#i may have misunderstood the assignment

[silverskye13]

what if, mayhaps, some awkward only one bed with guish and hels?

"I mean, I can just walk back to the house, it's fine." Tanguish said appeasingly, trying not to wither under Helsknight's unamused glare. "It's fine."

"You're going to walk back alone. At night." Helsknight lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"I mean, it's hels." Tanguish said, scuffing a foot against the ground. "We don't have a day-night cycle."

"We have times where everyone but the thugs and thieves are asleep," Helsknight countered.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor?"

Helsknight gestured broadly around the normally sparse little room. It was a cluttered mess at the moment. Paper, fabric, and sewing supplies tangled with armor and polish in piles across the floor and on the little desk and table, the evidence of a long day spent designing Helsknight's next tournament outfit. It was the reason for their current problem: working far too long into the late (early?) hours. Helsknight's cell had a single bed for just this sort of thing -- which had worked well enough before he'd met Tanguish, and they'd become mostly inseparable.

"Let's lay chivalry, and the fact that you're my guest, aside for a moment," Helsknight snorted. "Where exactly on my floor do you plan on sleeping, pray tell?"

Tanguish felt his ears grow hotter with embarrassment. "I'll... Find someplace. You can't tell me you have absolutely no guest rooms down here?"

"We have absolutely no guest rooms down here."

"Helsknight."

The knight shrugged. "You make a cell when you move in. You leave an empty cell when you go. But it's still your cell, and not a guest room. You wanna pick an empty room and risk the owner coming back while you sleep, feel free. Or you can share the bed."

"Share?"

Helsknight huffed disdainfully. "I'm chivalrous enough to keep you off the floor, not enough to take it myself."

"Doesn't that go against your tenets or something?"

"Surprisingly, my Saint doesn't give two shits about sleeping arrangements." Helsknight flashed him a wolfish grin. "Ask me a question about blood, and I'm sure I can find an answer."

"I'd rather not," Tanguish sighed witheringly. "I just feel bad. It's your bed. You shouldn't be uncomfortable all night just because I'm too lazy to walk across town."

"Point of order, I'm too lazy to walk across town. You offered to." Helsknight clarified, kicking aside a bundle of cloth to clear some walking space to the bed.

"True."

"And you're tiny," Helsknight continued. "Be more concerned about my likelihood of kicking you out of the bed, and snoring in your ear."

"You don't snore?"

"How do you know?"

"We live in the same house?"

Helsknight gave that statement the amount of consideration it deserved (which wasn't much) before sitting down at the foot of the bed and unbuckling his boots. "Do you have a preferred side you sleep on?"

"You're incredibly casual about this," Tanguish observed. He would've been amused, if he didn't think the situation was so awkward. He gave the room one more hesitant look around, as though salvation or a second bed might somehow be found in a corner he hadn't checked yet. When it didn't, he sighed and started unbuttoning his vest.

"I mean, I've crashed with other Colosseum folks before," Helsknight shrugged, discarding one boot onto the cluttered floor and starting on the next. "Especially when I just signed on, and my cell wasn't built yet."

"Oh."

"And I crashed with EB once or twice when he wasn't doing well," he continued, as if to prove a point -- which he probably was. "Worst case scenario, you get the worst sleep of your life, and then it's over, and you're back on the couch tomorrow."

Helsknight tossed his second boot against his first. Then he slipped off his shirt and clambered into bed, content to get comfortable while Tanguish picked his way across the room to the light switch. Tanguish flicked it off, casting the little cell in a hazy half-light, lit by the dimmed lights in the hallway beyond. He stood there for a moment, waiting on Helsknight to give some input about whether the door should be shut or not, and when none came, he left it open and picked his way back across the room.

As gingerly as possible, scared of somehow slipping and elbowing Helsknight, he clambered into the bed. It was very small, and very close. Tanguish wouldn't normally mind (he was also very small, compared to Helsknight) but he was suddenly very aware of how much space wasn't between them. Helsknight radiated warmth like a fireplace, and Tanguish's skin tingled at the almost touching closeness of it, an anticipation. Which was ridiculous, because Helsknight had touched him before -- ruffled his hair, grabbed his hands or arms, put a guiding hand on his back. It was just the oddness of knowing they could touch for no reason. Not a means to an end, or a showing of momentary affection, or a guidance. And it was made worse by the fact he was so small, and he could feel the bed dipping in Helsknight's direction, like if he wasn't careful he would go rolling into him, and that would be weird, right? Helsknight probably wouldn't want them to be squished up against each other. He'd be uncomfortable, and Tanguish would be uncomfortable, and neither of them would get any sleep.

"Tanguish."

"Uhm... yes?"

"You're fidgeting."

"I am?" Tanguish froze. He realized he'd been picking at one of his knuckles, and his tail had been twitching.

"Yes. You are."

"Ah."

"Just breathe, close your eyes, and go to sleep."

"Right."

Tanguish let out a long breath that Helsknight echoed. He closed his eyes. He opened them again. He closed them again, tighter this time. He felt the heat radiating off of Helsknight, so close it made his skin prickle. He felt an itch suddenly spring to life on his ankle, livewire hot and uncomfortable. He wrinkled his nose and stifled the instinct to scratch it, until on reflex his leg twitched, and then he held his breath, waiting on Helsknight to say something about it. Then he sighed and opened his eyes again

"I don't like that the door is open," Tanguish spoke into the silence.

"If we close the door, it'll be pitch black in here," Helsknight groused tiredly, as though Tanguish woke him up. Had he really fallen asleep that fast?

"But anyone could just walk in."

"And if they do, they'll trip on the sewing kit, face-plant into armor polish, and then I'll put a knife in their face."

"A knife?"

"There's one stuck in the bed frame on this side."

"Why?"

"Why not? Go to sleep."

Tanguish realized he was fidgeting again and forced himself to stop. His tail twitched, and he forced it to stop too. He frowned at the open door. He must have frowned very loudly, because suddenly Helsknight sighed and got out of bed. "Switch me."

"We don't have to--"

"Doesn't matter, we're switching."

Feeling his face heat up with embarrassment, Tanguish did as he was told, shuffling over to take Helsknight's place on the bed. It was very warm. The heat left behind from the knight's skin sank into his muscles, almost down to his bones. It felt nice, like curling up beside a furnace -- until Tanguish remembered he was always cold, so his side of the bed would probably be frigid and uncomfortable. Before he could say anything about it though, Helsknight had clambered in to take his spot. He settled in, slipping an arm beneath the pillow and raising an eyebrow at Tanguish.

"Better?"

"Uhm..." Tanguish hugged his arms close to his chest awkwardly. "Shouldn't you... face the other way?"

"I always sleep on this side. If you're uncomfortable, you turn around."

"But this is the side I sleep on?"

"Unfortunate," Helsknight said, in a voice that implied he really couldn't care less. "I guess you'll have to just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"You're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Helsknight shrugged, and apparently decided the conversation was over. He stubbornly closed his eyes, and did his best impression of someone who could sleep through an earthquake. Tanguish scowled at him. He turned over onto his other side and tried to go to sleep there, only for discomfort and habit to force him back onto his other side again. He'd sleep, or he wouldn't, or he'd slip into some half-lucid place that was neither. Eventually. For now, he watched Helsknight.

(He wasn't trying to be creepy. It's just that there was nothing else to look at, and he needed to do something besides fidget uncomfortably. He intermittently prayed that Helsknight wouldn't open his eyes and catch him staring, and prayed that watching the smooth, even breaths would somehow inspire sleep in himself.)

Helsknight was backlit dimly by the hallway light beyond, a very gentle halo that defined the strands of his long hair, the contours of his muscles. He somehow managed to look serious, even when he was trying to (succeeding at?) sleep. It was probably just the scars. One of the Demon's claws had slashed between his eyebrows, giving him a look of almost permanent concentration that only lifting his expression dispelled. It was interesting to see where the claws skipped his eyelid, carving a divot on the ridge above his eye and resuming on his cheek, a long, angry line. Tanguish dropped his gaze lower, where more pale scars collected around his shoulders, striped and crossed their way down his arms. There were a few on his chest, a few more that vanished beneath the blankets on his stomach and side. Tanguish found himself drawn to one, a puncture just below his ribs on one side, only a little smaller than the span of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Helsknight asked, breaking the silence so suddenly Tanguish flinched. Then he realized he'd been reaching a hand out to touch the scar, and he crossed his arms tight to his chest, suddenly mortified.

"I'm sorry!"

"You're always sorry," Helsknight muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes. "I asked what you were doing."

"I-- nothing. I was just--"

"Not sleeping."

"Not sleeping..."

Helsknight cracked one of his eyes open to look down at him in something like tired amusement. "Your hands are cold."

"Th-they are." Tanguish agreed, fixing his eyes down on his crossed arms.

"I could feel you close by."

"S-sorry."

Helsknight sighed. He reached out a hand and gently grabbed Tanguish's wrist. His hands were warm. Tanguish could feel it sinking into his joints, every fingertip seeping a soft radiance through his skin. The coldness of the rest of Tanguish's arm by comparison raised goosebumps down his arm. Helsknight gently lead his hand to the scar he'd been reaching for and pressed it against him. His nose wrinkled and he inhaled sharply.

"Very cold."

Tanguish bit down another apology. Instead he asked, "I did this one?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Uhm... sh-should I feel... lucky?"

"Lucky?"

"You have a lot more scars on your arms than here."

Helsknight made a noncommittal noise. "Survival bias."

"What?"

"Someone cuts your arm, you live," Helsknight explained, cracking his eye open again. "Someone gets your chest, your neck -- the vital bits -- you don't scar. Not unless someone's quick with a healing potion."

"... oh."

"That was a compliment."

"It... was?"

"Mm-hmm."

"... how is that a compliment?"

"You did a good job," Helsknight smirked. "Both at the stabbing part and the healing part."

"... uhm... thank you? I guess?"

Helsknight grunted and released his hand. Tanguish recrossed his arms.

"Is that one also a knife...? A knife wound? It looks the same. Similar?"

"Which one?"

Tanguish reached out a hand hesitantly and, when Helsknight didn't stop him, traced a scar with the tip of his claw where it dipped by Helsknight's collar bone. The knight shivered. Tanguish snapped his hand away.

"Sorry!"

Helsknight laughed, a soft rumble that Tanguish thought he could feel all the way down in his toes. He took Tanguish's hand in his again, sword callouses scraping against his knuckles, and let it rest over the scar.

"If I was bothered, I would say so," Helsknight informed him with tired amusement. "It's from a sword. Punched through my chainmail."

Tanguish ran his thumb across the little divot. He tried to imagine the size and shape of the blade that would have left it, but came up short.

"It's so small."

"Mail caught most of it. Bone caught the rest." Helsknight hummed sleepily. "Had a big bruise by the time I was off the field. All red and knotted up."

"Sounds terrifying."

"It was," Helsknight admitted, and Tanguish blinked at him in surprise. "Couldn't lift my arm. Couldn't move it at all, really. It was uhm... the first time my body failed me mid-fight."

"... but you won?"

"But I won."

Tanguish moved his hand away from that scar to another, a raised crescent that fish-hooked its way along a rib.

"What about this one?"

"Jousting."

"Jousting?"

"The lance clipped my side, dragged a broken link from my mail back with it. It curves down like that because I stood up in the stirrups." Helsknight ran his tongue across his teeth. "Almost unseated both of us, but I managed to keep my saddle."

"So...?"

"So I won."

"Did you get any of these from losing?"

Helsknight thought about that for a moment, opening tired eyes to look down at himself. He frowned. "Yeah. One. You don't want to hear about it."

"That bad?"

"Very bad."

Helsknight took his hand and led it to his stomach, where a pair of thin gashes snaked across to his side. The positioning was lost on Tanguish. He didn't know enough about how the body worked to know what a wound like that might look or bleed like. All he knew was, even though Helsknight led him there, the knight flinched uncomfortably when he touched it, like just the suggestion of claws on the old wound made him feel vulnerable.

"Do I not want to hear about it," Tanguish asked, "or are you scared to tell me?"

"I'm not scared." Helsknight scowled.

"Sorry that's not--! I didn't mean... it's not... cowardly," Tanguish corrected, brushing his thumb along the scar again and watching the discomfort bloom on Helsknight's face. "I mean... are you scared I'm going to judge you? Or are you scared of reliving it?"

"It's not a scar I got pridefully," Helsknight said after a long, thoughtful moment.

"Because you lost?"

Helsknight hesitated. Finally he settled on, "It would have been a bad death."

"Uhm... can I ask what that means?"

"Dying badly is... uhm. I don't know. Hard to describe."

"Unglorious?"

"More like... pointless."

"How can a death in the Colosseum be pointless?"

Helsknight made a sour expression, like there was a bad taste in his mouth. "It's... needlessly messy? And painful. It's supposed to be quick and thrilling and... not... painless. But there shouldn't be suffering. It's the same reason we don't use fire enchants anymore. No glory is worth burning to death in front of thousands of people."

Tanguish frowned. "All of these scars were pain once. Is the only difference that they weren't fatal?"

"The difference is they meant something." Helsknight hummed. He took Tanguish's hand in his. He led him to the hooked scar on his ribs.

"This taught me that even a glancing blow can be dangerous."

To the divot on his collar bone.

"This taught me my body has limits. Some wounds can't be powered through."

He drew Tanguish's hand up to his face, pressing his cold fingers against the claw-mark scar. "This taught me my experience doesn't make me invincible."

Helsknight released Tanguish's hand. "A bad death is... it's pain without lesson. Suffering without growth. Horror without change. Pointless."

They lay in silence long enough that Tanguish wondered if Helsknight might have fallen asleep. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and even, his eyes closed in his quiet frown. Tanguish hugged his arms to his chest and watched him breathe. He mapped and remapped the claw scars on Helsknight's face, traced the divot on his collar bone with his eyes, catalogued what he could see of the constellation of harms on his forearms.

Finally, his voice a whisper, Tanguish asked, "Was this a bad death?"

He reached forward and pressed his thumb against the knife scar beneath Helsknight's ribs. Helsknight's breath hitched against the cold of his touch, and Tanguish wished, for not the first time, that ice wasn't such a strong presence in him. Helsknight blinked his eyes open, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he reached forward and pressed a hand against Tanguish's abdomen, the heat of his hand searing the invisible line the Demon's axe had carved.

"Was this?" he asked.

"That's... that's different," Tanguish stammered.

"Why?"

"You didn't do it."

"And if I had?" Helsknight asked quietly. "What if I were fighting the Demon, and grazed you by accident."

"It's-- you didn't. I pushed you out of the way. I did this to myself."

"I don't think the wounds are so different." Helsknight flashed him a tired, insufferable smirk. "You were aiming for Wels, and I got in the way. And I did learn something."

"You... did...?"

"I think I'd rather die than see you hurt."

Tanguish momentarily forgot to breathe. By the time he remembered, Helsknight had wrapped his hand around his, and moved it away from any scars. He held it between them, one massive hand swallowing Tanguish's own in quiet, steadfast warmth.

"You're..." (Tanguish lost all words.) "... insufferable."

"Thank you. Go to sleep Tanguish."

Tanguish nodded. Helsknight grunted his approval, and with enviable swiftness, dropped off into sleep. Tanguish lay awake for several more minutes, reaching his other hand up to tentatively wrap it around the knight's, his two delicate hands cupped around a strong, sword-calloused fist. He curled up there, his forehead pressed to the gathered knuckles.

(What did I do to deserve him?) he asked the universe as loudly as he dared. (How do I stay worth him?)

The universe didn't answer. He wasn't sure the universe knew how to answer questions like that. A feeling came to Tanguish, though, like fear in the way it filled him, swelling grand in his chest. It was like tears in its swiftness. Unexpected and full to overflowing. It was neither of those things. It was buoyant where they were heavy. Bright where they were dark. It was a feeling he would try to put a name to later, when he was no longer tired and thinking in primary colors. The root of devotion, the desire to return it. Simple. Right.

For now, though, Tanguish slept.

[trashyshrew]

light found a stay L on the street!? 😭 he took the poor thing in and gave it cake 😖(and a boyfriend /he dared him 😏😏😏) I think this would be ADORABLE in your style, I LOVE YOUR ART SM🥰🥰🥰😍😘😘

i apologize that i truly took forever getting to this, but thank you so much for the request! not sure if this what what you were looking for but i tried? 😅

[marzipanandminutiae]

rewatching OUAT

love that the Storybrooke nuns were clearly devised by a pagan who had no experience with Christianity and who was really half-assing this part of the curse

"they live together, dress the same, and they're celibate. so basically fairies. they use these titles and...give advice? idk whatever; back to building in fifty more Fuck Regina loopholes"

[lannisterdaddyissues]

god why am i so fucking stupid. having adhd is truly a curse and i hate bearing it

[kipnchips]

i got an email from my professor that i messed up an assignment i submitted i'm literally just a guy. a little thing. what do you want from me.

[werefeathers]

give me a reading on the status of my bitches /j

a joke request calls for a joke reading (im kidding, im kidding) (ill do my best anyway)

seven of cups: you or your bitches might be pondering an important choice. with many options, it's imperative to watch out for distorting certain options with wishful thinking. open communication may be key in this moment.

the tower: it may have set in quickly, but in this sudden upheaval lies renewal. find your way through and it'll be okay!

justice: be impartial. be unbiased. be objective. the nature of what is to come encourages you to be truthful to yourself and others. trust your bitches to do the same.

choices are messy, but you need not be afraid. find order in chaos, for you hold the judgement that ensures everything will end happily for you and your bitches.

[all readings are casual, lighthearted, and for entertainment purposes! my word will never be gospel, i'm only here for friendly advice :3]

[dreamcubed]

i think he knows | theodore nott x reader

song; i think he knows [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x ravenclaw!fem!reader genre; not actually unrequited love, s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, theo's lack of communication summary; you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

masterlist

"wanna see what's under that attitude."

—————————————

Truth was, you knew you weren't special for having your attention caught by Theodore Nott. Despite his almost entirely anti-social personality and apparent grumpiness, many girls longed after him. You completely understood, of course; there was something enticing about a potentially misunderstood quiet boy, and the idea of becoming the one person they show affection to was self-indulging.

The fact of the matter, as your best friend, Cho, frequently pointed out, was that you had never even so much as spoken to him. You hoped he at least knew you existed, from the times you had been praised in class for your assignments, but you had no proof that he even recognised your face.

"Babe, it's sixth year now- that's over five years of you fancying Nott," Cho said as she caught your gaze lingering over to the Slytherin table again. It was your second day back after summer, so you had a lot of long-distance admiring to catch up on.

"Okay, so?" you replied, not even bothering to move your eyes away from the object of your desires.

"So, it's time that you do something about it," she continued, shovelling scrambled eggs on to both her plate and yours, "Do you really want to leave Hogwarts without any dating experience?"

You finally prized your eyes away from Nott, opting instead to meet your concerned best friend's gaze, "I don't think it's the sort of time to be thinking about dating."

"It's especially the time to think about it," she said, "Our lives may be shorter than we think they are - don't die with regrets."

You sighed, unable to argue.

"Plus, it really wouldn't hurt to have some positivity around here. You can feel how much heavier the air is than before."

That, you had to agree with. People were still laughing in their friend groups throughout the hall, sure, but there was a lingering sense of dread that had stuck with everyone since the Triwizard Tournament and reign of Umbridge, and it was only getting worse.

"Maybe," you finally concluded, picking up your fork to dig into your breakfast.

"You have nothing to lose," she added, "Your social circles are completely separate, and, you're pretty as fuck."

You couldn't help but smile at her compliment, "Even if that's true, I'm completely inexperienced."

"It's not that hard."

"Yeah, says the girl who had both Hogwarts champions drooling over her. No offence, babe, but you're biased."

"That could just have easily been you if you'd ever spoken to either of them."

"Whatever you say."

Cho sighed, deciding to not argue any further with you on the matter - for now.

***

It was amazing how potions went from your least favourite subject to your favourite after Slughorn took over from Snape. The lessons were no longer a fear-inducing chore, but instead a time of laughter and enjoyable learning: the way it should be.

Harry Potter especially seemed to be flourishing in the subject, much to the dismay of Hermione Granger, who usually took the spot at the top of the class. You were glad to not be a part of their constantly hectic lifestyles, although you had almost been when Cho had a thing with Harry the year prior.

Regardless, your main focus during potions was the gorgeous Slytherin boy who sat across the classroom from you - another of the best students in the class. Your seat was stationed at the perfect angle to sneak glances at him without raising too much suspicion: you definitely hadn't ensured that a few weeks ago during the first lesson or anything.

"Shit, I forgot the anjelica," you muttered to yourself, gazing at the list of ingredients in front of you as you had been wondering why your potion was a navy blue when it was meant to be a royal blue.

You left your station to head over to the ingredients cupboard, where you gazed at the arrangement before you. It was organised alphabetically, so your eyes shifted to the top left hand corner where you spotted the jar that you were after.

You stood on your tiptoes in attempt to reach it, but after failing, you huffed, going to pull out your wand instead. That was when a hard chest pressed against your back and a large pale hand grasped the very jar that you were in dire need of. You turned around quickly only to spot the guy you had fancied for an unhealthy amount of time - and his face was shockingly close to yours. His scent swarmed your nostrils, making your knees weak.

He raised an eyebrow at you.

Coming to your senses, you cleared your throat, "Uh, I need some of that anjelica- please."

His eyes shifted down to the jar in his hand as he stepped back slightly. The added distance meant that you could finally breathe.

Nott presented the jar to you, and you gratefully took it, thanking him in the process. As you went to open it and take what you needed, he left the cupboard and went back to his station, which was in view of where you were. You remained shocked for a few moments: did he not need some of the herb? His eyes locked on to yours from where he now was, making you panic and quickly depart the cupboard with the jar still in your hand.

Rowena, how did Cho expect you to ask him out when you couldn't even make eye contact with him?

***

The following morning, you were sat at breakfast with Cho and your other fellow Ravenclaws, busy discussing the latest ancient runes essay that you had to complete. Just as you began to discuss the difficulties you had with writing the conclusion, you were interrupted by the sound of owls from above. The morning post had arrived.

Typically, you didn't get anything. Maybe the occasional letter from your mother, but that was about it. So, you were mildly surprised to see an envelope drop in front of you.

It was a very small envelope: that was the most confusing part. You couldn't think as to why your mother wouldn't send a normal-sized letter, but you opened it nonetheless. Only, the contents of the envelope made your stomach drop as dread filled your bones and veins.

A tiny note was enclosed, that wasn't addressed or signed, and it simply read "I see you staring at me". Instinctively, your eyes looked up and over to the Slytherin table, where Theodore Nott sat, evidently having been watching you this entire time. His face was completely blank, until he arched an eyebrow at you - clearly a favoured expression of his - which made you begin panicking.

"Oh, fuck," you mumbled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Only Cho, who was sat next to you, heard your profanities, and turned to you with confusion adorning her face. "What is it?"

You passed the note over to her, still gazing at Nott who now had the slightest of amused smirks tugging on his lips.

"Oh, fuck," Cho mimicked you, finally making you prize your eyes away from the boy, "Yeah, I see why you're panicking."

"This is going to socially ruin me," you sighed, "He'll probably tell the other Slytherins and then they'll bully me until the end of my school career."

"Okay, catastrophising much?" she said, gently slapping you, "Nott like never talks, I highly doubt he divulges his friends with personal information."

"Yeah, his personal information!" you whisper-yelled.

"I mean, maybe he likes you back."

"What?"

"He doesn't indicate at all in that note that he's mad at you for staring at him."

"Yeah, but, don't you think he'd go about it in a different way if he returned the feelings?"

Cho paused to think for a moment, "No, actually. Maybe he was pretty sure that you were staring at him, but needed to confirm it. So, he wrote that note to you, intentionally not signing it, to see if you would immediately look to him after reading it."

Your eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, are you saying I could have still saved myself, but instead instantly looked in his direction like a fucking idiot?"

"Y/N," she hit your arm, "I think this is a good thing. Try and be more optimistic."

"Easy for you to say."

***

You felt sick to your stomach as you arrived at your potions lesson that day, keeping your head down as you took your usual seat. Normally, this would be when you'd steal your first glance at Theodore Nott, but the thought of seeing his face again paralysed you with fear.

"Y/N, relax," Cho whispered to you, but her words were futile. Relaxation seemed impossible in times like this.

"Today, class, I want you to pair up with someone you don't usually work with," Professor Slughorn announced, "By that I mean, someone who isn't from your house and doesn't sit on your table."

You mumbled a curse under your breath as people began to move around, looking up to try and locate the nice Hufflepuff girl you sat next to in history of magic. Only, Cho had already disappeared to her side, and they were chatting happily with each other. Rowena, this was bad. You didn't have the biggest social circle.

"Excellent, everyone seems to be in pairs," Slughorn spoke, making you furrow your eyebrows.

Looking to your side, you were shocked to see that Nott had silently sat next you, and was gazing at you intently.

"Hi," you squeaked, flashbacks of breakfast flooding back to you.

He gave you a curt nod, and turned back to face the front.

You didn't listen to a single instruction that Slughorn gave after that, as your brain was much too pre-occupied with concepts of social suicide and humiliation. Was Nott just trying to torture you?

"L/N," a deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. That was it. The first time you had ever heard Theodore Nott speak.

You turned to him, only to realise that everyone was standing up and getting ingredients - had you really been that spaced out?

It must have been evident in your facial expression that you had no idea what was going on, because Nott opened his potions book and pointed at the potion that you were making. You looked at the ingredient list, but you couldn't say that you were actually taking any of it in.

Clearly, Nott was aware of this fact, and let out a small sigh that made you feel exceptionally guilty. Regardless, he walked over to the ingredients cupboard himself without another word and soon returned with everything you needed. In the meantime, you had snapped out of your stupor and set up the cauldron and cutting board. You didn't want him to completely regret pairing up with you.

What potion were you even making? You finally processed the words on the page: amortentia. Your eyes widened.

This might not end well.

***

You had never thought being a remarkable potion maker - who was collaborating with a fellow remarkable potion maker - would be a bad thing. It turned out that it very much could be when the steam from your concoction wafted up your nose, overwhelming your senses with the smell of intertwined chestnut and paper money. As if the faint scent of Nott that you picked up on whenever he walked past didn't make you nervous enough, now it filled the entire room, since you certainly weren't the only capable potion makers in the class.

"Alright, class, it seems that we have all about finished," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "And, now, for my favourite part."

You had a feeling you knew what was coming.

"Miss Parkinson, what does the potion smell like to you?"

"Uh," the girl flushed a bit, her eyes flicking towards Draco Malfoy, "I don't know how to describe it - clean, expensive. Like a really fancy fragrance."

"Fascinating, most fascinating," Slughorn replied, his eyes gleaming, "Mr Nott, what about you?"

Were you already about to hear him speak for the second time? He hadn't spoke throughout the entire potion making process, which, to be honest, you were kind of glad for.

"Coconut," he said simply, "And vanilla."

Your breath hitched.

You used coconut shampoo.

Your favourite perfume was a vanilla scent.

"That is most interesting!" Slughorn grinned, "It is fascinating to hear what enraptures you all the most!"

You didn't realise that your eyes had glued on to Nott as Slughorn proceeded to ask other students what amortentia smelled of to them until the Slytherin boy turned to face you and raised a singular eyebrow.

You felt warm underneath his gaze.

He smirked.

***

You packed up at the end of the lesson, preparing to return to the Ravenclaw tower until dinner time along with Cho who was still across the room. Just as you were about to walk over to her, Nott grabbed your arm and jerked his head in the direction of the door. It was a silent invitation to walk with him somewhere, from what you could gather. You turned around to tell Cho where you were going, but she had already disappeared, much to your confusion.

The first few minutes of the walk were in silence, and the awkwardness was killing you. It was only once you had emerged from the dungeons that Nott finally said something.

"You aren't subtle."

A lightning bolt of shock and nerves shot up your spine and made you stiffen up as you walked. You managed to force out a mumble of, "I know."

He shrugged, "It's cute."

Had you heard him right? No, you couldn't have. You just weren't used to hearing his voice.

"I thought you were shy," you muttered, but he heard and chuckled a bit.

"No. Just quiet."

You clutched your books close to your chest.

"You're shy," he added.

You nodded.

He chuckled again, and silence ensued for another couple minutes.

"Hogsmeade," he said.

You hummed in surprise.

"This weekend. Me, you."

Your jaw dropped - did he mean a date? A Hogsmeade invitation had certain implications among Hogwarts students.

But he didn't clarify, not once on the way to the Ravenclaw tower.

***

"Relax, Y/N, you'll be great," Cho assured you, wrapping your scarf around your neck since the autumn breeze was nippy in Scotland.

"I don't even know if it's a date."

"Of course it's a date," she shook her head, "Everyone knows what inviting someone to Hogsmeade means."

You grimaced, "I don't know if Nott is the most up to date with social norms."

"Regardless, he's not a fucking idiot."

You gave your best friend a small smile.

"Now, he'll be waiting for you in the courtyard, so hurry!"

***

You had only ever seen Theodore Nott in casual clothing from afar before, catching a glimpse of him before he disappeared amongst the other Slytherins. But, Rowena, you had been missing out on quite an indulgent sight.

How could a man make such a simple outfit of a knitted jumper and baggy jeans look so good? You didn't understand it, unable to feel anything but self-conscious in your own ensemble.

He didn't smile at you as you approached, but instead gave you a curt nod. And, as you both began walking towards the carriage, the silence was truly beginning to suffocate you. So, you reached inside the crevices of your brain to talk about something - anything - and finally landed on informing him of every little thing that had happened to you that week. It wasn't particularly interesting, mainly because you were omitting the details about him, but it meant that the quietness was filled with your babbling.

Which was how it went the entire journey to Hogsmeade.

At first you weren't sure he was listening, but when you paused mid sentence for a moment, he raised his eyebrow at you and gestured for you to go on. So you did.

"...and honestly, I don't know why Cho thought that was a good idea," you sighed as you both stepped out of the carriage, "She nearly set her hair on fire!"

You heard a small chuckle erupt from the boy next to you, making you look over to him in surprise.

"What about you? How's your week been?" you asked cautiously, nervous to see his reaction to a question that required a wordy response.

He shrugged.

It was frustrating.

You chewed your lip for a few seconds, "Look- I get you find communication difficult. But, please, I need more to work with here."

He gave you a surprised expression, and stopped walking, making you halt too. Nott looked around pensively, completely unreadable.

"Nott?"

He looked at you and scowled, "Theo," he corrected.

"Theo- what are you doing?"

Letting out a loud exhale, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the main street of Hogsmeade and to a more hidden area behind some of the houses. When you turned around, you realised that he was right in front of you - to the point that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

"I'm not good with words," he mumbled.

You hummed in agreement.

"I don't like talking to people," he continued, "But I want to talk to you."

Your breath hitched, "Really?"

"I'm not an idiot- I've known that you've fancied me for years."

You felt your ears heat up.

"But this year, when we started back, I-" he paused, trying to piece together the words in his mind, "I saw you, and it was different than before. I wanted your attention."

A smile crept on to your face as you gazed up at him.

"So, I know I need to work on being open - but I want to try. For you."

You don't know where the wave of confidence came from, but you found yourself pressing your lips against his and combing your fingers through his hair. He gasped at the sudden contact, but quickly reciprocated the affection until you pulled apart.

"Rowena... I always thought you knew. I can't believe I was right."

"Horrifying?"

"A little," you nodded, "But it's obviously worked out."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 03/06/2023 —> 15/08/2023 published;17/08/2023 edited; —/—/——

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 3 to Truth or Dare and Truth or Dare Part 2

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: After being so rudely interrupted in the middle of you and your lieutenant's tryst, but he made a promise. "This isn't over." You hope that he plans to keep it, but when? Things might have to wait as you are assigned to a mission with him. But when being close proves to much, will both of you be able to hold off on your lust or will you succumb to all that tension?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings:

Part 4: READ HERE

Lt. Riley storms out of the munitions depot seething with frustration as he searches for the private waiting to relay Price’s message to him. Of all the fucking times to be interrupted, why in the hell did it have to be this one time when he was so close to exploring the depths of what the connection sparked between you could bring. Now he is left with nothing but anger and a sizeable bulge in his pants that he has to discreetly readjust before anyone can catch him hard as a fucking rock.

That piercing brown gaze locates the private standing against the side of the building a few feet from the door, his face red, his jaw tense, brow wrinkled up as if he is deep in thought about his predicament at having seen something he shouldn’t. The poor boy has no time to react as heavy-booted steps quickly approach before the lieutenant grabs him by the shoulders and pins him to the wall, glaring at him intimidatingly down through the holes of his mask. 

“Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight, yeah? ‘Fore I let ya go ‘bout your business,” he says, his tone firm and menacing. “I’m only gonna say this once, so ya best listen up. Ya didn’t see a damn thing back there, nothin’ at all, got it private? It’s in your best interest to rid your mind of anything ya think ya might have misunderstood or there will be consequences that ya may not like. Is that clear?”

The private is visibly shaken by his threatening warning and struggles to speak. 

Dropping his voice, the lieutenant leans in. “Is. That. Clear?”

Quickly the private collects himself so that he can answer, if only to be released from the lieutenant’s fury. “Y-yes, s-sir,” he confirms. 

His answer seems satisfactory enough; Lt. Riley is sure his intimidation has done the trick to keep the boy quiet and he gives him a nod of approval. “Now,” the lieutenant says as he releases the scared private and sets him up straight before stepping back, “ya said Price is lookin’ for me? Did he mention what for?” 

“Y-yes sir,” he nods, his voice still shaky, but slowly calming down. “It’s about mission a-assignments.”

“Good man, you’re dismissed.”

With that the private scurries away as fast as he can to leave the lieutenant alone, ready to head towards Price’s office to see what this is all about. He gives one last, lingering glance back at the building, wishing he could just run back inside and pick up where he left off, but he steps off back across base back to where he had just been a little while before. 

As he walks he can’t help but wonder how much time is going to pass before he will get the chance to see you again. Who knows what this round of missions will hold; it could be weeks or months of being separated before you both get another opportunity like this.

With a sigh he heads into Captain Price’s office with no expectations other than the same routine that he is accustomed to: get in, get out, job well done. Yet as the lieutenant sits there listening to Price go into detail about the plans for what will be expected on this mission, he catches something that he thinks he’s misheard.

“Sir,” Lt. Riley cuts Price off in the middle of his thought, “can you repeat that last bit.”

Price raises an eyebrow; it isn’t like his lieutenant to interject like this. “Said since I’m wantin’ ya to take a group of the recruits out, I am sendin’ two sergeants with ya: Mactavish and our esteemed female sergeant that you just presumably saw. Help keep ‘em in line to make sure this isn’t a bust.”

The lieutenant’s heart skips a beat as the captain continues on with the brief synopsis of things that will get hashed out over the next days until departure, but Lt. Riley hears very little. Fuck, this is somehow both better and worse than being apart for any length of time. How the hell is he  supposed to stay sane when in such close proximity to you?

It’s a couple of hours before he is able to get away from under the discerning eyes of the captain, tasked with telling you about this new development in the morning. The thought alone of seeing you again keeps him up for most of the night as he runs over scenarios in his mind. You’re both soldiers highly trained in what you do, taught how to put things aside to focus on the task at hand; it should be fine, right? And yet… his skin still burns to feel yours against it.  

That doesn’t sound like he’ll be fine. He wonders if you’ll be just as miserable too?

The lieutenant decides that it is best to talk to you during your time training the recruits, hopeful that with so many people present it will keep you both tame. He makes his way to the range about midday and as he approaches he catches you in the middle of giving orders to a couple of recruits at the end of the range. Instead of announcing his presence immediately, he allows himself a few seconds just to watch you, his eyes following every curve of your body that he can catch even through your clothes. 

There’s no sign anything is amiss until you notice a few recruits are now distracted and no longer participating in the current activity and you follow their eyeline to see the lieutenant standing not far from the group. He nods his head to you in beckoning to come to him and immediately you can feel the heat in your cheeks blossoming until they are glowing warm. 

What could he want? you wonder to yourself.

Turning back to your bunch of recruits, you give your order so that you won’t be disturbed while you go see what’s up. “Continue on for a few rounds, switching partners every empty clip while I speak with Lt. Riley,” you bark and they immediately fall into line. “And I have my eyes on you so don’t fuck anything up. Got it?” 

A round of yes ma’ams trail behind you as you make your anxious way over to the lieutenant, the rapidly thudding beat of your heart making your steps brisk. Even from here you can see his hands gripping onto the straps of his tactical vest, knuckles almost white, as if he is struggling to stay composed. Your eyes meet as you near and all that intensity comes flooding right back into your body to leave you aching with a need to get closer, though you force yourself to stop with a bit of distance still between you. 

“Yes, sir?” you ask, pausing to swallow to keep your voice steady. “How can I help you?”

“Word from Price,” he answers as his eyes inadvertently begin to gravitate to your mouth before he forcefully guides them away. “Mission assignment for next week. You, Soap, and several of the more seasoned recruits will be with me on recon for a few weeks. Nothin’ too intense, should be an easy enough job.”

“Oh?” you say in stunned surprise as your breath hitches. This is the one thing you hadn’t accounted for being a problem so soon, being stuck together on a mission with all this built-up attraction still so hot and heavy between you. 

Things are about to get a lot harder and you hope you can make it through without incident.

You must be blushing something fierce now as you can feel it burning in your face the more you contemplate your predicament. In the middle of your thought you notice the lieutenant quickly glance at the group of recruits to your back to be sure they are occupied completely as he steps in towards you and reaches up to swiftly stroke his gloved fingers against the side of your cheek before anyone sees him do it. It takes everything in you not to turn into a puddle at his feet from the contact.

As he brings his hand away from your face, he steps in even more and leans his head down until his mouth is near your ear. “I swear I’m gonna remedy this fuckin’ thing between us soon as I can,” he says in a guttural, breathy whisper as he places a quick kiss to your face with his mask-covered lips. “Just hang on a bit longer. You can do that for me, yeah? Just a couple weeks and then you’re mine.”

He doesn’t know why he just did that, it’s too risky to pull off such a stunt in the open like this, but it seems to be an automatic reaction the way any part of his body simply wants to get closer to you. Though he enjoys it, it is a bit unnerving that he can’t seem to control himself when you are around. Clearing his throat, he shifts back into that detached facade to hide behind until he can put some distance between you.

“We will be ready to deploy Tuesday, 1300 hours. Price will send for you to brief on all necessaries,” he says as he stands back upright. “We’ll just have ta fuckin’ try and keep this under control, yeah?”

You nod silently.

Having finished relaying the information he hurriedly exits, leaving you alone to collect yourself so that you can get through the rest of your day, but that is a monumental task in itself now. If this is the reaction you both have whenever you’re near, what will the weeks you’ll be stuck together bring? You hope you can deflect your thoughts away from all this by staying even busier than usual.   

The days leading up to departure are a haze as you try to reconcile that you are going to have to share space with Simon. You fill every single second with any task you can pull, just trying to keep your mind away from the inevitable for as long as possible. Maybe if you never stop, you’ll never have the chance to pine for him; it’s not your best plan, but it works for a few days.

Departure day finally arrives and you immediately are put to the test. As the team loads onto the transport plane meant to take you most of the way, you find yourself the last to board and wouldn’t you know that the only seat available to you is right next to the lieutenant himself. Those brown eyes deep set into that skull mask lock on to you the minute you set foot on board and don’t leave until you take the spot next to him. His body stiffens against you as you get situated in the tight space, matching your body’s reaction. 

God, he wants to touch you so bad it physically hurts, but there isn’t a chance that someone wouldn’t see and so he grits his teeth to try and bear it until you land. Next to him, your heart is fluttering a mile a minute, though you aren’t handling it as well as he is. It is the longest flight you both have ever experienced and it cannot end fast enough. By the time you both exit, you feel like you’ve run a marathon just with how much you had been holding your breath through the whole thing.   

It is a short trek to the safehouse designated for your stay and the team reaches it a few hours before nightfall. A small, rundown house waits for you and that means you’ll be on top of each other, though there’s a shack out back that must have been a tool shed at some point now long since abandoned. Good, maybe you can hide away in there at points when things get too much. 

It’s routine at this point how things go in the field: clearing the area, setting up, breaking down rolls for who does what, which is lucky because your mind is not clear enough to focus on more detailed tasks. How can it be when you’ve spent the last several hours sitting beside the one man in the whole fucking taskforce that you want to screw until neither of you can move? 

You need to put some space between you and soon just to get him out of your head for a while to calm down. Even with how tight you’ll be packed together, it will still be farther than you want to be from him. But thoughts like this are dangerous, so when the time comes to discuss watch duty assignments for the night, you spring at the chance to get outside and speak up before anyone else can take that away from you.

“I’ll take the first watch,” you say just as Johnny poses the question. “I’m still wide awake, so I might as well get it out of the way.”

“Damn, ye sure did answer fast; wanna get away from us that bad, lass?” Johnny jokes, elbowing you in the side. 

You scrunch your nose and bob your head at him, the typical interaction helping you to get out of your thoughts. “Well, yeah, there’s enough b.o. to suffocate someone in here already,” you pick back, “gotta get some fresh air when I can. Now, fucking can it. Anyway, is that all good, sir?”

Turning your attention to your superior, you wait for his reply and see a strange spark flash through the pupils of his eyes. It’s almost too subtle to tell properly whether or not it’s something more than just the shadows cast by his mask playing tricks on your vision, but does it really matter? As much as you want something to happen between you, you are here to do a job and that is top priority for everyone, including and most of all Lt. Riley. 

“That’s fine,” he agrees while diverting his gaze even as he speaks to address the group about setting up for the night, though you can’t help feeling like that is not the real reason he can’t look at you. 

Making sure your area is set up how you want it, you double-check your vest and weapon to be sure you will have everything you need for your watch. You set a timer for the clock on your wrist so you’ll know when you should be relieved and then you decide to get a preliminary sweep of the area to be sure of the lay of the land before it gets completely dark. As you head outside, a flash of lightning ripples through the clouds approaching from the distance; it’s going to be an interesting night, that’s a given.

Lt. Riley secretly follows you with his eyes until he can see you move out of earshot and out the front door, only then does he make his way over to the young Scottish sergeant currently setting up his cot in the corner of the room. This is a fucking terrible idea that the lieutenant should immediately reconsider, but he cannot let this go. Bad idea or not, he is in it now no matter what.

Standing at his back until Soap turns around, the lieutenant doesn’t hesitate to speak up the moment the sergeant faces him. “Informin’ ya now, I’ll be the one takin’ second watch,” he says as flatly as he can, even though there is a pronounced pounding in his chest as he says it.

Soap raises an eyebrow before he crosses his arms with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so? Hmm…right after sergeant sass?” he questions curiously as his gaze drifts to the door.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrow into a glare behind the mask. “Ya got a fuckin’ problem with that, Mactavish?” he challenges. “Do I need ta make it more clear who’s in charge here?”

“No, no,” Soap says as he shakes his head, “but… ye know ye don’t have ta go to all this trouble; if ye want some alone time, all ye got ta do is say so.”

A distant rumble of thunder sounds from outside the house to add atmosphere to the death glare that Soap is currently receiving after just having said what he did. “Careful,” the lieutenant warns. Guess any picking is off the table for right now, at least if the sergeant doesn’t want to end up in his superior’s bad graces. 

“Alright, I hear ye. You’re on second watch, sir,” he agrees with a chuckle as another crack of thunder echoes through the darkening sky that can just barely be spotted through the window from where they are standing. Soap draws attention to it with his head and Lt. Riley’s eyeline follows. “Though ye might wanna bring an umbrella later, ye know on account a things possibly gettin’...wet.”

There is something in that last bit that doesn’t sound like Soap’s usual witty remarks, something about the emphasis he puts on the last word is a bit more on the nose, as if he wants to say something about things he shouldn’t, but the moment is gone as Soap continues with setting up his cot and Lt. Riley dismisses it as coincidence. Nothing has happened this far that would give anything away… right?

A few hours pass and everyone has finally hunkered down for the night… Well, everyone except the lieutenant. Try as he might, he cannot relax. His limbs feel jittery as he lays stirring in his cot, staring into the dark as distracting thoughts race through his mind. The more he focuses on them the warmer he gets until he has to roll up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows just to get some relief from it clinging stiflingly around his body. 

It’s still too early for the next watch change, but he can’t just lay here, not when he knows you are right outside the door all alone as everyone is asleep inside. What his plan is he doesn’t fully understand yet, all he can think about right at this moment is just to be near you again. And these types of moments might be the only small chances he will get to even just spend a minute in your company while you’re here.

He gets up and cautiously makes his way through the scattered sleeping team, quiet and careful with his movements until he can make it out the house and into the cooler weather of a gathering storm about to break. The rolls of quiet, distant thunder are more frequent now as he shuts the door behind him, the first drops of precipitation starting to sprinkle over the skin of his bare forearms as he goes in search of you.

Barely getting far, the crunching sound of boot steps are headed his way and he waits on baited breath as you round the corner from the back of the house to return to the spot that you’ve designated at the front for you to sit until your watch ends. Your sight catches a figure standing there in the darkness as you approach, silhouetted by the dim moonlight; by the size of the shadow you instantly know who it is and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“All clear?” he asks as you come to stop before him.

“Si..sir,” you go to address him, but a momentary lapse makes you stumble over his title as you almost say his name, though you quickly recover. 

Simon chuckles; by your reaction it seems like you’ve been thinking of distracting things as well. Guess that means he isn’t the only one suffering. “We’re alone,” he reassures. “Everyone else’s asleep.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “I was just checking the perimeter and the shed,” you say as you point to the small shack out back behind the house. “Still empty. I have a clear view of it from here so I’d know if anything got in there, but I like to be thorough. Everything else is all clear, though.” 

It feels like you are rambling just to stall asking the question you desperately want to ask: why is he out here right now. It couldn’t be that he wants…? No, it is already understood that anything between you is put on hold until later; this must be something else and you chastise yourself internally for getting so worked up over nothing. 

As nonchalantly as possible, you bring up your curiosity. “So, what’re you doing up right now? It’s not time for anyone to relieve me yet.”

His stance shifts. “I know,” he says plainly.

“I-is something wrong?” you continue your line of questions. “I haven’t heard anything inside or out.”

Simon pauses as another rumble of thunder fills the background through the light percussive sound of raindrops trickling around you. “Ya know why I’m out here,” he says quieter, unsure if he even should admit it. “I had ta see ya.” 

An ache slowly spreads through your chest at his words, your heartbeat pounding, the air not filling up your lungs as you watch him take a few steps so that he can reach out to you and take your hand in his gloved one. He leads you both back around the corner of the house a little further from the entrance to conceal you against the side and out away from any prying eyes. 

The light sprinkling picks up as a ripple of lightning flashes across the sky so that the shadows it causes dance across your features. Water begins to stream down over your bodies, coating you in a layer of dampness that soaks through your clothes, your hair, over your skin until everything is moist. It doesn’t take much for Simon’s balaclava to quickly collect too much water for him to stay comfortably underneath it and so without hesitation he takes it off to tuck it into the back pocket of his pants.

He doesn’t mind keeping it off, not around you.

There it is, that face that you have been longing to get a better look at: those beautifully distinct chiseled features with their slight imperfections caused from injuries past. He truly is a fantastic sight, though you may very well be biased now as it wouldn’t have mattered what he had hidden under there, the way you feel around him is attractive enough; this is only a bonus. 

You want to reach out and run your fingers along his cheek, but you know it’s risky. It’s been hard enough being here with him already without making contact; you know if you’re not careful with yourself you might not be able to stop and that could risk putting him in a position he doesn’t want to be in yet. 

But as you both stand there in the silent company of the other trying to find the words, he moves first.

His gloved fingers travel across the skin of your forearm, stroking it up and down as he holds your gaze captive. “Ya know, every single fuckin’ time someone’s said your name on the way out ‘ere, all I can think ‘bout is how I wanna feel ya against me again,” he confesses in hushed murmurs. “Been strugglin’ like hell to hold it all together for the sake of tha mission, but it’s only gettin’ worse. I can’t do it tonight.”

You swallow to coat your dry throat as his lustful words nearly choke you. “Simon,” you whisper in a dreamlike stupor. “What are you doing?”

The pads of his fingers glide determinedly across your palm and down to the sensitive tips of your own fingers.“I need ya,” he says through a heavy sigh. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad, luv.”

What’s breathing and how do you do it again? How in the hell are you meant to hold it together and do your job with desperate words like those being spoken to you in such an aching way? Is this all some sort of punishment? If Simon meant to come out here to torture you, then he has succeeded perfectly.  

“I need ya however I can get ya; I’ll fuck ya in the goddamn dirt if ya want,” he continues as his touch leaves your hand and moves to tease around the top edge of your belt situated between your vest and your shirt. “Just can’t stay away from ya a fuckin’ second more. Gotta make good on my promise ‘fore it eats me alive.”

Your eyes turn to the front of the safehouse as if expecting someone to come popping out at any moment to interrupt this clandestine meeting. “What about the others?” you question as your attention is turned back to him. “We could get caught. You know our track record.”

“I don’t care,” he says firmly as he leans in until his face is inches from your own. “We’ve fuckin’ waited long enough for this. I need ta be inside ya, sweetheart.” 

Being this close with all this moisture coating you both head to toe, blood pressure rising with the agony of his words, skin aching from the proximity of your bodies, it’s too much. You are burrowed into his mind completely now and try as he might to keep sane, your venom is already flowing through his veins. He cannot stand here and simply take it anymore. Those full lips that are so tempting from afar, are unbearable when within range; if you want this to stop you are going to have to be the one to leave because he won’t.

“But if ya don’t wanna do this, you’re gonna have ta walk right back inside that fuckin’ house this second ‘cause I’m not gonna be able to control myself for much longer,” he says, that gravelly voice overflowing with need. “Not with how your lips are callin’ my name.”

The overwhelming tension radiating between your bodies, that steamy, sticky, air that clings to you even through the rain suffocates your every sense until you can’t see straight. The darkness surrounds you like a curtain, concealing you from the world in its protective barrier that is only cut through by the pale moonlight drifting through the clouds to make the rain shimmer like 

crystals as it falls. 

At the back of the safehouse, there is only you and him. Everything else ceases to exist. 

You stare back up into his face, watching as droplets of rain cascade down one by one off the tips of his long eyelashes and the ends of his short, pale hair to fall onto his cheeks and through the dark stubble covering his jawline. The tension is so stifling that it feels like it will suffocate you under the pressure. You don’t want him to remove his fingertips from your frame; he knows just how to embrace your body in a way you have never felt before and you’ve never been more alive than you are under his touch.

With a little hesitation your subconscious makes the choice for you about what to do next and you lower your gaze as the overwhelming need to reach out to him causes you to extend your arm without thinking. Your fingers make contact with his damp clothes and run the lines along his hip bones as they explore the curvature of his body where the wet fabric clings to his form. 

A sharp, sudden exhale out of his nose is followed by a deep, bassy groan. Even over his clothes the electricity of your touch sends him into a tailspin. Your movements betray your innermost thoughts to him, but still he needs you to use your words and say it aloud. He watches as your eyes follow the path of your fingers over him and uses the opportunity to take off his gloves and stuff them away in his vest so that he can feel you as he goes in.

Your gaze drifts back up his body to look into his eyes as his balmy, moist palm is placed at the base of the back of your head, his thumb resting against your cheek. “Tell me what ya want,” he says.

Melting into his touch, your lips form the words effortlessly before you can even stop yourself. “Kiss me.” 

Oxygen disappears as he leans in so that there is barely any space left between you, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his breath make the skin of your lips tingle and suddenly every thought outside of the ecstasy of this moment evaporates. There is no mission, there are no other soldiers here mere feet from you, there are only the two of you in a world of your own. With a few deep, jagged breaths his gaze locks to your lips and you feel him hesitantly go in and pull back before his mouth closes the distance to overtake yours in a fierce kiss.

And your fate is sealed.

The cool precipitation runs down between your faces to make your mouths slick, causing your lips to glide across one another as Simon desperately overpowers your mouth. He is relentless in the way he consumes your kiss; no sooner has he broken the connection to quickly swallow down air then in the next second he is already back in as if he needs to feel you more than he needs to breathe. 

Wet strands of hair around your face stick to your cheeks as he presses his features into yours so hard that you can’t catch your breath and the skin around your jaw stings from the abrasion of his stubble. Yet all that moisture is doing nothing to dampen the way you are burning for him; you need to see what happens if given the chance to go all the way. 

“Say ya need me too,” he groans against your lips and into your open mouth. “I have ta hear it. Say ya need me ta fuck ya good, that you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout me all this time. Goddammit, say it.”

“I need you so fucking bad, Simon,” you whimper. “So bad it hurts. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your desperate words make him ache with an overwhelming ferocity that causes him to lose control. He shoves your back into the wall behind you and pins you to it as he bombards your mouth with his unrelenting passion, open-mouthed kisses overtaking your lips until you can feel them swell and burn from the pressure.

“Christ, I wanna make ya come so fuckin’ bad,” he growls. 

“Please,” you beg, giving into him completely. “I can’t wait. Not again.” 

You’re right, no waiting, not this time; he is not giving anything or anyone the chance to ruin this. The beast of his desire has him in a chokehold so agonizing that it will not let him go until he gets exactly what he needs, what you both need, until he completely loses himself in you. Some place hidden is what he desperately has to find now.

The shed is only a few yards away and his kiss-drunk mind makes the instant decision that it will have to do. At least you will have some privacy out of the rain; that is enough. As long as he gets inside you that is all he can ask for. 

“Come on,” Simon is able to get out as he grabs your hand tightly in his grip and starts to walk in long strides straight for the tiny shack just off the main house. You reach it in no time and he doesn’t stop as he flings open the door and pulls you inside behind him, leaving you to stand in the middle of the small space as he scrambles to block the door; there isn’t a chance in hell anyone is going to get to you both now.  

Not until he has had his way with you.

It physically pains him to be away from your lips for this long as he makes sure everything is secure, but it’s gotta be done. Once satisfied and not wanting to waste any more time away from your body, he moves right back into you and his mouth is crashing onto yours before you can blink. Its inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing the way his lips know the exact way to embrace yours in that dance of back and forth as if you’ve done it for years.

To think he would have never gotten the chance to experience them had it not been for Mactavish’s idiotic game. Fuck, how could something so inconsequential lead to something so explosive that it is the only thing he craves above anything else?

Those determined hands of his paw blindly between your bodies, searching for the tabs at the sides of your tactical vest so that he can pull them to release it; there are more layers he has to get through this time. He breaks away from you so that he can flip the front of your vest over your head and throw it off your torso. Before it even hits the wooden floorboards he is hurriedly doing the same to himself, taking his shirt with it, before capturing your lips all over again; he will not stay away if he can help it and those pauses as he undresses you will be filled with him devouring your kiss.     

His fingers fill themselves with your shirt, clawing at it desperately trying to rip the wet fabric from your form without a care if he tears it to fucking shreds. The rough calluses on his hands create delicious friction along all that soft skin of your stomach as he goes up and under to rip both it and your bra off your head, making you gasp mutedly into his mouth. 

Pausing he can’t help staring at all this new, warm skin at his disposal. The nipples on your breasts are already hardening as they hit the cool atmosphere outside your clothes and he runs a greedy finger over the tiny rosebuds to feel them stiffen more from his touch. You are absolute in your perfection, a sight of sinfully decadent flesh that his mouth wants to get a hold of.

Strong arms wrap around your lower back to keep you locked to him as he bends his head down until his face reaches your breasts and he can bury himself against them so his lips can suck your nipple into his mouth. The moment his lips touch skin you arch your back with a shocked moan at how the suction sends waves of euphoria flooding through your limbs that only builds the longer he sucks. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead. 

Under his touch it feels just like heaven; there cannot be anything better than this. 

“Not this time, not till I fuckin’ make ya come,” he reassures in a husky, muted growl with his mouth full of you before he switches to the other breast, leaving neither out of their overdue pleasure. “You’re mine tonight. Ya hear me: mine.” 

The stubble on his chin pricks against the delicate skin of your breasts as he devours them, taking as much of the tissue into his mouth as he can hold as his tongue skillfully strokes around the areolas. All those contradicting sensations only add to the stimulation until your hips grind into him for the friction to relieve the pulsing in your clit. 

Heavy rain pelts down against the roof over your heads to drown out the sounds of your arousal; he needs to experience them all and so he has to get you closer. There are things he wants to say, dirty things he has fantasized about growling into your ear since that night when this whole fucking thing started and as his fingers itch to play with your pussy, he knows the way to make it all happen exactly as he wants.

Pulling his mouth from your chest, he moves from against you to situate himself sitting on the ground. Quickly he grabs onto your hips to spin you around so that he can promptly pull you down to sit in the middle of his lap. That throbbing bulge barely being contained by his pants is straining even harder now that there is pressure over it and you can feel it pulse into the muscle of your ass as your back molds into the contours of his broad chest and sparsely hair-covered abdomen.

You lean your head back against his shoulder as you enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in him and he takes that as an invitation to lay more of his claim to your skin. All that gorgeous flesh of your neck is ready to be sucked and bitten till he has branded it with his mark. Taking your chin in his hand, he moves your head out of the way and immediately pounces on it. 

“Goddammit sweetheart, I’ve been in fuckin’ hell since even before we got ‘ere,” he murmurs in anguish into your throat, his heat-filled words warming your skin as his breath drifts down your exposed chest. “Thought I was gonna rip myself apart bein’ forced to only look and not touch. I’ve never wanted to feel someone more in my whole goddamn life than I do ya.”

His hands slip down your chest, drawing goosebumps from your bare body everywhere his fingertips grace until your mind is so numb you can’t feel your limbs; your body only exists in the places where he decides to touch. The poetry of his fingers leaves all those unspoken desires he has yet to fully acknowledge across your skin, searing the flesh until it is branded for him and him alone. His roughness makes you whimper open-mouthed into the air. Down the sides of your waist his hands travel, over your hips to cross in front of your belly button and finally his hand reaches your pants. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout your body in the worst fuckin’ ways,” he says with a growl. “You’ve been in my goddamn head since that first kiss. Never thought I could crave somethin’ so fuckin’ bad that I can’t let it go and I want to make ya to feel the same. I want ya so out of your fuckin’ mind from me that ya can’t function.” 

Undoing the belt buckle and button, he pulls down the zipper of your pants with feverish speed until he creates an opening that he can slip his hand into. Once inside he keeps going all the way down to the elastic that he has to fiddle with to get inside your panties. You let your knees fall open to give him more access as he finally reaches that sensitive mound between your thighs. He can feel just how warm you are, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his palm as he cups his hand up against your sex.

Your back jolts into his chest at the intense pressure. “Fuck,” he gasps into the crook of your neck. “There ya are, pretty girl. Goddammit, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”

His chest is tightening with his rapid breathing as he takes his middle finger to heavily drag over the slit of your cunt until he pushes through and it slips in between your silky petals right to your core. Again your body jolts into him as those thick fingers rub through the sensitive slit and then up so he can find what he is searching for: that small bundle he wants to stroke until you are dripping and grinding on his fingers. 

He can’t help himself once he gets his first real feel of how slick you are down there; it’s more beautiful than he could have ever imagined and brutishly he draws out concise circles with the pad of his finger on your clit. The heightened tension of this finally being the moment you have waited for, being with the man that has made you a mess without even trying, and the way his fingers work that tiny pleasure center like he owns it only makes the euphoria more intense. 

You are drowning in him.  

Your body writhes and squirms as his thick finger suddenly collects a friend to join it and they both travel together to your entrance to spread you open so they can slide up inside and stretch you out. Your hips start to roll over his hand in direct response to his stimulation, grinding so he has to keep an arm around your waist to keep you from bucking off his lap, but it is worth it just to feel the way your body moves against him.

“That’s it, ride ‘em, pretty thing,” he groans at the side of your head. You could almost hear it in his voice how much he is enjoying the sounds of you falling apart because of him.

That deep, permeating warmth gathering in your abdomen begins to spread throughout your entire form, its mind-numbing effects making it hard to speak, yet it isn’t enough. His fingers have taken you almost all the way, but you need him, need his cock filling you up and you need it now.

“Simon, fuck… please put it in,” you say breathlessly. “I want you in me. Now. God, I need it so fucking bad.”

Fucking hell, the desperate whine in your voice is enough to make him come. The moment is here and there is no chance that he is going to be able to do anything other than immediately grant your request after all the pining, all the tension you’ve had to struggle through. All of it comes to a head here and now.

“I’ve been fuckin’ dreamin’ of doin’ this,” he says as he helps you slip out of your boots and pants so that you sit there naked as you wait for him to do the same. “If we would’ve been alone in the rec that night… goddammit, your pussy would already know the way my cock feels, sweetheart.”

As soon as he’s done he pulls you back, turns you to face him, and helps you up onto your knees so you can straddle over his lap. Even through the haze of ecstasy, your sight catches the first glimpse of his body and you can’t stop the way your hands immediately splay over the sparse bit of hair covering his broad chest and stocky abdomen, trailing down towards his V line. Then you see it, what’s been prodding against you all this time; fuck, he’s big.

As your fingers run between the pectorals on his stomach, you can feel the moment his breath hitches. You will be the death of him and him you.

Your eyes meet again and he secures his hands around the curves of your hips. Here it is, the moment of no return. Time seems to stand still as you feel him position the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. 

“Breathe for me,” he says and with that he slowly shoves your hips down until the head is able to slip inside.

The girth of his phallus stretches you out as it fills you and the world falls away into nothingness as you cry out with the pleasure of his body as he keeps pressing down on your hips until the entirety of him rests inside you. It is overwhelming, the sensation that takes a hold of your soul and doesn’t let go, the one of finally having him. Try as you might to not let this get out of hand, you know it is already too late. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this whole fucking world can ever compare to the way your body feels wrapped around his cock: the glorious stretch, the fullness, the throbing that you can feel pulse inside you. 

And from the sounds Simon is now making, you know he feels the same.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck,” that deep agonized whimper echoes through the shed as Simon’s hands bear down hard into your hips so he can keep you still until he can steady himself. His head falls against your forehead where it rests. “…s-shit…so fuckin’ good, luv.”

As he moves your body slowly up and down over his lap, making you bounce on his cock, he realizes that he will not be the same after this. Christ, you are the worst type of addiction; no matter how much he gets he only wants more. Simon is inside of you and yet even that isn’t enough. He wants to fuck you to the point of ruin, so that you will be his and only his from this day forward because there is no coming out of this unscathed.

Even within the first few minutes of being inside you he is already pussy drunk off how beautifully your walls contour to his shape, holding him fixed in all that warmth and wetness, and that leaves him unable to take things slow. Without warning Simon tilts you both back slightly so that he can take over and fuck you even rougher now. 

His fingers grip into the muscles of your hips hard enough to leave purple fingerprints as he pounds up into you furiously. Your body shakes with each snap of his hips as he slams into you with a feral roughness that his brain forces on him as he can only think of one objective: for you both to come.

“Look at me,” he demands through ragged breaths as he grabs at your face with those large hands; he’s falling apart so fast now, “keep those pretty eyes on me. I need… shit…I need ta see what they look like the moment ya come. My fuckin’ pretty girl.”

The rain that had coated your bodies moments before almost turns into steam as the passion of his movements fill the air with so much heat. You are completely at his mercy, his hulking size overwhelming you so that he can do with you as he pleases, but the way he thrusts deeper and deeper only draws you closer to that razor’s edge; it’s approaching fast.

“Fuck, don’t stop Simon, please, I’m so close,” you plead through your panting, your toes curling into the floor as the stimulation makes your brain blank. It’s there, right there; just a bit more and you will fall over the precipice.

He pumps with everything in him and that is it; with a shudder your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp as you cry out and a loud clap of thunder rings through the heavens to drown out the sound. You try to fall against him, but he won’t let you. That firm grip keeps your head up so that his eyes can take in everything about the moment as it crosses your face and fuck is it beautiful.

God, it won’t stop, second after second your orgasm just keeps pulsing with relentless intensity and Simon isn’t letting up. He can’t, he’s so fucking close he can taste it. Shit, the way your engorged walls are fluttering something fierce he just needs a little more friction and he’ll come too.

Bringing your face in he takes your mouth with all the roughness he has left as he allows himself to let go and with a few more thrusts, that is it. At the last second he rips his cock out of you and nestles it between your bodies as he milks out all that warm cum along your stomach, coating you with all that pent up tension he has been holding on to all this time. His abdominal muscles contract hard, heart pounding out of his chest, body writhing as a shiver runs up his spine until his movements finally slow and he stops, completely spent. 

Rain slacks off as you both just sit there a moment, panting to catch your breath as he holds you securely wrapped in his arms, face still close as if he only ever wants to breathe the same air you breathe, his nose nuzzling against yours as his lips fight to stay off of you long enough that you can both settle. It takes a few minutes, but finally he can feel his limbs again.

Just then the alarm on your watch begins its high-pitched beeping to signal that your relief is meant to take your place on guard duty. You laugh under your breath as it seems it’s now your opportunity to say those fucking words that seem to be the signal of the end of your time together. 

“Times up,” you say quietly, but he just shakes his head.  

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he replies firmly as his arms tighten around your form, “not yet. You’re still mine for now, I’ll deal with tha rest ‘a the shit later. I’m not lettin’ ya leave me.”

There’s no way you are going to fight him on it; you want to stay here with him a little while longer as well. Leaning in, you rest your head against his chest to listen to the beat of his heart as it continues to slow with each deep breath. As he sits there bundled up with you in that glowing euphoria as you both come down from the high, he knows this is only the beginning of something that he cannot stop. 

And maybe for the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it to.

Tagging: @kirewinter @spooky-pomegranate @heliumshorns @mudisgranapat @konigs-left-pec @dragonstoneshortcake @cum-tea-and-towels @scaleniusrm @cod-z @shadowydestinylover

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

theorizing

It's still early in the event, but I'm already trying to think about what Hot Topic Issue this year's Halloween event might tackle (assuming it follows the precedent set by GloMasq and Playful Land). Here's the theory I present to you: the conflict will be about escapism and where to draw that divide between fantasy and reality. Why do I think that? Because there are lots of parallels between our shiny new guy on the block, Skully, and us, Twst fans.

Book 7 presents a similar idea when Lilia and Malleus discuss the life cycle of Gao-Gao Drago-kun, how short it is, and how convenient it would be if the virtual pet could live forever in a fantasy world. In the same book, Yuu has finally found a potential route home... meaning an end to their story and their time in their current world. Read another way, it can be said that we, the Twst fans/players, are like Malleus, not wanting anything about our lives in Twisted Wonderland to change. We want to stay here among these characters we have come to love and grow close to, not return to our boring mundane lives in our original worlds... in reality. Likewise, similar points of comparison can be drawn between these themes and Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, even as early as part 1.

Now in this allegory, Skully represents us, the average Twst fans. Here's the parallels I noted:

Skully is notably a first year, which matches up with the grade level that Yuu (the player self-insert/POV character) is assigned to

Skully attends a school where his peers don’t understand him or his interests. This mimics the experience of some Twst fans, who may be misunderstood even within the anime fandom. How many times have people joked “Oh, you like the Disney dating sim?”/assumed that Twst is cringe? Can you talk to fans of traditional Disney about Twst? Twst may be somewhat niche in your immediate area. Chances are, you have to retreat to online avenues to find like-minded fans. In this way, Twst fans may feel isolated or not understood.

He does not like to talk about school because he doesn't have many people who understand him, perhaps due to his eccentricities. Again, this may not directly translate to all Twst fans, but rather it can be very relatable to those who lack social connections and seek to fulfill that through fandom or escaping into a fantasy world.

Skully is an otaku for Halloween. And what are we, as Twst fans, if not also otaku?

He looks mysterious but has excitable reactions. The behavior reminds me of someone who can be very sociable online or in special circumstances but might come off completely differently in real life or initially due to how their face looks and how they dress.

The strongest parallel, however, is the fact that he, like Yuu (again, the player self-insert character) ALSO gets isekai'd... into the world of The Nightmare Before Christmas. And what happens in this world that Skully gets isekai'd to? He... 1) meets lots of new people--people that don't know him in the "real" world, so he is free to act however he wants around them, maybe even befriend them, 2) gets to meet his Halloween idol, Jack-sama, 3) gets to be praised by his idol, and 4) (presumably) helps out his idol with putting together this year's Halloween. THESE LINE UP ALMOST EXACTLY WITH WHAT YUU DOES WHEN THEY'RE ISEKAI'D INTO TWISTED WONDERLAND... Yuu, who represents you, THE TWST FAN. You, as a Twst fan, 1) meet and potentially befriend these new characters (and maybe even explicitly made an OC to act however you like in your place as the one meeting these characters), 2) hone in on your favorite(s), 3/4) hyperfixate on the intimate voice lines and the moments you have with your favorite(s). It's total wish fulfillment for both Skully and the average Twst fan. In other words, Skully will get lost in living the fantasy that is literally being transported into the world of his Favorite Thing Ever, just like we, the Twst fans, escape to Twisted Wonderland. In the book/Twst, you can be yourself or whoever you want to be. But what happens when that peace and comfort is about to be taken away? Perhaps that's when Skully will snap 🤔 refusing to return to his old life, where he was awkward and misunderstood... wanting to stay in this endless Halloween night forever and ever. Maybe he even tries to prevent the NRC students from leaving too, since he has now formed a friendship (?) with them? Like, he's trying to keep them trapped in this fantasy of his (very Malleus-core of him, honestly). Then it would be up to us to try and knock some sense into Skully, reminding him that there are things in the "real" world to look forward to as well.

Looking back at previous Halloweens, the conflicts presented usually tie back to something relating to the Disney counterpart's own identities. For example, Frollo (in the stage version) lost his younger brother to sin and pinned the blame on an entire group of people. Rollo lost his younger brother to sin and now seeks to eliminate that sin (magic) from the world. Honest John and Gideon worked for a shady guy and lured away children, even though they themselves were terrified of what would become of those kids. Fellow and Gidel are similarly forced to do this dirty work because they are so impoverished they need the job, even if their boss disrespects them. I think my theory about what Skully's whole conflict will be could work from this angle too. The character he is twisted from, Jack Skellington, is known to be somewhat naive and an idealist. Jack pursues Christmas with all of his undead heart, sure that it will return the "spark" that Halloween has since lost. This could be reflected in Skully, our twisted!Jack, in his desire to pursue Halloween--or, more specifically, this novel world where his passion is reinforced and he has a place in it. He would be naive to the world he snubbed in favor of this new one, deeming this new world superior (like how Jack thought the "new" Christmas would enhance the "old" Halloween).

as3gro8yvq ;ngqemf; KJLBFIsIFSLFS ANYWAY, that's my game theory 🙂 Not sure if it'll actually be this, but figured I'd throw my guess out there since my previous "lmao Skully will kidnap Crowley" crack theory ended up being shot down...

[marlettpines]

This... fills in SO many gaps for me.

One time, my mom advised me to "only eat when I'm hungry."

I went without any food for three days before I felt 'hungry' enough to actually eat something.

For years I would look at posts and questionnaires about neurodivergence that takes about being so focused on something that you forgot to eat and be like, "Couldn't be me. Being hungry is so uncomfortable! Your stomach is growling and cramping? How do you ignore that?"

Then someone informed me that neurotypical people have a whole bunch of "hungry" sensations before they get to that point.....

[trashyshrew]

congrats on making it to the weekend!! after a long week i’m always in the mood for hurt/comfort, so maybe some hurt/comfort lawlight? feel free to disregard if this isn’t the vibe you’re looking for!

[marzipanandminutiae]

(also Help My Den of Angels Username Has “Suiseiseki” In It Because I Made The Account When I Was 14 And I’m Still Actively Collecting BJDs But No Longer Into Rozen Maiden To That Extent, And I Can’t Change It)

[littlefireball]

Please can you do a San x Reader period sex like f**k away the pain. Pretty pretty please. But she's a squirter and doesn't know it. Nor has she ever had sex on her period so she thinks he will be disgusted etc?

~🐶~

Okay!! Here you go😎

ᴄꜱ|ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴍ)

ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴀɴ x ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ (ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ||ꜱᴀɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.6ᴋ

Fk away the pain series

Masterlist

As a tool for political marriage, one cannot anticipate affection, nor should one expect genuine concern from a spouse. Were it not for the strategic interests binding the two nations, this man would be entirely irrelevant to your existence. His daily companions are hardly the epitome of refinement, and witnessing him engage in earnest labor is a rare occurrence.

More often than not, he is either indulging in drink or entangled with various women, showing little regard for the responsibilities of royalty. Externally, you are burdened with the fallout from his indiscretions, while internally, you grapple with an overwhelming array of duties.

When frustration envelops you, you often escape to the garden beneath the night sky, relishing the tranquil beauty of the deserted space. Although you initially sought solitude, you cannot seem to shake off San, your husband’s knight. His stern presence has become a point of annoyance for your spouse, prompting him to assign San to you. Initially, you were indifferent to his company, yet there are times when his unwavering attention feels a bit stifling.

"Your highness, you drink too much." San once more cautious you against excessive drinking, emphasizing its detrimental effects on your health.

"It's okay, San. I'm not drunk. See, the moon is beautiful." As you lean back, your head cradles in your hands, you admire the luminous moon, a soft breeze caressing your face as you swing. "Hey, San. Push me." "Yes, Your Highness." A resigned sigh escapes San's lips, for his only recourse is to comply with your wishes and ensure your safety.

The enchanting aroma that surrounds you captivates him, causing him to gulp nervously whenever he draws near. He's powerless to resist. You radiate beauty, courage, and intelligence, surpassing every girl he's encountered. As you lean your head against the headrest, your head brushes against San's stomach with every gentle pull of the swing. Oops, something bad pops up in his mind.

"Hey, San. Do you like someone?" Your words make him pause, hesitating for a moment before he resumes pushing the swing. "Your Highness, why do you suddenly bring this up?" As you open your eyes, you catch his anxious gaze. "It's time for you to think about marriage." "I…I'm…not ready for that." You raise an eyebrow and gently hold his face, which he tries to shy away from, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. "Or do you prefer boys? That boy named Wooyoung?" "No, no! I like girls!" He grips your hands tightly, his nerves overwhelming him, fearful that you might have misunderstood his intentions.

"Kidding." A playful smirk crosses your face, a rare pause in your hectic schedule, and he's completely enchanted. He might not remember the exact moment he fell for you, but one thing is clear: he will do everything for you, no matter what.

"So, you have feelings for someone?" He bites his lip and nods slightly. "Oh, that girl must be lucky. Who is she?" "Your Highness, do you really think she's lucky?" "Why do you ask?" "Because… she was forced into a marriage with a man who didn't love her, burdened with all the royal responsibilities that were never meant for her." You release your hold on his face, the realization dawning that he's speaking of someone you know all too well─yourself.

"Maybe you may think she's not lucky." Lowering your head, you clench your fist, stammer. "But…I think she's lucky because she has someone who likes her." Both of you fall into silence, only the sound of breathing can be heard. His face remains hidden from view, leaving you uncertain if your words are causing him any distress.

San, your devoted knight, holds a unique place in your heart. In moments of peril, he is always the first to shield you, to rescue you, and to reassure you of your safety. Unlike others who seem preoccupied with the life of your so-called husband, San's loyalty runs deeper.

Initially, you believed his actions stemmed solely from duty, yet they often blur the lines of propriety. Who else would allow a princess to rest her head on his shoulder, shedding tears into the night? Who would clasp her hand in a moment of vulnerability? He understands he should maintain distance, yet he finds himself unable to resist the pull of closeness.

"I…I wanna go back." Silence. "S…San?" As you pivot, he unexpectedly envelops your eyes with his large hand, leaning in to press his lips against yours. His warm breath lingers on your skin, mingling with his gentle caress, catching you completely off guard. Time seems to stand still; the distant chirping of birds and the gentle breeze fade away, leaving only the soft pop of his departure from your lips.

"I… I beg your pardon…" He withdraws his hand, avoiding your gaze. Words elude you, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming your senses. "N-nothing…" You stammer, the feelings swelling within you struggling to escape the tight confines of your throat, leaving you with only that single utterance. "Just go back." Your eyes meet his, filled with a profound disappointment, extinguishing the spark that once ignited within him.

"I shall summon the maid to escort Your Highness to your chamber. I deeply regret my actions." San turns away, leaving you in solitude upon the swing.

-------

Not long ago, an exquisite invitation graced your presence, beckoning you to a lavish dinner party hosted by the illustrious Kingdom of the Far West, in honor of the joyous arrival of the king and queen's precious baby girl. Should your rapport with the royal family be strong, attending this splendid affair would be a matter of course. However, the kingdom's secluded location presents a considerable journey, and while this is a minor inconvenience, the true challenge lies in the discomfort of your period pain.

"Goodness…" A sharp hiss escapes your lips as the agony in your stomach intensifies. The painkillers you've been relying on seem utterly ineffective now, as if they've lost their power over time. Perhaps your body has grown accustomed to their presence, rendering them useless in your battle against this relentless discomfort.

"Your Highness." The sound of a knock at the door draws your attention, and San's icy voice echoes in your mind. Ever since that fateful day, a chasm has formed between you, with him deliberately steering clear of you. You yearn to reach out and clarify things, but your hectic schedule keeps you from doing so. Frustration wells up inside you, and you can't help but loathe yourself for it.

True to form, he had the limousine door swung wide open, patiently waiting for you to slide into the seat. You stifled the unease bubbling inside and offered him a smile, yet he feigned ignorance, as if he hadn't noticed. Internally, you berated yourself for being so distant in your reaction. The truth was, you were at a loss for words at that moment. Despite the mutual affection between you, the differences in your identities loomed large, creating an undeniable barrier.

San sits across from you, deliberately averting his eyes or shutting them to escape your gaze. A yearning to engage him stirs within you, yet the weight of your anguish holds you captive. The constricting embrace of the seatbelt heightens your discomfort, prompting you to release it, hoping that San may not notice it.

"Kindly secure your seat belt, Your Highness." "Blast it," you mutter, prompting San to arch an eyebrow at your unexpected cursing. "It is for your protection, Your Highness." "I'm not feeling well, okay? I don't want to buckle it." Your sharp retort takes him by surprise, as it is uncommon to witness your ire, save for matters concerning your so-called husband or during your period.

"Would you care for some pain relief, Your Highness?" "It's useless." You sulk, a blend of annoyance and delight washing over you as he finally engages in conversation. "However, you insist on securing your seat belt first, despite its discomfort." "No way." You fold your arms defiantly, resembling a petulant child, prompting San to exhale deeply as he approaches you, the limousine stops.

"What are you doing?" "Assist you to fasten the seat belt, Your Highness." Just as his hands move toward the seat belt, the limousine starts up, causing his balance to falter and his entire form to lurch forward into you. His face falls into the crook of your neck with both of your chest pressing against each other, causing blushes creeping up your faces and something hard sinks between your thighs.

The moment he hits you hard makes you crave for more, wanting him to collide with you harder and deeper until you reach your limitations. You can't help but doubt if it is normal to be horny during your period.

"I apolo…" Just as he prepares to depart, you draw him into a fervent embrace, your breath a soft whisper against his ear. "Do you recall the vow you made when you pledged yourself as my knight?" "I would move mountains for you, come what may." Your fingers curl into a fist, the pressure of your nails biting into your skin, leaving crimson impressions on your palm. "Is that promise still binding today?" "The vow endures for eternity, Your Highness." "Then do me a favor."

You draw him into an ardent kiss, surrendering to the moment without hesitation. His eyes flash with astonishment, yet he swiftly gathers himself, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut. With a deft motion, he slips his hand beneath you, pivoting your form to nestle you upon his lap as he takes his place on the seat.

"I've loved you for so long." He whispers against your chest, placing a tender kiss before rising to lock eyes with you. You cradle his face, bestowing a delicate kiss upon his lips. "Me too. I'm sorry for that day." As your words resonate, tears glisten in his eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. Without hesitation, he closes the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that is both tender and fervent, his tongue dancing with yours, leaving a trail of warmth that drips down your chin.

You both part from each other, unbuckling San's belt to free his cock, latching back on each other to a passionate kiss. Gently tucking your hair behind your ears, his lips meet yours before moving down to your neck, inhaling his favourite scent while leaving a trail of red marks on that. "Others may see." "I want to show them." Giggled, you wrap your arms around his board shoulder and slightly lift up yourself to let him slide down your pants and underwear.

"I'm on my period…" "It doesn't matter cuz I love everything about you." He sucks on your collarbone after a tender kiss. "You are exaggerating." Smile at your light patting on his chest, he takes out a condom from his pocket and tears the package by his teeth. "You have it?" "Just be prepared for the unpredictable, just like now." His strong arms move to your thighs, pushing you up to aim at his arched member. "San…" You stop him by gripping his shoulder. "It's dirty…" "I said I love everything about you. It's okay, princess." Pulling you closer to him, you slowly sink down after he is wrapped up.

It is your first time. Everything is overwhelming once his hard tip thrust into your emptiness, rub against your wall deliciously. "Gosh…" Your head falls into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly. "It's okay, just take it slow." He murmurs, leaving a broken kiss on your neck as a comfort. Thanks to your blood, adjusting his huge size is not as difficult as you imagine. He starts to thrust upward as you grip his shoulder tightly, stopping each time for a while after another push.

"You're so deep." You struggle with your breath with an open mouth even if it is not intense at all. The period pain seemed to be hard for you to enjoy. "Let me help you, babe." His arm wraps around your small frame, laying you back against the seat without pulling out. "Is it better?" You respond with a nod as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, a warm smile gracing his face. One hand steadies himself on the seat while the other rests on your waist, sliding in and out at a steady pace. You tilt your head back, and he showers your skin with kisses, leaving a trail of marks that declare to the world that you belong to him.

"He doesn't deserve you." He confesses while continuing to roll his hips into you, making your back rub against the seat from his movement. "I wanna claim you as mine if I could. I won't let you down, won't let you do all the work." Guiding your palm to his lips, he gives peck on it while locking his eyes with you.

"It's enough if you're on my side." You respond. He claims you into a deep kiss while drawing his hips, shoving your spot as he pushes in. You let out a soft whimper and wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to slide deeper. The pain fades away and is replaced by endless pleasure. Both of your moaning become so loud but the driver can't hear anything because of the barrier between the driver and passenger.

"I'm so close." His thrusting becomes fast enough to ruin you, numbness runs throughout both of your bodies. He let out a low growl and bite on your neck, the pain and the pleasure push you over the edge. "San…san!I'm…oh my god.." You can't even form a complete sentence and his name is the only thing in your mind. Stomach tightened, something is about to burst out and you have no idea how to describe it. Only moaning and screaming can vest the overwhelming sensation.

"Oh fuck!" With a loud cursing, you squirt all and wet San's pants. "Oh my god, I am sorry." "Goodness, you squirted." He chuckles and his cock twitches from your warmth. "So close, babe." With a quick thrust, he finally cums in the condom and rests his forehead on yours, huffs. "Ride me next time." You pat his chest and giggle, slowly calm down from the excitement.

"Let's clean up." He helps you dress up and clean the seat to ensure there is no evidence left in the limousine, apart from his pants. "Hmm…maybe you can change?" "But my luggage is in another car. He caresses your head as a comfort. "It's okay, it will dry later on."

"Just…" He leans closer to rub against your chin with his thumb. "Tell me if you have to cum as I won't be gentle next time." You blink several times as if you can't believe what you heard.

"How can you say this without feeling shy?"

"Well." He grabs your chin so that you turn to face him.

"Isn't you to ask me to fuck you first?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But you said do you a favor."

"Shut up or I'll throw you out of the car." "Are you willing?" You pout as you know you never want.

"Kidding, cutie." He pecked on your lips, a dimple plays on his face as he smiles. "Even if you throw me out of the car, I'll find you and stick with you. You can't get rid of me."

"Is it a horror movie?" "No, no. It's a romantic movie." He cups your face as he leans in to kiss you. A soft moan escapes your lips, prompting him to deepen the kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours in a dance of desire.

At that moment, you just want the time to freeze.

[fivestoriesfallingg]

Gabe

[etheralisi]

I’m not planning on a third soon, but hey, who knows. Whenever inspiration strikes, right? Anyway, here’s part 2 of Rottmnt fake posting. 

Find part 1 here  and 3+3.5 here

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Yea the Earth is flat. What’s my proof you ask? Everything is flat.

#I keep trying to tell you all #It’s a 2D world and we’re all just living in it. #But do you listen? Nooooo

126 notes

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

YOU WILL HAVE MY BROWNIE RECIPE OVER MY DEAD BODY

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Then why don’t I have your recipe?

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

… I’M PAYING FOR YOUR THERAPY

13 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Do not teleport mid sneeze

It is not a good idea

Sincerely with regret, me

🌫️mistyme Follow

… okay???

🌼i-eat-plastic-flowers Follow

Tp in what game again?

63 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

2k into a Lou Jitsu Jupiter Jim crossover fic and I’m shutting the tab because he would not say that

I knew that summary was too good to be true

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Shocking. You read?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Look, it was a pod fic but still

372 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

HOT

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

SOUUUP

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

SOUUUUUUUUP!!!!!

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

CROSS BUNS

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

HOT SOOOUUUUPPPPPPPPPPP

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Someone misunderstood the assignment 

578 notes

thehibernator said: What happened to your Ghostbear sideblog?

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Red doesn’t like to talk about it 

#Nine times out of ten your heroes want to kill you #One out of ten and they turn out to be your dad #Yeah GB is still cool but it’s complicated 

56 notes

👥shadow-slunk Follow

Out of ten how drunk were you last night? Drunk enough to hallucinate a dancing bull in a suit next question 

8,965 notes

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Tried apple pie for the first time today

100/10

👺noomenisgood Follow

Where were you eating rats????

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

In the caves 

107 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Yes Atomic Lass I am single

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Can you not

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

No one asked you to be here

43 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Update: Purple has blocked me again

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Everyone spam his inbox in my absence. It’s what I would have wanted 

#revenge is a dish best served blue

22 notes

🐢daily-turtle-appreciation-blog Follow

I love turtles

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

And they love you ♡

695 notes

🦵kick-back Follow

If no one has ever seen the seven deadly vipers move in action, how do we even know it exists?

🚀jj-sails Follow

You take that back

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Oh it exits alright

#🤫

3,399 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Word on the street is that Purple Game 3 will be released soon.

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Purple no

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Purple yes.

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Have you learned nothing????

86 notes

wise-girl said: You’re a doctor?

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Yes. Here’s my PHD

532 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Does anyone have another good website for buying Lou Jitsu comics in print? Jitsujungle shut down and I still need to restock my collection 

15 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Daily reminder to double check your vehicle for stowaway wizards. They get everywhere

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

He lives with us now

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

He gives warm fuzzy hugs

481 notes

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Guess who got fired again

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Me

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

The kitchen is burning 

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Send help

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

The what is burning??!?!!

#you are banned #you hear me #banned #square up blue

60 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

DNI if you are a beach ball. This is a beach ball free zone. Any beach balls will be blocked on sight 

#not science posting #I may be hilarious but I am not joking

134 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

The second I get my hands on uranium it’s over for everyone

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

That’s the third time you’ve posted this this week. 

It’s Tuesday 

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

And it’s true. 

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

This is meant to convince us to let you have uranium how?

97 notes

📋klipt Follow

Wouldn’t it be sick if New York had its own real life super heroes? 

#I used to love reading Silver Sentry comics as a kid #please please tell me those lights are superheroes 

688 notes

🌰that-old-chestnut Follow

Since everyone is discussing superheroes lately, why don’t we bring this old gem back? Reblog this with your chosen superpower. Then someone else will reblog that with a terrible side effect

👑titanity Follow

I can teleport!

🍗are-you-chicken Follow

You have no control over where you’ll end up. Want to visit the Bahamas? Too bad, you’re in some back alley in New Jersey. Have fun

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

#blue

9,763 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Nooooo. My Duolingo streak

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

It’s over. It’s all over. The end of the world you could say

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Ah. Sorry.

10 notes

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Making a cat sculpture out of ice cream is fun in theory 

#my hands are cold cold cold #very bad idea #but if she’s not cold she will melt

207 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Thought I saw my sleep paralysis demon. Turns out it was purple trying to steal my blood.

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

On second thought, yeah. That’s my sleep paralysis demon.

341 notes

cheesecrust said: is @ bluejitsu really your brother?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Who?

#purplebox #though this is none of your concern

85 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

New York, what a town.

1,250 notes

[shenachigans]

LETTER | Signora/Rosalyne

PAIRING: Signora/Rosalyne x Gn!Fatuus!Reader

CW: angst no comfort, character d3aths (two people are implied to pass away), toxic relationship, reader and Signora are only flings, mentions of su!cide, mentions of smut but not explicitly, Scaramouch makes an appearance.

SUMMARY: You were nothing but a fleeting moment in the Fair Lady’s life, but a single letter caused a permanent scar in her heart, far worse than what Rostam left her. 

A/N: Ask me why I rewrote a fanfic from 2021 in 2023. It’s because I needed to get out of this damn thing called writer’s block <3 This original fanfic was inspired by a convo I had with Kuro about Signora’s death… :( It’s gender neutral but it was written with a female reader in mind. Her Majesty refers to the Tsaritsa and Rostam is Signora’s late lover btw.

WORDS: 2,413

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

Signora… Rosalyne, rather, is a woman who harbors negative emotions. Rostam’s death brought her so much grief, turning her into the misunderstood Crimson Witch. Love rendered Rosalyne miserable, and the burning fire in her heart was too powerful to extinguish. 

It was because of the Tsaritsa that made her who she is today, a cold Harbinger named Signora, the Fair Lady. She devoted herself to the Cyro Archon for vengeance so that she may let her lover rest once and for all. Everything she does is to honor him, and she will continue to do so until she meets him again. 

The power of liquid fire gave Signora a longer lifespan. It was useful for revenge, but it was dreadful when she longed for her lover. They have been apart for so many centuries. But amid her life, someone caught her attention.

You were but a simple Fatuus messenger who served the Sixth Harbinger Balladeer. It was rare for Harbingers to cross paths with one another, much less their servants, but Signora saw you — far more than she could remember. 

She observed you from afar out of pure interest. Perhaps she was bored. Perhaps she found you suspicious, for you were too naive and pure to work for an organization like this. But you were skilled in your field. Your talent juxtaposed your looks, she admits. And so she asked the Tsaritsa to place you in her division, deeming you would be more fit under her wing.

The Fair Lady wanted to keep you. 

The reason: unknown. 

The ambiguity of why Signora took you in soon disappeared. She found herself seeing a part of Rostam in your nature. It was more apparent when she learned of your feelings toward her. Just like Rostam, she would say, of course, not in your presence. She became infatuated with you over time. It wasn’t the same infatuation as your previous lovers, but you welcomed her with open arms. 

How could you deny the woman, who was clearly out of your league? 

When Inazuma closed its borders, your relationship as lovers became official, albeit a secret from the others, though everyone can sense a rather unusual intimate atmosphere between you two. 

You two weren’t like others, not because you were in a relationship with your superior, but because she was indifferent and sought your affection, not you. It may be because of her past — that you didn’t know of — but you pushed the heavy feelings aside as you were grateful to have the privilege to call Signora yours. 

You did everything you could to make her feel loved, and Signora felt like her old self, the young maiden from Mondstadt, Rosalyne: the young woman who was in love with a knight named Rostam. But your time together was fleeting.

The demise of your relationship started when she was assigned to collect the Gnoses per the Tsaritsa’s command. You two became equally busy. Signora became more distant and tense, too focused on the mission as if she had been waiting for this moment. She has, but you didn’t know why. 

Other Fatuus turned their backs on you upon learning your relationship with the Harbinger. It was understandable, but you didn’t receive special treatment. You worked harder than everyone else, and Signora was harsher toward you, pinning every mistake your peers committed. 

Thoughts filled your head, wondering if your relationship with Signora was normal for lovers. All she does is take, take, and take, but not once has she given you the same affection. You tried to understand her, but you were hurting yourself. Even so, you still loved her, because love comes with pain, does it not? Surely, this is only a bumpy road in your relationship.

You were wrong. You knew your relationship was over when Signora requested Her Majesty to place you back in Balladeer’s unit. She didn’t say anything, but her actions told you of her intentions. It hurt how cold she was to you that day as if you weren’t the person she shared her bed with, entangled in each other’s bodies. She acted like your time together meant nothing to her.

As you readjusted to being under Balladeer’s command, not once have you seen Signora. You knew she didn’t want to see you anymore, but your heart did not waver, rather, your heart ached from not seeing her. You were holding onto false hope — hoping she was only distant to remain professional, but you knew she was too busy, or did not bother, to officialize your parting. 

Everything you did was for her, just as everything Signora did was for Rostam. You realized you knew nothing of her past, save for having a lover. You did not know him, what their story was, and how they parted. But you saw longing and love in Signora’s eyes. 

There were times when Signora looked at you with an unrecognizable gaze. Only now did you learn what it was. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing you were just someone to fill the hole in her heart, the hole Rostam left. She didn’t love you like you loved her. It hurt so much. But you were meant to be utilized, for you were a tool. A tool has various purposes. Signora merely took advantage of your love to fulfill her needs. 

It was hard to accept, but you tried to, for this was reality. After all, the Fair Lady gave you, a mere Fatuus, an opportunity to become part of her private life. A Harbinger cannot be romantically involved with an underling. Although you can no longer call her yours, it was a privilege you had, and you will forever cherish your time together, because everything you do is for her, regardless of what she saw you as. You were only flings, but your feelings for her will remain eternal.

You just hope she will remember you, even when you no longer live… 

.

.

.

“What uselessness. Your lover, rather, ex-lover, tried to attack the blonde due to some personal grudge. My plans would’ve gone smoothly if not for their interruption,” Scaramouche grumbled, crossing his arms with a petty scoff. “It wasn’t even a big injury; they bled to death. Her Majesty would’ve had them disposed of were they to survive anyway.” 

Signora was too engrossed in your state to process his words as horrified eyes gazed at your lifeless body before her. Cuts and bruises decorated your skin, and the shine in your eyes was now dull. She had realized you were dead. But somehow, you looked more at peace, as though she could see you smiling at her with glimmering eyes. She felt her heart sink from the thought.

“I could’ve left them where they were, so you owe me, Signora. Alas, you better not linger for too long, you have yet to meet the Shogun,” are the words the puppet told her before swinging the sliding the shoji doors and disappearing to who-knows-where.

It was a déjà vu, a familiar feeling, yet it was different. Signora’s feelings didn’t make sense. You were nothing but a fleeting moment in her life, but the impact you had on her was great. You passed away fighting someone, like Rostam when he fought in the war and lost his life. Only this time, there was a corpse presented before her.

Signora didn’t know how long she towered over your body and bore into your soulless eyes, but it must’ve been a while for salty tears pooled on the bloody tatami mat. And so she fell on her knees as her sobs grew louder. Trembling fingers carefully mounted your head on her chest, cradling you like a newborn child. The growing pool of blood tainted everything around you, including Signora’s precious dress.

Your body was losing warmth each second, and she was desperately holding onto everything that was left. Signora received everything you had. She wishes you keep your warmth. You can’t throw it away like some fool, but she knew it was too late. Your fingertips were as cold as her delusion’s powers. 

The last time she cried, tears of amber rolled down her cheeks, turning her into the Crimson Witch as liquid fire consumed her. But here she was, weeping salty tears like a human being. Does a part of her humanity still linger within her? Was this your doing? It was a bittersweet feeling, she admits. But she remembers you’re no longer with her. Your bright soul is gone because of her.

“You fool! I… I couldn’t even say goodbye…”

The woman you gave your heart to let her walls down as she grieved, her heart tightening from the pain. 

But didn’t she use you? Why would she grieve for a pawn she used? She couldn’t possibly have the right to mourn for you when your death is the consequence of her actions, her indifference. 

Signora hugs you close as she rocks on her knees like a mother hushing her crying child. But she was crying, and you were hushed, still and cold, stinging her skin. Only your blood remained warm, but it was soon drying up, becoming as cold as you, further bringing pain to her heart.

Is this Celestia’s punishment for going against the heavenly principles? Must her life be full of woe? 

Signora’s sobs resonated around the room, grief apparent in her cries, hugging you tighter and tighter, refusing to let you go until her fingers brushed against a tattered letter from your coat’s pocket. Tears soaked her attire to clear her vision and grab the letter. 

Her stomach churned as she saw to whom it was for. It was for her. 

Dear Signora,

I never got to know your real name, My Lady. I didn’t want to pry by asking, but your name must be beautiful. It’s a shame, really. I would’ve loved for your name to fall from my lips. It would’ve been intimate of us, don’t you think? Alas, we weren’t meant to be. I understand you have your reasons for being distant and for using me. It was painful — for the woman I love does not reciprocate my feelings — but I hold no grudge, nor regret giving my life to you. I’m honored to have been able to give you my love. I will forever cherish the fleeting moments we shared. 

I’m writing you this letter to officialize the goodbye we never had. The moment I was brought back to my unit, I knew we were over, but I hoped you would come back for me. It was a foolish thought, I know, but it’s funny now that I think about it. I really am in love. And I keep hoping for something impossible because my feelings are strong for you, My Lady. Please don’t feel burdened. I say this because, as much as you try to hide it, and it may be presumptuous of me, but you care. You may not love me, but I can feel your caringness toward me. I’m grateful. I truly am.

Now, if ever you read this letter, it means I’m no longer alive. I made sure of it. It would be a miracle if you even found this letter. Please don’t misunderstand the situation. I wavered a duel with the traveler for a reason. Even if I came back unscathed, which would be another miracle, my life would be terminated by Her Majesty for my disobedience. I don’t dare to take my own life. Frankly, I wish to say I’m tired, My Lady. I simply do not find joy in being alive anymore and wish to rest. I’ve been planning for this moment for a long time, even before I met you, so please don’t blame yourself for my death. I admire how you still have that will within you. The reason must be to avenge someone you loved, no? I apologize for doing some background work on your history, albeit not finding much, but I wanted to know more about you. 

I hope you succeed, My Lady. I wish for you to lay off your burdens and find peace. I want to thank you for making my life bloom with color before I left. Therefore, I have no regrets in life. Although without your permission, allow me to say I love you. I may have never said these words in front of you, and have been contemplating whether or not to say them, but I was too late to decide. Thus, I end my letter with my declaration of love and parting.

I love you so much, My Fair Lady.

— Your former Fatuus underling.

The letter fell from her grasp as she drowned in grief, the ink drowning in her tears, rendering the paragraphs illegible. Was she so distant that you dared not sign your letter intimately? You even addressed her formally, as if it was a report. Why did you stay with someone like her? She knew why, but she refused to acknowledge it. You loved her so much that you put yourself and your pain aside to please her and let yourself get used.

Signora cups your face, gently pressing her warm lips against your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, until your cold lips meet with hers. How your lips cuddled against hers, oh so perfectly. Only now did she realize how warm your kisses were, how you would smile and blush, even if it was a quick peck. Those kisses were your kisses, they weren’t Rostam’s.

She was responsible for your death, Signora assures. You may have been planning it for a long time, but her ignorance caused the last blow. Had she not exploited you, you might've still been breathing, and happy with someone who deserves you, someone who would devote their life to you, someone who would love you as you loved her. You were the flower she poisoned and left to wither due to her actions…

Signora truly did not deserve someone like you.

“My name is Rosalyne. Please say it, my name. Please speak, please…”

A blood-chilling cry of grief filled the room when you remained silent, unable to utter the name you yearned to say. You were gone, truly gone. She killed you.

Rosalyne didn’t choose you because you were an image of Rostam. She chose you because you made her feel human. But she was blinded, not realizing the truth behind her emotions.

.

.

.

“Rosalyne!”

It wasn’t you; it was Rostam.

A/N: For those confused with the ending, Signora follows canon events, which means she's...

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.