#i mean its natural for people to drift but Still

[foggysilverfeathers]

Everyone on Hermitcraft knows redstone dust is unbelievably incredible. Everyone on Hermitcraft know redstone is unbelievably dangerous.

Sure, it’s behind every fake decorative door and the key to making a base really shine, but they’re careful. They know the risks. Xisuma is so paranoid that he never takes his mask off, even when it’s safe. Tango makes sure to never have exposed redstone wires, and keeps any open lines tucked away in a closed-off sterile area. Even Impulse has started wearing a respirator.

But Mumbo?

Mumbo’s a special case.

(Sure, inhaling it is akin to inhaling slightly toxic dust, but that’s never stopped him! Everyone else is just being dramatic. And it’s not like anybody has ever died from it, either!)

(Not yet, anyway.)

(And sure, his hair is a bit greyer than the last time he checked, but that’s natural! People age! Salt and pepper hair looks good on him, anyway! He isn’t bothered!)

(Sometimes, it scares him. The lengths he’ll go.)

(It whispered to him yesterday. It told him to kill Gem.)

(Kill the Constellation.)

(That’s what it had said. But Mumbo had somehow instinctively understood, and had killed her.)

(Of course, she respawned. A bit surprised, and a bit wary at his newfound strength and almost inhuman speed, but unharmed.)

(After all, she had a bed. He hadn’t gone as far as break that. Part of him had still known that would have been a bad idea.)

(He’d avoided redstone after that. It was angry with him for disobeying It, after all, but even from a distance he felt It. Red dust swirled in his veins and his breaths came in short bursts. Despite everything, he found himself going back.)

(He couldn’t help himself. It was like that deadly exposure was a drug, and he was fully under its power.)

It didn’t hesitate, and soon that strangely comforting creaking whisper came from the darkness.

Kill the Sun.

“You mean Grian?” Again, part of him flinched at how he instinctively knew who It referred to, but that part was soon washed away. It felt good talking to it. The glow of it ebbed and flowed, pulsing in time to his heartbeat.

The dust was shifted slightly by a nonexistent wind, than settled again. Mumbo tasted metal and blood at the back of his throat.

Yes. G-r-i-a-n. He sees too much.

It flickered again, and Mumbo felt one hand drift forward to touch it. He didn’t really know why, but part of him wanted to.

He ẇ̵̫̹a̷̜̺̮̾̾͆̒̌̓ţ̵̮̖̙̲͖̬̓c̷͈̽̔h̵̠̚̚e̴̮͙̝͋͛̏̒̈́͘s̴͓̼͚͍̹̈́͛͠��.

[mangostarjam]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT I sent this to one other person and I feel like maybe you’d also vibe with this but PLEASE DONT FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO RESPOND OR WRITE ABOUT THIS I JUST LIKE SHARING THOUGHTS

So like Hoshina is lowkey possessive(not like scary kind but the kind where it’s like “hey that’s my gf wtf”) and lets say his s/o is a platoon leader and people have noticed that she has a bite scar where her neck and shoulder meet(maybe one of the rookies likes her oooooh 👀) and there’s rumors and NO ONE KNOWS HOSHINA HAS A MATCHING BITE SCAR ON HIS NAPE BECAUSE ITS ALWAYS COVERED BY HIS COMPRESSION SHIRT(and then Kafka notices in the bath ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE VICE CAPTAIN IS MARRIED) AND JOKES ON EVERYBODY BECAUSE HIS WIFE IS ALSO POSSESSIVE(or maybe she got fed up with his shit once and bit him back lol)

OKAY ANYWAYS I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME PLEASE MAKE SURE TO REST AND DRINK WATER BYE

-🐌

bless you snail anon i was ignoring some hardcore writer's block and this jump started something in my brain

bathtime revelations — hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established (secret) relationship, reader is a platoon leader, some minor narumi slander (sorry buddy. love that loser but it had to be done), biting, marking, possessiveness, uhhhh hickeys, edging?? nothing descriptive though sorry not today, 1.7k words

"Did you get attacked by a kaiju there, platoon leader? That's a strange looking scar."

The remark is innocent enough. You've been a member of the Defense Force for ages, and it's only natural to have numerous scars and aching bones from all the missions and kaiju neutralizing. Especially since you're a platoon leader of the Third Division, and you've leapt into the thick of things time and again to help Captain Ashiro get the best possible angle for her killing shots.

It would be fine, except the scar in question is a neat ring of teeth marks at the juncture between your shoulder and neck, where you're sensitive.

"Oh... no, that's not. Um." Shit. You've taken some of the Vice Captain's newest officers for an afternoon training session, and they're all looking at you now as you fumble for an explanation that doesn't expose your relationship. "I didn't get attacked by a kaiju, don't worry."

"Eh?? But that looks like a bite mark, platoon leader!" Iharu's voice is loud. You frown at him.

"It wasn't a kaiju," you say firmly. That much, at least, is the truth. "Anyway, if you guys wanna stay alive with just as many battle scars as me, go run some laps!"

Whew. There's a murmuring grumble, but everyone obeys orders. The summer heat and humidity wears you out quickly, and in an effort to combat the drain, you've stripped down to a tank top and your uniform pants. The bite mark in question feels like a brand on your skin, a ring of slightly raised flesh that should blend in with your other scars except for the clear circle it makes. You watch the rookies run, but your mind drifts, thinking back to when you got that set of teeth marks on your skin. Your body warms at the memory. Stupid boyfriend with his stupidly sharp canines.

You snap back to attention as Kikoru and Reno jog past, their words floating towards you on the breeze —

"—looks like maybe human?"

"Definitely not kaiju. You think the platoon leader's still with the person who marked her?"

"Oh, we can't ask that. Hibino senpai will be devastated."

Oh, jeez. There's no way you can let your boyfriend hear anything about this —

"How's it goin', platoon leader?"

Shit. You turn to the Vice Captain of the Third Division and frown. "What're you doing here?"

Hoshina Soshiro smirks at you, taking the tiniest step closer into what most people would consider to be personal space. "Just checkin' on my lil' fledglings! They've still got breath to gossip, eh? Are ya lettin' 'em off easy today, platoon leader?"

"I was letting them run off some energy so they'd forget about this bite mark on my neck, you vampire," you mumble. Soshiro laughs, leaning just a bit towards you. The afternoon sun glints off his purple hair in sparkles that dazzle your eyes, though it's easy to get pulled into his orbit when he's so magnetizing. You catch yourself and bring your outstretched hand up to your face, rubbing at your nose instead of sinking your fingers into the fluffy strands like you intended.

"Sounds like someone's got a lil' crush on our fearsome platoon leader," Soshiro says quietly, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Not that I blame 'em since it's you we're talkin' about. Still, it'd be good to send a message, y'know? Should I refresh your marks tonight?"

Your face feels hot. "'Marks?' But only one of them is visible when I'm in uniform!"

"What about the bath? We should give Shinomiya somethin' to report, don'tcha think?" His low voice sends a shiver down your spine and you frown to hide how much it's affecting you. Your boyfriend tilts his head. "Fresh marks'll show 'em all you belong to me."

Something hot and sharp lances through you and you bite at your lip to hold in a whine at the words. "That won't work," your voice is breathier than you'd like, but Soshiro is watching you like he wants to eat you alive and it's thrilling and terrifying and not enough. "They won't know it's you unless we match."

He raises an eyebrow at that, but the corner of his lips twitch as he fights down a grin. "Good point, platoon leader. We should discuss this in my office later."

"You're a menace."

Soshiro's smile softens into something fond and he takes another tiny step closer, until the fabric of his jacket brushes against your bare shoulder. You inhale his scent — bright, woodsy, something intrinsically Hoshina Soshiro — and all of your muscles relax. "And you're too dang cute for your own good, my love. See ya later?"

You nod and salute as he walks away, biting down a silly grin as you watch him call out encouragements and teases to his rookies. They all respond with good cheer and an edge of fierce determination, and once Soshiro fully exits the training area you allow yourself to return to the task at hand. You know, possibly more than anyone else on base, how hard Soshiro works to take care of his officers. You aren't going to let him down.

... but maybe you'll die of embarrassment first.

"Platoon leader! Did you spar after our training session? I would've liked to join!" Kikoru says, coming closer eagerly as you begin washing up in the communal bath. Your hand slips along your leg as you jerk up in surprise and Kikoru visibly falters as she takes in your bruises.

"This was a... private session, Shinomiya. I'd be happy to spar with you another time, though." Your entire body is warm, and not from the steam wafting through the echoing room.

"Aah, yes, of course! Sorry to disturb you, platoon leader!"

You resume your scrubbing with a quiet snort, listening as her footsteps return to the corner where Akari and Hakua are clearly ready to pounce. The girls probably don't realize how much sound travels in the bath, but you can hear their hushed whispers and giggling as Kikoru reports back that you're covered in hickeys.

You press down on a few of the blossoming bruises between your thighs and snort again. There's no way these could pass as training bruises — they're too intentional, too close to your aching center where Soshiro paid special attention earlier in his office — without letting you reach your peak. Bastard.

He made sure to leave marks along your chest and neck and shoulders again, taking advantage of your tank top for its easy access to your skin. Only after begging and pleading did he finally remove his stupidly tight compression shirt for you to drag your nails down his back and shoulders, fingers fisting into his hair as he licked and sucked at your core. After he ripped away your orgasm, you made good on your promise and left your own marks on his skin, kissing and sucking along the strong column of his throat and shoulders and pumping him with your hand until he nearly came on your thighs. Two could play at that game, after all.

Your ears perk as you catch your boyfriend's name. "Vice Captain Hoshina says I'm improving rapidly," Kikoru says cheerfully, tossing her head back. She certainly has the right to boast — her combat power levels just keep rising. She's going to make both of you proud. "Someday I will beat him in a practice match!"

"I'd like him to spar with me," another officer giggles. "Have you seen his back? Defense Force men are really no joke."

You bristle automatically. You're used to it by now — Soshiro's hot — but it doesn't make it any easier to hear confirmation of the fact out loud. "What about Captain Narumi? He's got really nice arms!" another officer says.

"You mean Captain Ego?" The communal bath fills with laughter as the girls gossip. "He's good looking, too, but Vice Captain Hoshina in that shirt..."

You're done bathing and changing into your nighttime clothes when a loud commotion from the other communal bath erupts. You share a look with a few of the girls, but you take your time pulling on your clothes (Soshiro's shirt, your shorts, your panties mysteriously missing — though you're sure you'll find them safely tucked into Soshiro's own sleeping pants pocket later).

You come out of the changing room and blink. "Vice Captain, how could you?!" Kafka is wailing dramatically. "You've already beat me by taking my spot by Mina's side, but you're beating me in having a girlfriend, too?!"

"Hang on a sec, old timer! You've already got the 'childhood friend promise' with the Captain!" Iharu shouts. "Leave something for the rest of us!"

"My, my, what a fuss," Soshiro says, waving his fingers. You blink, but the vision before you doesn't change. Most of the men are shirtless, towels wrapped around their waists as they spill out into the hallway in their chaos, and Soshiro is no exception. You can clearly see the raised pink lines your nails left behind on his densely muscled back, even with the small clump of officers between you. "We're all gonna catch a cold standin' out here like this."

"Those bruises on his neck... they look... fresh..." Reno says, his bright gaze darting between his Vice Captain and your exposed neck. Belatedly, you swing a towel around your shoulders, but Reno's eyes widen and you groan inwardly. "The platoon leader has fresh bruises, too."

Soshiro turns and your eyes snag on the blossoming pink and purple along his neck and shoulders. A quiet satisfaction settles in your gut at the sight, and you can't help but grin. "Keep that up, Officer Ichikawa, and you'll end up getting snagged for the Investigations Unit."

"They look good on her, don't they?" Soshiro hums, raising an eyebrow as the officers put two and two together. He meets your eye from across the small group and smirks. "Ain't it nice, platoon leader? Matchin' with the Vice Captain?"

Your answering smile makes his face light up with a deep fondness. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[flowersdiceandlove]

I’m a subscriber of the Luo Binghe has curly/wavy hair and Bingge straitens it bc it’s not the cultural beauty standard and it makes him feel inadequate whereas Bingmei keeps it curly/wavy bc when he was a teen, Shen Qingqiu-Yuan expressed a like for it so he’s comfortable with it even if it’s not the societal standard. In this vein I want to see a Binggeyuan fic where Shen Yuan gets transmigrated as just Some Guy and catches the attention of Bingge (because of course he does. It’s Shen Yuan) and in one of their encounters where Shen Yuan is driving Bingge just a bit insane with his brand of both obliviousness and all-knowingness, Bingge’s hair gets wet due to something Shen Yuan did. Luo Bingge is pissed at getting soaked and glares at Shen Yuan while simultaneously pushing his hair out of his face and drying it with cultivation magic gearing up to bite into Shen Yuan about getting him wet when Shen Yuan gasps and stares at him in awe. Bingge was so caught up in his anger that when he was drying his hair, he forgot to also redo the spell that keeps his hair straight so it’s reverted to it’s natural curly/wavy state. Just as the self-consciousness that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen and being bullied for his hair Qing Jing Peak is setting in, Shen Yuan surprises Bingge once again by making an aborted movement forward and muttering a “beautiful” under his breath. Bingge, with his enhanced hearing, hears it and pauses in his hastily conjured hair straightening spell, stunned. Never in all his many, many years has anyone called his natural hair “beautiful.” (Not that he really lets people even see it like this. Only a very few have seen his hair in it’s natural state.) And Shen Yuan looks so sincere too.

A deep blush starts to rise on Bingge’s cheeks. It is (unfortunately in Bingge’s opinion) something Bingge is getting very acquainted with in Shen Yuan’s presence. It is something that has only happens when Shen Yuan says something absolutely absurd and what should only be said in a groveling type of flattery as if it is just a truth of the universe and completely true. He has not blushed this much since he was a virgin over 200 years ago!! And even then it wasn’t this bad!

Bingge then stutters (actually stutters because by this point, Shen Yuan has already gotten to him even if he’s still in denial) a reply feeling far more flustered than he thinks he has any right to be.

Then Shen Yuan has the gall to say “Ah! Sorry! I forgot. You’re self-conscious about your hair. Do you want me to turn around while you straighten it again?” with wide, caring, and achingly sincere eyes and his face completely open, only wanting Bingge to feel comfortable after suddenly having an insecurity (which he really shouldn’t know about but somehow does, and Bingge will later add it to the list he’s keeping of such instances when he can think properly again) exposed.

Bingge is so stunned by this that he’s unable to respond and so Shen Yuan continues, “…Actually…It’s really nice like this. I mean, of course, it is. It’s you after all. You’d look good with anything. But like this it looks even more lustrous than usual. Like your hair always is so nice, but like this it catches the light more which adds to its dimension… it’s like something out of a shampoo commercial… I wish I had hair this nice. Mine is so flat and dull looking. Just leave it to you to have the best hair ever. It’s so fluffy… like a sheep… Oh! And it’s so soft too! Like a cloud!” Yes he drifted forward and started petting Bingge’s hair without thinking, too caught up in his admiration of it. Bingge is still too stunned to react and is just watching as one of his biggest insecurities is being dismantled by this random guy he found one day who knows far too much and might actually be a god or something considering the extent of his knowledge, how flippant he is about it, and the weird things he says sometimes (what even is a “shampoo commercial?”).

Bingge eventually gets enough thought back in his pretty, flustered, gay head and flees. Very gracefully he would like to be known. Very befitting of Emperor of the Three Realms.

Very.

Very.

Shen Yuan is left to just stand there and wonder if he finally pissed Bingge off so bad that he’s going to get killed soon. Bingge’s face was very red and he seemed so mad that he couldn’t even speak properly in Shen Yuan’s opinion. After thinking it over for a minute he shrugs and thinks it’s fine. At this point, Shen Yuan is pretty sure that Bingge won’t kill him unless he does something truly outrageous and unforgivable. And while petting the (very soft and fluffy) hair of The Luo Bingge, Emperor of the Three Realms, without permission could be considered highly outrageous, it is not actually the most outrageous thing Shen Yuan has done to the man and lived to tell the tale. Not that he’s going to actually tell people about it. He’s not trying to push Bingge’s buttons and get himself killed.

Shen Yuan just shrugs the encounter off as he does so many others, but does file away the memory of how soft, fluffy, beautiful, and just incredible Bingge’s natural hair is.

Bingge is unable to sleep that night, his mind constantly replaying Shen Yuan’s awe and sincerity over one of his greatest insecurities. Not for the first time since meeting Shen Yuan does he feel cracked open and exposed, yet also somehow safe and warm and like he might cry his eyes out but in a good way.

[voxslays]

FOR A FORTNIGHT

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, Alastor and reader have been friends for a year, having built a strong connection. One day, Alastor asks Reader to accompany him on one of his errands, where he spills his darkest secret…and some blood.

You and Alastor were neighbors, having lived next to each other for almost a year. He was a popular radio host in the area, who always said goodmorning and goodnight to you when coming home from work. You had invited eachother over for dinner countless times. He knew your home almost as well as you did by how much time you spent together. It wasn’t long before you had noticed that you had grown to care for Alastor. How could you not? He was charming and charismatic. He was gorgeous, with his dark hazel eyes, olive skin, and dark curly hair. He spoke french; one of your favorite languages, and had even started to teach you some! You cared for Alastor. Deeply.

It was a friday afternoon. You and Alastor were sitting on his porch, discussing the recent murders and disappearances of men in New Orleans. Alastor leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he listens to your concerns. He takes a slow sip of his own tea, his gaze never leaving yours. “Ah, the state of our New Orleans, you say?” He sets his teacup down, his expression turning thoughtful. “I mean…the bayou butcher is still running loose.” You say, taking a sip from one of the beautifully painted china teacups. Alastor's immutable grin darkens slightly at the mention of the famed serial killer. He steeples his fingers beneath his chin, his eyes glinting with a cold intensity. "A problem that has persisted far too long, wouldn't you say, dear?"

And for a fortnight there, we were forever~

“How have the police not caught the perpetrator?” You ask. Alastor's smile grows wider, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light as he reveals his true identity. "Ah, the police? They are blind to the truth, chéri. They think they're hunting a monster, but they have no idea the true nature of the beast they seek." You look at him in disbelief. “What do you mean?” He takes a sip of his black tea, before putting it back down onto the plate. Leaning forward, Alastor's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "The bayou butcher is not some mindless killer, my dear. Every person he has killed had it coming. They were all terrible people."

You go silent for a moment, contemplating his words, before speaking again. “It doesn’t matter. People are still dead.” ​​Alastor's smile returns, but this time it's laced with a hint of sadness. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, cher. They deserved what they got, and in a way, the city is better off without them, mon coeur.” You look into his gorgeous hazel eyes, trying to search his face, before continuing. “Maybe so, but murder is still murder.” Alastor chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with a cold, unyielding light. "You're too naive, cher. The world isn't black and white. Sometimes, justice needs a helping hand...or a bloody knife." He leans back, his gaze never leaving yours.

Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather~

“I know that! That’s exactly why murder is never okay! These people could have changed or gone to prison if necessary! But they didn't need to die!” Alastor's face darkens. His smile twitching as a flash of anger passes over his features before he regains his composure. He leans forward, his voice low and menacing. "You think you understand, but you don't. You haven't seen the depths of human cruelty that I have." Alastor's eyes narrow as he studies your face, searching for any hint of understanding or agreement. After a long, tense moment, he leans back, his smile returning but lacking its usual warmth. "You're so pure and righteous."

Alastor chuckles softly, but there's no real amusement in the sound. "It's admirable, truly. But in this world, such naivety can be dangerous." His gaze drifts to the window, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “It’s getting late. You should run home.” You get up, and place your teacup back on its saucer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alastor.” You walk home, and get ready for bed. You contemplate Alastor’s words. Why was he on the killer’s side? As you drift off to sleep, you're unaware of the figure watching you from the shadows outside your window. It's Alastor, standing motionless in the darkness, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form. "Such a pure soul.”

Now you’re at my mailbox, turned into good neighbors~

The next morning, after getting dressed and cooking yourself some eggs and bacon, you walk outside to your mailbox. As you reach for your mail, a gloved hand suddenly appears, plucking a letter from the pile. You turn to see Alastor standing beside you, his smile as charming as ever. "Good morning, cher. I hope you slept well." He holds up the letter. You smile up at him. “Morning.” Alastor's eyes flicker to the letter, then back to your face. He tucks the letter into his pocket and extends his hand to you. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a little errand today, dear?"

My husband is cheating, I wanna kill him~

“And what would this errand be, Mr. Heartfelt?” Alastor's smile widens, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Oh, just a little matter that requires my...particular set of skills. And I thought it would be nice to have some company." He bows slightly, his gloved hand still extended. You take his hand and walk with him. As you stroll through the city, Alastor keeps up a steady stream of charming banter, his accent thick as syrup as he regales you with tales of New Orleans' history. But you can sense that something's off, that he's tenser than usual. 

Eventually, you arrive at an old, dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Alastor's expression darkens as he gazes up at the peeling paint and boarded-up windows. "Here we are, cher," he says softly. “Why are we here?” You ask as a wave of dread washes over you. Alastor turns to you, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Let's just say this place holds some... unpleasant memories for me. Memories tied to the Bayou Butcher." He squeezes your hand almost painfully. "I need to settle an old score, dear." You gasp. “What!?” Alastor releases your hand and strides toward the warehouse doors, beckoning for you to follow. He produces a set of lockpicks from his pocket and gets to work.

I love you, its ruining my life~

As Alastor opens the front door of the old rundown warehouse, you see a man tied to a chair, blindfolded, in the middle of the room. Alastor steps inside, his eyes fixed on the man in the chair. He turns to you with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Well, well. Looks like our friend is already here waiting for us." He saunters over to the man and rips off his blindfold. “Oh my god!” You gasp, horrified. The man in the chair is none other than Detective Jameson, the one who's been investigating the Bayou Butcher's murders. He stares up at Alastor with a mixture of fear and recognition. "Heartfelt...you can't be serious," Jameson stammers.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this." Alastor paces around Jameson, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching. “Don’t hurt him!” You scream as Alastor punches him in the gut. Alastor pauses, looking back at you with a twisted smile. "Oh, mon amour, you're so precious when you're worried about someone else." He turns back to Jameson and pulls out a knife. "Now, let's talk about the Bayou Butcher, shall we?" Jameson tries to speak, but Alastor cuts him off by pressing the knife against his throat. "You think you're so smart, don't you, detective? Thinking you can outwit me and bring me to prison." Alastor's voice is cold, menacing. I love you, It’s ruining my life~

“What are you talking about?” You ask anxiously. Alastor's eyes flick to you briefly before returning to Jameson's terrified face. "Our dear detective here thinks he's solved the case. He thinks I am the Bayou Butcher." Alastor laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the empty house. “He’s right.” You feel a wave of uneasiness wash over you, almost like you're going to throw up. “You. All this time? I trusted you!” You yell, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with a madman's excitement. "Of course, ma chéri. Who better to trust than your own neighbor, your own friend?" He leans in closer to Jameson, the knife pressing harder against his throat. 

You slowly back towards the exit of the abandoned warehouse. Alastor's gaze flicks to you, and he calls out, "Now, now, ma chéri, don't go rushing off. The fun's just about to begin." You freeze as his attention returns to Jameson, who's breathing heavily, eyes darting between Alastor and you. You know this is your chance. You reach the door and turn to run, but Alastor is too fast. He grabs you by the arm and spins you back around, his other hand holding the knife to Jameson's throat. "Not so fast, mon coeur. You're going to watch this little reunion." Alastor's gaze is cold, unyielding as he looks at you. "You see, detective, you were close, but you never quite figured it out. And now, it's time for you to pay the price for your meddling." He looks back at Jameson. I touched you for only a fortnight~

You can feel your eyes begin to tear up as you silently cry. Not for yourself, but for everyone Alastor has killed. Especially the detective, who’s only crime was trying to stop him. Alastor notices your tears and his expression softens slightly, almost tenderly. "Ah, ma belle, don't cry for him. He brought this upon himself." He turns back to Jameson, the knife now resting against the detective's chest. "Last words, detective?" Jameson glares at Alastor, his face contorted with hatred and defiance. "You're...you're going to pay for this, Heartfelt. Even if it's the last thing I do..." His voice trails off as Alastor drives the knife into his chest. Your silent tears run down your rosy cheeks, as a feeling of helplessness sinks in.

Alastor wipes the bloody knife on Jameson's shirt, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He turns to you, his expression gentle, almost loving. "Now, cher, where were we?" He steps closer, reaching out to touch your face. “Don’t touch me.” You flinch out of his touch. Alastor's eyes flash with anger at your rejection, but he quickly masks it with a charming smile. "Tsk tsk, ma chérie. Is that any way to treat a gentleman?" He chuckles darkly. "You're upset, I understand." You only cry harder at his words, letting out little gasps as you try your best to stop. Alastor's voice takes on a soothing, almost hypnotic quality. "Shh, it's alright, ma belle. The detective, he was just a means to an end. You and I, we have something special."

I love you, It's ruining my life~

“I used to believe that. Not anymore.” Alastor's eyes narrow, a flicker of hurt and anger passing through them, while still keeping his same signature, everlasting smile. "Not anymore? But darling, how could you say such a thing?" He reaches for you again, his gloved hand hovering near your cheek. "I've given you everything." He says malevolently. “You are a killer! A monster!” You shriek, backing away two steps, only for Alastor to take another four towards you. Alastor's face darkens, the charming facade shattering like glass. He lunges at you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back. 

Alastor’s voice hisses in your ear, "Monster? Me? No, cher, that would be you, if you keep pushing me away." His usual charming smile is now somewhat manic, as Alastor takes out a syringe filled with a strange blue liquid. Before you can react, Alastor plunges the syringe into your neck. As the liquid enters your system, you feel a wave of dizziness, your vision blurring. You feel yourself quickly slipping out of consciousness. Alastor's voice comes to you as if from a great distance. "Goodnight, ma chérie. When you wake up, everything will be as it should be.”

A/N: please ignore the fact that I have completely abandoned my Haztober theming

[sstrwbrryccke]

I SAW UR SUGAR BABY!SOOBIN FIC AND IT'S SO FUCKING HELLO ?!? could u possibly write something similar for hoon :00 (n could it be male reader :00)

HIIII thank you im glad you enjoyed it ahhsagds !!! and i have so many thoughts for sunghoon <3 i think he would be a bit more smug compared to soobin, not as obedient but playful and cute in his own way!

the ending is a little rushed because i wrote this on the airplane to shanghai 💀😭 (also not proofread so its probably really bad)

— sponsor | sub park sunghoon

tags: aspiring skater!sugarbaby!sunghoon x rich!reader, amab reader, power dynamics, praise kink, unconventional settings to have sex, soft sex, shower sex, frottage, thigh fucking, body worship

you were old money, the kind that people call 'disgustingly rich'. the type of rich family that throw galas instead of family gatherings, and that's where you met him in the first place. it was one of your many cousins' birthday, excessively wealthy and extravagant, a golden gilded hall decorated with a specially laid ice skating rink for performers. you heard your cousin had been an avid ice skating fan and wanted a live performance for his birthday.

the night had been smooth, dull as you would expect out of a bunch of old-money conservatives whose idea of humour is joking about tax evasion. but you notice just by the off-chance, a lean man clad in all black, bumping into a column, a word slips from his mouth; which you can only guess was a swear word. it was strange, he was clearly out of place. but this wasn't some wattpad story about you sweeping a mysterious man off his feet, so you shrugged and continued sipping on your champagne glass.

you only really notice him during the performance, the mass was seated in the grand hall, lights dimming as the spotlight shone; and it was seriously strange. because he wasn't even the main lead, in fact, he was one of the many backup dancers. yet you just couldn't take your eyes off him. there was something so enchanting about his elegance, you could feel his genuine dedication and passion from where he skated. when the show finished, you find yourself clapping, eyes still mesmerized as the boy leaves for the backstage.

a crowd gathers around the main leads, interested sponsorships and words of praise exchanged. while your eyes drift to the man walking off, taking a scone from the buffet stands before disappearing into the balcony. naturally, you follow after him— which in hindsight was slightly creepy because you've been practically eyeing him down. but you really wanted to spark up a conversation with this pretty boy.

when you reach the balcony, you find the backside of the man leaning on the railing. you lean next to him and he was visibly startled— so much so he dropped the scone in his hand. he does attempt to catch it— horribly, and the dessert tumbles into the void, his mouth agape. "aish..."

"ah, sorry."

"no, it's no problem! really! sir!" he quickly rectifies, aheming into his fist and waving his other hand around before looking directly in front of him. occasionally glancing at you with his eyes only. he was visibly nervous, definitely embarrassed too. he straightens his back and raises his chin, probably trying to seem professional in front of you; but you could tell with the way he clenched his jaw that he was tense. and you don't blame him, it looks like this was his first time coming to such a luxurious gala, surrounded by tons of powerful men and women who could either make or break his career.

"well, what's your name?" you offer a conversation starter, since it didn't seem like he was budging.

"i'm park sunghoon, sir!"

"nice to meet you park sunghoon, how old are you?" you ask smoothly, stretching a hand out for him to shake. he couldn't even look you in the eyes, what a shy and polite man.

he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, before taking your hand with both of his, bowing. "nice, nice to meet you too! i'm 21 turning 22, sir."

"we're the same age, that means you don't need to call me sir."

"yes sir." he replies without much thought.

you give him a pointed look and he quickly shuts up. he was endearing in his own way though, the interaction made you smile. this man who had previously been so elegant and precise on stage was actually very timid.

"you caught my eye in the performance."

he lights up at this, turning his head to you with a small bashful smile on his lips. "thank you so much, i'm surprised you remember me."

"of course i do, couldn't keep my eyes off you in fact." you advance, tilting your head as you subtly flirt. you were into him and you wanted him to understand that. "oh." he mouthed, and it seems like he was starting to recognize the connotations of the conversation. he was still smiling, but you could see a pink tint on his pale skin.

"no, seriously. you're super talented, i want to sponsor you."

his smile drops, a shocked expression on his face instead, soon he's ecstatic. "really?"

you chuckle, "yes, really."

☆★☆

perhaps, your definition of sponsor was just sugar baby with extra steps. because soon, the two of you fall into that type of relationship. it started with a bouquet of flowers after his practice (which you went to weekly), then it became a dinner invitation, and eventually you were lavishing him with gifts and luxury items. okay, perhaps you were just courting this man in the form of presents.

you watch on the sidelines as sunghoon does his usual practice on the ice (a private ice rink you hired for him), he glances towards you with a mischievous grin before doing a silly spin. you just chuckle, shaking your head. when it was over you sling a towel over his neck like usual, handing him a water bottle. he stares at you, rather proud of himself.

"did you see the spin?"

"nah, i was looking at the wall." you joke, there was literally no one else but sunghoon to look at. "issh" he shakes his head, lightly punching your arm.

after, you treat him to a nice dinner in this expensive restaurant, he’s used to your dinner invitations, but he still can't settle his nerves coming to such a high-end restaurant. chatting with you soothed his anxiety though, and shortly he was joking and laughing like usual.

the first course was served, and you took this opportunity to slide over the blue container with the tiffany and co logo. sunghoon takes it shyly, glancing at you, you give him an encouraging look. at the beginning of this dynamic; he did try to refuse the expensive gifts, but you were insistent and sunghoon secretly enjoyed receiving the presents too.

he feels his heart thumping with excitement as he unwraps the case, a genuine surprise in his eyes when he pulls out the silver wire tiffany t bracelet. he’s been wanting it for a while now, mentioning it once casually. and you remembered! he tries it on for you; because he knows you like seeing him with your gifts. the bracelet glints in the light and he looks at you with a reserved smile.

"thank you so much... i don't know to repay you—"

"by being mine." you interrupt him, the words come out before you can even comprehend it, baffled by your impulsivity. "i'm sorry it just came out— if it makes you uncomfortable i apo—"

"yes."

you blink slowly, while he looks at you with full seriousness. and that's how sugar baby sunghoon came to be.

☆★☆

navigating the dynamic was like navigating any other romantic relationship, though sunghoon treated it like a contract at the start. unusual, but usual for sunghoon. it made you chuckle about his seriousness of the entire situation. the whole circumstance was bizarre but silly. what an endearing man. he would sit you down one day, hands clasped together.

"what are your expectations for me?"

and you snicker. he said it like it was a full-time job, which maybe it could be.

"recieve my gifts, and enjoy your best life."

he looked determined, continuing on. "is sex on the table?" he was surprisingly straightforward. it's always the quiet ones who were unexpectantly bold huh...

"if you're comfortable with that, yes." you give him a firm nod.

"i see." he pulls back, shy again.

"so, are you?" you tease, because he didn't outwardly give an answer.

he pauses, and you spot a glint in his eyes. his tongue darts out to wet his lips and his mind runs rampant. how cute.

"i am."

☆★☆

and wow was that quite literally the best decision in your entire life. everything remained the same, except now you have an extremely hot and sexy ice skater whose libido was as high as his talent. life was good. life was great.

training went as you expect, sunghoon absolutely smashed through his routine. running back to you with a proud smile, hands on his hips.

"i did pretty good, didn't i?" he always asked similar questions, pridefully, wanting to be praised.

"did you? didn't see." you would always tease him, and he would respond by playfully hitting your shoulder. the sass doesn't last long though, because the moment you two are alone in the locker room that's when you go down on him, embracing him as his lovely quiet moans seep out from your kiss.

it should be classified as an addiction at this point, the amount of unconventional places you guys had done it in. collecting locations like pokemon cards. it was tame at first, or tame for your standards anyway. the first time was in the hotel, of course, but after that, you went straight for the ice rink. its not exactly public, as you had rented the entire private rink for your beautiful ice prince, but the setting itself was scandalous. just imagining the sanction that housed many hours of his talent, being dirtied by his sweat in another sense was downright sinful. sunghoon never complained however, because as long as you praise him, he was satisfied. boy was he a sucker for praise, he keens when you whisper in his ear, almost over the moon when you compliment him on his skating. he would moan unashamedly, (normally he would block his moans or whimper) and you respond by spreading his legs in clear view of the ice rink. slam him down and feel his back arch prettily against your chest.

sunghoon was contradictorily both shy and straightforward when it came to his words and actions during sex. he's quiet and sometimes downright refuses to moan or beg. yet when he's close he would straight-up demand things from you. when you fold his flexible body in half and ram into his sensitive hole, he would spread wider for you (which you thought was physically impossible but he proves you wrong), yet bashfully hides himself when you praise him. he was a man full of contradictions, but it really drove you wild.

but it wasn't all about sex anyway, sex made up barely half of it, because it was really all about him. sunghoon just had a soul that was born to attract you. he's introverted and reserved with others, which explains why he doesn't attract sponsors or gain lead roles, but underneath it all was such a uniquely endearing man with a strong ambition for his passions.

you absolutely loved spoiling this boy and watching his reactions; him wearing the items you brought for him just gave you that extra dose of serotonin. when the two of you made it official, he was just so much more ecstatic with each gift he received from you. it wasn't even the gifts themselves that pleased him so much, it was the care you gave that really hit the mark for him. that burberry scarf he eyed for a few minutes? woke up to it on his lap. the prada bag he briefly mentioned he thought was fashionable? on the kitchen counter. you just paid so much attention to him, and he felt so loved.

you supported him in his ice skating career too, attending every competition he's been in and always making sure to watch over at least one of his daily practices a week. he had big ambitions and eventually wanted to compete in the olympics, which you had no doubts he would achieve.

gradually, you wanted to integrate him into your life too, though it was hard to explain to your parents the logistics behind taking a 'common ice skater' with you everywhere. you two managed to keep a low profile.

and by everywhere, you meant everywhere. you brought him to tennis and golf practices, he struggled with golf but had fun with tennis. and you brought him to basically every single gala and ball your family tree hosted. it was enjoyable at first, but introverts do what introverts do and he gradually voiced how he preferred quieter, more intimate meetings with you. in which you decided to only bring him to the important galas. (maybe every single one was a bit overkill) but he was so right because intimate stay-ins with him were so much better and more peaceful compared to your hectic everyday life. he was a very mindful and health-conscious person, so you often find yourself doing stretches and going to the gym with him. it was absolute zen. plus, there was the bonus of you slowly snaking your arms behind him, kissing his neck and lips as much as you want without worrying about public perception.

☆★☆

you can tell something was bothering him, with the way he fidgeted and dazed off in your shared hotel room. anyone in his position would he nervous, after all, he was competing for the olympics! through much hard-work from his side and endless support from yours, he qualified for the olympic team after winning nationals with flying colours. you knew he had it in him, you knew since the first day you met.

“hoon, you nervous?” you ask, coming up behind him to rub at his shoulders. he gives you a small smile before sighing. “a little.”

you pull him into a hug, your chest pressed towards his back. he relaxes slightly. “want to talk about it baby?” you stroke his stomach, trying to soothe him.

“it’s silly,” he gives you a half smile. you slap his thigh lightly “issh!”

“it’s not silly, tell me.” you pout, kissing his neck. he laughs as you lavish his neck with lovebites.

“i’m just worried that i’m going to lose.” he says in-between giggles. you temporarily stop your assault in his neck, lifting your head to look at him.

“you won’t lose baby, and even if you do, just being in the team is already an amazing feat. most people go their whole lives without even touching olympic level.”

he seemed a little reassured by this, but you could tell his mind was still swirling with other thoughts. you kiss his cheeks, waiting for him to open up about it himself.

“it’s just, if i lose, im wasting all your effort and money.”

you finally pause at this, giving him a look. “what? how am i wasting effort and money on you?”

he seemed a little nervous, gulping down his saliva. “i mean, you invested so much into me, the least i could do is win.” you were shocked, was he dense or stupid? maybe a little bit of both. you roll your eyes as you lift him in your arms. he lets out a startled gasp as you bring him to the bathroom. you face him towards the mirror, grasping at his chin so he looks directly into his eyes.

“do you see this? what a gorgeous, beautiful, godly man.” you whisper in his ear and you watch his cheeks blossom a scarlet red. your hands trail down to his chest, unbuttoning the top.

“wow, look at that. so pretty, so soft and perfect.” you knead his chest, flicking at his pink nipples before moving down, massaging his toned stomach. he was staring at the parts your hand were drifting to as you fondle him. you kiss the shell of his ear, making him shiver “hngh…”

your fingers trail down, you lick your lips at his delicious reactions. palming at his erection. “every part of you is so pretty. such nimble arms and thighs, no wonder you’re so good at ice skating. everything about you is just so lovable.”

he was trembling, glancing into your eyes in the mirror and you could tell he wanted you to continue. “don’t you get it already? you really think i brought all those gifts, paid all those lessons and sponsored you because it was an investment?” you whisper, he turns his face to meet with yours, taking your lips desperately.

“i love you.” he whispers breathily into the kiss, that was the first time any of you said that sentence. he freezes, anxiety filling his face.

“i love you too, hoon.” you french kiss him, your tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip, he reciprocates gladly.

“i love you i love you i love you so so much.” he stammers, grinding his ass against your hardening cock. “i love you too baby, you have no idea how much i love you.” you grunt into his ear, sliding your dick out from your underwear. the both of you were barely clothed in the first place.

“hngh put it in already please,” he’s never been this vocal before, you felt your cock twitch just at the desperation in his voice. but you controlled yourself, he had a skating competition tomorrow after all.

“hoonie the olympics is tomorrow.” he whines and you chuckle fondly. spoiled brat.

“put your thighs together.” you give his ass a light slap, he listens and puts his thighs closely. you could see his dripping cock through the small gap. “good boy.” you praise and he rubs his thighs together.

not waiting any longer, you slip your hard cock between his thighs, groaning lowly at the sensation. god it felt so good, he clearly thinks so too because he immediately whimpers, pushing back at your dick. you let him adjust to the sensation before slowly thrusting against his thigh.

“angh... ugh… so good… love you… love you…” he whimpered, panting softly. you pull his head to the side to kiss him again, hand grasping at both of your cocks and he cries into your mouth. you thrust harder and faster, he reciprocates happily by clenching his thighs tighter. soon his stomach was squeezing and his pants became breathier.

“gonna come, can i come? please? please?” and who were you to resist your prince?

“come for me hoonie, come for me.”

his thighs stutter and he clenches his teeth as a strangled voice comes out. he came in spurts, long and thin. you wish you could taste his pretty semen as well but thats for another time. you slip your cock out from his thighs, jerking yourself off and coming all over his ass and back.

it was arousing and you could almost go again, but he needed rest so you tenderly kissed his back, cleaning him up.

“i’m going to win for you.” he says breathily while you were wiping him down, you look at him amused, chuckling.

“don’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

“no, this seriously motivated me to win. i’m going to win the olympics and then we’re going to have the most mind-blowing sex ever.”

you guys share a look before laughing.

☆★☆

everyone could hear the thumping of their own hearts as they waited for the results to unveil. sunghoon grasps your hand and you give him a squeeze.

before you could process it, you were ecstatically cheering, turning to sunghoon. the man beside you was in genuine shock, staring at his high score as if it was an alien on earth. holy shit, he got the highest score and he’s in first place!!!

snghoon lunges for you, tumbling you out of your chair as he tightly hugs you. not like you cared about the people staring, because you shared the excitement. you hug him back just as tightly, stroking his back. you feel the crook of your neck and shoulder wet.

after a few seconds, you help him stand and he wipes his eyes with an embarrassed smile. you couldn’t stop grinning as he received his medal.

☆★☆

sunghoon was able to keep both of his promises that day. the moment you two arrived in the hotel, you had a very needy sunghoon clinging around you neck, drawing you into a deep kiss as you navigate around the room.

you manage to peel him off for a second, to undress him and yourself, stumbling into the shower. you adjust the water while sunghoon unrelentlessly grinds against your cock.

“hn, god please! ive been wanting this since yesterday, ive been so good, so good, please reward me” he whimpers quietly and you melt. you grasp his hips tightly, pulling his back flush against your chest and you grind down his ass. he groans, hands propped on the shower wall for support.

your finger plays with his rim and he whines, prodding the hole before inserting. you were careful, treating his body like porcelain as you coo into his ear. he was so desperate, willingly giving up his sweet voice for you to hear. you add another finger and he was now fully rutting against you, eyes closed as he fucked himself on your fingers. it was an endearing sight, but you pull out, slapping your cock on his ass.

“what do you want again?” you play innocent, chuckling at his offended expression. he groans, frustratedly pushing back at your cock.

“you know what i want! i want you inside me please!” he whines out and you laugh. you give him what he wants, slipping your cock into his tight hole, groaning as you feel his gummy walls enclose around you.

“you feel so good sunghoon, such a pretty boy.” you coo into his ear and he clenches his thighs tighter. you thrust into him, each one faster and harder than the previous one and he was in actual heaven. tongue lolling out as he groans with each motion, it didn’t take long until he was crying out a strangled coming.

you weren’t done with him yet though, you prop his flexible legs up, making him sink deeper into your cock as he chokes. before he could protest you start nailing into him, hitting his prostate so well and on point that he visibly crumbles, hands desperately grabbing at anything as his cock sputters out another load.

his eyes were wide as he watches his dick cry uncontrollably, while you adjust behind him, ready to piston into him all over again. oh boy was he in for a wild ride…

that’s how the night progressed, you plummeting his ass in the shower, and then at the bathroom counter, then you moved him to the hotel bed, forcing him to ride you until he couldn’t prop himself up anymore.

his body slumps over yours, exhausted and overstimulated, thighs trembling and nerves sputtering. but you still moved beneath him and he cries “can’t! can’t, hurts please it feels too good.”

you grin into his skin, jerking his cock a few times and he comes again. body limp. you pull out and the warm semen in his hole dribble out. just as you try to move to clean him up, his arms tightly wind around your waist.

“stay here.” it was a demand from your ice prince and you snicker.

“anything for the olympic winner.”

[avatarkv]

I ! Feels like we had matching wounds, but mine's still black and bruised (and yours is perfectly fine now.)

✎ Synopsis ! You've been thrusted to carry the burden of the eldest after his passing.

Content & warning: Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of death and violence! Purely angst, at least for this chapter. Neteyam dies in the forest (the scene were quaritch first holds everyone hostage) I will not be following his storyline, because that's for you to take 🫵🫵🫵 buckle up.

Song: The Exit, Conan Gray.

You stay with the ikrans. 

Neteyam stepped forward without hesitation, stomach in knots with anxiety. “Father, I’m a warrior. I’m supposed to fight.” 

“I need you here,” he cut through his attempt to follow, nostrils flaring and jaw locked. There was no room for negotiation with the authority that laced his tone. “I need you to listen when I say you stay here.” he jabbed his finger on his chest, sealing him stiffly on the spot. The seconds seemed to hang in the air like lead weights, and any moment lost was an opportunity for danger to strike– he could only thin his lips and sharply nod.

“I mean it, Neteyam.” 

Such a simple ask of his father could have spared him from the rage of war, but how could you not expect the eldest to fight when his very siblings were in danger? Jake should have known better than to trust the empty ‘yes sir’ off his son’s lips– a warrior born out of his own teachings. You couldn’t blame him for following suit the second his parents were out of sight and into the wild.

How did it get to this? Jake’s thoughts would drift every painful step he took further. He knew it was in Lo’ak’s nature to be so reckless, hell, he took after his father himself– but before him, Kiri, or Tuk, it was just you and Neteyam. 

He remembered feeling ecstasy tremble down his whole body when he first cradled Neteyam. The moment the olo’eyktan had presented him to the clan, carrying him for everyone to see, he couldn’t see his son himself with the unshed tears blurring his vision. A part of him was relieved that he took after his mother, thinking it would have been a handful dealing with another Jake– but perhaps it was just a ploy; a first born’s excellence that they soon yearned for another.  

Then you came, another splitting image of Neytiri. The people often mistook you and Neteyam for twins and she’d reveled in the praises you both would get. You were her first daughter— right from the ear-splitting cries you let out the moment you were out of your mother’s womb to the battle cries you had worked on earlier in years, mimicked from Neytiri herself, she always swelled in pride. Unlike the eldest’s reserved composure, you were the opposite; curious and buoyant, yet still as shy and collected. 

It was different with Jake; he was new to this— absolutely clueless and terrified. After you came, the jolt wasn’t similar to Neteyam’s;  you were also his first babygirl. He wondered if he held you correctly, if the natural strictness he had with his son was fitting for you– oh Eywa, he definitely had to relearn weaving with Neytiri. The profound hesitation when it came to you was nerve-wracking, but the way your little hand would make its way around your father’s finger every time would ease the tight crease between his eyebrows, almost like you knew his very troubles. 

You were the kindest, most sweetest child– a daddy’s girl, much to Neytiri’s complaints. 

“Neteyam, scooch!” You yelled in a whisper, trying to desperately hide yourself in thick leaves and bushes. He couldn’t stifle his little giggles either, hearts pumping wildly in anticipation of your father. “Once he comes, remember to run left, alright?” 

He nodded sharply. His face coated in mud in the guise of war paint that you drew yourself. Yours were drawn lousily, the strokes shaky and a mess. 

Fee-fi-fo-fum, he chanted thickly, growing deeper and louder every stomp! The children could see him between the gaps— hands clawed and raised, stance menacing. You can run but you can’t hide! 

Both of you shrunk in suspense, eager to best your father in playtime. 

Then it was silent. Too silent. Your ears lifted curiously, eyes scanning the area only to be greeted by your father parting the leaves and surprising you both. You squealed a run and bolted to the right. Not even a second later, you heard the own panting of your twin beside you. You stared at him incredulously, legs faltering a bit, “Neteyam, I told you to go left!”

“This is left!” 

“No, I’m right—! This is right, you skxawng!” 

Amidst your silly bickering, Jake cunningly captured Neteyam, grabbing him from the armpits and hoisting him up high into the air. You could hear your brother’s laughter growing louder as Jake blew raspberries on his stomach, pretend-eating him with loud munches– his toothless bites making the younger’s giddiness double in size. You shrieked and sprinted faster, making a beeline to a different direction. This monster’s more unmerciful than you thought! With a determined look, you stopped behind a tree. I have to save Neteyam!

“One down and another to go!” You heard your father roar again, your brother giggling as he trailed along his heavy steps. 

You threw a rock as hard as you can, shifting Jake’s attention to the noise, and before he knew it, you came running towards him, thick long vine in your hands as you lousily tied it around your father’s ankles. Neteyam shouts in victory, trying to tighten the bind. Jake could only stifle a laugh at the scene, trying not to soil the satisfaction that was evident in your smug smile. He dropped to the floor, “Oh no! You got me!”

“Toruk Makto my ass!” You got on top of him, slapping his chest down with your little hands. Jake shouts a ‘hey’ at your language, which you only sheepishly giggled in return. Neteyam parrots from behind, still holding onto his legs. 

“We’re Toruk Makto now!” 

The memory would have easily put a smile on his face– ease his heart even a little bit, but the severity of the situation pulled him back and immediately, he was back in marine-mode, hands gripping onto the gun tightly. The moment they saw distress among the group with the green gas enveloping where his children were, they made a move.

The dreamwalkers felt a searing burn in their nostrils as the dense gas engulfed the area, the pain shooting up their visions. Your captor had a vice-like grip on you, dragging your body with him as you watched the others scramble in distress. He tugged painfully on your hair, forcing you to hiss and jab your nails into any exposed skin you could claw on. A headache throbbed at the back of your skull like an incessant drumbeat; you needed to think fast. With a sprained ankle, you knew you couldn’t get far.

Before you could even muster enough breath to scream for help, an arrow hit the avatar straight in the nape and dropped to the ground dead. You limped backwards, seeking an escape route, when suddenly someone grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the rough tree bark. You body trembled, hitting whoever it was on their chest in an attempt to break free. But all efforts were futile as they held onto you tightly, shaking you vigorously.

“Sis, it’s me– you’re safe,” His hands traveled around your body to check for any serious wounds. The sound of his voice brought a sense of relief over you; your brother's caring demeanor enough to make you feel at ease and secure. Your face softens, “Are you hurt anywhere?” Neteyam anxiously asked, trying to get a hold of you.

“Ankle,” You exhaled, feeling the sharp pain shoot up again, “I sprained my ankle.” 

He looked around, making out a path to safety. When he manages to form a plan inside his mind, he carries you like a princess, arms securely around your waist and under your legs. Neteyam ran face-first into the battlefield, making sharp turns whenever necessary to evade any incoming bullets. With no bows or means of retaliation, you were both defenseless. You could only grab tighter as your heart hammered tightly on your throat.

“Na’vi!” Neteyam stops dead in his tracks, an expression akin to a deer caught in headlights. 

“Please, we just want to go home” Neteyam begged, his voice barely higher than a whisper. The light of the eclipse illuminated his features, and he instinctively pulled you closer to him as he took a few steps back. You could feel his exhaustion both physically and emotionally; a weariness that seemed so out of place on such a young soul. Everywhere around you was utter stillness- you couldn’t breathe, the tension in the air heavy and stifling.

“I’m sorry,” And before your brother could grab the dagger tucked to his loincloth, the avatar fired her gun towards you both as Neteyam thrashed in panic, throwing your beaten body to the side as he rolled off somewhere. The dreamwalker quickly towers over you and you could only close your eyes shut, waiting for cruel death. In a blink of an eye, her body drops dead and Lo’ak immediately rushes to your aid. 

Only then did you feel the searing pain in your leg, the sensation of a bullet wound as hot blood slowly oozed out. It was nauseating, the smell of iron and the redness of it. Your eyes widened in realization as you clung to your younger brother, “Neteyam! Did you find Neteyam?”

Lo'ak hurriedly hoisted you up and with sheer adrenaline, you limped to the other side, searching for your brother. Your eyes darted to his body, stiffly lying on the grass and breathing shallowly. You couldn't bear to look at the blood that stained his abdomen; it was a sight you wish to never see, ever.

“Oh, Neteyam,” You shakily put pressure on the bullet wound, only for him to violently grab both of your wrists and desperately claw at it. You could only scream aloud as the blood spilled out more and more as he writhed and struggled. “I know, I know, I know, I know– please, please just stay still.” Your words came out as a disgusting croaking slur, tears unable to keep themselves at bay. 

“__, I don’t want to die yet.” He cried out as you tried to keep your hold firm, “Father—father had asked me to stay, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stay there and wait. I.. I don’t want to see his face when he realizes I didn’t listen-- that I failed him again. __ save me, please.”

He said hurriedly, breathing heavily every word. Save Neteyam, save Neteyam.

His jaw clenched violently, spit bubbling the corners of his mouth as he grabbed onto you tightly. The noises he let out had tugged on your every heart string, snapping it over and over. He struggled in your arms, pupils blown wide and teary. “Please great mother, not my brother, not like this– Lo’ak help me!” Your head sharply turned to his unmoving figure, eyes darted to you and Neteyam. You cradled him close, not minding the crimson cot coating your own body.

You were unable to think and you had your own wounds that needed to be tended to, but you couldn’t be bothered to put him down– to accept his already fleeting breath would soon be none. You kissed his temple, rocking his body. “I’m here, I’m here Neteyam.”

“I don’t want to die,” his eyes averted to the incoming figure behind you and he drew a harsher inhale. your father had pushed you aside to aid Neteyam, immediately checking for an exit wound. He was met with a loud cry, squirming uncontrollably from Jake’s sharp movements. When he saw blood gushing out the same on the back, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he let out a sob.

Jake put pressure on it nonetheless. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” His words slurred together desperately, reducing to nothing but whimpers. Your lungs deny you of any more air as you watched him struggle— even in the brink of death, he had the need to apologize. Apologize for things that wasn’t even his fault, for things that was beyond his control. You kneeled just behind your father, gaze moving between Neteyam’s body and your bloodied palms. “I’m s-sorry, please don’t be mad.”

How he addressed Jake had only weakened his already beaten heart. “Save your breath, son, please.”

Everything seems to remain still for a minute, then came the shriek of your mother. You stayed there, almost lifeless yourself. You didn’t wanna see; didn’t wanna see how Neteyam’s body is limp under your father’s hold— how his eyes falls crestfallen and void of any emotion. Your siblings watch as Neytiri litters her first born with kisses, how she embraces every skin she can touch closer to her. “Not my son, eywa please.”

Eywa had granted him rest in its worst kind.

–

When he died, the same bullets went through you and it remained situated there, gnawing your insides and pounding it to mush, eating everything it can and rotting your entirety to an ugly void of a shell. It was getting heavier; his body soundly resting above the delicately woven cloth, carried by his mourning family. You could feel your feet sinking down the very soil you stepped on and you visibly faltered every move. 

His cold hand gripping tightly around your wrist, his blood drawn between the lines of your palms— your soul was left to relive that night in a loop, scream bellowing until nothing was let out but breathy weeps of what was left of you. 

It was bound to happen; death loomed and you dare played with it nonetheless. You should have known better than to let Lo'ak wander, let alone join him.

You stopped walking, changing everyone's solemn looks to a confused one. “Father, I can’t do it.” You whispered.

He remained tight-lipped, staring at you solidly that you could hardly decipher his expression. Jake was never one for emotions; it was as if he was programmed to tuck everything that made him feel under a gun's trigger– it was the soldier in him, finding it easier to be calm with a weapon nearby, but right now he was absolutely defenseless; stripped bare and vulnerable and he hated every moment of it; resented the fact that he failed protecting everyone, not just as clan leader, but as a father too. The latter weighed more than anything else. It dulled him to dysfunction and he could barely breathe– could barely recognize his daughter in front of him.

You took his stare differently, a cold-shoulder. Before Neytiri could approach your figure, you ran; away from the voices and guilt, away from him. Neteyam’s blood burns brightly on your very hands and you’ve swallowed down the blame, forever residing within you. 

You buried something so alive and you feared it would never let you rest.

☆ mauve here! i now introduce a new series of mine that i am so excited to work on. (i know i said i'd be inactive, but i couldn't help but finish this one draft) neteyam's dying scene is heavily inspired by the game, the last of us! this feels rushed, but i needed an opening to start the series so rest assured, there would be lengthier pieces after. criticisms are welcome. feel free to point out any mistakes. mauve out >:]

Tags: @aonungsmate ♡

© avatarkv, do not repost.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Stuff of Fairytales - Floyd

Author Notes: Happy MerMay Twisted Wonderland! I won't lie, this fic kind of flew together while I was just sitting and chatting with my mom and sister. It doesn't have any specific music that it was written to or anything like that and my only real idea that went into this was MerMay. Nonetheless, I had fun writing this fic. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ MerMay/ fluff/ romance implied/ sfw

Word Count: 1264

Ignoring Floyd was always something that one did at one’s own risk. Especially when he was staring quite as pointedly as he was staring at me right now. And even more especially so considering that I was sitting on the edge of the pool while Floyd was in his merform.

He drifted over, and I cautiously met his stare, not entirely sure as to what I should expect from him.

For one thing, he’d been oddly peaceful this entire time. And while that didn’t necessarily mean anything, it still felt suspiciously like the calm before a storm.

He tilted his head, slowly coming to a steady stop right in front of me before crossing his arms and resting them on my knees, where I had my legs hanging over the edge of the pool and in the cool water, “Hey Shrimpy, did your world have any merpeople?” 

His tone was relatively innocent, but I still felt my eyebrows lift warily before I shook my head. Half-surprised by his question even as I answered him, “No… They’re the stuff of fairytales in my world…. Kind of like magic is.”

He hummed, rolling his mismatched eyes up to meet mine as he rested his chin on his arms. Almost as if he were, suspiciously enough, trying to look innocent.

I watched him silently for a moment before finally biting the bullet and questioning him as he continued to stare up at me, “Why?”

That singular word had a grin splitting its way across his face, perfectly displaying his too-sharp teeth that made so many others uncomfortable.

But just like how I’d somehow gotten used to his merform’s slimy texture, I was perfectly used to his sharp-toothed grins by now.

“Nothing~ It just explains why you had such a cute, surprised reaction when you first saw mine and Jade’s merforms.”

I rolled my eyes slightly at his teasing tone, even as I smiled despite myself at his words, “You say that like I was the only one who was surprised. I seem to recall Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Grim all being pretty shocked too.”

Despite my words, I couldn’t deny that I had been genuinely startled. Floyd and Jade were nothing like the fluttery, magical creatures I’d imagined as a child. Instead, they were far more dangerous-looking. Something that was fitting, considering their personalities.

But even then, there had still been something enchanting about seeing a merperson for the first time. Much less two of them.

Not that I was ever going to tell Floyd that. He was already amused enough as it was.

Floyd faux-pouted up at me in an almost playful manner, “But none of them were cute. They just looked like a bunch of guppies silently opening and closing their mouths.”

He paused as I fought the urge to snort at his analogy, and, as if somehow he could sense my amusement, he grinned again. His tail slashing through the water as his eyes all but sparkled at me, “You weren’t like that though, Shrimpy. Your eyes were all bright. Like you were excited.”

I almost sighed at his pointed, pleased-sounding words. Because while I couldn’t say that they were wholly accurate, they were a little too perceptive in a way that I could only describe as very Octavinelle.

Floyd, Jade, and Azul were all practically uncanny when it came to their ability to hit upon something people didn’t want them to know.

“I wasn’t excited….” I trailed off unconvincingly, not entirely sure how to defend myself in this situation since he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Lying would be useless. Floyd was so used to his brother’s slippery nature that he would be able to see through any fib I came up with in a nanosecond.

I didn’t have to rush, though. Floyd was waiting. An amused smile on his face as he waited for me to give up in a rare display of patience from the usually restless young man.

But then, I supposed being patient might be easier when victory was assured. His grin wasn’t making it any easier for me to come up with an excuse, though.

“Well, how would you react if you suddenly saw something out of a fairytale?!” I gave up in an exasperated half-surrender.

I refused to tell Floyd that a slight bit of childish enchantment and awe had shot through me when I’d first seen him and his brother’s merforms.

Doing that would just result in him telling his brother, and then there really would be no escaping the teasing and harassment.

As it was, I would just have to put up with Floyd’s teasing and amusement until he drifted onto another topic. He might bring back up my initial reaction to his merform every so often, but I could deal with that. 

After all, it was only fair with how often I got to pick him on numerous things as well.

At odds with my expectations of his laughter, Floyd straightened from where he’d been resting his chin on his arms this entire time and tilted his head in a thoughtful fashion.

After a brief moment, he grinned, and something ever-so-slightly worrying flickered through his mismatched eyes as he met my gaze once more, “I guess I’d squeeze ‘em.”

Before I could even think about reacting, his arms were wrapping themselves around my waist. Pulling me closer and squeezing me with a surprising degree of care considering who it was that I was dealing with.

I gasped slightly in surprise at both his actions and the cold from his wet arms, my hands flying up and grabbing hold of his shoulders in a slight panic. Not entirely trusting him to not pull me into the pool with him.

I didn’t go splashing down into the water though, and my reaction only caused Floyd to grin even more at me, “Your reactions are too much fun, Shrimpy~”

His words were all but cooed, and I frowned slightly, “Floyd, you know your slime is hard to get out of clothes.”

I scolded him in retaliation, continuing to frown down at him, but my words were met with little more than a nonchalant shrug from the merman, who certainly didn't seem like he was going to be letting go of me anytime soon.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content, smiling up at me from the pool that I was now perched precariously on the edge of. Fully relying on Floyd to keep me balanced as he held onto me.

He smiled, tilting his head slightly, perfectly unbothered as he grinned up at me, “Just use the washer at Octavinelle and tell Azul it’s my fault.”

I sighed at his words, feeling myself surrender ever-so-slightly as I let a smile slip onto my face. Sometimes it really did feel like there was no winning against Floyd, and, to be fair, his plan probably would work.

Azul was nothing if not used to Floyd’s mercurial ways that often caused him troubles. 

I relaxed, letting my hands continue to rest easily on Floyd’s shoulders as I smiled down at him, “Just don’t come whining to me later.”

 He outright grinned at my words, his eyes sparkling in an almost challenging way, “No promises~”

I shook my head fondly at both him and his words as I continued to smile down at the man who hugged me close to him.

Floyd himself might not exactly be the stuff of fairytales, but he was definitely  unforgettable, and there wasn’t a thing I would change about him. 

Even if he could be a pest sometimes.

[act-nat-ural]

@madlyney: Hii! Hope your day’s been good!! Could I request for smth cute with Akaashi Keiji? Preferably in a time skip!

word count: 883

The warm, inviting scent of old paper and freshly printed pages filled the quiet bookstore, where the soft hum of distant music made the atmosphere all the cozier. You had wandered in during a rainy afternoon, hoping to find a peaceful escape from the downpour outside. You pulled a few novels from the shelf, their bright covers and intriguing titles inviting you in, and you tucked them under your arm as you navigated your way through the aisles, looking for a place to sit and start reading.

But as you moved toward the quiet reading nook, a catastrophe struck.

A precarious stack of books beside you teetered dangerously. Before you could catch it, the entire pile tumbled forward, scattering across the floor with a loud thud. You cringed at the sound, knowing you had disrupted the peace of the little bookstore.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks as you quickly crouched down, gathering the fallen books and trying to make as little noise as possible. But as you reached for a particularly heavy hardcover, another hand appeared beside yours, picking it up before you could.

You looked up to see a young man with dark hair, a calm expression, and intense deep blue eyes. He was tall and well-dressed, with a hint of curiosity in his gaze. The stranger didn’t say a word, only offering a small smile as he handed you the book.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble, your cheeks still burning. You took the book from him and started stacking it with the others, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he crouched down beside you, silently helping you collect the scattered volumes.

Once you were both finished, you stood, brushing imaginary dust from your knees. “I’m so sorry for disturbing everyone,” you said, giving him an apologetic smile.

The young man shook his head slightly. “No need to apologize. These things happen.” His voice was soft but steady, calming in a way that put you a little more at ease. He set the last book back in its place with a careful precision, as though handling something fragile.

“Thank you again,” you said, feeling a bit flustered under his calm gaze. “I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.”

“Not at all.” He looked at you with a faint glimmer of amusement. “Most people don’t take the time to put them all back the way you did. It’s nice to see someone who cares.”

You offered a sheepish smile, trying to brush off the compliment, but something about the way he looked at you—so quietly attentive—made you feel as if he genuinely appreciated it. His eyes drifted to the books you held, and he tilted his head just slightly. “You have good taste,” he remarked, gesturing to the novels in your arms.

You laughed a little, surprised by his insight. “Thanks. I’m trying to catch up on my reading list before school starts up again.”

“Studying literature?” he guessed, his expression curious yet respectful.

“Yeah. I’m actually majoring in English lit,” you replied, feeling your shoulders relax as the conversation flowed naturally. “I just transferred here, so I’m still getting used to everything. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

He nodded, as if he understood. “New places can feel like that,” he said. “But if you need any help navigating, I’m familiar with the area. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Oh, really? That would be amazing, actually. I’ve been a little lost since I got here,” you admitted, laughing a bit at your own expense. “Thank you…?”

“Akaashi,” he said, extending a hand. “Akaashi Keiji. And it’s no trouble at all.”

You shook his hand, feeling a faint warmth in his gentle grip. “Thank you, Akaashi. I’m (Name).”

His smile softened, as if he were pleased to finally put a name to your face. “Nice to meet you, (Name).”

The two of you spent the next few minutes talking about the campus, your favorite genres, and the nearby coffee shop that, according to Akaashi, had the best pastries in town. His voice was calm, soothing, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say. There was a natural ease in the conversation, as if you’d known each other far longer than the few minutes you’d actually spent together.

“Do you have a favorite book?” he asked eventually, his expression thoughtful.

You pondered for a moment, then named a title that was close to your heart, watching as his eyes lit up. “I’ve read that one too. It’s incredible,” he agreed, and his genuine enthusiasm only made you want to talk to him more. “It’s rare to find someone who appreciates it.”

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you, then,” you said with a smile, feeling a bit bolder.

The afternoon drifted by as you chatted, completely lost in conversation, the awkwardness of your first encounter melting into an unexpected connection. Finally, after checking the time, you both headed out together, agreeing to meet up sometime soon for coffee and maybe a little campus tour.

As you stepped outside, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the world fresh and shimmering under a gray sky. Akaashi walked beside you, and you felt a little more grounded, a little less out of place, knowing that someone was there to help you find your way.

note: almost forgot to post this ngl….

[scribblesbyavi]

There is something special about Tumblr, a corner of the internet where connections bloom unexpectedly and friendships thrive. Among the countless users, I found a handful of people who quickly became some of my favorite individuals. It isn't a large group, but they mean the world to me. Each conversation, every shared post, created a bond that felt both unique and lasting.

I often wondered if I could have connected with even more people, made more friends, if only I had reached out first. But I never looked for quantity and it wasn’t in my nature to be the one to start a conversation, and so, most of my connections were serendipitous—someone else reaching out or a shared interest that naturally sparked a dialogue. Still, I was content. In real life, I already had a circle of great friends, people I loved and trusted. But the friendships I found on Tumblr? They were different.

It is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it, the depth of these online bonds. With my Tumblr friends, there was an immediate connection, a shared understanding that transcended the usual barriers of time and space. We talked, we laughed, we learned from one another. They weren’t just usernames on a screen—they became people I cherished, people I would hold dear for life.

But Tumblr, for all its wonders, is also a place of goodbyes. Just as suddenly as someone could appear in your life, they could vanish. One day, you’d log in to find that a familiar name, a trusted voice, was no longer there. Maybe they had moved on, or perhaps life had simply pulled them in another direction. Regardless of the reason, they were gone, and the absence was palpable.

I miss every person I’ve ever met on Tumblr and lost touch with. The friendships we built, the moments we shared, all still linger in my memory. Though they may be gone from my daily life, they remain a part of my story. They were more than just fleeting acquaintances—they were people who left an imprint, even if our time together was brief. Same goes to all the people I ever connected online on any social media platform.

And so, while I continue to cherish the friends I’ve kept, I also hold space for those who have drifted away, grateful for the time we had and the connection we shared.

[savannahsdeath]

↳ ❝ [ ALICE IN BORDERLAND AU ] ¡! ❞

୨⎯ e. williams x reader ⎯ ୧

MDNI! you and ellie meet another soul, which brings you hope... but quickly takes it back again

this isn't the best since i'm sick but i was impatient to finish it so enjoy !! next games n chapters should be more interesting 🫡

warnings: mentions of death, acid/poison, pressure and fear

prologue ⋘ chapter one ⋙ chapter two

DAYS ON VISA : 1

the last few hours were a mist of confusion and denial. you and ellie were wandering around the city without much sense nor any plan. all of the walking has drained your energy and you could feel your legs begin to ache with each step. the silent streets offered only a glimpse of reality, yet it was one that made little sense, leaving you both with conflicting feelings of doubt and concern, not sure what to believe or do next. though the silent city seemed to offer no clues as to where everyone had gone, its silence became a disturbing reminder of the reality of the situation, as if to taunt you.

your wandering eventually brought you and ellie to going into building after building, and despite entering each one with the hope of finding someone, they all offered the same eerie result. you could hear nothing inside, aside from the faint echo of your footsteps as you walked through the rooms.

"wait, this one's locked" you began, standing in front of a not big house with its front door firmly shut. you tried pulling on the handle, but found it firmly locked from within. in the midst of all the chaotic disappearance, this was a strange sign of... normalcy? you wondered, if only for a moment.

"maybe they locked themselves inside" ellie suggested. "i mean, who wouldn't, after something like this happened?"

it made sense; the unknown and sudden nature of the emptiness could have easily sent people into a state of panic, desperate to hide away from the unknown and keep themselves safe. the closed house certainly seemed to suggest this possibility, a sign that someone was still here, just locked away from the outside world.

the two of you stood outside the house for a few silent moments, debating what to do next. everything remained empty and still, aside from the sound of your own voices speaking softly in the chilly evening air, and your feet shifting on the cold ground beneath you. you tried pulling on the handle a little harder, but still it did not budge, remaining firmly shut. the absence of any noise made the situation all the more unsettling, as if the house itself was a silent witness to the chaos unfolding around it. your heartbeat picked up speed as you began to contemplate the possibility of breaking down the door, and as if reading your thoughts, ellie reached out to touch your arm, a gesture to remind you to keep your composure and remain collected.

you paused mid-motion, suddenly recognizing the sound of footsteps just outside the door. it didn't take long to realize that someone was indeed in the house, their actions producing the faint echo of footsteps on the floor. the sound was quiet, but distinct, as if whoever was inside was walking slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the noise they made.

you stepped back from the door as the hidden occupant's footsteps stopped. after an uneasy few seconds of silence, you heard the faint sound of a lock clicking, followed by the soft whoosh of a door knob turning. the sound of the door shifting in its frame filled the silence, as it opened slightly, revealing nothing but a crack of darkness on the other side. the vague shape of a shadow behind the door was all you could see, its identity still a mystery.

you remained still, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness behind the door. the faint outline of a human shape remained, albeit without any clear details. a soft breathing drifted out from the door, its subtle yet distinct rhythm hinting at the presence of a person. it was the only sound within the silence, filling you with an uneasy feeling, though nothing compared to the sudden appearance of a whisper. in a quiet, barely audible voice, the person behind the door spoke.

"hello...? is someone there?" the voice drifted softly through the air, its whisper almost sounding like a faint breeze. it was clear that whoever was waiting behind the door was hoping to avoid attracting attention, though their question was a clear sign that they were aware of your presence. the shadows created by the dim interior and the dim exterior light made it impossible to decipher any details about the person speaking.

"yes" you answered, the sound of your voice filling the air to confirm your presence.

you remained still, letting the person behind the door take the lead. with a quiet and subtle creak, you could hear the door slowly inching open to reveal the shadow behind it.

the figure turned out to be a man, his eyes meeting yours in a silent glance as he took in your presence. while he had a look of caution in his eyes, his demeanor seemed calm and reserved, almost apologetic in the way he watched you. he looked to be way older, perhaps in his mid-40s or so, though his worn and overworked appearance made it difficult to pin down his exact age.

"come in" the man said, softly gesturing for you to follow him inside the house. he slowly walked past the door frame, letting his body pass into the darkness of the interior while expecting for you to do the same.

you cautiously looked at ellie, as if to ask her what to do.

"do we have a choice?" she shrugged and encouraged you forwards. "ladies first."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you stepped past the man into the kitchen, ellie close behind you. the light was dim, yet much brighter than the rest of the house that remained shrouded in darkness. you could see everything more clearly, including the man himself. his appearance was somewhat tired and overworked, though his soft demeanor betrayed no sense of danger. he had not spoken since he led you inside, keeping a respectful distance as he allowed you and ellie to settle into the kitchen.

the man looked at you both, taking in your appearance with an understanding look. "newbies, i'm guessing?" he asked, his soft and calm voice indicating that he was well aware of your confusion and uncertainty. his look of understanding remained unchanged, as if he fully understood your doubt and the situation you found yourselves in. "i'll cut to the chase then" he said, stepping a little closer and speaking in a more clear manner. his demeanor became slightly more serious, as if he was taking on the role of the one in charge of the situation. "do you know what's happening right now?"

"we know that everybody's disappeared" you told him, gesturing the space around with your hands. "everyone. all of these buildings are empty."

the man's expression remained neutral, giving off the impression that he had already known this, and thus was not the least bit surprised by the news. instead, his demeanor conveyed a sense of solemnity and understanding of the gravity of the situation. "yes, that's right." he nodded.

the man began to fill ten shot glasses with water, laying them neatly on the counter top as he talked. one of the cups seemed suspicious, because he carefully took it out from a drawer, already filled. "something big is happening in the world, like nothing i've ever seen. something powerful and unknown, beyond our understanding. i think it's better to focus on what we do know. there's no point in trying to piece it all together, we'll just go crazy. we have to accept it. we can worry about how all this happened later, for now we should think about what needs to be done." the man took the suspicious cup and placed it between the other nine glasses, seemingly making no distinction between it and the remaining cups. he quickly rearranged them, making you unable to remember which one was the different one.

the man suddenly smiled, his whole expression shifting into a more playful and cheerful tone. "well, i guess we're playing a game." he looked at the glasses, which he had now carefully arranged in a pattern where all of them looked the same. he pointed at them with an excited smile on his face, as if to challenge you and ellie.

GAME 1 : 3 of ♦️

- the players may not physically interact with the dealer

- there are 10 shot glasses arranged in a row on the counter. each glass contains water, except for one glass which contains a lethal poison

- the player and the dealer will take turns playing the game. during the player's turn, they have 1 minute to choose one (and only one) of the following two actions; failing to do so results in an immediate game over:

- make the second player drink the contents of the leftmost glass (from the player's perspective) on the counter, and remove that glass from the row

- make the second player drink the contents of the leftmost glass and the second-leftmost glass (from the player's perspective) on the counter, and remove both glasses from the row

- apart from the abovementioned actions, the player may not interact with the glasses and/or their contents in any other way (e.g. the player may not pour away the liquid in the rightmost glass)

- during the dealer's turn, he has 1 minute to choose one (and only one) of the same actions as the player, except he takes glasses from the right from his perspective

- the game begins with the player's turn

- at any point in time, if the dealer drinks the poison, the player receives game clear

- at any point in time, if the player drinks the poison (or breaks the game rules as stated above), both players receive game over

ellie hesitated, the gravity of the man's explanation sinking in as she processed the situation. "you're crazy" she said, looking at him with a mixture of bewilderment and confusion. the man remained nonchalant, seeming unfazed by her words.

you then piped up, asking "what if we don't want to... play?"

the man stepped aside and reached into a drawer, withdrawing two cell phones and pressing one into your hands. as you turned it on, a plain black text revealed: days on visa: 1. you peeked at ellie's but it showed the same thing as yours. he then gave a brief explanation of the visa, which he assured you are the remaining days of your life that will increase everytime you play a game by the difficulty of it.

you both sat in silence, taking in the information. you had thought all the rules of the game had already been revealed, but now you had this new information to take into consideration. you looked at ellie, who shared your bewildered look of confusion as you processed the knowledge that you both only had one day left to live.

"are we supposed to be satisfied with just one day?" she asked, her voice containing a frantic touch of amusement.

you both had a hard time choosing, and the man seemed to be growing impatient with your reluctance to begin the game. after a few more moments of silence, he broke in, seeming ready to make the first move. "i'll go easy on you, i swear, newbies. you go first. choose one or two, just pick something."

"this is three of diamond. if you win the game you get another three days added to your visa" the man explained. he didn't seem to care about the implications of playing a life-or-death game every day in order to simply prolong your life for another 24 hours. he simply expected you and ellie to accept the circumstances and begin the game without question. "it's not like you can choose anyway, but you couldn't have come across a better chance. i mean, it's a simple game, there's really nothing else to say. one of the glasses has acid in it. so choose wisely, play carefully, and good luck." the man ended his brief explanation with a playful smile, as if he was really looking forward to starting the game regardless of your decision.

after a few moments of hesitation, you decided to play it slow and choose one. you carefully picked the first glass between the ten and held it up to ellie's face, waiting for her to take it. her head tilted back and she lifted the glass to her lips, drinking the whole liquid in a single gulp. you watched her, still unsure about the whole game, expecting her to either burst out in pain or scream as the acid burned her throat. instead, she simply set the glass down with a contented sigh.

the man watched your expressions closely, smiling brightly at the sight of your relief. but though her lips were not burnt by the acid, the game was not over yet. he nodded, indicating that he's ready to play.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you'd made it through eight glasses and each had been safe. the odds may not be in your favor, but you had managed to beat them up until now. finally, you were at the final round of the game, with only two cups remaining. as you realized the dilemma in front of you, you also realized there was only one logical choice: you had to choose one glass, because even if you tried playing two, it wouldn't spare you from death, ellie would still be drinking poison. the only way to avoid it was to pick a single one and hope for the best.

you reached forward and carefully picked a cup, feeling the tension build as you held it out to ellie. she looked at you with a nervous expression, clearly feeling equally stressed about the situation as she prepared to take yet another sip of what potentially could be acid. you held your breath as she lifted the glass to her lips, sipping from it. after a full swig, she lowered the glass without a reaction, just as she had done four times before.

with only one glass remaining and the man's turn, you knew that there was a one hundred percent chance this would be the acid shot. he seemed to understand this as well, smiling cheerfully as he nodded to the glass in front of him. "it's my turn, isn't it?" he chuckled and gave another small laugh as he picked up the glass and raised it, as if to celebrate a victory. "to the remaining two!" he toasted and gave you an understanding smile, as if to reassure you both that the game would end well for you. "you might not want to see this, though."

as the man raised the glass to his lips, his eyes met yours with a serious and focused expression. he did not shy away from your stares, knowing that there was no point in avoiding you the sight of consequences. you could not move from the unbelievable sadness of witnessing a life ending before your eyes, and yet you felt ellie's hand consciously grip your arm, pulling you away from the tragic scene.

���˖°

game inspired by: HippoOfGreen on reddit

taglist: @ellieswife @coff1nn @abbyily @littlegingerperson2 @marianeski @onlinelesbo @mayagrahh @acatstalkingyou @rayslender @imprettyandpink @sillymelodyy @destructive-path @ellieslutybitch @elliemywife @saxiigami @flowexr @dsybouquet @ellieswifee @stickynachomaker @elliesaesp @elliezlils11utt @pank0w @xiaos-wife1 @machetegirl109 @teawithnosugar @lostwsoo @iove-bbb

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic July 23 - prompt 23: Rescue [word count 798]

Sirius had learned to recognise every single sound around him. He could hear the legions of rats plaguing Azkaban scurrying in the walls. They hadn’t come into his cell after the first night he had spent there, when the first rat to poke its head in the newcomer’s cell had ended up crushed in Padfoot’s jaw, paying for another rat. He could hear every sound traveling down the corridor. He could tell how many Dementors were by his cell by the swish of their coats alone. Sometimes a hysterical laughter echoed from who knew exactly where up to his cell. The first time he had heard it, Sirius had had to lean on the wall and had immediately transformed into Padfoot again, curling up in the corner opposite the door. Now when he heard it it barely fazed him.

“Hello there, Bella. Still alive then,” he would murmur before resuming what he was doing which was usually trying to stare out of the small grated window above his cot.

Other sounds traveled to his cell, mainly screams or begging, and other times a voice talking. Sirius had taken quite some time to recognise the voice, despite having heard it often in the corridors at Hogwarts years before. Crouch Jr. The only person left for him to blame for Regulus’s death since Orion and Walburga had apparently died from the utter shock of having no heirs left after October 31st. And now he was stuck in a place where the other’s voice would drift through the door, sometimes arguing loudly, sometimes possibly reciting whole pages of books Sirius remembered having studied himself, sometimes laughing almost as hysterically as Bellatrix, sometimes repeating the same word over and over like the night before when Sirius hadn’t been able to sleep because the whole prison seemed to be filled with one word.

“Rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose, rose.”

Come dawn, Sirius hadn’t been able to know if he wanted to ask Crouch when he had become so interested in botanic or just strangle him.

So it was natural for him to hear an unusual sound as soon as it echoed somewhere. Footsteps. The Dementors only glided, and no one was ever allowed to visit Azkaban. It was a double sound, as if two people were walking in the corridors, their steps different. Sirius was about to move to the door to better listen when the footsteps stopped somewhere. A couple of seconds later, his door blew up in a flash of bright green light and smoke. Sirius coughed and tried to better look at the shape coming through the smoke. He blinked, feeling his heart skip a beat, then he was crushed by two arms.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, my love,” Remus’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Moony,” Sirius looked up at his boyfriend’s face. “I thought… I mean, they must have told you…”

“They packed you up without even a trial and sent Harry away somewhere just as fast. It was all too easy, I knew something was missing even if I don’t know what.”

“I swapped with Peter. He was Secret Keeper instead of me.”

As he watched the colour drain from Remus’s face, Sirius realised he had never been able to say that sentence out loud. Remus swallowed.

“Alright,” he managed to say. “We’ll deal with this as soon as we’re back on land.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I had help,” Remus motioned to the door.

The green smoke had almost cleared by now, and on the threshold stood a pretty blonde woman, her hands calmly crossed on her very pregnant belly.

“Pandora Lovegood,” she smiled at him. “You might remember me as Pandora Rosier back in school.”

Sirius just nodded. The Rosier twins, other people who had constantly been around Regulus. He remembered the Order meeting when Alastor Moody had proudly announced Evan Rosier had been killed in a run-in with the Aurors.

“She’s got a knack for explosives,” Remus said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, running around Azkaban with the sister of a Death Eater. “The smoke stuns the Dementors as well.”

“But not forever,” Pandora said. “Come on, I have another cell door to blow up before we can go, and I don’t want to be too long, my husband worries easily.”

“Which door?” Sirius asked as he followed Remus in the corridor, strewn with motionless Dementors.

“Barty Crouch Jr,” Remus said. “I had to agree to it to rescue you.”

“Crouch?” Sirius repeated. “But he’s been condemned to life here!”

“As were you,” Pandora smiled. “Besides, there’s something him and me have to tell you about your brother.”

“Regulus?” Sirius breathed.

“Come on,” Pandora started down the corridor. “We have an awful lot to do.”

[di-in-al]

~Drifting Into Desire~ Katsuki Bakugou x Reader PART I

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After studying abroad in America, Y/N returns to Japan with big dreams and a degree in hand, only to find herself struggling to meet societal expectations. Pushed too far by her uncle Aizawa, she becomes entangled in the thrilling yet dangerous world of street racing, battling her own aspirations and rivalries. Particularly her rivalry with the King of Musutafu Pass, Katsuki Bakugou.

>Bakugou x Reader, Shinso x Reader

>Warnings: Profanity. Implied sex. Sexual themes. Smoking.

>Word Count: 2.7k.

>A/N: Hi! I've had this idea for a while. It's lightly based off of the anime Initial D, with our fav MHA characters. I'm planning on making this a series, so I hope you stick around for the ride!

>Tags: 18+ only + future smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + all characters are over the age of 21 + 1990's themed (No quirks) + repost + reader insert

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As the sweltering heat of summer began to wane, a refreshing chill hovered in the air, whispering promises of change. The whispers flew past your ears, picking up loose strands of hair and dancing with them. The drop top to your car has been tossed back, allowing you to see the changing leaves as they fall into the reckless abandon that is Musutafu Pass. A location renowned for its breathtaking vistas and winding roads that seemed to twirl gracefully around the mountain itself. 

As you navigated through winding rural roads, you felt the warm embrace of late summer still lingering around you, but as you ascended, the atmosphere shifted. Cool air swept in, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. It was a gentle reminder that the exuberance of summer was drawing to a close, making room for the crisp vitality of autumn.

Musutafu Pass is famous for its spiraling descent, a serpentine route that captures the thrill of driving while offering eye-popping views. The road twists and turns, encasing the mountain, each bend revealing a new perspective of the natural beauty surrounding it. This enchanting drive is not just a means of getting from point A to point B; it is an experience that invites you to become one with the landscape. This fact grabbed the interest of a certain group of people.

Street Racers.

As you reached the base of Musutafu Pass, the sun began its slow descent, determined to rest its eyes for the day. You accelerated with eagerness, your heart beating in rhythm with the car’s engine. The drive up the mountain brought forth a sense of childlike excitement, reminiscent of road trips taken in the blissful days of youth. Each turn felt exhilarating as the sprawling hillsides moved closer and the golden leaves began their transformation, shifting from deep greens to vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow.

Along the way, you paused to absorb the views. Each glance outward revealed a canvas painted by nature, where the late afternoon sun highlighted the rugged terrain. The mountains stood proud, their craggy peaks contrasting sharply against the fiery hues of fall foliage. The air felt electric, teeming with anticipation as the landscapes shimmered in the waning light of the day.

It was a moment of serenity amidst an ever-busy world—a chance to breathe in the crisp mountain air while allowing nature’s beauty to captivate your senses. You took in the sounds around you: the rustling of leaves, the loud hum of your exhaust, and the gentle breeze dancing through the trees. Time seemed to stretch, inviting reflection on the passing seasons and their significance.

As you ascended further, the shadows grew longer and the chill in the air deepened. You felt the need to reach the summit quickly, not just to catch the views, but to relish the changing of the guard from summer to fall in this picturesque paradise. You accelerated slightly, eager to witness the breathtaking panorama that awaited you.

Upon reaching the top, you were rewarded for your journey. The expansive view opened up, revealing a majestic landscape of undulating hills and valleys, now cloaked in the warm colors of autumn. The setting sun hung low on the horizon, casting a golden glow that illuminated the spectacular transformation of the world below.

The hum of the engine faded to silence as you turned off the ignition, an intimate moment of calm before the chaos that always surrounded your passion. With a steady hand, you pulled the e-brake, feeling the weight of the car resting securely on the side of the mountain road. You stepped out, the cool air wrapping around you like a familiar old coat, both comforting and chilling. Your heart raced in tune with the memories of asphalt and adrenaline that flooded your mind.

A year had passed since you returned to Japan from America, where the rhythm of lectures and study halls echoed in your head like a forgotten melody. You had aimed to seize your life, to transform the dreams that danced just out of reach into a tangible reality. But the moment you set foot back on Japanese soil, the thrill of the classroom quickly faded, replaced instead by the weight of your uncle Shota’s expectations. 

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, you ignited a flame, watching the red glow travel towards the burning tip with a sense of both resignation and rebellion. With each puff, you let the bitter smoke swirl around you, consuming the fears that danced at the corners of your mind. The ashes drifted away, disappearing into the abyss below, just like the plans you’d made for your future. 

Shota had questioned you relentlessly since your return. “When will you use that fancy education to get a real job?” he would ask. His voice bore the burden of disappointment, a reminder of every underachieving day spent behind the counter of a coffee shop rather than on the racetrack where you longed to be. To him, success had a defined shape—one of stability and societal approval. To you, it manifested in the rapid consumption of fuel and the roar of engines translating raw potential into sheer power. 

Yet despite the ticking clock of responsibility, your mind remained quenched by only one pursuit: racing. The siren call of the open road was an irresistible temptation—a seductive promise of freedom. It was the rush of drifting around corners, the exhilaration of overtaking competitors, and the sweet taste of victory that gnawed at you like a relentless itch. Racing wasn’t merely a passion; it was the cure for the noisome thoughts that crowded your brain. 

You stood at the edge of that mountain, gazing down the winding road that curled like a snake through the lush green valley. This was where it all happened. The thrill of racing wasn’t lost to memory; it pulsed within you. All of your thoughts converged here, each day propelling you closer to the moment when you could reintegrate your life and racing as one. 

But how?

When the roar of an engine beckoned you like a lover calling your name in the night. 

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of time pressing upon you. You took one last drag of your cigarette and flicked the glowing ember over the cliffside—a symbolic gesture of letting go of the ashes of expectations. You could stand still and succumb to your uncle’s pressure, or you could dare to awaken the engine of your soul. 

The choice danced in your mind like the tires that would soon grip the pavement. You took a deep breath, filled your lungs with the cold air infused with the scent of adventure, and exhaled the burdens of yesterday. 

With renewed resolve, you climbed back into your car, the familiarity of the leather seats embracing you as the engine roared back to life. The world outside thrummed against the cage of metal and glass, but within, your spirit soared. 

As you merged onto the winding road, a smile crept onto your lips. The race wasn’t just a distant dream but a promise to yourself. It was time to find your place in the world—one drift, one acceleration at a time. Everything else would have to wait; the siren song of racing was calling once again, and this time, you were ready to answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pop up headlights whirred as they closed, causing a small grin to take over your face. The air had chilled even more, nipping at your cheeks as you made your way to the stairs up to your apartment. With a look over your shoulder, you noticed your roommate's car parked. Momo was probably long asleep by this point, her strict schedule having a death grip on her. 

You ascended the stairs, fumbling your keys to find the correct one. Unlocking the door, it swings open, surprising you with light flooding through. You step in, removing your shoes and replacing them with slippers. 

Momo must still be up.

As if she heard you, she comes around the corner from her room. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, and she peered at you with relaxed eyes. 

“You were out late. Running the pass?” She could read you like the back of her hand. 

The two of you had been best friends since grade school. By each other’s side until college approached. She attended UA University here in Mustafu, while you went abroad. 

“Yeah.” Was your quick response, and as you walked by, she scrunched her nose with disgust. 

“And obviously smoking cigarettes again.” With a scoff, she turns and retreats back to her room. You only gave a small chuckle as you stripped your jacket and hung it up. 

“It’s called an addiction for a reason.” She returns with a disgruntled look on her face, tossing a stack of papers in your direction. 

“Yeah, well, those can be broken,” She flipped through a couple pages before directing your attention to some models. “Here’s the modules you asked for. We can go out tomorrow and run them, see if they’re any good.” 

The two of you belonged to a street racing team known as Impact Velocity. IV for short.

A newer group, you guys just came together a little under a year ago. You decided to take a year to work on every dynamic before taking to the streets. 

“Once we're done, we should have a group meeting. I think we're close to being able to race.” You gave her a nod, and with that, she returned to her room. 

“Get some rest, Y/N. You look like you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since you came back.” Her motherly tone caused you to roll your eyes, and nod your head. 

“Thanks, mom. That’s a great morale boost.” Her chuckle floated through the air as her door clicked close. Taking a peek at the pile of papers in front of you, your eyes began to throb. A migraine was starting to form behind your eyes, and you took that as a sign to meander your way to the shower. 

The bathroom filled with steam as the water poured from the spout, the mirror reflecting an image of you undressing. Pulling your hair out of the confines of a claw clip, you brushed through it a couple times. Entering the hot shower, you hoped it would wash away the agonizing feeling of being in a constant tug of war with your own mind. 

It didn’t, but you hoped some shut eye might help. Reaching your room, you towel dried your hair as you pressed play on the voicemail, it shining bright with the number one. 

“Hey, it’s me.” Shinso. You threw the towel in the dirty clothes basket, and snatched up your pack of cigarettes. Waiting on him to continue, your feet pad over to the balcony attached to your room. 

“I haven’t seen you in a couple days, and I was… thinking about you today. If you are free tonight, I could swing by. Lemme know.” With that, the machine beeps and erases the message. The lit cigarette in your hand burned with each puff, the smoke swirling around and thankfully away from Momo’s room. 

Hmm. Hopping up on the balcony rail, your feet dangle in the cool breeze. You contemplate Shinso’s offer, knowing there was more behind his words than what the voicemail led on. 

He’d been a student of your Uncle’s, often coming over to the shared house of you and your uncle to study. You’d moved in with him while you got back on your feet, and had the chance to meet Shinso. He’d been timid at first, but eventually the two of you realized you had more in common than originally thought. He was a racer as well, a fact that was hidden to your uncle. 

Things quickly changed into something more. The two of you sneakily meeting up late at night and taking out frustrations on one another. Things didn’t change once you moved in with Momo, not wanting her to know about two teammates being intimate behind closed doors. You contemplated the voicemail, knowing you shouldn’t.

You finished your cigarette, tossing it and making your way back inside. You picked up the phone, dialing a familiar number. 

It rang once, then twice before it was picked up. 

“Hey, you.” Shinso’s husky voice answered the other end, and it sent a warm feeling straight to your core. Your cheeks heated up, and you tried to suppress the grin taking over your face. 

“Hey, you wanna head over?” Your voice seemed strong, even with your crumbling resolve. A chuckle rang out from the other end, and that only sped up your demise. 

“You know, you make me feel like a piece of meat when you get straight to the point like that. Shame on you.” On the other end, you could hear his car start up, almost as if he was waiting for your call.

His comment made you scoff, with a smile.

“You called me first!” You hush yelled, not wanting to alarm your ever watchful roommate. 

“I’m fucking with you, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” You let out a small ‘kay’, and hung up. Putting the phone back on the holder, you walked over to your bed and sunk down on it. Picking up your current read from your bedside table, you read to pass the time.

You could hear his Nissan 180sx from a mile away, but he was always careful to coast in neutral as he pulled up. You peeked out, watching as he silently exited his lavender colored car, tucking his keys away. He ran a strong hand through his half up purple locks, pushing pieces that had escaped out of his eyes. 

Climbing up a vine covered trellis, he landed on your balcony with a thud. His lavender eyes met yours, and a wicked grin crept up his face. 

“Lemme bum a smoke.” He asked, not taking a step into your room yet. Your eyes rolled back, leaning forward and setting your book down. 

“And you say I’m the one that uses you..” Your fingers pulled back the top of your cigarette pack, extending it towards him. He leaned forward, both hands on the balcony railing, and snagged one with his lips. He watched as you flipped open your zippo, and ignited it with a quick flick. You protected the flame from the harsh breeze with a cupped hand. His lazy eyes stayed latched onto your face as he puffed the cigarette to life. Leaning back, he peeled his eyes away from you and onto the city in the distance. 

“We gonna race soon?” Smoked flowed with his words, and you nodded. 

“Give it a couple weeks and I think we’ll be good to go. I need you to take a look into the Miata for me. Momo came up with a couple modules for me, and I think I’m gonna need some things tuned to fit.” He nodded his head, turning in your direction. A moment of silence passed as you tried to wrangle your fleeting thoughts. 

“What’s on your mind? I can hear your intruding thoughts from here.” You shook your head, and looked away. 

“Same old, same old.” You didn’t care to elaborate, him already having heard the tirelessly plaguing thoughts you always had. 

Fingers grasped your chin, turning towards him. His heavy lidded eyes peered down his nose at you, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. He coerced your jaw open, taking a long drag from the cigarette elegantly trapped between his pale fingers. 

Leaning forward, he exhaled smoke into your mouth, the nicotine sending your mind ablaze. His lips followed the smoke, carefully grazing your open lips. 

“Lemme help you forget it then, sweetheart.”

part II

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A/N: If you got this far, thanks! This was very wordy I know, but there's gonna be more interactions from this point forward. I'm hoping to update every Sunday night!

di-in-al <3

[achaoticeternal]

false god

modern!uni!aemond targaryen x reader

summary: Being Helaena’s roommate and his bestfriend, dating Aemond was always supposed to be out of the question. Yet hooking up caused feelings to blossom. When you push him to consider more, you are left with nothing until the silence makes both of you cave.  word count: 4.1k a/n: this was supposed to just be smut but i crave plot warnings: SMUT [p in v], slight angst, lil praise kink, pet names

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There had never been a firm relationship to your relationship with Aemond Targaryen. The people closest to you in your lives knew that you had been quite close to your best friend ever since Helaena invited you home for a weekend from university during your freshman year. Aemond had been a high school senior at the time and you were Helaena’s roommate who had nothing to do over the holiday weekend.

A year had passed and now both of you were students at King’s Guard University, where his older two siblings attended too. Aemond had been quickly initiated into the same fraternity as Aegon through some light persuasion from his mother, but still remained primarily focused on his studies. During his first semester, Aemond would often come over to you and Helaena’s apartment for dinner or join in for the weekly movie night. Then it dissolved into you and Aemond studying together, either in his dorm or your room. Now you were… here.

Here was a strange place to be. Nearly every other weekend, Aemond was planted between your thighs or occupying your evenings in some other way. And though you had moved on to become an interesting mix between best friends and friends with benefits, you never shared that with anyone.

When Baela questioned whose boxers were idly tossed in your room, you passed it off as a one-night stand. Aemond received the same insufferable questioning but from his eldest brother, Aegon. He’d ask who Aemond was fucking that made his baby brother bearable to be around, which was often met with a harsh glare. Yet neither of you spilled the secret of your confidential nights tangled up in bed together. It surprised you how easily Aemond and you could pass off his ‘couch sleepovers’ to Helaena.

This past weekend, Helaena had been out of town with her anthropology class to a convention and excavation happening. This left the apartment to you alone, which meant you and Aemond taking full advantage of the opportunity. When Helaena was home, Aemond usually muffled your moans with a hand covering your mouth. But only this morning as he pressed you up against the shower wall, his name poured past your lips like a sacred prayer.

Now, you stood in the kitchen scrambling some eggs while dressed only in his flannel that barely covered your most intimate area. Moments later, Aemond moved into the kitchen with just a towel hanging lowly on his hips. His hair was still damp and hung in its natural waves, much like Helaena’s hair. You always thought to tell him to leave his hair natural, enjoying how the messy waves framed his face, but you would hate to overstep.

When dumping the eggs out onto two plates, Aemond gently wrapped his arms around your lower waist. His head rested on your shoulder, watching your gentle movements, “Breakfast for me? Guess I earned it.”

You swatted at his arm, catching the double meaning in his words, “I made you breakfast because I’m nice, loser.”

He chuckled, taking one of the plates from your hand. In the peace of the kitchen, you leaned against the counters across from each other, enjoying your food. It was a comfortable silence until your mind started to drift. The slight increase of your heartbeat coerced you into saying something.

“This is nice,” You said plainly, hoping he might catch on.

“Yeah. Your scrambled eggs are far better than my mother’s. Never tell her I said that though,” Both of you chuckled at this comment before allowing it to settle once more.

“Yeah, but no, I mean,” You took a deep breath, “This is nice…”

The air suddenly turned stale as Aemond pieced your meaning together, “Oh…”

Without another word or acknowledgment of your statement, Aemond placed his plate in the sink and turned to go back to your room. Your brow furrowed at this, seeing how he shrugged off your words, “Oh? What do you mean Oh?”

Quickly, you set down your plate. Crossing to your room, Aemond had shut and locked the door, “Open the door, Targaryen.”

“I’m changing,” He duly replied.

You sighed, but didn’t pressure him further, just talking to him through the door, “Aemond, you can’t just leave me hanging on Oh?”

Sighing, you leaned against the wall adjacent to your door, waiting for him. The couple of minutes that he spent getting dressed felt as if they lasted eons. Finally, the door opened to reveal Aemond dressed in his usual outfit of a loose-fitting white t-shirt and black jeans. He had tugged the rest of his silver hair back into a low bun.

“Aemond, please, let’s talk about this,” You looked at him, fear beating at your chest,

He took one glance at you before reaching for his phone and keys, “I’m sorry.”

Without another word, Aemond had left you alone and heartbroken in the middle of your apartment. --

For the next week, it would be safe to say that your relationship with Aemond had become strained. Neither of you exchanged texts or calls as usual, never grabbed lunch together, or even sat together in your shared classes. It was torture, but you wouldn’t further wound your pride by groveling for him to come back. Both of you were adults and if Aemond still wanted to just be your friend, then you could wait for such a time.

But it became difficult when the weekend rolled around once more. In order to not raise suspicion, Aemond came over to dinner with Helaena on Friday night. Except you quickly ditched dinner with your roomie and her brother to instead go out with Baela and Rhaena for separate plans. The same occurred the next day when Aemond came over to continue watching a series that the three of you enjoyed together. You waved them off, claiming that you had errands to run that could not be postponed.

It seemed that it would be easy to avoid Aemond, though it did sadden you that you in turn spent less time with Helaena. But you couldn’t stand the uncertainty that Aemond had left you with last Sunday morning…

But now you were tied to plans that did not align with your intention to rarely cross paths with the second Targaryen son ever again. Not only had Baela and Rhaena roped you into a party, but Helaena did too, all claiming that a night of fun would get your so-called ‘funk’ out of your system. Though a party typically would excite you, it caused stress to course through your body instead, knowing that you’d be spending the evening partying at Aegon and Aemond’s frat.

But your friends were none the wiser of the reason for your hesitancy. But with some compliments on how hot you looked and a few shots to pregame, you all made your way to the frat house, arm in arm.

--

Drunk college students filled every room and lined every wall of the house. Those who weren’t dancing on elevated surfaces or standing around were sitting on the couches either complaining or making out with whoever occupied the seat next to them.

You remained tucked in between your group of friends, cups filled with mixed drinks in your hands. The four of you giggled as you spoke of the party-goers surrounding you, placing dibs on where each of you would end your night.

Yet your laughter quickly died when you spotted him. Aemond’s violet eye was trained on you and you could feel it as he scanned over every inch of your body. It was the look of desire and as it flashed in his eye, it would send shivers down your spine, out across your body. You hated how reactive you were to him, even while upset.

Cutting your attention back to your friends, you tried to forget about Aemond for the night. You realized that such a task is easier said than done, but you wanted to truly enjoy having a girl’s night. So with the agreement of your friends, you all filed into the backyard for another round of shots and eventually were roped into playing a drinking game.

It was a game you had played quite a bit during your freshman year that permitted you to get drunk quickly depending on the amount of people playing. Currently, nine people were surrounding the table stacked with cups of varying liquors. You were shoulder to shoulder between Baela and a random brother you hadn’t introduced yourself to yet. That was until Aemond came and squeezed himself in between you and the dude that he simply shot a stern look at.

You wanted to change positions just to further irritate Aemond in your little silent treatment, but before you could, the game began. Immediately, Rhaena went up against Cregan attempting to bounce a ball into one of the red plastic cups. Being a natural shot, Cregan easily beat Rhaena, stacking his cup on top of her own. She quickly grabbed another cup, drinking its contents before firing back against her next competition.

The game continued to move around the table in continuation, cheering being heard surrounding the group. Finally, down to the last two cups, a shot, and the loser’s cup, you were up against Helaena. With a shot of luck, Helaena managed to stack her cup into yours before you could even toss the little ball.

It was down to you against Aemond. After you finished the shot from a fresh cup, you immediately began firing. The air was intense as both of you focused on making the goal into the cup. Your ball would just barely make it in before bouncing off the rim. Frustrated, you took your measures to secure one last chance. Roughly, you bumped against Aemond’s arm, causing him to misfire. He shot you a fierce look, yet you shrugged it off.

Taking your best chance, you positioned yourself to what you prayed to be the winning shot. But before you knew what happened, Aemond returned your cheating favor, bumping his hips into yours. The ball rolled away and instead, Aemond made the landing shot.

You scoffed with a laugh as Aemond passed your original cup back to Helaena while you took the last remaining shot. Now, only the loser’s cup, filled with a peculiar mix of alcohol, sat in the middle of the table. It was not something you wanted to have to force down your throat, much less deal with the hangover that would definitely follow.

Helaena and you were now down to the wire, firing away. Sadly, your roommate did not have the same luck as earlier when going against you. Instead, you landed a winning shot, the unfortunate loser’s cup now being Helaena’s to finish.

Surprisingly, Helaena chugged it like a pro, throwing the cup over her head upon finishing the drink. With a laugh, you all went back inside to dance together and continue the night.

A couple of hours had passed and the alcohol had taken hold of each of your friends at varying levels. Despite taking a few shots yourself, the alcohol did not as heavily impact you due to your faithful attempt to remain sober enough to not end up in somebody’s bed.

“Do worry,” Jacerys, a close friend and Baela’s boyfriend smiled, “I’ll get Baela and Helaena back home safe.”

“No, Jace. Helaena is my roommate, you don’t have to take care of her,” You tried to ease him.

“It’s okay, I promise,” He laughed pointing at your friends, “Plus, they apparently pinky promised each other that they would have a sleepover tonight.”

With a giggle and final nod of agreement, you allowed Jace to lead the girls back to Baela’s apartment. Rhaena left a few hours earlier with her ‘friend’, Lucerys, which now left you. As they disappeared down the street, you turned in the direction of your apartment to begin walking home.

However, you were quickly halted by your name being called out. Turning around once more, you caught the man who called for you and rolled your eyes, “What, Aemond? I’m going home.”

“Yeah, I can see that, but,” He paused for a moment, “But I can’t just let you walk all the way back to your place alone. It isn’t safe.”

You shook your head with a cruel laugh under your breath, “It’s two blocks. I’ll be fine. And I’m not getting an Uber either for such a stupidly short distance.”

Once more, you turned on your heel to begin walking. But Aemond took two steps forward, grasping your hand lightly, “Please. Let me just make sure you get back safe.”

Casting your gaze down to the pavement, you thought over it for a moment. He was right… even if you didn’t want to admit that. With a nod of your head, you finally permitted him to walk you back to your flat. At least, just for his peace of mind.

--

You tried saying good night to Aemond when you approached the doors to the complex. That only caused him to become more chatty. So you bid goodbye again in the lobby. And in the elevator. Then down the hall. But he persisted and walked with you all the way to the door of your flat.

“We’ll get you inside, and while you change, I’ll grab you a snack and some water.”

“That isn’t really necessary, Aemond. Helaena and Baela had twice as many drinks as I did, so I’ll be fine,” You tried to coax yourself out of the predicament.

“Let me take care of you, darling. I haven’t seen you all week,” He pressed lightly.

“There might be a reason for that,” You sighed while inserting and twisting the key to your apartment.

“C’mon, I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright and-”

“Stop, Aemond!” You turned and looked up into his eye with a sharp look.

He seemed to straighten his posture as you took an entirely different tone with him, “If you’re being so frigid because of last Sunday, then at least let me come in and make it up to you.”

“No, Aemond, I don’t want you to come inside and take care of me because you’ll just say something stupidly sweet and I’ll want to tug you back into my bed, and I… I can’t do it,” You whined, frustrated at this current situation you found yourself in, “I don’t want to be your best friend that you have the added benefit of hooking up with. I wanted to be with you, and if you aren’t ready for that, fine. But I will not be the girl who continues to be another plaything as your brother has…”

When Aemond fell silent again, you took it as your cue to continue into your apartment. Quickly, you opened the door, just to shut it as quickly. But Aemond was faster, sliding his boot past the door frame and pressing a hand against the door itself.

His reaction caused you to spring back away from the door, heart stammering in your chest. You knew that Aemond, whether or not you were upset with each other, would not harm you. However, something shifted in his demeanor and a fire was ablaze in his eye.

“I’m not my brother,” He spoke in a stern tone, low in his chest, “You don’t mean that.”

Even in his harsh tone, you knew that his words were not out of anger. They came from a place of hurt. Clearly, you had struck a nerve inside him. But you did not answer him, leaving your previous statement to be far more ambiguous. This only spurred Aemond further.

Aemond slithered into the apartment, shutting and locking the front door. He stood tall, his head reaching the top of the door frame easily. He stood there for a long pause, arms folded over his chest as if he were finding words to condemn you. But instead, he was silent which was arguably worse than whatever he could really say.

“Go,” You said half-heartedly.

Then silence again. It only made you frustrated, not with him, but with yourself.

“I don’t believe you actually want me to leave,” He spoke once more.

He then unfolded his arms, taking small steps towards you, “I don’t believe that you want to chill me out of your life. I don’t believe that you enjoy giving me the silent treatment. And I refuse to believe that you don’t want me.”

“What?” You looked surprised. Not by the whole statement, but by his emphasis.

With a sigh, he continued, “You said, ‘I wanted to be with you’, wanted being past tense. I think you still want me.”

Finally, Aemond closed the remaining distance between the pair of you. He raised a gentle hand to caress the side of your cheek, “Am I right about that, sweet girl?”

When you did not answer, Aemond tilted your chin up with a low hum. His eye scanned over your face as if committing it to memory. His warm breath fanned across you, making the gesture that much more intimate.

Finally, Aemond pressed his lips to yours, gently, to test the waters. What he did not expect was the fervor in which you kissed him back. Your hands immediately raked through his silver silk hair, tangling your fingers between the strands. You pressed yourself up against his frame, bodies perfectly molding together.

He reacted by quickly pressing you up against the closest wall, trapping your light moans in his mouth. Yet cruelly, he pulled away while keeping you pinned in place, “So I am right?”

“Fuck you,” You chuckled at his teasing, continuing to grind your hips against his pelvis.

“Trust me, I fully intend to fuck you,” Aemond gingerly nibbled at your bottom lip, “But I do want you to know that I’m done after this.”

Suddenly, the feeling in your stomach dropped. You pressed yourself back to the wall as hard as you could, anything to create distance, “Done?”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet girl,” Aemond closed in once more, “I’m not done with you. But I am done hiding what we have. I’m done sneaking around Helaena and our friends. I’m done pretending that it doesn’t bother me when other guys flirt with you at a party. I’m done being your hookup. But I am not done loving you. In fact, I only want to be with you properly from now on. How does that sound, darling?”

The breath hitched in your throat as your eyes went wide in pleasant shock. Words were lost on you. All you could do to reply was feverishly nod your head before kissing him once more.

At your eagerness, Aemond began to strip both of you out of the clothes that now only added layers of separation from each other. The shared kisses would only momentarily pause as he pulled your top off or you tugged at his shirt for him to remove.

Finally left in just your underwear, he paused to look at you. His eye did not wander down your body as it typically would. No, Aemond’s eye was trained on your own eyes with nothing but adoration behind them, “I do love you, and have loved you for a while now.”

You giggled at his statement, softly swatting at his lean chest, “C’mon, loser.”

Taking his hands in your own, you began to tug him into your room. He willingly followed with a chuckle of his own, even lightly spanking your bottom once passing through the door frame.

At this, you shoved him back onto your bed, being quick to straddle him. Continuing with your teasing, you ground yourself over his clothed erection, little grunts escaping his barred teeth. Aemond’s hands moved from your hips, up to the clasp of your bra, discarding the garment by tossing it elsewhere in the room. His large calloused hands then moved over your chest to cup the tender flesh of your tits. A small whimper escaped past your lips when his thumb rolled over your sensitive nipple. He continued his own taunts by rolling the bud between two fingers.

Finally, when he had his fill of the tease, Aemond rolled you both over to where you were pinned on the mattress beneath him. A few strands of silver hair had fallen from the loosely tied bun and tickled your face and neck. His hands trailed down your body, gently grazing the skin and leaving goosebumps in the trace of the digits. They lowered down your body until resting at the band of your thong.

With a smirk, Aemond hooked a finger under the band and released it, watching it snap against the skin of your hip. He chuckled at the whine that poured from your surprised face. Then, he hooked his fingers once more and removed them completely, leaving you bare before him. Though you had been naked before him many times before. Aemond took a moment to scan over your body and admire every curve and dip. You were a painting he would admire for eternity.

Aemond then moved forward once more, taking one of your legs against his chest, the ankle hooking over his shoulder. Slowly, he began to pepper kisses from your calf, down your inner thigh, before being faced with your heat. He kissed your thigh once more, before pressing his lips to the sensitive bud at the apex of your cunt. Your reaction caused him to chuckle once more, before he licked a broad strip from your entrance to your clit, “Fuck… you’re so wet for me already.”

His head then bobbed up to meet your lustful gaze. A smirk played at his lips, “Though I’d love to make you come three times over with my tongue, I want to love you. I want our bodies to be one tonight.”

Pressing one last kiss to your mound, Aemond stood, pressing down his boxers as he went. His cock stood firm and leaking with precum, his length was as impressive as always. With one arm wrapped around your leg against his chest, and the other holding his cock, Aemond began to push into your entrance. Once the tip of his head pushed into your warm heat, both of you moaned out in unison at the sensation.

He completed the thrust, fully sheathing himself inside of you. With the position he pulled you into, the head brushed against the spot that made your head spin. As he began to gingerly rock into you, setting a slow pace, the euphoria began to spread through your body.

Aemond dipped down lower as he thrust into you, with your calf dangling over his shoulder. With each cry of his name, he would kiss the skin of your thigh to affirm how well you took all of him, “That’s my sweet girl, moaning out my name so sweetly.”

The pace of his thrusts then began to increase, causing him to drop your leg. Instead, you wrapped them around his torso, bringing Aemond’s lips to meet your own. Passionately, you shared a kiss once more, the lingering taste of your still on his tongue. He rocked into your with a loving force, his compliments never once stopping between each kiss and moan.

The knot in your lower stomach began to become too much. Aemond knew this from the way you clung to his shoulders, eyes scrunching in absolute pleasure, “That’s it, love. You’ve been such a good girl. Go ahead… come for me…”

His gentle words coaxed you to a blissful release, a daze washing over you. Aemond continued to thrust into you, chasing his own release. Moments later, Aemond reached his high as well, peppering your face with kisses as your slick and his seed dribbled out of your cunt.

Softly, he removed himself, allowing you both the space to breathe deeply. Spent from the evening and aftershocks of your orgasm, Aemond took it upon himself to clean you both up. He moved from the bed, getting you a glass of water and a gentle cloth to clean you up with. His movements were gentle against your sensitive area and he spoke soft praises as the euphoria finally released you.

When he returned to your bed, Aemond moved both of you under the covers. He pulled you into his chest, pressing tender kisses to your forehead. Looking up at him, you offered an affectionate smile, “I guess you were right.”

Aemond chuckled at the words but fell silent again. He took a breath before speaking once more, “I love you, sweet girl, and I am more than happy to be yours.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. thanks for reading!

[lonelym00n]

Just Friends

Part four of The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Things are weird between you and Tara. Can you really be just friends with the girl you're in love with?

A/N: It's 5 am. The birds are chirping. I stayed up all night for this and I would gladly do it again.

It had been a week since Tara had unknowingly crushed your heart in her small hands. You felt defeated, but more so embarrassed that you had given so much of yourself to Tara so quickly. The pieces of you that were left behind were almost nonexistent, squashed to bits at the words of her rejection. 

You hadn’t talked to any of your friends, not because they hadn’t tried to contact you, but because you were choosing to avoid them. It wasn’t a deliberate choice to ignore their messages at first. Part of you had wanted to respond, but when you glanced at the messages, you were just too emotionally drained to do so. This pattern repeated day after day and even though their messages became more insistent over the passing time, your energy still remained at an all time low.

You were admittedly ashamed by your actions, but realistically what were you supposed to do? You were tired and it felt like every last bit of hope you had for your life finally becoming worth something was stripped away completely. The thought of facing your friends, of facing her- 

It was just too much to bear at the moment. You couldn’t see her, you couldn’t see any of them, not when you were so sure that you resembled a flower that had withered up at the first sign of the dry season.

So you kept your distance. You went to class, took meals to go from the dining halls, and holed up in your room. It was an okay routine, but it didn’t measure up to the one that had been constantly filled with laughter and bliss. 

You sighed heavily, tossed your backpack onto its spot on your chair, and climbed up into your bed. With the covers pulled firmly up to your chin, you will yourself to fall into a dreamless sleep. 

It comes to you, luckily. But as fast as your peace arrives, it drifts away as someone knocks repeatedly on your door.

Groggily, you drag yourself out of bed and towards the door, mentally cursing your roommate. This hadn’t been the first time she’d woken you up from a nap because she’d forgotten her keys. 

You fling the door open, an annoyed look on your face. Your eyes widen in shock as they fall upon someone who is most definitely not your roommate.

Mindy frowns at you, a mix of anger and concern in her expression. 

“Wow, you actually are alive.” She stalks into the room, turning around to face you when she hears that you’ve shut the door. “Y’know, people don’t normally ignore their friends to the point where it’s unclear if they’re still breathing.”

You feel small under Mindy’s scrutinizing temperament. 

“Sorry,” you mumble weakly.

She examines you for a few long seconds, before sweeping her gaze along the messy state of your room. You’re not sure what exactly it is that she notices, but she drops her interrogative act and takes on a softer approach.

“Why haven’t you answered any of our texts?”

You shrug, “I dunno. I guess I needed some space.”

Mindy sinks down to take a seat on your bed. You remain standing, awkwardly folding your arms around your waist. 

“Is it because of what Tara told you? Do you not want to be around us anymore because of the whole…” She mimes a stabbing gesture.

Your heart aches at the thought of the group mistaking your absence for your fear of what they’d gone through. “No, no no. Mindy, it's not because of that.”

You take a seat next to her on the mattress.

“Then why?”

“I- it’s just,” you pause and bashfully rub your shoulder. “Tara didn’t tell you what she said? After she told me about the whole Woodsboro thing, I mean.”

Mindy’s brow furrows and she shakes her head. 

“Oh.” You feel a bit deflated at Mindy’s unawareness. You gnaw at your bottom lip and try to stop your overthinking nature from taking over. Was it weird that she hadn’t told anyone? Should you be happy about it?

You flinch harshly as Mindy places a comforting hand on your shoulder. Only now do you notice that you’ve been quiet for far too long. 

“What happened? What did she say to you?”

“Uhh,” your chest is swirling with emotions. You’d yet to talk about this with anyone and it has been eating you up for the past week. “She said she’s not ready for a relationship. She only wants to be friends.”

You find a spot on the ceiling and stare at it.

“She does? But I thought she liked you.”

You huff and flatly meet Mindy’s eyes. “So did I.”

“Look, I think I know what must’ve happened. I’ll talk to her and-”

“No!” You rush out the words, “Don’t talk to her about it please. I completely get why she’s not ready for a relationship.”

Mindy shakes her head and laughs slightly, “But I can tell she likes you and she doesn’t want to be just friends. She probably just got scared after talking about everything.”

“I don’t know. But she made her decision and I’m okay with that. You don’t have to say anything to her about it, it’s fine.”

Mindy looks like she has more to say, but she holds herself back. The two of you sit in silence.

Unfortunately, the silence does nothing to cover up the sniffle you so desperately try to hold back.

Mindy looks up swiftly at the sound. She’s met with the slow drip of tears down your cheeks.

You’re swept into a hug before you know it. She waits a beat, before speaking, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

And because you’ve been emotionally vulnerable this whole week with no one to talk to, you break and tell her everything. You tell her how you aren’t even upset at the fact that Tara isn’t ready for a relationship, but are more heartbroken by the feeling of being led on. How you had held and kissed her so intimately just to be told that the two of you could only be friends. How you can’t get the softness of her lips against yours off your mind, and how you’re not sure you ever will. Lastly, you tell her how strongly you felt for Tara, how you think you’d fallen in love with her after that day in the diner, and how you don’t think you can pretend that she doesn’t mean everything in the world to you.

Mindy, though she denies any allegations of being a hopeless romantic, feels her heart break for the agony that you’ve revealed to her. She knew you’d had feelings for Tara (everyone did, it was nearly impossible not to notice), but she wouldn’t have guessed that they went this far. She lets you cry out all your woes and gently comforts you throughout. 

When you’ve finally cried yourself into a state of emptiness, Mindy shifts the two of you into a lying position. She plucks your laptop out of your bag and props it up on her lap, perusing Netflix’s horror movie section before selecting one she doesn’t find completely abominable. 

The rest of the day is filled with sarcastic comments and relentless critiques for any moment she deems unhorror-like. Mindy does such a good job distracting you that you nearly forget all about the heavy weight that has been plaguing your mind.

You fall asleep that night more at ease than you’d been for a long while.

The next few days are filled with Mindy’s bright presence. She somehow learned your schedule and picked you up from each of your classes. You compare her to a very welcome thorn in your side.

She helps build you back up, and you slowly start feeling like a normal person again. It’s nice to be in her company and you feel so thankful to have a friend like her.

One day, when the two of you are grabbing lunch, she abruptly stops retelling a story from her shared childhood with Chad. 

She’s looking over your shoulder at something that you can’t see. 

“Earth to Mindy,” your hand waves in front of her face, to which she still doesn’t respond. 

“Fuck,” she curses quietly. She turns to you quickly, “Tara and Anika are coming over here.”

A panicky feeling fills your chest. Sure you were doing better, but you were definitely not ready to see her. Sucking in a breath, you prepare yourself for the interaction, knowing you have no choice but to face her now.

“Hey guys!” You missed Anika’s cheery nature and you nearly smile at how smitten Mindy looks when Anika plants a kiss on her cheek.

Tara wordlessly takes the empty seat next to you. 

 “Y/N, how are you?” Anika innocently acts.

You ignore the feeling of Tara’s eyes burning into you as you speak, “Eh, pretty good. My chem class is giving me a lot of trouble.”

Mindy, ever your savior, changes the subject, “T, have you tried that new latte the coffee shop has? Y/N and I tried it this morning.” 

It’s your turn to watch Tara while she’s distracted. She’s as pretty as ever, her soft brown hair laying perfectly on her shoulders. You missed drinking in the sight of her, but you mentally chastise yourself for the thought, reminding yourself that you’re not supposed to be looking at her that way anymore.

You sink into your chair at the remembrance. 

“You and Y/N tried it?” You don’t see the flash of fire in her eyes, too busy picking at your food. 

“Yeah, after her English Lit class.” Mindy turns towards Anika, “You should go with Tara to try it sometime.”

Anika hums softly in response, “Sounds good.”

The conversation dwindles in and out from that point on. You don’t participate much, only offering the occasional offhand comment when you’re mentioned. Tara keeps glancing at you, but your gaze remains firmly on your plate.

Checking the time on your phone, you stand up and gather your trash. “Well, I have calc so I have to go.”

You mutter out a goodbye to the small group and scurry away before Mindy can call you out on your lie. You don’t have calc for another two hours, you just needed an excuse to get away from the table. As you head towards the library, you idly wonder if things will always be so awkward between you and Tara. 

Your answer comes sooner than you expect. It’s Friday after classes, and Mindy is dragging you to a pizza place to hangout with the rest of the group.

She pulls you through the doorway and all but shoves you into the seat to her right. Anika sits to her left, followed by Tara. Chad sits beside her and Ethan sits beside you. You couldn’t be more grateful to be sat as far away from her as possible. 

The night actually doesn’t go too terribly. You’re able to talk to everyone without feeling weird, and you internally sigh in relief at how easy it is to avoid a direct conversation with Tara. 

As the night continues on, you indulge in Ethan’s rambling about this new mobile game he downloaded. You peek over his shoulder while he plays and explains how it works. Once you get the hang of it, he passes the phone to you and leans in closer to watch. Unbeknownst to you, Tara has been silently watching the exchange. 

You and Ethan are now playing a game of tug of war with his phone, laughing like children as you refuse to let him have a turn. 

It’s then that Tara calls for everyone’s attention. “Sam and I are throwing a movie night at the apartment tomorrow. You’re all invited, obviously.”

The group cheers at the news. Apparently Carpenter sister movie nights were a big deal. Your eye twitches at the thought of being trapped in Tara’s house for hours. And you’d have to finally meet Sam.

Your chair scrapes loudly as you stand, “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

You walk away and enter the bathroom. 

Back at the table, Mindy and Anika share a knowing glance. Mindy goes to follow you when Tara stands. 

“I’ll go.” She softly announces, and turns towards the bathroom. Everyone shares a look, well, everyone except Ethan.

“What’s all that about?”

Anika reaches over to lightly shove him in the shoulder, “Keep up.” 

You’re standing in front of the mirror, staring at yourself as you internally struggle to find an excuse to skip out on the movie night.

The door pushes open and your thoughts halt at the sight of Tara.

“Hi.”

“Hi Tara,” you mumble back. 

You both stare at each other for a second. 

She breaks the silence, “Look I know what you’re thinking. But please just come, it won’t be weird if you do.”

This is the first time the tension between the two of you has been acknowledged. Your heart leaps into your throat. You sigh and reach up to scratch the back of your neck.

“I dunno…”

You make the mistake of allowing yourself to meet her eye. She’s staring up at you, a petulant pout spread across her dimpled cheeks. 

“Please? I want you to come. And Sam really wants to meet you. We both want you there, and so does everyone else.”

You open your mouth to spew an excuse but nothing comes out.

“Alright,” you relent. “I’ll come.”

She smiles and the familiar flutter of your heart returns. 

You return to the rest of the group, Tara following closely behind you. She fills everyone in on the details of the plan. The night ends shortly after.

The next day, Mindy and Anika meet you outside of your dorm room for the trip to the Carpenter’s apartment. They chatter the whole way over, reassuring you that Sam’s hard exterior was mostly just a front. 

You are incredibly nervous as the three of you approach the door. Tara opens it shortly after and ushers the three of you in, urging you to make yourselves comfortable. You take a seat on the couch, trying to stave off the anxiousness that has built up in your chest.

Tara returns from her trip to the kitchen with Sam and a redheaded girl. You assume her to be Quinn, Tara had mentioned her to you before. 

“Y/N, this is my sister, Sam, and our roommate Quinn.”

You stand up to greet them, wiping your palms on your pants. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you both.” 

Quinn smiles brightly at you while Sam sweeps her gaze across you, likely determining how much of a threat you are.

Tara elbows Sam in the side, receiving a noise of displeasure in return. 

“Tara talks a lot about you, it’s nice to formally meet you too.”

You nod at her and try to disregard the first part of her comment.

Quinn speaks next, “With how often she talks about you, you’d think she’d have mentioned how cute you are.”

She teasingly runs a finger up your arm and you feel a blush rise up your cheeks. Mindy snorts behind you. 

“Thank you Quinn.”

She hums, “Anytime.”

Ethan and Chad arrive just after her reply. Ethan flops down next to Anika while Chad moves to greet Sam with a hug. You sit down next to Mindy. 

Soon enough, the remaining members move to make themselves comfortable on the couch. Tara eyes the empty spot next to you, but Quinn slides in before she can make a move towards it.

You turn to greet her and she gives you a smile that is anything but innocent in return. Sam commandeers the remote, flicking on the first movie for the night. 

Your efforts to pay attention are thwarted by little touches from Quinn. She drags her finger up your arm again and traces along your collarbone. Once she gets bored of that, she twirls a stray piece of your hair around the same finger. 

You find that you don’t really mind the innocent touches, so you allow her to do as she pleases. 

The movie finishes sooner than you expect. You look over at the rest of the group to find Anika, Mindy, and Ethan all fast asleep, slightly tangled up on the couch. Sam wordlessly puts on the next movie. 

About halfway through, Quinn decides to go to bed, but not before sending a flirty wink your way. When the movie finishes, you notice that Tara and Chad are now asleep too. 

Sam stands up and pads into the kitchen. You hesitate a moment before deciding to follow her. You make sure she hears you as you do so, so you don’t catch her off guard by accident.

“Do you want anything to drink?” She offers.

“Sure, water would be great.” 

She hands you a glass and the two of you stand in the kitchen in silence. 

After a short internal debate, you speak, “I just want to say that I really admire you. Tara’s really lucky to have a sister like you.”

Sam seems surprised at your comment, “Thanks.”

You nod in response. 

She glances up at you, “I’m sorry about the whole barging into the diner thing. I know I put you into an awkward situation. I was just kind of in a panic and didn’t stop to think.”

“Oh no it’s fine,” you quickly reassure. “I can understand why you were so upset. I guess I’m sorry for the part that I played in that too. It’s my fault Tara didn’t answer you.”

Her hard exterior softens slightly at your apology. “Don’t be sorry, you had no idea.” 

You two share a smile, and your eyes drift to Tara’s sleeping form on the couch. Sam looks over her shoulder to see what you’re looking at before turning back to face you again.

“You like her, don’t you?” She asks softly.

Your heart burns in your chest. You wish things were easier enough for you to say yes, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t what Tara wanted.

“I care about her,” you clarify. “We’re friends.”

If Sam notices how choked up you sound, she doesn’t say anything. You sigh.

“I should probably get back before it gets dark.”

She nods in understanding but places a firm hand on your shoulder before you can move to retrieve your belongings. “It was really nice to meet you. For what it’s worth, I think you’d be good for her.”

Tears spring into your eyes but you hold them back fiercely. You choose not to comment on Sam’s words.

“Thank you for having me over. I understand how much trust this takes.”

You turn and make your way over to the living room to grab your jacket and keys, silently slipping out of the apartment so as not to wake anyone. Only once the door is firmly shut behind you do you let the tears fall.

You return safely back to your dorm and fall asleep with the thoughts of what it’d be like to be happily in love with Tara firmly on your mind. 

Ironically, she texts you the next morning, asking you to return back to the apartment so the two of you could talk. You knew eventually that you’d have to hash out the tension that remained between you and her, but you didn’t think it’d be so soon.

After a quick shower and a bite to eat from the dining hall, you head back to the Carpenter sisters’ apartment. 

You arrive shortly after and knock gently on the door. Quinn opens it with a smirk.

She calls out over her shoulder, “Tara! Y/N’s here!”

Tara appears and gently wraps her fingers around your wrist to tug you into the apartment, heading swiftly in the direction of what must be her bedroom. You barely have enough time to notice that the group of friends is still occupying the apartment, biding a brisk hello to them as you are pulled past.

Once you are inside the room, she clicks the door shut. 

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you smile gently, trying to hide your nervousness, but very obviously failing.

Tara bites her lip, “I hate that you’re nervous around me now. I ruined things, didn’t I?”

You are shocked at her words and you blink a few times before responding, giving her a soft look, “Tara, no. You didn’t ruin things. I’m sorry I’ve been acting weird, but don’t blame yourself. You aren’t ready for something and I get that.”

She paces around the room for a minute, seemingly deep in contemplation. You take a seat on the edge of her bed, waiting patiently.

She turns towards you, “What if I am ready?”

You look at her stupidly. “What?”

She runs her fingers through her hair, “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about you. And the other day with Ethan and god yesterday with Quinn, I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else.”

You’re in a complete stupor, it’s hard to believe you aren’t dreaming right now. “Tara, I don’t understand.”

She sits next to you and grabs your hand. The air is charged and you feel like you could faint. 

Tara licks her lips, “Let me tell you a different way.”

You lose yourself in her eyes as she leans in, unable to think about anything other than the shortening proximity. You can feel her breath on yours and just before your lips can touch, Anika barges into the room, a frantic expression on her face.

“You’ve got to come see this.”

You and Tara scramble up and rush into the living room. Everyone’s eyes are glued on the TV.

Your heart sinks as you read the headline. Beside you, Tara trembles.

Mindy’s the one to break the silence, her tone full of anguish and fear.

“It’s happening again.”

***

A/N: ooh things are about to go downhill!! I think the next part is going to be the finale and it's gonna be a wild ride! I messed up the timeline last chapter (scream vi is a full year after scream v, not a few months) but there's not really a way I can fix my mistake without things getting even more messed up. So either just ignore that Tara said it was a few months ago and pretend that this is a full year later or don't, the story still works either way. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Taglist: @thenextdawn @dreifhraniquo29

guys im horrible at taglists, plz forgive me if I accidentally forgot anyone I'm trying to rush this out so I can go to sleep before the sun rises

[arachnixe]

One Final Homecoming

The rain falls hot on my skin, landing with a sizzling hiss whenever it manages to dodge the brim of my hat and find a patch left exposed by my dress. The burns heal immediately, the spell an automatic reflex I don’t consciously register anymore.

I don’t sneer at the people hurrying through the rain, shielding themselves from the downpour with umbrellas and coats. I don’t show my contempt for what I can only conceptualize as a form of cowardice, knowing the rain would happily embrace them if they let down their guard. The water would glide smoothly over their skin with a gentle caress, a “you belong here and I love you” that stands in stark contrast to the downpour’s efforts to scour me away.

I don’t sneer. I keep myself composed. My mask of indifference remains flawless. The world may reject me, but I rejected it first, didn’t I? Being born here came with certain terms and conditions I found disagreeable, and so I made myself its enemy.

It’s in the spirit of this mutual animosity that I stand here right now, in front of an unmarked office building in a city that sleepwalks a cancerous expansion of itself. My hand drifts of its own accord into my bag seeking the reassuring touch of the seed I carry. It’s still there—smooth, warm, pulsing gently—the beating heart of something altogether foreign, yet not a heart at all, and maybe not quite a seed either, but rather a key, and if there’s anything in this world or any other that a witch understands, it’s keys.

Time’s wheel turns, as do the wheels within and without. I turn the mind’s eye inward to watch. I raise my eyes skyward to see. At last the inner aligns with the outer. Above and below, a moment clicks into place. I press my hand to a locked door and push it gently open.

The security guards inside are unprepared for me. “The Anomaly” is their name for me, and they shout the epithet while drawing guns. Their bullets splatter across my clothes, leaving even less of an impression than the raindrops, and it has been a very long time indeed since mere weather could divert my path. I pluck their threads and discard the rest—without much gentleness, I must confess—as I proceed to the elevators.

Their computer networks would deny me access to the lower floors if I asked permission, so I do not. “Down” is the most natural direction for a thing to move anyway, and it takes little persuasion to coax this little box where it wants to be. Down, down, down below the surface of this world, I pass alongside the city’s veins of sewage and lightning, poisoned air and poison dreams.

Real resistance makes itself known down below. This building’s ideas have strong roots down here, where people in stark suits spin a web of ontology to catch and contain, sneering their contempt of me. I let the mask fall. I am no moth, mercurial and unaware, easily misdirected to get ensnared by their traps. I dance electric across the apocalypse they’d weave for me, high voltage burning my entrance and exit through their collective consciousness.

I have even less gentleness to spare for these agents than I did the guards above. They collapse, mindsblood painting the walls in crackling infrablack.

A stairwell—less accessible than most, requiring the right eyes to even see it—takes me down to the bottom floor. There, the root office. In the office, a table. On the table, a briefcase. Above it all, a fluorescent light flickers.

I shove the table aside and get to digging. When a thing is meant never to be unlocked, one may need to carve a keyhole. Sometimes this means using one’s bare hands to claw through carpet and concrete. I do as I must, working quickly and ignoring the arrival of my executioner.

The bullet she puts in my head is made of realer stuff than mere lead, and I die almost immediately. Not much time left, then, but enough to reach into my bag, extract the key, and offer it a single kiss. I plant it and suture the building’s wound with the guards’ threads.

“It’s over,” my executioner informs me as if she believes me unaware that I’ve already died. I offer my most withering smile, one I’m quite sure will eventually kill her, before laying myself down to rest. My curse rattles her enough to command that concrete be poured here, filling the root office and sealing me in, as though I were radioactive waste, safe as long as I can be sequestered away indefinitely.

She will survive my smile for a decade or so. Long enough, I think, to see the strange new roots growing upward through the building, throbbing with the lifeblood of something truly alien to her reality. A fine curse, I think, to be the only one aware of corruption gripping the nexus of her life’s work.

My bones will rest easy, nourishing the world that is to come.

[divine-misfortune]

Alright so i MIGHT have accidentally deleted the ask that @mac-and-thefox sent like a dumb ass but she requested rulti for the kiss prompts with 'on a place of insecurity'.

With a few little splashes, the flat stone skimmed along the mirror like surface of the lake sending disruptive ripples across the water. Inevitably gravity took hold and plunged the rock beneath the surface and Swiss watched it go with a furrowed brow. Briefly interrupted, the lake settled back into its serene state. Unbothered by him and his influence on it like always. 

He laid back against the dock and stared up at the glittering sky, stars winking down at him in his misery. Swiss knew he'd regret the choice to collapse onto the dock and not the grass, sensing splinters and a lecture from Aether in his future, but the deed was already done. Resigned to his fate, he threw an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the silver moonlight. 

"There you are...Started to think you were hiding from me." The dock creaked under added weight, Swiss didn't know if he trusted it to hold two people. 

Swiss lifted his arm long enough to look up at the upside-down face of the water ghoul looming over him. Just as pretty from this angle, outlined in a soft white glow. 

"Not from you, from her" he gestured vaguely towards the sky and Rain's head tilted. "She's been mocking me for days." 

"The moon is mocking you?" 

"Yes! Yes, it fucking has. I know you've felt that tug in your bones all week." He watched Rain straighten out his spine, arms folded neatly behind his back as he tipped his head back. Natural and elegant in her presence like he belonged there. "Calling me back to the water despite everything," he scoffed "she loves my anguish apparently." 

"Now someone sounds a little too self important" he mused and seated himself on the space of the dock beside him, arms braced behind him, head still thrown back to admire the cloudless sky. "She doesn't call you for nothing, certainly not maliciously. You've got it inside you, Mr. Multi." 

"Barely. Hardly a multi ghoul as imbalanced as I am, water just...doesn't stick. Not meant for it." Swiss frowned and turned his face to the side away from Rain, watching the lake gently lapping at the shoreline. "I can make a little wave or two but that's not impressive." 

He turns towards him again and Rain's laying down as well, on his side, staring at him with a bent arm pillowed under his head. There's that tug again. Magnetic and persistent. He sighed and the other ghoul shifted closer, close enough their natural body temperatures clashed. It was impossible not to feel stripped bare when Rain looked at him like that - nothing short of adoring. 

"Still runs in your veins." 

Rain reached for his hand and pulled it closer, tracing the dark blue lines in his wrist with the tip of his finger. Examining him, studying what comprised the multi parts of him. Familiarizing himself with what made him. 

"You may run hot," he paused to kiss his inner wrist. His pulse stuttered under the cool grace of his lips "but that doesn't mean the element has gone and evaporated out of you." 

"Rain-" embarrassment crept into his voice, masking uncertainty. 

"See her in your eyes." 

His hand came to rest on his cheek, thumbing lightly at the space beneath his eye. Swiss exhaled, blinking sparingly as he stared at the silver rings in Rain's eyes. She resided there unapologetically, belonged amongst the sapphire. 

"If anything, I think she's just pulling me back to you," Swiss admitted quietly and mirrored Rain's position on his side. Closer than they had been but not close enough for her incessant pushing. 

"Calling you back to the water where you belong." Hand drifting, Rain cupped the back of his neck and Swiss laid his own on the dip of his waist. Touching to prove the ghoul in front of him, beautiful as he was, was real and not some fantasy. 

Exhaling softly, Swiss could almost taste the rosewater on his breath. He breathed in the artificial vanilla scent of Rain's preferred chapstick and pressed his fingers into his waist. Not hard. A miniscule adjustment, never wanting to let him go. His eyes drifted shut before Rain's lips ever met his, already drowning in the water ghoul's embrace.  

Rain kissed him like he's never tasted doubt on his name. It was easy to let him lead. Easy for Swiss to match the lazy pace, mouths moving together slowly with an unspoken coordination - Rain kissed him like it was his whole purpose in life to steal the air from his lungs and breathe his love back into him, and the idea was preferable to ever tasting oxygen again. 

From his waist, Swiss' hand slipped under his shirt to slide his palm up his spine. He ran hot but Rain, cool to the touch, never failed to even him out. He needed that, balance in skin to skin contact. 

Minutes, hours, centuries later is when Rain broke away and Swiss felt his lungs tight and hot crying for air. It was a feeling he could ignore with such a perfect distraction. Rain's gills fluttered as he drew his own breath. 

"She loves you." Rain squeezed the back of his neck gentle, foreheads coming to rest together. "She loves you because I love you, and the water belongs to you as much as me."