving the pride, and then he turned out to be a wannabe dictator. Quickmane was shown to be a sympathetic and caring mate who definitely wasn't homophobic, but had no qualms about killing children. And then there's alllllll the women who are meant to be oppressed to the same extent as Nothing, but they all somehow manage to be even worse because the narrative wants us to side with them.

And even Nothing's abusive relationship with Quickmane as we've stated in our review is arguably less fucked up than the relationship she has with her own mother. Because we know what they think about each other, and Powerstrike still insists that Nothing's existence is a burden on her soul or whatever. Like what the fuck is up with that?? I'm sure they could've made Powerstrike less-bad than Quickmane, was this some sort of weird equalizer of the sexes? And you can count Nothing's relationship with Sharptongue if you're so inclined to, but even if you ignore everything else she did, Sharptongue would still be the only positive female influence in Nothing's life. But not a key motivator in Nothing's story. Like not even a little bit.

[idleoblivion]

"Life Cycle of a Maggot" Idia Shroud x GN Reader

Synopsis: The evolution of your relationship with Idia, as compared to a fly.

A/N: I guess I was kind of experimenting with this one, tbh I don’t know how great I wrote his character but enjoy the angst at least. 

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst, Idia/reader both implied to be depressed

Phase 1: Egg

Flies deposit eggs into rotting organic material. 

…and there couldn’t have been a better description of him when you found him. Rotting material. 

He spent nearly every waking moment immersed in technology. It felt natural, always having been surrounded by it. It almost felt like home. 

Only almost though. Because nowhere truly did anymore. 

He could never find solace from the painful memories in the forefront of his mind. Despite his best efforts they always stayed there. He couldn’t think of ‘home’ without thinking of his failures, of his regrets, of Ortho…

So he stayed online. In a space he could control, where everything worked the way it was supposed to, where there was no school or anxiety or brother to remember. He neglected himself, his body, in favor of the computer screen. 

He couldn’t name a single other student he considered a friend, and as much as he needed his own space it had started becoming lonely. He couldn’t remember if he’d gotten all of his homework done, and he didn’t particularly care. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept right. Or if he had even had a full meal on any given day. He certainly felt like he was rotting, and he was sure he looked it too. 

And then you came into the picture. 

He knew of you before you met, he’d heard of you in the short moments he spent with the student body. You hardly spoke a word to anyone and could barely bring yourself to make eye contact. Notorious for being shy, nobody could list a single other thing about you.

When he begrudgingly had to partner up with someone for a potionology assignment, he looked around the room with a knot in his stomach. Everyone was finding their partners easily, forcibly reminding him of the wall of isolation he’d created for himself. While he was debating whether or not to just ask for 0 and move on, you were walking up behind him. 

When you lightly tapped on his arm to get his attention, he turned to find your nervous face staring down at the floor. 

“Do you have a partner yet?” He shook his head no at you. “Will you be mine then?”

He considered his options. He could risk getting stuck with someone random, take the 0 like he wanted to before or give you a shot. He didn’t know anything about you, but the more you uneasily rocked back and forth, the more certain he felt you’d be someone he could handle personality-wise. At least compared to your other peers. And unless he wanted to risk ending up like Leona, he really needed to get his grades together. 

“…S-sure.” Is all he offered in response. But that seemed enough for your shoulders to drop in relief, and for you to finally look at him. The small smile you wore confused him, why would anyone be happy they got stuck with him? 

“Thank you. We could just call to work on it if you didn’t want to meet for real.”

That was…surprisingly considerate. He guessed he made the right choice after all. 

Phase 2: Maggot

Maggots will eat the rotting material around them. They thrive in their environment of decaying matter. 

Calls about the project turned into much more rather quickly. It felt like one day you were a stranger, the next you were pouring your hearts out to each other.

Misery loves company, and your company was inexplicably inviting. You made him want to unleash everything he suppressed. All the suffering his pride wouldn’t let him show, he wanted to share with you. Somehow he just knew you’d get it, you’d understand what nobody else could.

He isn’t proud of the trauma-dumping that ensued at the end of a meaningless hang out one day. He’d granted you access to his room, to meet in person for the first time. The reality of which set in immediately after you arrived. That you had accepted his invitation to his space, that he wasn’t alone in that moment. And an innocent “Are you alright?” from you ended up being enough to break him.

He cried, he gasped for air, he thought he remembered screaming but he wasn’t sure. He fell to the floor with his head in hands, sobbing and blubbering about everything weighing on him. He knew he blew it big time, melting down the second you showed up. He knew you’d leave, you had no obligation to help his pathetic self after all.

He didn’t expect tears from you as well. It shocked him so much his crying nearly halted.

You detailed your own struggles to him. Your own struggle to fit in and feel accepted, and the loneliness that came with it. Your own regrets, things you’d give anything to change. You sat across from him on the floor, tears falling gently as you rambled and rambled.

He didn’t know what came over him, but he put his hand out. He flinched when you actually took it, but didn’t let go. He managed a meager smile as he relished in the peace he’d found with you. You sit in silence for a while.

He’s visibly relieved when you agree to try hanging out again sometime. Relieved he’d finally found someone to rot with.

Vent sessions became regular, though not as emotional as the first. You became his only confidant. You were almost always in his space or talking to him online. It was almost obsessive, and he loved it. 

You both fell further into solitude, into your own despair, but together. You thrived in it, and so did he. It was the best kind of miserable he had felt in a long time.

Phase 3: Pupae 

Maggots then encase themselves in a puparium, where the maggot's body will begin changing. 

Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

You started hanging out with him less, turning him down when he’d invite you to play games or vent like you had been. He tried not to take it personally, remembering how much he loved to self-isolate when he was especially down. Maybe you were going through something extra rough right now, and you wanted your space from him. He’s down the same to a lot of people, so he couldn’t blame you. 

Until he realized how naive it was to think that was what had you busy. He was rushing to class to turn in a paper he had to finish without your help when he spotted you in the hall. 

It was nothing like the first time he saw you. Or any time he’d seen you when you two were alone.

You had people around you, a small group. They spoke to you. You spoke to them. You weren’t looking at the floor, you were looking at one of their faces. You laughed at something they said and he felt his chest tighten.

Worst of all, you were positively beaming. 

He immediately felt bad for thinking that. He should want to see you smiling like that. If he cared about you, he would want you to be branching out, making new friends. Especially when you had expressed how alone you felt. 

He did care, just maybe not in the way he was meant to.

Because he couldn’t bring himself to be happy for you. Because he recognized where this was going to head immediately.

You were changing. Somehow, some way, you were finding the strength to grow. Strength he knew he would never find himself.

He didn’t bring it up the next time you met in his dorm. But he felt it, the difference in the atmosphere. Like his negativity and sorrow didn’t reach you the same way anymore. Not like you didn’t care, but like you couldn’t relate the same way. But he pushed those thoughts down for as long as he could, not wanting to admit the reality of the situation.

You were changing. And he simply was not.

Phase 4: Fly

Eventually, a fly will emerge from the casing to leave and continue on with its general life cycle. 

Rain checks turned to missed calls turned to ghosting altogether. 

His pride wouldn’t let him beg for your attention, but he missed it. He mourned it. Grieved the friendship that really never was, but meant so much to him.

He resented you for it, but a part of him couldn’t blame you. You were nothing like him now.

He spent even more time in his room if that was possible. But on the rare occasion he’d leave for class and spot you, you always had people with you. People who could be funny and casual, people who could hold a conversation without saying something depressing, people who you could do activities outside of school with. People who weren’t him, or anything like him.

You were kind enough not to say it, but he could see it with his own eyes. How he had become a burden to you, a weight on your chest. While you were trying to improve yourself he only ever got worse. 

You weren’t content to rot, clearly. You had this ambition, this drive to escape the hell you had created for yourself and start over. You would always understand him and his pain, but you had pushed through your own misery and found yourself happier. And with no room left for him and his lack thereof.

You were moved on. Because what was temporary weakness for you was eternal for him, like his curse.

Had he known that from the beginning, he would’ve never gotten involved. He had to figure out what you were, but he knew right from the start what he was.

You had flown away, sprouted wings and left the rot behind. Like you were meant to.

And he was a hungry, starving maggot. And always would be.

[nitrowyverine]

I think I write dating sim/VNs/etc reviews now? Anyway,

LOST IN LIMBO REVIEW/THOUGHTS

This VN piqued my interest, so I gave the demo a shot! This review will follow the same general format as my Obscura/Touchstarved review, except there's 7 (!!!) romance options.

Since I totally loved this game, I'm going to put the conclusion promo up here too: if Lost in Limbo interests you, consider playing it Here, Here on steam, and/or backing it Here!

ALSO! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE DEMO!

My (long winded) thoughts are below:

(Banner image courtesy of the Ravenstar Games tumblr account pinned post. Individual character pics courtesy of tumblr posts from the studio. Individual posts are linked in character titles.)

Gameplay design thoughts:

the plot immediately sucked me in, I'm pretty invested in whatever the hell is going on with the protag, the realms, the lords, etc. I think the setup/land are deep enough to draw me in, but not so intimidating in it's depth that I'm afraid to explore more.

I always enjoy a little bit of nightmare fuel in my games, so the voidbound are perfect. They're so gross and horrible, but not just a stock zombie/nightmare creature design. Whenever the voidbound pop up, it makes the back of my neck itch, which is perfect.

I have no idea whose route I'll pick first. Usually I have one candidate that I can pick out as number 1. This game however? I go back and forth all the time, since I love all of them. I do think I have bias for Ara/Gael/Amon/Envy, maybe?

I really want to design an MC to doodle for this, but I feel like I don't know enough about other people in the realm. (Mostly, I'm assuming that standard humans don't have pointy ears? how close to our reality is the regular world?) I might say "screw it" and design an MC anyway (with some speculative clothing for once they get cleaned up)

The backgrounds have been great set pieces so far. Sometimes I catch myself just kinda staring into space at them. They've got a fantastic flavor.

Misc. Thoughts written during a replay

Fun touch to have Evie's rock image from the beginning fortune shop scene line up with the 7 LI's color schemes.

Each of the VA's does a lovely job with their voices. I've been turned off of certain dating sims because of bad voice acting, but the acting in this game is superb so far. It really helps set the richness of the story.

I have a theory that the LI's (and possibly people in Limbo in general) experience pain differently. The characters seem largely uninterested in the MC's stabbed, weakened state, beyond a "Oh that sucks....we'll clean you up later" mentality. I wonder if they have different pain tolerances, or are just less attached to such things. (Then again, Amon and Raeya have full missing limbs/eyes, so they probably have a decent perspective on pain altogether)

What does wielder/non-wielder mean? Xal says the MC "Can't wield, can't see." What do the LI's see that we don't? Ara mentions that the MC seems "Completely normal". Many mysteries.

I need those monster forms like crazy oh my goodness. Please devs PLEASE SHOW THE MONSTER FORMS

Now, to the lovely love interests!

Amon

WHO LET THIS MAN BE OVER 7 FEET TALL? PRIDE YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO

I only just noticed he also has a few freckles, *chefs kiss* (Waaaiit do all of them have little freckle skin textures??? Oh this is a glorious day.)

It's hard not to love a big friendly guy. I was honestly relieved when he first showed up, because I did Envy's route first, and I was thrilled to see a friendly face in the big dark scary woods.

This does not mean, however, that I'm not excited to see what this guy turns into when he's mad.

I like that he has pity for MC when they first show up, but I do worry it makes his resolve weaker. I'm not as confident that he could handle society/reality breaking down as well as the others. Can he put aside his affable nature for when shit hits the fan?

Question: What level of fight had to happen for Amon to lose his eye? He's already huge, and has some sort of telekinetic powers. My theory is that he was taken by surprise, maybe by someone close to him.....(Envy I'm looking at you)

RIP Amon you would have loved Hawaiian shirts

Conclusion: Most likely to be the camp counselor who hurts his back from always giving piggy back rides. Least likely to keep his composure during a badly timed pun/dad joke.

Raeya

I'm fighting for my life whenever shes on screen good LORD

Similarly to Amon, I GOTTA know the story behind her prosthetic arm. Its so rad looking, but how did she lose a whole arm? (I am also considering that she was also not born with one)

Playing the demo again, she makes a specific comment about the monsters having not "infected a limb" of the MC. My bet is that's how she lost her arm.

I wish I could have spent 1:1 time with her, but it wasn't offered in the demo. I'd love to have like, a sit down discussion with her about history. (Well I'd be fine getting lectured about history and drinking tea and hanging out)

Out of everyone's motivations, I think I understood Raeya's the most. Even if she was against MC, I think her concerns are completely valid. If an alien fell out of the sky from a different reality to earth I'd ALSO be taking every precaution

She and Amon have matching ear chains, that's adorable....

I hope I can take her on a nice date and spoil her and let her relax in the full game, pretty please. Nothing bad will happen right???

Conclusion: Most likely to gently remind the waiter that you said NO pickles with your order, thank you very much. Least likely to admit to being the one who farted in a crowded room.

Envy

every other line from him is "UGGGHHH" and i love that for them.

After playing, I think I've finally realized that I've got a soft spot for grumps. just grumpy lil friends with their pouty faces

I want (vivi's) Envy's nails SO BAD. I need him to do my nails because theirs are perfect. Envy, envy PLEASE

They pretend not to care, but are already getting attached to the MC by the end of the demo. I can't wait to see what they're like when they actually DO get attached

Elephant in the room, what could he have possibly done to get himself demoted so severely? Everyone seems to be fine with him being demoted except Amon, who sheepishly vouches for him when he can.

I just wanna wrap him in a blanket burrito like you do with a spicy kitten. and then give him little smooches

Conclusion: Most likely to be they guy who gets one drink at a party and sits in the corner with the dog/cat all night. Least likely to allow their partner to willingly boop their nose with any regularity.

Pride

Old man yells at cloud? No....old man IS cloud.

The dev's tumblr has mentioned that he's a pathetic old man, but for now at least, I am afraid of his authority and power. since hes like. yaknow. the big god of this world

The VA did some fabulous work for his voice. I definitely got actual chills in certain parts. 10/10

Okay, so WHAT is this guy's deal with mirrors? He looks great, why is he worried about it. I sincerely doubt he's just 52 though, if he's a god. (as a note for all these interests, I have a feeling that the ages are their physical ages, and not their actual ages. Or at least, age relative to ours. I think they're much older in our years than in their years.)

We also didn't get any 1:1 time with Pride in the demo, so I'm fascinated to see what alone time with Pride would be like. Is he quiet? a chatterbox? Just a guy??? does he only play piano and not talk to you. (power move)

Conclusion: Most likely to show up WAY over-prepared for Parent-Teacher conferences. Least likely to understand and survive the cinnamon challenge.

Ara

Certified CUTIE PIE

We got a pretty clear demonstration of everyone's powers in the demo, except for Ara. Unless it was too subtle for me to realize, I'm not actually sure what her cool powers are yet.

If she DOESN'T have plant powers I'd be very surprised.

I keep wanting to think things like "I have to protect her" or "keep her safe at all costs". But then I remember she's likely absolutely terrifying, and I honestly should be actually afraid for anyone who gets in her way.

I would like to remind/inform everyone that so far, she is the only member of the cast who is visibly armed at all times. (Raeya doesn't count even if her arm claws look really really sharp.)

If I have to pick anyone to party with, it's probably Ara. I know she'd throw an absolute rager, but would also make sure you stay hydrated. I wanna hold her hand too. Please?

I'll go butch for her, i'll do it if thats what she wants. I'm weak

Conclusion: Most likely to be able convince you to give her your kidney. Least likely to let you skip a bloodthirsty game of monopoly because you "Have a headache"

Gael

where did he find pants long enough for him.

Okay. So its HIS fault that Amon has the deepest V-cut since time immemorial. Do you think Amon and Gael had an extensive argument about the minimum amount of clothes Amon has to wear at any given time? Because I do.

His powers certainly did not. Awaken anything in me. Nope.

he has the shortest and most perfect arc from stranger -> friendly -> ???? -> BETRAYAL

I am MASSIVELY curious about his dissociation/spacing out during the demo. He was 8 million miles away in the tower for some reason, and I HAVE to find out why. I just KNOW this man is doing some questionable shit with good intentions and I can't wait to find out what it is.

So, he has SOME issue with touch. No idea what it is, but I can't wait to find out what it is. Also noting he's the only one with full-coverage gloves in the cast. Interesting...

Conclusion: Most likely to cry after being sent those sad FB/insta animal stories. Least likely to let you open your own car/carriage/etc door under any circumstances.

Xal

He looks so soft. I have to bully him, in a good way. (Like grim from Date with Death)

I am fascinated as to why he would lie for MC. That's such a great hook to his character. What does a guy who so desperately wants to be left alone have to see to stick his neck out for a stranger?

SOMEONE get this man a NINTENDO DS POST HASTE

THIS GAME HAS TO GET FUNDED BECAUSE XAL SAYS HE HAS A CAT AND I WANT TO SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will do it, I will be the one to tuck him in when he is too eepy. I will carry him to bed and kiss his little head good night

Wait, if he can "Figure something out" by touching it, he could be like, the worlds greatest doctor. Xal please get off the couch and help me diagnose mystery ailments in a medical sitcom

Conclusion: Most likely to injure himself rigging up a Rue Goldberg machine to scratch his back. Least likely take it easy on you once he learns how to play super smash bros. (He's a fox/falco main)

Concerns:

What the Ravenstar team has already been able to accomplish is incredible. I'm worried that with 7 whole love interests (with a possible two more on the way if the kickstarter goes well), i'm worried the devs are taking on a whole lot of work. I think they're fully capable of taking this on, but I hope they don't burn themselves out in the process.

I'm pretty happy to see the kickstarter is moving along, but there's always the chance that something happens, and/or the kickstarter goal isn't met. BY THE TIME I FINISHED WRITING THIS IT GOT FUNDED LETS GOO!!! I still hope this project makes it all the way to completion beyond the kickstarter. Things can always happen, so Ive got my fingers crossed for the Ravenstar team!

OVERALL CONCLUSION:

I loved the demo, and I have now backed the project! The team is trying to hit stretch goals now, so share Lost in Limbo with your buddies! I crave content for this game like nothing else.

[nikethestatue]

Hello!

Wanted to get your thoughts on Elain not fitting into Night Court because per Cassian she is drowned out by “Night Court Black”? This also came up when Elain did not wear Illyrian leathers. One of the podcasts that I listen to (though mind you are very much in love with the red haired characters of the books, though they try to keep is unbiased) mentioned this. To me this has always been a bit of a faulty argument, especially about the Illyrian leathers because of course she would not want to wear that. Nesta was the same way. Cassian thinking that was an interesting way to word it—Mor nor Amgen regularly wear black yet he points this specifically out about Night Court. People tend to think well that must be it..Elain belongs in Day or Spring. Personally, I think SJM is perhaps pointing her to a different court all together—>Dusk perhaps???? Or it means absolutely nothing and Cassian is just oblivious to everyone except Nesta, despite the podcasters constantly talking about his emotional intelligence.

The 'black dress' comment has been addressed many times, and I can go back and kind of regurgitate the same info:

it's not the Night Court, it's specifically Hewn City

the plain black dress was there for a reason. To take all attention from her, and place it all on Nesta.

Elain volunteered HERSELF to go to Hewn City and play this role. She stated that she was 'part of this court' and would do what's necessary.

This is all canon and all in the book. So like I said, I am not going to regurgitate this info because the rebuttal of their arguments is already in there.

However, the Illyrian leathers thing is interesting.

Feyre stated that Elain possessed a 'different kind of strength' and SJM, in one of her interviews, said the same. Elain's strength, her powers are not connected to her abilities as a fighter. That's why she won't become a warrior. She is not a Blade. She is a loaf of bread. She is a flower. She is a rose in a mud field. She is a slice of cake. She is home. She is life. She is love. Her strength is that she does what is necessary, even if it's violent and cruel, and then she walks away. She doesn't dwell on it and doesn't take pride in causing pain.

However, unlike all of them, ELain was the only one who didn't need Illyrian leathers to deliver the most devastating blow of all--she stabbed the king. She didn't need any physical power to make a huge difference in the war--first by Seeing Vassa, who came in and destroyed the navy, and then by finding the Suriel with her Seer's Eyes, and through the Suriel, Amren learned how to shed her 'skin' and how to come to full power, thus developing a devastating blow to Hybern.

Elain has never been and hopefully will not be about fighting, slicing and dicing. Elain fully lives into the Nephelle philosophy. The weakest, the most 'insignificant' person can make the most difference. Nephelle with her too small wings, with her lack of physical powers also made a tremendous amount of difference in the previous War.

Cassian, the great warrior, the general, all clad in Illyrian leathers was no match for the King of Hybern. No matter his training, his physicality, his strength, he still fell, and was ready to die. But then Elain stepped out of the shadow and rammed Truth Teller through the King's throat.

That's her power. That's her strength. She does what needs to be done and then she returns to her quiet life, and continues to create.

That's the significance of Elain Archeron.

[yohanseyebrowmole]

Indelible | Jacaerys Velaryon

(adj. impossible to erase or forget)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

Sum: Jacaerys realises he should have listened to you and told everyone about the two of you too late...

Or was it too late?

or in which

Jacaerys breaks up with you two years after secretly dating you, and you get wind of his potential engagement to your cousin the heir to your family's company.

Word count: 3,692 (give or take:/ I edited it and wasn't bothered to recheck the wc)

Warnings: idk nothing much. I tried to avoid using y/n but ended up using it like thrice (I think)

a/n: Reader's mother is the second child of a huge businessman and took on her husband's name upon marriage, but has business ties (her maiden name is Dayne but its not a big deal). Reader's father is a well-respected lawyer but it's not relevant. Jace is heir to the Targaryen family business. He's a little slow and doesn't connect dots until later on lol.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

☆ Loving Jacaerys Velaryon was easy.

Keeping the fact that you loved him a secret was the hard part.

Two years.

For two years, you loved Jacaerys, and now you are hearing that his family was actively trying to set him up with your cousin.

What’s worse is that it makes perfect sense for them to get together.

Jacaerys is set to inherit the family company from his mother and your cousin is set to inherit your family's company from your uncle.

Why did he want to keep your relationship a secret in the first place? You didn't know, but you respected his decision nonetheless.

But two years of not being able to tell anyone?

You wanted to tell your parents and your older brother, you wanted to gossip with said cousin about your relationship, but Jace remained steadfast in his decision not to tell anyone.

He probably got fed up with you asking to become public and broke up with you, at least that was what you originally thought.

Two years of dates and I love you's gone just like that, all because Jace wanted to keep your relationship a secret and you were tired of not being able to tell anyone.

You had no interest in your mother's family company to be honest. No care for business or the likes, your interest is and will always lay within anthropology.

You loved it.

It was the perfect balance of history, science and mystery and everyone who knew you knew how much you loved a good mystery.

You loved the drama and the slight chaos whenever you got called in, and they say they found a body and having to find out what happened to it.

What was their story? What were they like? What was their life like? How did they end up like this?

Sometimes, it was a simple burial. Sometimes, it was an accidental death.

The murders were always the most interesting.

Of course, as an intern, you were usually not always assigned to the murder cases, but you always accepted any that came your way.

You loved the hunt, your curiosity always getting the best of you and the sense of relief, pride and justice that filled you once you found the identity of who was lying in front of you and who was responsible for it was always worth it.

You loved finding clues that helped catch the one responsible for the person's death, and being able to give families closure after their loved ones went missing was rewarding to you.

Yes, it was confronting and disgusting at times like the time a body was found at the landfill and you had to sift through weeks of rubbish to find missing bones (you were sure you would never be able to smell anything other than rotten food ever again) but you loved it regardless.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

You were once again sitting in the library at your corner.

It was one of your favourite spots on campus.

The window provided a perfect distraction when she needed a little break from her work. It was far enough from the other tables that no one bothered her but close enough that she could watch people go about their day when she was bored.

The shelfs also obscured their line of view of the table giving you privacy was always an added bonus. 

“Having fun, pretty girl?”

You blink, shifting your gaze away from the window where you had been watching what seemed to be a very heated fight between a couple. You smile at your boyfriend. 

“Hey,” You said. “You're here earlier than normal.”

Jace sits down next to you, letting his bag drop from his shoulder onto the floor.

“Finished early.”

“You look tired,” you said, taking note of the light dark circles under his eyes. 

“Cause I am,” Jace groans, leaning into you. He practically shoves his face into the crook of your neck.

You shift sideways so he can rest his head comfortably and run your hand through his hair gently undoing any notes made from the wind outside.

“You should go home and sleep if you're tired, Jace.”

“Don’t wanna,” Jacaerys responds, not bothering to move his head from the crook of your neck. “Just wanna be here with you.”

You can’t help the upward tug of your lips.

“Careful Velaryon, someone might assume that you're obsessed with me.”

Jace huffs out a laugh, finally lifting his head and sitting back. 

“They would assume correctly. What are you doing later?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug. “But it seems like you know what I’m going to do.”

Jace grins, grabbing his bag from the floor and digging around it before pulling out two tickets. “You are going to go visit that new exhibit at the museum with me.”

“You got tickets?" You can't hide your excitement. "How? I tried getting them for weeks but they were sold out, I even asked mum if she could pull some strings.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Jace smiles. "You were going to ask your mum to get you tickets?"

You shrug lightly, grabbing the tickets from him, inspecting them before you all but throw yourself at him, hugging him. You pull away but grab one of his hands intertwining your fingers with his. 

Jace nods along to your random facts about Egyptian history as he watches your eyes light up as you giggle and ramble on about the exhibit, squeezing your hand, bringing it up to his lip and kissing the back of it. 

You barely react to the affection, already gotten used to the gestures and continue talking about Ramesses the great and his military accomplishments.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Your first thought was that it was your fault.

Clearly, you must have done something wrong for Jace to break up with you.

You rack your brains for weeks afterwards to try and figure out what you've done wrong, but as you sit there in your little corner of the library, you realise you've done absolutely nothing wrong.

So then you wonder, why would he break up with you?

Was it because you brought up the fact of a public relationship more often than not these days? Did he suddenly think you weren’t pretty enough? Or were you and your random rants now annoying to him?

The tip of the pencil you had been using to draw snaps.

You thought it would be easy to get over him. After all no one knew you two were together so you weren't getting constant pity glances.

Turns out it was harder. Way harder.

You didn't have anyone to rant to, no one to lean on or cry to and you were practically at the end of your patience, about to call your brother and spill everything to him when you heard someone call your name.

"Oh my god finally!"

You turn only to be met with your best friend Baela, who coincidentally was also Jace's cousin. You smile at her, forcing yourself to push your previous thoughts to the back of your mind.

"What's got you so excited?" You ask her.

She plops down on the seat next to you.

“Why are you so hard to find?”

You laugh. “I’m always here Baela. You know that.”

She rolls her hands before leaning forward. You notice the glint in her eyes. Mischief. Her eyes were basically the same as Jace’s aside from the colour difference.

“It’s Jace,” she said. “Mum told me that Aunt Rhae was trying to set him up with Elise Dayne.”

You freeze slightly. “What?”

“I know! I was shocked as well!” Baela smiles, not realising the bombshell she had just dropped on you. 

“Elise Dayne?”

Baela nods and rambles on about how she had seen Elise and Jace on a date the other day and how cute they had looked together. You smile and nod along but all you can think about was this was why he broke up with you.

Baela leaves to go to class but only after after telling you everything.

She leaves and you sit there for what felt like hours trying to wrap your head around what she had told you.

Jacaerys had broken up with you only to get together with your cousin. 

You gather your things and walk to your car.

With your hands on the wheel you scream before you start laughing.

The laugh turns into choked out sobs as you let yourself cry for the first time since Jace left you.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Seeing Jacaerys walk into your family home with his family had not been in your plans for tonight.

Frankly, if you had known this very important and must not miss family meeting was to officially announce his engagement to your cousin, you would have accepted that case on the unknown skeleton they found last week or gotten your professors to make something up so you could have an excuse not to turn up.

Instead, here you are, forced to stand and watch Jace smile and greet your cousin and her parents. 

You stand in a corner next to your brother, tongue poking the inside of your cheek in slight annoyance.

You can tell the exact moment Jacaerys notices your presence. 

You send him an overly sweet smile and watch him falter, confusion and something else flashing in his eyes before he blinks and puts his mask back up, turning and shaking your mother’s hand.

He had always been good at that, pretending that nothing was bothering him.

Your mother smiles and turns to you and your brother. Your brother nudges you, and you quickly plaster a pleasant smile on your face.

“This is my daughter and my oldest.”

Your brother shakes Jace’s hand and introduces him. Jacaerys turns his attention to you. 

“Hi,” you smile, reaching out and shaking his hand. “Y/n. Pleasure to meet you.”

You watch him gulp, smile and greet you back.

You keep your distance and stay quiet the entire time the two families eat. You know your brother has noticed because he keeps sending you odd looks, but you brush them off, not bothering to pay him any mind or explain your current predicament to him.

What does bother you is Jace.

He keeps looking over at you, most of the time it’s short glances but sometimes you can feel his gaze boring into the side of your head as you answer the questions his brothers, Lucerys and Joffery ask about your degree, his mother occasionally asking a few of her own.

You make sure to keep your answers brief. Your degree was hardly dinner conversation, and you didn't want anyone's dinner resurfacing in any way.

You make sure to turn to him and give him a smile. He snaps out of his daze every time, blinking a couple of times before tuning back into whatever your cousin was talking about.

At some point in the night, you get up, telling your brother you needed to get something from your room.

You don’t notice Jace’s eyes following you as you walk away, and you sure as hell don’t hear him excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

You startle slightly as you feel someone grab your wrist. You don’t even need to turn around to realise who it was.

The soft scent of sandalwood tells you enough.

“What are you doing?” you hiss under your breath, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had seen the both of you before pulling him into your room. 

Jace looks around, taking in his surroundings.

He can’t really help it. It was the first time he had been in your room. He notices the photo wall full of polaroids you told him about making and the string of fairy lights you had bought together after convincing him to go shopping together. 

“I didn’t know you were related to her,” Jace said.

“I told you who my mother was,” you scoff. “It was pretty fucking obvious Jace.”

Neither of you notice the person standing by the door, listening in on the conversation through the slight crack.

“Well you could have straight up told me,” Jace argues.

“You're arguing with me because I didn’t give you my mother’s government name? Are you serious? I told you her name, where she worked and what she did. I even told you she was helping coordinate that joint event with your mother! I couldn’t have been more obvious, it’s not my fault you couldn’t put two and two together!”

Jace opens and closes his mouth. It's not like she was wrong.

“This,” you whisper. “This is why you broke up with me? If you had known, would you have stayed? Would you have let me tell everyone that we dated?”

Jace winces at your harsh tone but otherwise stays silent, giving you your answer. 

“I can’t believe you.”

“You think I wanted this?” Jace said. “You think I knew my parents were gonna set me up with her?”

“Clearly you did since you refused to tell anyone about us.”

“That’s not -”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Just don’t.”

You sigh and shake your head.

“You need to go. Leave first, and then I can follow after a couple of minutes.”

Jace grabs your hand before you can push him towards the door. “Wait, just -”

“You need to go,” you repeat. “If you haven’t noticed your fiancé-to-be is down the hall along with the rest of my family and we both have better things to do then stand here and argue over a topic we already know our stance on. Also, I have somewhere I need to be.”

With that, you pull your hand away from his and walk away. He follows you into the hallway, hears you say bye to your family, and watches you turn to leave.

Fuck.

How was he going to fix this?

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Looking back on it, Jacaerys really didn't know how he didn't put two and two together.

He had met your mother on numerous occasions considering that she worked with his mother for joint events and whatnot.

You were practically a carbon copy of your mother as well. 

The hair, the eyes, the intellect. Everything about you screamed Dayne and his stupid brain couldn’t piece together the fact that you were related. 

How the fuck did he not know?

All those times when you had told him your mother was away on business and he had commented that his mother was gone as well. 

He groans, running a hand down his face. 

Rhaenyra, who had been standing by the doorway for the past five minutes watching her son have what looked like a mental breakdown, finally decides to make her presence known.

It was time to talk some sense into her son.

“Jace.”

“Mother.”

“Can I come in?” His mother asks. 

Jace nods and she walks into the room.

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” she questions. “Luke is complaining about your constant groans.”

Jace normally would have laughed but all he can do is sigh. 

“What’s wrong, Jace?” his mother asks again.

“I messed up,” Jace mutters. “Really bad, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

His mother nods, walking forward and sits beside him on the bed. 

“Why don’t you tell me everything so I can help?”

Jace looks at her, hesitates for a moment before the flood gates open, and he tells her everything. 

He tells her about how you two met, about your first date, about how he wanted to keep your relationship a secret, and you had been okay with that for a while.

He tells her how he broke up with you because she wanted him to get together with your cousin. 

He doesn’t leave anything out, and his mother just sits and listens to everything. 

When he’s done she stays quiet.

“Jace,” she asks softly. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jace forces himself to hold back the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t -” he shakes his head. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t approve, and I didn’t want to lose her, but I guess it’s too late for that now.”

Rhaenyra reaches out and holds his hands. 

“If I had known you loved someone like that,” she said. “I wouldn’t have set you up. I would never deny you your happiness. Even if she wasn’t what I envisioned for you, I wouldn’t have made you leave her, Jacaerys.”

His bottom lip wobbles. “What do I do now?”

Rhaenyra smiles and whips away a stray tear from his cheek.

“Jace?”

He hums.

“Do you like her?”

“What?”

“Do you like her?”

“I love her,” Jace said. “A lot.”

His mother smiles. “Then what are you doing here?”

He stays quiet, blinking at his mother.

“If you love her, why aren’t you with her?” His mother said. “Go get her back, Jace. If you love her, fight for her.”

Jacaerys stands up quickly and nods. He grabs a jacket from his chair and is gone the next second.

Rhaenyra watches him leave shaking her head with a soft smile.

That foolish boy.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

You were on campus, specifically at the building where your professors kept the unidentified bodies that had been sent over after being found.

You weren't allowed to have phones near the workstations or the bodies and even if you were you would have never bothered to bring it up with you.

Who in their right mind wants to touch their phone with people juice on their hands, regardless of whether or not you were wearing gloves?

Not to mention that you would have kept having to change your gloves as well, and that would do your head in. 

Your phone was in your bag, which in turn was in your personal locker outside, which meant you had no idea that Jacaerys had been trying to get a hold of you for the past hour.

You had no idea that he was calling you or texting you to ask for your whereabouts. 

Luckily for him, you were slightly predictable. 

You had just finished writing down your notes for the Jane Doe in front of you and making sure her bones were locked away and secure. 

You swiped your student card into the security slot, and the doors outside opened. Smiling and waving to the security guards stationed outside the lab, you grabbed your bag from the the opposite wall, holding the lockers.

You push open the door and stop short.

It was raining, because of course it was. 

You put your notes in your bag and started walking to your car, which was conveniently parked at the far end of the parking lot. 

You had been too busy re-reading and protecting your over your notes while speed-walking to your car to realise that Jacaerys had been waiting outside waiting for you.

You couldn’t hear him call your name over the sound of the rain.

When the rain suddenly stops falling on you, you look up only to be met with the slight of an umbrella. 

You turn confused and are met with a panting Jacaerys.

“You walk really fast,” he said, slightly bent over as he caught his breath.

You just stare at him. “What are you doing here?”

He stands up straighter. 

“Uh, I came to apologise.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Jace said. “For everything. I’m sorry for being stupid and not putting two and two together. For keeping us a secret and breaking up with you. I’m sorry.”

“Where is this coming from?” you question.

“I came to a realisation,” Jace answered. “I can’t live without you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

“I hate the fact that we aren’t together anymore. I hate the fact that I didn’t tell anybody we were together,” Jace said. “I hate being away with you. I hate not being with you. I hate not being able to hold and tell you I love you every day. I’ll do better this time. I swear it.”

“Careful Velaryon,” you say, stepping forward. “People could assume you are obsessed with me.”

Jace’s lips tug upwards, and he nods, closing the gap between the two of you completely, leaning down.

“They would assume correctly.” 

The world around the two of you fades into the background as he leans forward, his lips brushing against yours. 

The air around the both of you seemed to warm. You don’t know who leans in first, and you don’t care. 

All you cared about was the fact that Jacaerys was kissing you again. That he was yours again.

Your eyes flutter close as your lips meet, and the umbrella protecting the two of you from the rain drops to the floor as he pulls you closer.

You don’t register that you drop your bag to hold onto his collar and pull him even closer. 

You could have sworn lighting flashed through the sky as your lips met, but maybe that was you imagining things. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss him. 

Those sparks when your lips touched his, that feeling of something more.

Of something real.

Your heart skips a beat

“You know you’re stuck with me forever now right?” Jace said as he pulled away smiling.

You laugh and Jace sees that familiar sparkle of light in your eyes. The ones that remind him of stars.

“I think it’s you that’s stuck with me.”

He grins leaning in to kiss you again. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you smile into the kiss.

A particularly cold and harsh gust of wind coupled with the booming sound of thunder breaks the moment and you shiver.

Jace goes to pick up the umbrella that had fallen. Luckily, the wind hadn't carried it too far off.

Your eyes follow him before they fall on your wet bag on the floor. The bag that had your notes. The bag that held the notes that you had been painstakingly working on for the past few hours. 

You scream, causing Jace to jump.

“You little shit! You made me drop my notes! I take it back! I hate you!”

Jacaerys laughs as you pick up your bag and hit him with it. He runs away as you chase him in the rain, cursing him out for letting you ruin your notes. 

You really wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Well, except maybe with dry notes. 

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Thank you to my bby girl @icarusignite for pre-reading this and thirsting over Jace to an almost unhealthy degree with me ily<3

Go read her fics or else (this may or may not be a threat)

Written by Yor <3

[ihearthes]

Gospel Oak Primary School

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Original Named Female Character

Rating: Fluffy Meet Cute

Word Count: 2776

Rachel was sprawled on her back, her body twisted into an unnatural knot. Her right knee jutted out at an odd angle, one arm flung carelessly above her head, the other partially tucked beneath her. Harry Styles lay atop her, his breathing a stark contrast to her laboured gasps. His face was buried between her breasts, a position she had often fantasised about. But now that she was actually experiencing it, the reality fell short of her expectations. Harry's hands were scattered haphazardly, one resting on her shoulder, the other clutching his own thigh.

The oppressive heat of his body enveloped her, a suffocating weight that pressed down on her senses. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to savour a moment that had been anything but blissful. The collision of their bodies was a jarring, uncomfortable clash, a stark contrast to the romantic fantasy she had conjured. After all, how often does one find themselves entwined with the legendary Harry Styles, a man whose image is plastered across magazine covers and plastered on the hearts of millions?

“Bloody hell!” Rachel swore, mentally checking her body for any lasting damage from the impact of his body with hers.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry scrambled to his feet, seeking his phone, his eyes roaming the space where they had been entangled. Locating it, he leaned over to grab it quickly before he reached out a hand for her. “Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head as she grasped his hand to rise from where they had been lying. “Only my pride, I think, although I suspect I’ll be a bit sore tomorrow.” The wince that accompanied her words was proof that she was already anticipating the painful muscles. 

Earlier that day, the final bell of the day had rung, a sweet symphony that promised escape from the chaos of the classroom. As Rachel carefully assessed her remaining time and the tasks she still had to complete, she found herself trapped in a conversation with Leo, the new maths teacher, a man whose complaints were as endless as the day was long.

"Oliver's parents are driving me mad," Leo lamented, his voice rising in a crescendo of frustration. "They keep demanding more and more homework. I've given him mountains of work to do at home, but it's never enough!"

Rachel tried to soothe his ruffled feathers. "I'm sure you're doing your best, Leo." But her words fell on deaf ears.

"He gets three times the homework as the other kids," Leo continued, his voice growing louder. "I've tried explaining to his parents that he needs time to play and socialise, but they won't listen. He must spend hours every night doing homework!"

As Leo's voice droned on, Rachel noticed his gaze wandering south. His eyes lingered on her chest, a blatant disregard for her discomfort. Finding a convenient excuse, she broke away from the conversation with a quick, “Oh, I forgot to respond to the headmaster!” before hurrying back to her classroom.

With a sigh of relief in the silence of her own class, she began planning her lessons for the next day. But as she glanced at the clock, a wave of panic washed over her. If she didn't leave immediately, she would be late for her super important first date with the guy whose attention she had been clamouring for during the previous three weeks. 

With a frantic tug, Rachel snatched her crossbody bag and lunchbox, her phone tumbling into the chaotic jumble of items within. Her heart pounding in her chest, she bolted from her classroom, her footsteps echoing through the deserted hallways. Her short legs pumped with renewed energy, propelling her curvy body forward at a breakneck pace. She scanned the hallways with a wary eye, desperately hoping to avoid another encounter with the insufferable Leo.

That morning, Harry had lounged in the sun-drenched comfort of his bedroom, his eyes fluttering open to the gentle caress of morning light. With a leisurely yawn, he slipped into workout attire and strolled to his home gym. There, he moved through a series of stretches, humming a new melody he had composed the day before. His workouts were less about sculpting his physique and more about maintaining overall well-being. Not that he was ashamed of his appearance; he simply preferred a more relaxed approach to fitness during his downtime between tours.

After an invigorating shower, Harry indulged in a breakfast of yoghurt and fresh fruit from his own garden. Then, with a sense of contentment, he retreated to his study to work on some poetry and potential lyrics. The words flowed effortlessly from his pen, transforming his thoughts into passionate expressions. When inspiration struck, he would wander over to his piano and experiment with different chord progressions, sometimes attempting to recreate a jazz tune he had heard during his workout.

After a leisurely lunch of sun-ripened tomatoes, homemade mozzarella, and a splash of his favourite Italian olive oil, a pang of realisation struck Harry. He didn't have any fresh baguettes for tonight's dinner. His sister, Gemma, was bringing her baby over, and his sister had a voracious appetite for vegetarian fare. Harry had planned to whip up a batch of homemade pasta with his own tangy marinara sauce, using fresh vegetables from his garden.

A grin spread across his face as he grabbed his green Pleasing bag. The pride he felt in creating meals from the fruits of his labour was immense. This would be the first time he had cooked for his sister, and with the baby old enough for purees, he had grand plans.

"Mushy carrots and peas will be perfect!" Harry chuckled, his excitement bubbling over. Both vegetables would come straight from his garden. How had he lived without the joy of homegrown produce for so long?

Pulling a light windbreaker over his shirt, he paused once more to gaze at his face in the mirror. Should he shave? Nah. Maybe tonight before Gemma and Michal actually arrive, but not yet. 

After leaving the bakery where he purchased three distinctly different baguettes, he was thrilled to find a Lime Bike right there, as if it were waiting for him. Scanning the QR code on the bike, he found that it was available. Slinging the green Pleasing bag, now holding fresh flowers for the dinner table, over his shoulder, Harry set off for home, the baguettes in the basket of the rented bicycle. His Airpods were delivering a delectable diet of music from recent releases and a few of his favourites directly to his ear canals. 

His phone buzzed with a text message, and Harry took his eyes off of the footpath in front of him for only a moment to read what his sister had to say. 

Which is precisely when the collision with Rachel happened. 

Sprawled across her, the bike wrapped around his legs, he blushed upon realising that his lips were quite close to her breastbone – not at all a good location for a first meeting with a stranger. 

She sputtered, rightfully so. “Bloody hell!” 

“I’m so sorry!” He scrambled for his phone which had gone flying from his hand when he’d run into her or she’d run into him. No way for him to know for sure which way it happened. “Are you hurt?” 

“Only my pride, I think, although I suspect I’ll be a bit sore tomorrow.” She grasped his outstretched hand, using his strength to haul her to a standing position. 

“I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone,” they both revealed simultaneously before surprise caused their foreheads to crease, their eyebrows to rise, and a laugh to explode as though they were twins. 

“I’m sorry.” The woman looked at her feet. “I’m Rachel.” She thrust her hand forward, and he clutched it like a hiker grasping a sturdy branch in a storm.

“Harry.” 

“I know.” 

Following her pronouncement, they both stood awkwardly for a moment before Rachel shifted to the side. “Your baguettes seem to have escaped.” While she gathered them, Harry stepped to the bicycle, lifting it to its appropriate position and checking to be sure it hadn’t been harmed and was still streetworthy. Luckily, these rentals were built to withstand the worst possible collisions. 

“Thank you.” His response when she put the baguettes back into his bicycle basket was perfunctory, but then he tilted his head. 

Everything before then had been a blur, but now he could see her clearly. Rachel was a petite woman with a vibrant personality that belied her small stature. Her dark, curly hair framed her face in soft tendrils, and her full figure added a touch of voluptuousness to her overall appearance. Her eyes, a deep shade of brown, sparkled with intelligence and mischief, inviting others to delve into her world.

“You were heading somewhere in a hurry.” The statement rose at the end like a question. 

“Yes, one of my students – he’s playing footie today, and I promised I’d come watch him, but I’m afraid I’ll miss him if I don’t hurry along.” She adjusted her bag across her body, fumbling her phone. “Please don’t think I’m rude. If this were any other day and I had run into the famous Harry Styles, I’d be much more effusive. It’s just that…” She began walking along, talking to him over her shoulder, “I’ve been trying to get this kid on my side for ages now, and football is the only thing that matters to him. Maybe we’ll run into each other another time!”

She waved over her shoulder as she walked away, kicking herself for having missed her chance to chat with the popstar. But she’d been regretting her inability to develop a relationship with Josiah for weeks. He was more important at that moment.

Watching her walk away, Harry realised he might never have another opportunity to talk to her again. He cursed under his breath before following behind her on the bike. When he caught up, he dismounted and walked alongside her.

“That’s really kind of you,” he commented. 

She jumped and twisted her body to him, a frown creasing her brow. “What is? And why are you following me?” 

“I like footie,” he shrugged. “And it’s really kind that you’re willing to go see your student practise so you can connect with him.” 

“Well, he’s a bit of a terror,” she laughed, glancing at the time on her phone. 

“Oh, no!” Harry exclaimed, “I broke your phone.” 

“Huh?” She examined the phone with its cracked screen and then a guffaw left her body, the sound one of pure joy, making Harry’s heart happy. “No, my phone has been broken since last spring when last year’s terror took it off my desk and threw it from the top of the playground play structure.” 

“But how do you see everything with that giant spider’s web of cracks on it?” He was sincerely bemused. 

“You can get used to anything when you haven’t the money to replace something just because it’s broken.” 

“But couldn’t you get the screen replaced?” 

“Probably,” she revealed, crossing the street at the zebra crossing to get to the practice field. “But there’s never any time to take it anywhere. I’ll just wait until my next paycheck. Then I can put a downpayment on a new one.” 

“Oh.” 

She was scurrying a bit faster now that they were close to the field, and her breaths became more laboured. “I’m going to be late. I hope I don’t miss everything.” 

Harry couldn’t believe that her short legs could move so quickly, and he had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her as she turned into the park where parents and children were gathered. Standing on the sidelines, Rachel covered her eyes and searched the boys on the pitch. 

“There he is!” Excitedly, she pointed to a young man of about 10 years of age. “Josiah!” Jumping up and down, she waved until he looked over to her. 

For a brief moment, his face reflected happiness, but then he waved her off as he turned back to his friends. Harry slumped in disappointment. He had thought her presence would do the trick, but apparently she was going to have to make a bigger effort. 

“Oof, that wasn’t encouraging.” 

“What are you talking about?!” She squealed. “He was practically overjoyed to see me. This is indeed a success.” 

Confused, Harry watched her face, convinced that perhaps he had the wrong boy in mind, but she followed every move the boy made. She clapped and called his name whenever he caught a pass or blocked someone. When he missed the goal he’d been attempting, Rachel cheered even louder from the sidelines, telling him, “That’s okay, Josiah! You’ll get it next time!” She took photos and videos as though she were the proudest parent.

The boy ignored her for the most part. 

Shaking his head, Harry wondered if perhaps she had lost her mind, but he wanted her to be successful in her endeavour so he joined in with her cheers until the practice finally ended, and the boys gathered with their coach. 

“Aren’t you going to go talk to him?” Harry wondered as she placed her phone into her bag. 

“Goodness, no. That would embarrass him.” 

“But…” Helpless and confuddled, Harry watched as she started to walk away. His phone vibrated again, and he glanced at it to spy a message from Gemma saying she wouldn’t be able to come for dinner after all as his niece had gotten her jabs that morning and was finally sleeping. 

Well, this afternoon and evening weren’t going as he had planned. Not at all. 

“Miss K!” A voice grew closer to them, and Rachel paused before turning. 

Harry spotted the beginning of a smile on her face, but she quickly schooled it into a more inquiring expression. “Yes, Josiah?” 

He threw his muddy arms around her, “Thank you for coming.” With the words and hug complete, the boy turned and immediately scampered away. 

Rachel’s face was shining with a mixture of pleasure and tears. She blinked, then focused on Harry. “Definitely not a wasted trip. It was a treat to meet you, Harry, despite the circumstances. Thanks for joining me at the game.” 

No, no, no. She wasn’t getting away that easily. 

“The pleasure was all mine, Rachel.” 

Hearing his voice say her name tripled the tingles she felt as a result of Josiah’s actions towards her. Tonight she would have to devote two pages to this single day in her journal. Maybe three pages. 

As she walked back towards the school, she was surprised to find Harry pushing the bicycle next to her once more. Well, it was a free country. He hadn’t harmed her, and he was not a threat of any sort, so she allowed it. 

“Your fit got dirty,” Harry pointed out. 

“Small price to pay. It will wash out.” 

As they returned to the footpath next to her, pushing the bicycle with its sad baguettes still in the basket, Rachel paused. “You’re still here.” 

“Oh. Uh…” Stumped, Harry couldn’t articulate what he was thinking. Finally, he simply allowed the words to flow slowly from his mouth as he considered what he wanted, “I, uh, wondered if…you see, my sister was supposed to bring my, uh, niece, for, you know, dinner tonight. Um, I had planned to make, uh, homemade pasta and sauce for them. Hence the, uh…” His gesture encompassed the baguettes. “How would you, uh, feel about, um, joining me?” 

Gulping, Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. Her? Going to the actual house of Harry? Surely he misspoke. 

“You mean, you’d like to take me out to dinner?” 

He pulled on his lip with his free hand. “Not exactly, uh, cause that would, um, make people, like, um, speculate. But I am planning to, uh, you know, cook tonight. From my, uh, garden.”

Sharply, Rachel glanced at him. Was he some sort of pervert? Wouldn’t she have heard by now if he were a freak who invited women to his home and then skinned them alive or something? Then again, what did she have to lose other than her life? 

“Sure,” she smiled. A banner day, for sure. Not only had she made progress with Josiah, which had been her primary goal – well, she also seemed to have made progress with another guy after a long, dry spell. 

Harry moved the baguettes to his arms, abandoning the rental bike so that he could walk alongside this charming woman. This night would be just as awesome as if it had gone as planned. Maybe even better? 

[lady-boketto]

Gaming Headcanons (Call of Duty)

A/n: This is not canon at all and I thought it would be fun to think about what kind of games and gamer the CoD men would be

Price:

Price does not have a lot of gaming experience but he likes to be included in game nights

He's the one who rages the most when he is playing games (but it's mostly when he is playing multiplayer games)

Price prefers board games rather than digital ones (likes the atmosphere that is created when gathering around the table with close friends to sit down and have some fun it)

Don't ever ask him to play poker because he can and will kick your ass (unless you are a poker legend or you manage to cheat without him noticing)

He has his own personal chess board to play with (it's a nice quality wooden one that's not too big so that he can bring it with him to pass time when he doesn't have access to the internet)

Gaz:

A true master of gaming, like there's no game out there that this man won't be good at

Also kind of a sore loser when someone finally manages to beat him, Gaz kind of lets out this big sigh and crosses his arms over his chest while looking off into the corner but he doesn't stay this way for long, it more of a 'in the moment' situation (Gaz is more frustrated that he wasn't good enough to win this round but knows there will be other chances)

Gaz equally enjoys playing digital games as much as he does when he plays a board game (his favorite board game to play is monopoly, since he can get very strategic while he plays and is very easily annoyed when he's sitting in monopoly jail)

Soap:

Johnny is the person who tries to tell stories over the mic only to realize that he's been on mute for the past ten minutes (the rest of the group was wondering why he was so quiet all of the sudden)

He also has a Nintendo switch ( He has a Nintendo lite in the color blue) but he loves playing Mario Kart or any of the Mario Parties and loves it when you get frustrated when he steals first place or star from you (he gives his famous laugh and pecks your cheek while telling you how much he loves you while committing the vile act)

Trolls/griefs a ton. He thinks it's funny when other players scream curse words at him and never misses an opportunity to provoke them even further. (he laughs his ass off when they rage quit or if he has to read their attempt to argue back at him in the game chat)

He actually likes spending multiple hours on a game. Grinding to get the best stuff just so he can brag about it the next day.

Soap also does occasionally broadcast his game play with others (because he likes to look back on the memories when he feeling alone or that he just needs something to cheer his mood up a little)

Ghost:

Ghost is the type of person who would say they only play multiplayer games but likes to secretly play the cozy single player games like animal crossing and Stardew Valley (he rant to you about how unfair Isabella is when rating his island a mere 3 stars or how he often forgets to go back to his house before 2 am because he was too focused on the monsters and loot in the mines.)

Even though he doesn’t mind online multiplayer games to play with the rest of squad 141, he also doesn’t mind to play co-op games with you (his favorites to play are it takes two or playing some version of call of duty zombies on a split screen, he takes pride in protecting you in co-op games or he shyly admits a thank you when you revive him)

He just likes strategic games in general, you will find him often playing chess with Price ( when you watch them play, they always take the longest time possible to make their move, it seems like they both go through every possible move until they find the best position to move forward but the game is always interrupted by something that needs one or the other’s attention)

[lotuseye]

yes, satoru, i will - it's the day of the parade.

satoru  gojo  and  his  special  grade  sorcerer  ex-wife  are  assigned  to  a  mission  together. part ii , trash magic.

word   count:   1566.

genre:   multi-chapter.

characters:   satoru gojo & special grade sorcerer ex wife.

trigger   warning:   none.

he is every bit of an annoying ass she remembers him to be.

it was a hard, long, thorny process - her learning curve embarrassingly flat when it came to satoru who indulged himself lavishly with the fruit of being the only person she had ever feel seen with. on par, with. understood with. it had not been what she had pictured for herself, for either of them, to end up with an entire hall filled with things they no longer spoke of, oceans stretching for thousands of miles between them. it wasn’t the divorce, not really - there would have been no divorce in the first place if he was capable of the same empathy she had felt in their youth, or at least what she thought to be empathy, when after loads of paperwork signed seemed like the whim of a teenage boy who did not understand what kind of a commitment he was getting himself into.

now, she could not call satoru someone that could not commit, that could not dedicate, when she has watched him work tirelessly year after year all for a better world for them. when he religiously waited upon suguru, when he stood tall against the upper echelon and when he decided to return to jujutsu high as a teacher, having found his hope in the young. he became the benefactor, mentor, older brother, father - whatever his students needed him to be, without complain, without hesitation. how could she, when he brought megs home, the boy of six with his father's eyes and his zenin pride? no. if she could say that, everything would be much simpler. less filled of heartache.

satoru was perfectly capable of dedication, commitment, and effort.

just not for her.

“ i am going to say something, but i don’t know how well you’ll take it. ” she spits out what she had been imagining rolling out of her tongue for the past half and an hour. she had time to ponder on their walk in the star corridors, having decided to start with the most reasonable option, which was talking to tengen to see if they had any inkling on the problem. that, and also simply checking on them would not hurt, especially considering the unstable frequency of the barriers that kept them all safe and sound, suppressed the emergence of cursed spirits and let the world become a more breathable place for sorcerers, even for a brief moment.

“ look at you considering my feelings, ” pleased and still lighthearted despite the alarming situation at hand, she doesn’t need to look over at him to know that he’s grinning. he wouldn’t, if he knew that she was about to open the box of pandora, but it was what it was - the hazardous bliss of ignorance. she can already taste the regret, bitter in the back of her throat like her very own curse to swallow. footsteps slowing down, yet not coming to a halt, keeping her gaze on the dimly lighted marble.

“ do you think it might have anything to do with the last star plasma vessel? ” she asks, and as soon as it leaves her mouth it sounds like a sane thing to ask and the most horrendous memory she could have brought up for him in the first place. his infinity almost buzzes in her ears, as she ruefully endures the sudden cold that creeps on her bones. he knows what she’s talking about, of course he does. the day he came home with that hollow look in his eyes, the very look that haunted him for years to come. riko amanai’s death cost them a lot more than they could afford, an entirety of a class disintegrating over time, a painful decay & an eventual dissolving in the unforgiving waters of grief.

“ it has been fine over a decade, ” satoru is not offended, but perhaps it would have felt better if he was - anything would be better than the self-hatred that dripped like the petals of a belladonna from his voice, shame and guilt so unbecoming of him. “ if something was wrong, wouldn’t it show itself sooner? ”

a valid question, to which she doesn’t have an answer to but a shrug, now feeling like she’s brought it over for nothing. “ you’re probably right, ” she concludes, now a lot softer than their initial greeting. it can’t be helped, the tenderness she had for him would survive foes greater than anger or disappointment. they were no longer children, and they knew better than to sulk over the unfortunate circumstances they have had to navigate in life. satoru, despite the intentional reservation on her part, was too precious to be discarded with so little care. he had been her best friend, once. “ i’m sorry, i was just thinking about what might have triggered this. ” she offers an apologetic glance, and it is satoru’s turn not to return it, keeping his head straight on the tiles that thud under their each step. “ nah, don’t be. what happened, happened. if you have a point, we can’t ignore it. anyway, ” he grasps the two handles of the doors that lay across him, and pushes it open. “ we’re about to find out. ”

.....

good news was that it wasn't what they feared.

bad news was that it was something much more difficult.

“ any clues on how to get this over with? ” she asks to the six eyes, steps much faster than the ones that brought her here, wishing to be done with the place as soon as possible. tengen creeped her out, and the tomb of the star corridor very shockingly did not make it to the list of her top ten vacation destinations. something about the energy that accumulated in the room overwhelmed her, dialed up to eleven, each cell buzzing with the overload of cursed energy. “ because i don’t know how we are supposed to figure out the problem of tengen glitching because they are losing their touch with humanity. what do we even do? take them outside to go touch some grass? take them out for dinner, roll them up in tinder? ”

he is laughing, and it is absurd - so absurd that she smacks him in the shoulder. “ don’t laugh, ‘toru, this is serious! ” but even as she says it she can’t help but snorting at the visualization of her own suggestion, tengen taking a stroll in the park, waiting for a blind date in the restaurant in the corner. “ tengen in tinder? ” he is still chuckling, and the sound is preciously kept and saved in-between her ribs. “ what does their bio say? foundation of jujutsu society, likes ping pong and fishing? ” and now they are both laughing, and as idiotic as it sounds, she does not remember the last time she laughed in satoru’s presence. “ shut up, satoru, ” she snorts once more, letting the last lights of the day blind her momentarily as they walk out of tengen’s quarters. “  good to know that you’re still an idiot. ”

“ an idiot who you still call ‘toru, ” he drawls out, nudging her ankle with his foot, teasing & coy. she offers him a knowing look. “ old habits die hard, ” she shrugs. “ don’t get any ideas. ”

“ alright, alright. ” hands up in surrender, it takes him a moment to realize she is walking over to the limo that has been waiting up front, the engine starting at the sight of her. she doesn’t need to look over to know satoru is trailing behind her with an arched brow. “ calling it a day already? rude of you to leave me alone. ” she turns halfway just to arch an eyebrow. “ some of us don’t have rct to reset their cooked brain, six eyes. us humble mortals need their beauty sleep to stay so brilliant. ”

before she is done with her sentence satoru’s heavy palm slaps the roof of the car, lanky frame doubling over to take an intrusive peek inside the driver’s seat, ijichi’s meek sound of terror muffled through the windows. “ ijichi, get the fuck out, ” satoru yanks the driver’s door open, gesturing the man outside with a far-fetched grace. “ i’ll be driving her myself. ”

“ but… but the orders were clear… ” ijichi trails, stammering, eyes finding the expected guest of the ride to which the woman replies with placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “ it’s okay, don’t worry about it. i’ll give you a call when i need you, yeah? ” the urge to apologize on behalf of her ex husband is strong, but if she had attempted to apologize from every single person satoru was rude to she’d never get anywhere ever - so a kind smile is all that is offered and ijichi knows better than to push around. with a nod, he disappears from the sight of them in mere seconds, leaving the estranged couple. satoru, pleased, slides to the other side of the car to now pull the passenger door open, hand extended to her. “ may i take you to your hotel, ma’am? ”

the grin that curls the corners of her maroon glossed lips is absolutely diabolical. “ who said i’m staying at a hotel? ” just the look on his face is enough for her to break it off with a pat on his shoulder, cracking a bright and amused grin, slipping inside the seat. “ i’m just fucking with you, drive me to shoko’s. ”

“ you are not seeing the pearly gates, woman, i tell ya'. ”

© written by lotuseye. do not translate or copy my work.