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magics-neptunes-things · 1 month ago

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Love Me Harder

Hi guys :)

Still working on my WIP! This is a request I got here, so I hope the person asking for it will be happy with what I wrote :)

I'm sorry for the delay by the way.

But please enjoy ♥

TW : Head injury, concussion, jealousy, angst with happy ending.

Leah and you have been a couple for almost two years now, even if you managed to get it hidden for now. You always had something for the girl to be honest, but when you met Leah, she was already with Jordan and you weren’t really a couple breaker. Sure, it hurts sometimes to see her happy with someone else, but at least she was happy and that’s all that matters for you.

You tried to forget her by sleeping around or having a girlfriend yourself, but nothing really worked. You usually dated people away from the football world, not wanting to mix your professional life with your private life. It happened that you slept with other players though, but never in your team or with them being friends with one of your friends.

With that state of mind, it was hard to find someone to sleep with, but at least you were out of trouble.

Well, that’s what you thought until today.

Leah and you aren’t playing for the same team, she was born at Arsenal while you travel a lot during your career. You started in Manchester City, then you went to Lyon, then to Bayern and since last season you have been back in Manchester City. You like it here and it was easier to live your relationship with Leah that way.

You are together when you are playing for your national team though, you have been the number one goalkeeper of the team for years now. Leah is back from her injury and is now back in national camp too.

Sarina knows that you are together, like all your teammates. The only people who don’t know are the public. You are friends with a lot of Lionesses, so when you are spotted with Leah and some of your friends, no one really puts two and two together. Meado tease you a lot about it, but in reality, you aren’t fan of PDA anyway and so is Leah. Maybe not like you are with your friends, but it’s another discussion.

Back to today, you are playing against Italy for the qualification of the next international championship. After your World Cup and the fact that you weren’t qualified for the Olympics Games, all your team wants to show that you are still here and deserve to win the Euro back in 2022.

You were doing the pitch inspection, casually talking with Lucy and LJ when you heard someone calling your name. Leah, as always, wasn’t far away from you with Keira and Georgia.

“Y/N?”

You turn without really thinking in the direction of the voice, just to be faced with a girl that you actually slept with several months ago. To be honest, it was just before you got in a relationship with Leah. You hate to admit it, but you kind of ghost that poor girl after that, way too happy to finally be with the girl you were in love with.

“Oh, hi Milena” you say nervously.

You even have forgotten that she’s in fact from Italy and you will be facing her today. You can see Lucy exchanging an intrigued look with LJ next to you while the girl keeps walking in your direction.

“I’m happy to see you” she says when she’s in front of you.

You don’t have time to answer before she hugs you and your arms automatically surround her waist to give her back her embrace. If your arms very quickly drop from her body, one of her hands stays in your arm.

You probably never have been so uncomfortable during the rest of your life. You can feel Leah burning gaze on your back.

“How are you? I think we haven't talked for like two years” she laughs.

“Oh, uh. I’m good thanks” you mumble.

“You look good indeed” she smirks.

You deal very badly with cringe, to be honest. So, you are particularly relieved when Lucy passes her arm around your shoulders before talking.

“We have to go back inside” Lucy says, nodding towards the locker room.

In fact, when you look around, you realise that almost all your teammates are already inside. That excuse is perfect after all. You mumble a “See you later” before letting Lucy take you out of the pitch.

Lucy and LJ manage to wait to be out of your ex’s ear before bursting into laughter. You suppose you must be grateful to them for that.

“What was that?” Lauren asks while Lucy is still laughing like crazy.

“Nothing” you roll your eyes.

“She doesn’t look like nothing” Lucy smirks when she can breathe again.

“Be careful with what you say, or Ona will receive a strange text from me, explaining how you find other girls not nothing” you frown.

She suddenly shuts up, her face becoming way more serious. It makes you smile. You never saw Lucy so whipped for a girl before. But you know that your friends deserve an explanation. You sigh softly before starting your explanation.

“It’s a girl I slept with before Leah kissed me at that party, and we got together. I was still in the process of forgetting her. I met that girl before the Euro and well… You know” you shrug. “But then after the semi-finales we got together with Leah, after that she hurt her ACL and I kind of totally forgot that girl.”

LJ hums after your explanation, nodding softly. You can see that your explanation makes sense for both of them which is great because it’s nothing but the truth.

“Leah was boiling” Lucy informs you.

You grimace at this. You were pretty sure that she would react that way. You never realise how Leah can be jealous before being with her. You like it actually, fond of the way she wants to be sure that you are hers and no one can take you away from her.

But here and now aren’t exactly the right place to show her that she is your only one.

You are nervous when you enter the changing room, looking for your girlfriend. You finally see her sitting in Georgia’s cubby. Her eyes are burning when she crosses your gaze after you enter the locker room.

Lucy goes sit on her cubby, just next to yours, while LJ goes on hers too. You want to talk to Leah, but Georgia’s non-verbal language makes you think that you better not approach Leah for now.

That girl is really scary when she wants to.

Keira’s gaze is softer and it’s what makes you walk in their direction. Lucy was right, Leah seems furious.

“Can we talk?” you ask softly when you reach them.

“No” Georgia answers harshly.

“Georgia” Keira sighs.

“Leah?” you try again, trying to cross your girlfriend’s gaze. “Please?”

She sighs and throws the towel she was holding in the cubby while standing up. She doesn’t answer really, but you follow her anyway when she walks to leave the room. You don’t really know where you are going at first, until she turns to enter in a closet.

“What do you want to talk about?” Leah asks harshly just after you close the door.

You are a little bit taken aback. You know what you want to talk about of course, but you don’t know how to start. You are sure that if you say that you know she’s jealous, she will deny it and that it will be the end of the conversation. This is not what you want.

“I just wanted to know if you are okay” you tentatively say.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She has now her arms crossed and her famous frown on her face. You know how hard it would be to have something from this conversation.

“Because you seem angry”

Leah snorts and looks at the handle of the door. She putted her hands on her hips now and is shaking her head.

“Am I supposed to be happy when my girlfriend is getting flirted with by someone else?”

“No, that is why I wanted to talk to you too. I just…”

“Do you know her?” Leah cuts you.

This time her eyes are deep inside yours and you know that you can’t lie to her. It wasn’t something you wanted to do anyway, but with her eyes scanning your soul, it would have been impossible.

“I… We slept together some time ago” you finally sigh.

“When?”

“Just before the Euros”

You know that Leah knows perfectly that your first kiss happened after the semi-finals against Sweden and the happiness of the victory. You were the first shocked when she kissed you after some naughty dancing, but you kissed her back and the rest of the night probably made her understand very much how much you were fancying her already.

It’s even stronger now, of course.

But Leah is looking at you like she’s going to kill you.

“Don’t look at me like that, Le. I didn't know that several weeks later you would kiss me. I didn’t know you were interested in me at this point.”

You try to take her hand with yours, but she takes it away from you, before opening the door again.

“Well you can go back fucking her in that case”

“Leah!”

She slams the door, almost pinning your fingers inside. When you manage to get outside too, Leah isn’t here anymore. You decide to go back to the training room and try to talk to her again, but when you arrive, Sarina is right behind you, asking you to go training.

You aren’t really concentrating during the training to be honest; you keep looking at Leah, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even share a look with you when you are right behind her at the beginning of the game.

You really hope that a win will ease her mood and help you to reconcile with Leah. You turn when you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning your bigger frame towards Keira. She just smiles at you, and you nod only. You are too nervous to smile, but you are glad to know that you have at least one of Leah’s friends on your side. You are sure that Leah explained everything to them.

You take a deep breath when it’s time to go on the pitch, trying to focus on the game. The national anthems help you and you keep a straight face when you check all the Italian players, even Milena.

You do your usual check with Lucy too, looking for good luck before starting the game. England is supposed to be the favourites, but Italy is fighting with all their strength. Your forwards manage to have good opportunities, but without being able to score for now.

After the first half, no one scored, and you had to use some of your best moves to avoid taking a goal or two.

You just nod when Sarina congratulates you in the locker room. Leah is still not looking at you, as if you weren’t even here. It creates a strange feeling in your throat. You are happy that Lucy is just next to you, even if she’s not talking, your friend’s presence is good for you.

When the game starts again, you realise with anxiety that Milena and her other teammates change their side, meaning that Leah is the one marking Milena from now.

But Leah manages to take the upper hand on Milena every single time, using with ability her slide tackles. You are happy when Alessia finally manages to score around the seventy minutes.

Five minutes later, Sarina made all the different changes she was planning to, leaving Lucy and Leah in the defence but changing Millie and Maya in the same move. You don’t have a lot of time to get used to that though, because soon Italy won a corner, and you have to focus again on the game.

You can’t really explain what happened. Your eyes were on the ball when the Italian player shot it in the middle of the surface. But the knock you received on your head suddenly makes everything dizzy and you fall on the ground without really realising it.

There is a wheezing and everything else sounds like you were underwater. You feel hands on you, someone slapping your cheek, two fingers looking for your pulse in your neck.

You don’t know if it’s because it’s Leah or if it’s because she’s screaming right above your head, but you hear her distinctly shout

“Don’t fucking touch her! Let her breathe!”

And the panic in her voice finally makes you open your eyes. It’s the same feeling when you are sleepy, and Leah wakes you after you fall asleep in front of a movie to go to bed. Your eyes are heavy, the light is too bright too. You wince and close your eyes almost as soon as you open them, pressing your hand on your head.

“Y/N? Hey Baby, can you hear me?”

Leah’s voice is softer than you ever heard it, and you groan for only an answer. Your head is pounding.

“Can you roll on your back?”

You recognize the voice of one of the people from the medical team. You groan once more and roll on the ground, lying now on your back. You warily open your eyes, thankful that someone is hiding the lights of the pitch with their frame. You frown softly when you realise that it’s Milena

“I’m sorry Y/N, I wasn’t looking where I was going and…”

“It’s okay” Leah cuts her harshly. “She needs to get looked at; can you leave?”

You perfectly see the staff member smile at each other before turning their attention to you again.

They ask you several questions, make you sit, look at their fingers and look at a light too. It’s not an enjoyable experience to be honest, it hurts, and you have trouble staying focused.

“I think it’s a concussion” one of them finally says. “It would be better for you to get out of the pitch.”

“No” you frown. “Sarina made all the substitutions already. I can’t leave.”

“Of course you can” Leah interjects. “No one would blame you. It’s safer like th– “

“Leah. I’m playing.”

Her light blue eyes went right into your eyes. You don’t look away, Leah might be stubborn, but you are too when you really want something. And you want to play, you want to prove to her that she can count on you no matter what. You know you have hurt her and maybe bummed after your revelation earlier. You want to take amend of that.

When she opens her mouth to answer, you look at the medical staff.

“Am I allowed to play?”

They hesitate for several seconds, looking at you silently.

“If I let you play, you have to swear that if you don’t feel good, or dizzy, or tired, you will stop the game and get out of the pitch. Can we make this deal?”

You nod and he nods back, before helping you to get up. You take some water from the bottle he gave you, splashing some of it on your face too. You feel tired to be honest and the lights are killing you. But you are determined to end this game.

“Y/N.”

You turn in Leah’s direction and it’s easy to see the concern in her eyes. You smile softly at her while your teammates and the opposite team are coming back on the pitch.

“I’ll be fine, Leah”

She sighs and you feel her gaze on you when you go back to the goal. You don’t see her or hear her turning to the players around her, telling them not to let anyone come near your goal.

They manage to do it greatly to be honest, and you are glad for it. You have to make some intervention, like grabbing the ball in the air for example. Jumping was fine, but the shock when you fall on the ground is harsh.

When the whistle of the referee finally sounds, signalling the end of the game, you are more relieved than ever. Closing your eyes, you let your tired body sliding along one of the two posts on your goal.

“You’re alright mate?”

You don’t open your eyes but nod at Lucy’s question, feeling her hand on your shoulder without seeing it.

“Do you need help to get up?”

“Please” you mumble.

She makes you stand as easily as you were a 5-year-old child, making you smile softly. You thank Maya with gratefulness when she gives you your things waiting behind the goal and slowly make your way to the locker room.

You look around to see where Leah is, which isn’t missed by Beth who is walking on your other side.

“She’s answering some questions for the TV” the blonde informs you.

You groan and drink more water, still walking. Pretty slowly, you must admit. But you feel dizzy, and you sigh internally when you see Milena running in your direction.

“Hey” she says, with her Italian accent. “Look, I'm very sorry. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry” you answer with a soft smile. “I’ll need some rest tonight and maybe tomorrow, but other than that it’s okay.”

You watch her bite her lips, like if she’s thinking about something to say. And how to say it. You really hope that she won’t ask you out now, because you don’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

“Can I write to you tomorrow? To know how you are feeling. I really feel very guilty”

You were going to answer something, but you were interrupted by an arm sneaking around your waist and a body suddenly pressed against yours.

“She will post an update on her Instagram tomorrow. And don’t worry for her, she’s between great hands” Leah says, before looking at you. “Are you okay to leave, Babe?”

You repress a smile and take a small breath.

“Yeah, let’s go. See you”

You give a smile to Milena, who you feel sorry for. You know that she never meant to hurt you, but Leah seems to take her for the only responsible of the accident.

“You know that I wasn’t looking either?” you mumble to Leah.

“It doesn’t matter. Sarina told me we can leave now; the staff asked for a taxi so we don’t have to wait on anyone. Would you like to shower in your hotel room rather than here?”

“Sounds good” you mumble again.

In a record time, Leah manages to take all your things and put them in your two bags, change herself in a training suit and help you to do the same. You are starting to feel tired and dozens in the cab on Leah’s shoulder.

“Baby you have to wake up. I can’t carry you in your room” Leah whispers when you are in front of the hotel, gently kissing your temple.

Usually, you love the fact that you are higher than Leah. You love how she easily fits in your arms, how you can hold her and feel like you are protecting her from everything and everyone.

But right now, you really would love for her to be able to carry you.

She does a bit though, holding you firmly against her while you are going to the lift and then to your room. You let yourself fall on the bed when you arrive inside your room, letting Leah deal with your bags and everything else.

“Come on Baby, we have to wash the game out of you. Then you can go in bed until the staff members come again”

“I just want to sleep” you groan.

“I know. But you will feel better.”

You do feel better, Leah is right. She helps you to take your shower, affectionately dry you with a towel after, help you to put fresh pajamas on and then even brush your teeth and your hair.

She then takes a quick shower too and it’s with wet hair and in one of your t-shirts that she opens the door of your room for the staff. The t-shirt easily covers her smaller frame, the tissue going until her knees.

They make some more tests on you, asking several questions to Leah too. You have trouble staying focused, but only because you are very tired. You don’t hear them leaving, opening your eyes again when you feel the bed move when Leah crawls on it.

“Are you sure you’re not in pain?”

You hum, snuggling against her warm body. They gave you some morphine earlier anyway. Leah lets you do it and you sigh happily when she starts to stroke your neck with her fingers.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted because of your ex”

Leah’s whisper takes you by surprise. You probably almost never heard Leah saying that she was sorry for something so serious. Opening your eyes again, you search hers.

“I’m sorry for the way you learned it” you whisper back. “But it has nothing to do with you. It was before knowing you could be in any way interested in me. I was still in my “Forgetting Leah” era”

Leah chuckles and you smile hearing that sound. You close your eyes again, the tiredness being more and more hard to fight against.

“I’m glad you never managed to get over me” Leah says after some silence, playing with your hair.

“I will never be able to get over you”

You feel like your voice is low and your words aren’t very well articulated, but Leah seems to understand very easily what you are saying.

“I was hoping to” Leah mumbles too. “Now sleep, you little menace.”

You groan softly once again, making Leah smile. You happily let her kiss your face several times, finishing with your lips. You manage to whisper that you love her and it seems to you that Leah say it back, but you are not really sure. Because you are already asleep then.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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vilsoo · 6 months ago

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flirting has become a common fear response when encountering hot masked scare actors chasing you at halloween events. this scandal covers a parkland visitor fawning over the hot scare actor in the Deathgasm haunted house, König, resulting in them flirting and sneaking off together…

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⚠︎ 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ⚠︎

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. please do not steal my kinktober prompts/works/themes! reposting any of my works outside tumblr that minors can access is strictly prohibited. will be cross posted on my ao3 soon.

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girlfromthecrypt · 11 months ago

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Such Happy Campers is an interactive horror/romance novel made in Choicescript.

DEMO / COG FORUM POST

status: demo consists of five chapters + prologue, currently at 147.192 words, last updated on July 15th.

You are an employee of the Cloverleaf program. Your job is to organize and oversee their seasonal vacation for kids from low-income backgrounds and troubled homes. This summer, said vacation will be hosted at the rustic Camp Solace, a cabin campsite situated right next to the picturesque Lake Solace and flanked by acres of woodland.

Camp Solace is idyllic, calm and far removed from the bustle of civilization.

V̵̲̂e̶̝͆ŕ̸͍y̷͎̏ ̷͚̎f̵͈̀ā̸̦r̵̀͜ ̸͓͘r̴̜̂e̴͉̕m̵̺̎o̷̢̓v̶̒͜è̴̘d̴̳̐ ̴̀͜i̵̡͊ñ̷̘d̸̼̀e̷̪̽ȇ̵̯d̴̜͒.̷̰̚

It'd take you quite a while to reach the nearest town in case of an emergency…

Ý̷̭ö̸͎́u̷̘͗'̴̘͘d̸̛̰ ̶̢̐ḇ̸̌ẻ̸̦t̴̝̅t̷͚̒e̷͓͑r̸͔̿ ̷̱̆m̸̜̔a̸̳̍k̵̰̍ě̸̖ ̸̦̚s̷̛̺ṵ̴̔r̵̘̅e̸̝̽ ̸͈̑n̴̡̛o̶̬͑t̶̺̊h̸͖̋i̵͎̽ṅ̵̜g̸̗̽ ̴̹̿ḧ̵̘́ā̷̦p̸̖̎p̵̻̑e̴̗͌n̵̡̒s̶̜̈.̶̥͂

But you're not alone in this! Working alongside you are Basil Laurier, the free-spirited scion of the wealthiest local family, Anita Merrick, the smart but skittish university student intern, and the Malak siblings, both skilled and experienced teachers.

Now go take care of those happy little campers.

Customize your MC’s name, appearance, outfit and apartment!

Be a good camp counselor and protect the kids in your care!

Romance a charismatic heir, a chronically sleep-deprived psychology student, a temperamental musician or a reserved martial arts instructor!

Get to know your team and form lasting friendships!

Uncover the lakes long-forgotten secrets and save Camp Solace from the horrors that are slowly closing in on you.

TW: mentions of bullying, toxic past relationships, troubled childhoods, mental illness. Non-graphic.

#choicescript #choice script #hosted games #interactive fiction #if: intro #if: wip #interactive story #interact if #updated intro post #if: such happy campers #horror comedy #horror romance #romanceable characters #writeblr #original fiction #writers on tumblr #amwriting

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tragedybunny · 1 year ago

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Just the Way I Am - Astarion x F!Reader - Mildly NSFW, TW: Mentions of past sexual trauma, drugging oneself

I'm not really sure I like this at all, but since I put so much time into, I'm posting it.

Astarion feels he's lacking because he can't have sex with you. He resorts to a potion in an attempt to give you what he thinks you want.

You had stopped at the potion shop in Wyrm's Crossing, looking for some herbs or something Gale had wanted. Astarion hadn't been paying a terrible amount of attention, he was just happy to run an errand with you only, and none of the rest of the hangers-on. They were alright, he'd concede if asked, but you were getting closer to Cazador and the Brain, and whatever else was going on in Baldur's Gate, and his time with you felt so limited. The two of you could meander around a bit after this and just be together.

So of course this was taking forever. Currently he was entertaining himself by pacing irritatedly around the shop while the clerk painstakingly found, measured, and packed, all of Gale's list. He sighs and you shoot him a look of irritation causing him to wince internally. The last thing he wants is for you to be angry with him. So he goes back to quietly pacing.

That's when his eyes spot it, on the upper shelf of a potion display rack, a heart shaped bottle full of a pink liquid. Amor Maius, the love enhancer, the hand written description below it reads, continuing, increase your arousal, spend longer with your beloved. His mind wanders back to the Drow twins the other day at Sharess Caress, and how you insisted you hadn’t been interested in their “services” but he’d seen the way your eyes got wide just looking at them, hells, he’d heard your pulse increase. You weren't just slightly interested, you were very much aroused at the thought. It was probably his fault, he’d failed to provide you with release. Even if you protested that sex wasn’t necessary, he remembered how much you enjoyed it, the way your heart would thunder as soon as you two were alone, how wet you got for him, so eager to be filled, having to put his fingers in your mouth to suck on to quiet your noises lest you wake the whole camp. You shouldn’t be expected to live in chastity and it was only a matter of time before you realized you didn’t want a broken thing like him, a thing that couldn’t even give you one of life’s simplest pleasures. But if he could find a way to give that to you…

A quick glance tells him you and the clerk are still thoroughly occupied and he moves along to get a better angle, waiting. The clerk ducks down behind the counter to retrieve something and lightning quick, Astarion is back at the shelf, tucking the bottle in his pack. He takes another loop of the shop and sighs again, just to keep normal appearances. “Astarion,” you scold and he comes to the counter to wrap and arm around your waist and kiss your cheek.

“We’ve been in here forever,” he wheedles and he sees your irritation give way.

“I know, almost done, then I promise no more errands.” Your hand reaches down to cover his, where it rests against your waist. Every one of your touches fills him with the softest warmth, he couldn’t bear to lose you, and tonight he’ll make sure he won’t.

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around Baldur’s Gate with no real destination, simply chatting and being with each other. It’s lovely to just be in your presence, every so often stopping to kiss you softly and delight in how you wrap your arms around his neck and put your soul into it every time. With night falling you make your way back to the Elfsong and Astarion sends you upstairs to deliver Gale’s damned herbs while he stops to make an inquiry.

You’ve already got your pack off and seem to be settling in when he finds you. Leaning in, he whispers sultrily into your ear. “The private room is empty tonight, we could go make use of it, if you want.”

He smiles at the way your breath hitches. “Are you sure,” your eyes meet his, bright with love and concern despite your rising arousal.

“Absolutely Darling,” you know him so well, he can only hope he's convincing enough.

"That sounds nice," pretty pink tinges your skin as you take his hand.

The two of you make your way down the hall, leaving the noisy common room and your companions behind. There's a single bed in the cozy space and a bath in a little adjacent room. Wyll and Karlach have made use of it before, but it's the first time he's dared bring you here. Brushing your hair behind your ear, he trails his fingers down your cheek. "Warm bath, relax a little and see where the night takes us," he suggests, feeling the panic start to rise, knowing what you'll be expecting now. The potion will help, he just needs to get that far.

“Whatever you feel up to my Love,” you tilt your face to catch his palm in a kiss and your tender care has him fighting back a sob. There’s not a day that you don’t give him everything he could ask for, more than he ever dreamt he could have.

He has to give you this one thing, he wants to so badly, but already he can feel his mind trying to pull away, to distance itself from his body in anticipation. “Go on ahead, let me get settled. I’ll join you shortly.”

As soon as you're out of sight, bath water running, he throws open his pack. His chest throbs, like a weight is pushing down on it and the edges of his vision are going blurry, he needs that damn potion now. Somehow it slipped under the rest of the contents in his pack. "Damn," he mutters, violently tossing things around until a pink glint is revealed. Salvation.

Quickly he snatches it up, scrambling to get the stopper out. Pausing for a second, it occurs to him that he doesn't know how much to take. He'll just down some and sneak off if he needs more he decides. The taste is sickly sweet and it burns all the way down his throat. For a moment he pauses, waiting for it to kick in, worried it isn’t what it promised. Then it’s like every color in the room is a thousand times more vibrant and he can smell the intoxicating scent of you from here. Already he’s growing hard, hand idly reaching down to stroke himself, and then the world goes black.

When next he wakes he’s staring at the ceiling, head throbbing. Did he just pass out? “Are you finally back?” You’re right next to him, and gods, you don’t sound happy. The missing moments start to come in flashes, the bath, his hands all over you, the bed, and then you telling him to stop. A light, a spell, you’d done something to stop him.

“I…” What is there to even say?

“What in the hells were you thinking Astarion?! I found the bottle. I'm not stupid, I know what that was. Why?” Not only are you furious with him, but there’s so much sadness in your voice too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rolling on his side to face away from you, he can’t bear to look at you right now.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” The edge has come off your voice, you probably think he’s too pathetic to waste your anger on.

"Lying,” he asks instead of answering.

Sighing, you put a hand delicately on his shoulder. “I trusted you to be truthful with me. How can I do the right thing when you do something like this?”

“I wanted to make you happy, to give you everything. I just needed a little help to get there,” he pulls his knees up to his chest, making himself as small as possible, an old habit of self-preservation. Tears are starting to threaten, as if he hadn't embarrassed himself enough.

“Astarion,” your voice is unexpectedly gentle, “are you able to keep talking?”

Desperately, he wants to, to keep explaining himself but he feels like he's drowning. His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He can feel you shifting around on the bed, like you want to lean over to comfort him but hold back. Another blow he’ll endure. Everything seems like it’s slipping away from him. But you’re full of surprising mercy. “Can I hold you? Just nod.” He does as you say, not daring to look up, and your arms loops around him as the soothing weight of your presence presses against his back.

The two of you lay there in silence for a long time, you don’t press him anymore but you don’t abandon him either. Soft kisses on his shoulders keep him from unraveling completely. Finally he finds his voice. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

“Did you think how I’d feel if I found out I hurt you?”

“I-I,” his mind races, what answer is right, what will appease you. “No, I was just scared to lose you.” Finally he settles on the truth, plainly spoken, because he can’t make things any worse than they are. "Because I can't give you something so simple."

“Part of me is angry that you think so little of me,” he starts to protest and you shush him, “but I know it’s hard for you.” Warm fingers entangle with his and he lets himself hope. “I’ll say it one more time, and I need you to believe me. Starry Sky, if we never have sex again, you’re worth it. But you can’t do anything like this to me anymore.”

He wants to believe, with all his heart, it’s just so hard. He nods, “I promise.”

Your lips caress his cheek and he closes his eyes, drinking the feeling in. "Do you want to go back to the other room?"

Thoughts of having to go back, to lose you to the noise and the attention of others are too much. "Could we stay here, just for a little while?"

“We can stay here as long as you want.” He turns over, burying his head in your chest, suddenly desperate for the feel of you.

Soothing fingers brush through his hair, and your hand gently strokes his back. He knows he should believe you, knows you love him more than he ever thought possible, but the shadows and darkness inside still whisper that he's not enough, not the way he is.

#astarion #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion x f!reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing

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theangelcatalogue · 9 months ago

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ISLAND OF THE LOVESICKNESS || ★!

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Romantic!☆

Gender neutral!☆

Starting notes; Little project i wanted to make, since i love total drama and iots! This was inspired by iots but with Yandere ghosts! I will have multiple chapters, everyday one vitcm! I hope you all like it! (IOTS WAS MADE BY @eavee-ry )

TW: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, KILLING, OBSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, YANDERES, POSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, THROW UP, OUT OF CHARACTER, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR!! YOU DON'T NEED TO READ IF YOU DON'T WANT! (Tell me if i missed something)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

They are death

Every single one of them, you know that

You were hired by your own uncle Chris McLean to be a intern at Total Drama, you would be something like a camp counselor! Your job was to check the campists

People said your uncle was a amazing guy, but you knew it was a lie, you never knew anyone more arrogant that him

Well, at least you have something to do at summer! And it would be fun see some drama...

Your job was to be a baby-sitter to resume, you were checking up and taking care of tennagers! People of your age! It was kinda fun but you were so tired of them

The nice thing is that they seemed to like you! Even Heather, but sometimes they were acting toward you(you thought that was weird cause it dind't make so many time you knew them)

It was going to have a challenger! Everyone was there except for Beth, you decided to look for her

In the florest you decided to worry, where is she? You heard a sound in the cave, as the beautiful curious you are, you got in

A bloody axe...

A lost arm...

Her body was bloody

She was dead.

SHE WAS DEAD!?

You wanted to throw up, the smell of blood...

You felt sick

You Chris and the interns, and they discover that a killer is in the island, what should we do!?

Chris had the idea of left the campers here

You tried to convice him other wise, but when you noticed you already in a boat leaving the island, you felt guilty, Chris made you leave them

Chris dind't left you because how would him explain this to your parents? Your Mother would kill him!

And when you came back home, he said to tell that you were in vacation...?

You passed the next months feeling guilty and sick, you wanted to throw up, and sometimes you really did it

You should had stayed, or at least try to convice Chris....

One day, Chris called you to go with him and two new interns to go back to the island and save them

You knew why Chris was doing that

He wanted to be the hero, that's it

But you decided to go, cause now it's time

Time to the truth, and let's be honest

You were afraid of the truth.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

I left the boat, this place looks so weird to be honest, you felt sick again

Something was wrong, you knew that! But now it's time

What happend to them

" I hope they are okay... "

I was afraid, afraid to go anywhere in this island, i dind't wanted to do that, but at same time...

I was scared

I felt something in your shoulder, a hand

" Don't worry Y/n! We going to find them, i hope... "

Sierra was trying to comfort me, but i could look at her eyes and see that she knew the truth

" Amigos! Everything will be alright, but i hope we have everything to survive here, Chris dind't explain so well "

Alejandro was in Sierra's side while looking at the island and looking around, he was right, Chris dind't explained how would you guys find the others, does him even know how to walk around this island?

I don't think so

" Can we stop to talk! Come on you- we have job to do! "

Chris said and started to walk, me, Sierra and Alejandro just followed him

Something is wrong in this place, i feel watched while walking

Oh god.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Notes:

★ THIS IS SOOOOO BAD HELP WHAT??? i tried ★

★ I hope you all like it! I will try to be more online even thought school is making this nearly impossible ★

★ Idk but Ily you guys <3 ★

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absolutekillswitch · 1 year ago

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no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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yandereunsolved · 9 months ago

Note

Hey!

Can you do a yandere jimmy darling x important figure reader

Her father is a very important person and dotes on his daughter (reader) and the freaks came to a gathering he organized and the reader defended them.

From then on she came to the shows to apologize for the others ignorance and jimmy is always looking at her

He loves her praise, her touch everything

He always wants something more but his insecurities wont let him so he just more stalker-ish

Sweet Tea & Stalking - ,, yandere Jimmy Darling with a famous reader

tw(s): yandere themes, mention of eugenics, internment camps, and forced sterilization, abuse (by readers father), toxic 1950s ideals/toxic masculinity, drugging, reader mentioning/threatening suicide

ꨄ︎ It was really a horrible accident that he fell so madly in love with you. It was supposed to be just another night with the rest of the freaks. Until Elsa announced that the entire group that was paid by the governor of Florida to perform at one of his campaign banquets. Some of the freaks were ecstatic, while others were nervous to be around so many people in public. Elsa stated that it would be a great way to spread word-of-mouth about the carnival. The party was hosted at your father's mansion. Many high-class donors were there that night. The freaks dressed their best, yet wary glances were still shot towards them. That's when Jimmy first met you—such a pretty young thing among the seas of mundane small talk. You graciously invited them all into your father's house. You seemed more curious than fearful of their deformities. You didn't outright run when you saw him, so he'll take that over nothing. He gave you a cheeky smile and a flirty wink, and you looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Apparently your dear ole' daddy never allowed any man near his sweet lamb. Perhaps he could change that. Although those are just pipe dreams, You're just doing what your daddy told you.

ꨄ︎ You invited them to eat before their performance. The head chef refused to serve them, which left you utterly distraught and embarrassed. Elsa assured you that it was nothing they hadn't dealt with before. She said that the performance is worth more than any food you could serve them. Yet, your luscious little mouth insisted that all of them eat. You brought them to a quiet hallway within the mansion and brought food from the kitchen to them. You allowed them privacy and dignity—two things none of them were ever allowed.

ꨄ︎ When it came time to perform, it was an absolute disaster. They were all standing in an outdoor amphitheater. It was gigantic; many people of status' higher than them filled the luxurious lawn. Your father promised a speech before the 'show'. He went on a long rant about how these were the types of people he promised to get rid of if he was re-elected. He promised the most horrid things to his possible voters. He talked of sterilizing all freaks, putting them in camps and isolating them because that is where they belonged, and making them get surgery to look more presentable to the public. He pushed eugenic rhetoric, and all the while, you were forced to stare at them while on the lawn. You nearly burst into tears. They all stormed off the stage, and a few of them had to hold Jimmy back from attacking your father and killing him.

ꨄ︎ You weaved through the thick crowd to catch up to them, but by the time you got there, they were all gone. You got hit by your father multiple times that night. He called you a freak fucker and a whore because you dared to show kindness to those genetically flawed monsters. You were banned from ever seeing them again. You were locked in your room and denied food or water. You understood what this meant for you. You understood the horrors of your father's wrath and what was still to come. You had no choice. You are to be seen, but not heard, around your father and his companions.

ꨄ︎ The next morning, you escaped the house with a bag of your belongings in tow. You pulled out as much money as you were able to using a faulty check with your father's foraged signature. You were lost. You went to the lost place you knew of—Fräulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities. They were less than enthused to see you once again. Jimmy went off on you before you were able to reach Elsa.

"How dare you show us kindness and then spit in our faces? Do you know what it's like to be like us? No, you don't! You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You only take it out so you can laugh at us!"

He was so utterly heartbroken. He thought that someone actually cared about them.

ꨄ︎ He only realized his mistake when the clouds cleared a little and he could see the bruises forming on your body. Such a sweet little thing as yourself had a breakdown right in front of him. With shaking hands, you pushed the check into his deformed hands. He felt his jaw fall open. All of this, for them? Then, you begged. The stories of how monstrous your father was to you fell from your lips. A righteous fire ignited within Jimmy Darling. He realized it in that moment. The man upstairs gave you to him. He's never claimed to be a religious man, but this could only be the work of divine intervention. An innocent little lamb such as yourself crawls into his arms and speaks of the woes of your evil parental figure. It was like something out of a moving picture. He was blessed with you. He was meant to protect you.

ꨄ︎ He brought you to Elsa, and she was overjoyed at the money. She promised you a home here. She waved both you and Jimmy off, as she had to spend time mulling over what she was going to do with all of this money. You had given them a $1,000 US dollars ($11,710.42 US dollars in 2024). Jimmy was grinning ear to ear, rubbing your back as he showed you around. Word spread about your generosity and your woes. Soon enough, the freaks welcomed you into their home. You became the 'darling' of the show. They called you the human doll because of your ethereal beauty. You would surely help bring in the big bucks like Bette and Dot.

ꨄ︎ It becomes routine for you and Jimmy to sit down, have sweet tea, and talk about your day. It all started as an accident, really. He invited you to his trailer the first day you were there. He had some left-over sweet tea that had been sitting out in the Florida sun. He gave it to you, and soon it became a ritual between you two. He was always too shy to express his feelings about you. He knows that they've grown into something abnormal. Not to mention that real men shouldn't share such silly things.

ꨄ︎ Having sweet tea with you practically every day was such a good way for Jimmy to probe for information about you. He could learn about everything and anything. You just loved to speak about your day, and Jimmy was obsessed with how your eyes would light up when he asked you. He could also learn who was getting too close to you if any of the other performers had their disgusting little eyes or hands on you. He couldn't do it when others were around because he was always so busy keeping them at bay. You are the circus doll, after all. However, you only really belong to him. Dolls need to be taken care of. He wouldn't allow any part of you to chip, crack, or fade.

ꨄ︎ He occasionally drugs your drinks, just so you are forced to depend on him. You get all sweet and touchy while being woozy. He isn't one to take advantage of someone while in such a state, but if you are persistent, he won't necessarily say no. He's just so obsessed with your hazy blabbering. His heart swells when you lean your head against his chest and murmur about how sleepy you are. It's equally as effective when he has to kill someone for you. Like your father.

ꨄ︎ He understands you still have responsibilities because you are the govenor's child. You may officially live with them, but you still have to tolerate your father for now. You still have to argue with him about your choices. The only reason you are allowed to stay with them is because you threatened to kill yourself if your father made you go back with him. This, naturally, worried Jimmy. So he takes care of you. He just follows you around without your knowledge. It isn't that bad. He's always had to hide in the shadows because he is a freak. So him just casually strolling behind you, out of your eyesight, isn't anything out of the norm. He's just here to take care of any problems that may arise. He's just being sweet, see?

ꨄ︎ Outside of your sweet tea time and the stalking, he doesn't talk to you much. He's way too insecure about his hands and how he appears. You aren't another freak he can flirt with; you aren't some easy waitress either. You are a high-class person who chose to live with him. He puts an excruciating amount of pressure on how he presents himself because of that.

ꨄ︎ On that note, his insecurities are so deeply ingrained in his being that the first time you compliment him, he thinks you're trying to make fun of him. He can't even think of a flirty remark to retort with. A stunned 'really?' is the only thing that escapes him. He becomes enamored with your compliments. He'll do anything for one of them. He'll show off the strength he gained from working at the carnival. He'll do his best to try to flirt with you. He'll spend all of his dollars and coins getting you that thing you wouldn't buy yourself just to hear a meek 'thank you' escape from his lips. He'll tell off that woman who won't stop hitting on you and brutally murder her. He'll mutilate himself for you. He'd cut off all of his fingers if it made you more comfortable. He'd do anything just here those addicting praises escape your lovely lips. They taste even better when those words are pressed against his lips.

ꨄ︎ Jimmy melts if you do anything to his hands: touch them, caress them, compliment them. He feels a shudder run down his everytime. He says one thing everytime, testing the waters of how attracted you are to him. "Doll, if you really wanted to feel them all you had to do was ask." He makes a scissoring emotion and always bursts into a set of nervous chuckles. Once he learns you don't mind touching his hands he's always holding yours. He's always touching some part of your body with them. Maybe he's even a little more confident because of your praises.

ꨄ︎ He craves something more intimate between you two. He's just so terrified. You are the first 'normal' person that has ever accepted him. He wants to marry you on the altar. You'd look so sexy in wedding attire. He wants it so badly. He wants the house, the white picket fence, and two and a half children. He's never dared to tell anyone that, much less dream about it. He's always been a monster in the world's eyes. He never thought to think of more until he laid eyes on you that fateful night.

After all, you have affirmed all those obsessive thoughts in his mind just by continuously interacting with him. You have healed his insecurities enough—just enough to hold him back from anyone who looks at you. What? They might be trying to take you away. He can't have that.

ꨄ︎ You are going to have to make the first romantic move to evolve your relationship from purely platonic. Once you do, it's over. He is yours, and you are his now. Forever ♡.

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplathh @marchsfreakshow @violet1737 @taintandviolent

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#jimmy darling #ahs fanfiction #ahs #american horror story #american horror story freakshow #ahs freakshow #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you #yandere #yandere jimmy darling x reader #headcanon #headcanons #ahs headcanons #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons

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daily-blog-reunion-of-2024-lore · 7 months ago

Text

Dailyverse Lore Masterpost

Links under cut (Be warned, it's a long one)

--The Beginning--

The Family Reunion Gone Arwy

Millie Learns of her true Parentage (Wont Wouldnt and Will are her fathers)

Evelo!

Rettel!

Ross Reveal

Daily Blog Family Tree + Will finds out he has tapeworms

Ranch Guy!

Rettel's Pie Emporium

Will and Wont get a divorce

--The Virus Begins--

Spamton G. TRWW being based

Will's Final VHS

7eventh 7ight 7eer

Millie's Call / Something Has Gone Wrong

--The Virus / MBU Burning--

Wont Wouldnt

Spamton G. TRWW glitches out, MBRA Arc

MMMM tries (and fails) to cure Spamton TRWW

Zubin saves Gerard from TRWW

The Proposal

Kendrick disses Wyatt

Lemon Child

The Invitation

???

The Power Outage

Main Burning Thread (Camp & Log)

Burning Side Thead (ICID, Los Camp, AVE)

MBRA Official Statement on the Burning

Apollo's message from AWTY

Unpaid Intern 2012 dies

Camp needs Teeth

Nature attempts to crucify Mod

AWTYD Returns (AWTYD, Los Camp, HPII)

A New Disease I

A New Disease II

A New Disease III

E's Colourblindness

--Mary Bell and its Citizens--

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E1 - Kendrick Lamar

Los' Wings Pt. 1

Camp Gets Kidnapped Pt. 1

Camp Gets Kidnapped Pt. 2

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E2 - Mod

E saves Camp

Spirit Phone possesses Spirit Phone Daily

Spirit Phone has possessed Spirit Phone Daily

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E3 - Cloning

Los' Wings Pt. 2

Camp's Hangover

Unpaid Intern 2012 gets Vacuumed

Ave apologizes for the kidnapping

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E4 - Saviour

Mod and E acquire new glasses lawfully

Los' Wings Pt. 3

The Jar Thread

Rein's Old Photos Pt. 1

E, Nature, Camp and Mod get HIGH on BROWNIE

NAT get's brought in for questioning

Ave's Problem

Rein's Old Photos Pt. 2

Los moves in with Rein

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E5 - ModTwo Leary

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E6 - E

Los' Old Photos

Sketches feeds Rein Pt. 1

Rein's Old Photos Pt. 3

Drake disses Kendrick

Sketches feeds Rein Pt. 2

Sketches Defenses

Denny's Pt. 1

Denny's Pt. 2

Rein and Los get ready for the Picnic

The Picnic

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E7 - MBCR & Why It Sucks

Grandpa Gerard's Question

Metalfood

Mary Bell Community Radio E1 - Introduction

Mary Bell Community Radio E2 - Sketches & Lucifer

CERTIFIED BOY LOVER

Nature and E visit Camp

Nature Tapes Late Morning Live E8 - Sketches Mary Bell Community Radio E3 - Missing Mary Bell Community Radio E4 - Los Camp Asleep in Wheelchair Rein Dyes his Hair Mary Bell Community Radio E5 - The Theater? Mary Bell Community Radio E6 - Grim Day Mary Bell Community Radio E7 - Elliot Marsha and Elliot Talk Mary Bell Community Radio E8 - On Fire! The Dinner Mary Bell Community Radio - Nature's Hijacking Los & Rein have Coffee Los Burns an Old Photo NC Amputates His Arm [TW: Gore, Violence, S/H, Disease] Mary Bell Community Radio E9 - Tired Rein, Los & AVE prepare for a "bonfire" Mary Bell Community Radio E10 - Flood Rein, Los & AVE: Burning of Rosalind's House The Birth of ModTwo Leary Mary Bell Community Radio E11 - Dr. Arian Baumfield

--Events at the End of Time--

The Penis Incident

#the real ww is not real #masterlist

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icey--stars · 11 days ago

Note

Heyyy I saw you're taking requests again and your recently posted a new fic (which I lovedddd) and I thought I'd share my idea with you too. You don't have to write it right away, I saw your posts that you are really busy these days so whenever you get to it, you get to it...I just wanted to share my idea

So I was thinking an Azris fic where the two have had their mating ceremony and everyone knows and everything. Azriel still works as a Spy master for Night and Autumn, working for the security of both the courts. But Rhysand being a controlling shit, tries to get Azriel more time in Night cuz he's still iffy about Eris. And Eris does the same so it becomes a tug of war. In the middle there is poor Azzy...working OVERTIME for both courts and going through his magic like crazy

One day, when the poor bat is at its limit, Azriel just collapses from exhaustion and draining his magic from his siphons. What do you think the reaction would be like? I think there would be guilt from both Rhysand and Eris but also a bit of a blame game

Anyways, you're welcome to take the story and spin it like you want. And even if you don't feel particularly inspired by it, it's completely fine (cuz the most recent one I saw from you was VERYYYY angsty too so I get why you might not be in the mood for ANOTHER angsty fic)

Still love your work and can't wait to read whatever you post about Azris

-🌹

Tug of War

Rhys and Eris get a tad possessive over their bat and fail to realize that he is trying to please both of them- well that is until he passes out. - 2.7k words

Author's Note: I deeply apologize for this being so late!!! I was incredibly excited over this idea so I actually don’t know what made me take so long xD. maybe the time skips I put in there messed me up, but regardless, I hope you enjoy! I won’t say this is my proudest work, but I hope I at least made your amazing idea come true <3

Content Rating: Teens and Up

TW: don’t work yourself to passing out because your mate and brother want you to be with them more than the other. that’s called people-pleasing and being a self-sacrificial fool. (don’t be like Az)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Azriel

“Can you check on the Illyrian camps for me tomorrow?” Rhys asked as Azriel handed in his third report for the week.

Azriel internally let out the loudest sigh of all possible. He was already running on reserves at this point. But he also knew how much work Rhys and Feyre had on their shoulders. And Eris. He still had to check on the town of Redwood for him later today since there had been rumors of some sort of rebellion for some stupid reason.

“Sure,” Azriel replied. “What in particular?” He hated the Illyrian camps, but so did his brothers. He was just glad Cassian was willing to take over the Valkyrie training for the next week.

“Ironcrest and Windhaven. I want an update on the training programs for females to make sure they’re actually being trained and not thrown to the wolves,” Rhys explained.

Azriel dipped his head. “Right. As long as there isn’t much for Autumn I’ll try and spend a day there watching the training,” he replied.

Rhys hummed. “How is Autumn at this point? Much work coming from Eris?”

“I’ve got to check on a town today for rebellion rumors,” Azriel replied, cracking some of his knuckles as he backed away from Rhys’s desk. “Then write a report on it.”

“We’re not working you too hard, are we?” Rhys asked cheekily. “Being spymaster for two courts has to be exhausting sometimes.”

“I’m managing,” Azriel replied. “But I’ve got to be off. I’ll get to the camps tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, Az. Are you still going to be able to make it to a family dinner on Friday?” Rhys asked, standing up from his chair and walking around the desk.

“Probably,” Azriel replied. “Hopefully Eris can come along too if he’s not too bogged down by paperwork.”

Rhys grinned. Azriel was too tired to notice that it looked incredibly fake. “Great. Tell him that Cassian still wants that arm wrestle, ay? And to bring some Autumn whiskey. I know that stuff has grown on you.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, offering his brother a grin. “Live in Autumn long enough to drink the shit nightly and it will,” he replied. “Anyway, I’m off, Rhys. It’s noon already.”

Rhys smirked. “See you later, Az,” he said, waving.

Azriel quickly made his way out of the River House, feeling exhaustion weighing heavy on him as he winnowed into Redwood. Honestly, while he knew both of his High Lords were busy, that doesn’t mean everything needs to be done immediately. It seemed to be some sort of tug-of-war situation over his time. He understood it, of course. His mate deserved his time and his brothers were still a little unsure over his mate so they likely wanted to keep checking on him.

He was doing his best, but he truly was exhausted.

Azriel slipped into an alleyway in his shadows after hearing voices and refocused on his task ahead. It’d be fine, he supposed.

–––––

A week later, it was most definitely not fine. He had eyebags, his siphons were practically drained since he’d been using the energy he’d normally spare to use for magic as day-to-day energy just to survive the sheer workload he’d been given.

Now it was time for another family dinner. This one was luckily one Eris could attend in between his busy schedule.

Thank the Cauldron or he wouldn’t have had his mate to catch him when he almost stumbled face first into a wall after tripping over the edge of the carpet in the living room of the House of Wind.

“Az?” Eris prompted once he’d rebalanced.

“I’m fine,” He said, waving Eris off.

Eris seemed suspicious, but once they entered the dining room, the look quickly vanished.

“Az!” Cassian shouted happily as he entered.

As soon as Cassian had barged through everyone to come over and likely hug Azriel… he paused right before with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, looking Azriel up and down.

“I’m fine, Cass,” Azriel replied, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll rest tonight. Now get over here,” he commanded, opening up his arms for an armload of Cassian.

Cassian seemed a bit more hesitant, but wrapped Azriel up in his arms anyway. It wasn’t every day Azriel asked for a hug.

Eris still looked suspicious of him throughout the dinner, as did Cassian, but Azriel wasn’t spymaster for no reason. He had skills in hiding when he wanted to hide– whatever that may be.

“Oh, Az,” Rhys called as Eris and Azriel were about to make their way out. Azriel turned to look at his brother with a brow raised in silent question. “You think you could check the camps again to make sure the changes I ordered were actually implemented?”

Azriel internally groaned. “I’ll get to it,” he promised.

Eris seemed a bit tenser beside him, but Azriel was too tired to figure out the reason for it. “Still going to have time for the council meeting, Az?” He asked.

And fuck, right. Council meeting at noon, right. Some sort of new military policies as well as taxes.

“I’ll make it work,” he mumbled. “Camps can be done in the afternoon since the training sessions run late afternoon too.”

“Right,” Eris said, raising a brow. “I didn’t so much mean it that way, Az. I meant, will you have enough energy?”

“As I said, I’ll make it work,” Azriel promised. “Even be back in time for dinner probably.”

Rhys grinned at him. “Come visit me before you leave the Night Court, ay? Nyx wants to see his uncle a little more.”

Azriel nodded, holding back a yawn. He had to make this work. If his mate and his brothers were ever going to stop fighting over him, they’d each have to feel as if Azriel was giving them enough of his time. “I’ll come around,” he mumbled.

Rhys chuckled. “Go sleep, brother,” Rhys ordered. “I can tell you’re tired.”

“I’m fine,” Azriel insisted, wings flaring a bit behind him. “I’ve survived far worse than a little sleep deprivation anyway.”

–––––

Azriel barely slept that night. It was just one of those sleepless nights where his mind ran wild and nothing, not even Eris laying on his chest, could calm it. He had them from time to time, but this was possibly one of the worst times to have it. But regardless, when he woke up, he acted as if he’d had a semi-satisfactory sleep. He managed to conjure a well enough lie to Eris about having trouble getting to sleep for a little bit but eventually did. It worked to explain his eyebags anyway.

He and Eris prepared for the council meeting. Azriel kept having to go over the details in his head again and again, seemingly unable to keep his mind focused. He just had to survive today. And then tomorrow. He’d be fine even if his limbs might as well start shaking.

The council meeting almost put him to sleep with how boring it was, but he managed to keep up enough to support Eris throughout it. His mind was foggy, though.

The camps weren’t much better. He was just glad they were actually following directions at least for him. He should’ve probably stayed a while after to make sure, but his shadows were also weighing with his exhaustion. Most were lazy and some plain refused to go farther than a fingertip’s length away from him.

“Final thing,” Azriel muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes as he winnowed to the front of the River House. His head went dizzy and he swayed for a few moments, wings outspread for balance before he finally reoriented himself. He was surely fine, right? (He knew that was a lie but he had responsibilities.)

“Az!” Rhys called from the doorway happily, holding Nyx on his hip who was babbling excitedly and reaching out for Azriel.

Azriel smiled and reached over to take the little toddler from his father’s arms to nuzzle. “How’s my favorite nephew?” He asked, managing to put on a happy tone.

“Azzie!” Nyx screamed happily, wings outstretched in his excitement. “Play with me!” The toddler ordered.

Azriel smiled. “For a little bit,” he promised.

They all went inside and Azriel settled on the floor with Nyx to grab figurines and stuffed animals and play whatever imaginative game the toddler had managed to conjure this time. He had to admit, there was a migraine pounding in his head, only worsened by the toddler’s excited screaming.

Slowly, Nyx began to tire and then whined about being hungry. Rhys chuckled and moved to pick up the little one for dinner. Then his brother turned to him and smirked, “Oh, someone is here to pick you up.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion and he turned to see the front door opening to reveal his mate with that signature smirk on his face. Eris looked all too happy to have surprised him.

Azriel blinked slowly, taking in the information slowly and then began to stand up to greet his mate but his head began to spin and his limbs failed to obey. And then… nothing.

–––––

Eris

Eris had to admit, seeing his mate attempt to stand up and then collapse nearly sent him into a heart attack as he sprinted to catch the falling Illyrian. Rhys seemed equally alarmed, handing Nyx off to his mother before walking over.

“Az?” Rhys asked, poking his brother’s face.

Azriel didn’t stir which only served to alarm Eris even more. He tugged on the bond, but only found deep-rooted exhaustion. He knew his mate was tired, but tired enough to pass out? That was a whole new level.

“Do we need Madja?” Rhys asked, still concerned.

Eris hummed before shaking his head. “I think… I think he literally just passed out from exhaustion.”

Rhys seemed alarmed now, looking down at his brother’s head cradled in Eris’s lap. “Holy shit,” the High Lord muttered. “He was that tired? How hard have you been working him?”

Eris reeled a bit at those words, raising a sharp gaze to Rhys. “Excuse me? How is this my fault?”

“Well-”

“Don’t even start,” Eris cut in. “I honestly do not want to hear you attempt to place all the blame on me when you have also been giving him equal amounts of work to do. He was barely paying attention in my council meeting and then you put the camps on his shoulders-”

“This isn’t my fault,” Rhys growled defensively.

“Incorrect,” Eris said decisively.

“Well it’s not all my fault,” Rhys corrected, sighing. “Fucking hell…” he muttered.

Eris sighed as well. “It seems we need to coordinate a bit better before our bat decides to pass out again,” he mused.

“I didn’t think he’d work himself this far,” Rhys muttered. “He’s normally good at judging his limits, has even managed to judge Cass’s and I’s limits better than ourselves.”

“You know Az,” Eris muttered. “He works his ass off for the people he cares about.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing his face. “You’re both staying here tonight,” he said.

Eris shrugged. “Fine,” he agreed. Guilt was beginning to plague him, though. How did he manage to work his bat so hard that he passed out? He had been, he’ll admit, trying to get Azriel to spend more time with him. Guess he forgot Rhys was just as possessive over his family. And thus came their present situation: Azriel collapsed in a heap on the floor with his wings thrown every which direction and toy figurines digging into his sides.

“We pushed him too hard,” Rhys mumbled, but it sounded as if he didn’t mean for anyone to hear the words.

Eris sighed, reaching to grab the wood figurine to make Azriel a tad more comfortable. “We’re not making this mistake again,” he said.

“No, we’re not,” Rhys agreed. “Halve the work we give him?” The other High Lord offered.

Eris nodded while standing up and hauling Azriel into his arms with a grunt. “Tuck his wings, won’t you?” Eris asked, unable to stop his mate’s wings from dragging on the floor while he was just trying to hold Azriel’s obsessively large frame in his arms. They were of equal height, yes, but one of them was much stockier.

Rhys quickly moved forward, carefully and respectfully tucking Azriel’s wings where Eris could hold them off the floor. “His bedroom is this way,” Rhys said, leading the way through the hallways.

Azriel’s breathing was slow and calm as Eris set him down on his side in the bed. He took a moment to make sure his bat wouldn’t be sore from any positioned limbs before sighing and glancing back at Rhys standing in the doorway.

“Let’s let him sleep,” Eris recommended and, without waiting for Rhys’s response, used his own power to put out the faelights and walk out.

Rhys took one last glance at his brother before closing the door. “Are you sure we don’t need Madja?”

“Unless he hit his head on the fall, no. Which I’m pretty sure I saved him from,” Eris reminded him. “He’s tired. The only solution is sleep and I doubt he’d want a healer’s attention anyway.”

Rhys sighed and nodded, walking toward the living area. “Sorry for the immediate blame,” he mumbled quickly. “That wasn’t exactly fair.”

Eris hummed. “Forgiven,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure we can share the bat just fine.”

Rhys scoffed in amusement. “Guess we’ll let him rest for now.”

—————

Azriel

Azriel awoke to sunlight in his eyes and he groaned, rolling onto his stomach so his wings covered his face. Then he sat up quickly after remembering what happened before he had… passed out? He felt tired still, but maybe a little less exhausted than before.

He glanced around, relaxing at the sight of his room at the River House. And with Eris in the armchair with a book in his hand. Eris silently bookmarked his page and set down the book to look at him.

“Feel any better?” Eris asked.

Azriel sighed and turned to sit down facing his mate. “I’m-“

“If you start apologizing I might actually slap you,” Eris deadpanned, standing up as well to make the threat even easier to accomplish. “Do you feel better?” He repeated after reaching the bedside.

“Yes,” Azriel replied begrudgingly. “What happened?”

“You passed out from exhaustion,” Eris replied calmly. “Your brother and I moved you here.”

Azriel squinted a bit. “Which one?” He asked. Rhysand and Eris did not get along very well so he doubted it was-

“Rhys,” Eris replied, chuckling at his immediately confused and shocked facial expression. “And we’ve agreed to limit the amount of work we put on our poor bat before he works himself to death.”

Azriel huffed. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“You are somewhat fine now. About sixteen hours ago, you were not. And that falls on Rhys and I equally,” Eris replied firmly.

Azriel hummed. “Why do I feel like you two had an argument?” He asked, glancing at his shadows for confirmation.

“We did,” Eris replied before his shadows could even skitter to his ears. “And then we dealt with it like civilized High Lords. Relax, Azriel. Us changing your workload is to prevent your self-sacrificing ass from doing this again. And you are going to tell us when you are overworked, got it? If you don’t, you won’t like the punishment.”

Azriel huffed in disbelief. “I wasn’t being self-sacrificing-“ he protested.

“You were. Stop denying it,” Eris cut in. “You were trying to give us both your attention and we were fighting over you like a piece of meat. But we also need you now to tell us how much work is too much, Az. No more doing it all to make us happy. That isn’t how this works.”

Azriel sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Eris said, finally climbing into bed and running a hand through his hair. “Now, would you like a bath and then some relaxation time with your everloving mate?”

Azriel snorted at Eris’s words before asking, “Don’t you have to go back to Autumn?”

“My court can run itself for a few hours, Az. More than if needed. Even then, your only worry for now is to get back your energy so you don’t pass out.”

Azriel chuckled a little. “Alright,” he relented. “A bath does sound pretty nice.”

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

A/N: hope you enjoyed!! :D

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

#mywriting #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #azris #azris fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fic

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sir-walton-goggins · 4 months ago

Text

The Ties That Bind Us

Arthur Morgan x fem OC

1.7k words

Summary: Arthur is back to camp way earlier than expected. His wife wonders what possibly could have him back so soon... and in such a bad mood.

Angst + Fluff

Tw child death, tw death

Credit for the header goes to @raevennsge

It had been a long day, and Kris was exhausted when she rode into camp at sundown. She lugged her heavy body straight towards the campfire, where she noticed the silhouette of her husband sitting around it.

‘Is he back already? That’s weird’ the woman thought, perplexed. Arthur usually stayed out for days, even weeks at a time, but now he was back after just a mere day. Something was off.

As she approached from behind, he leaned forward, head bowed, hands conjoined together as if in prayer. There was a dark aura to him that made Kris nervous. She could tell he was upset even before seeing his face.

“Hey,” she cautiously greeted him before laying her hands on his shoulders. Arthur didn’t move.

“Hi.” His tone was tired, forlorn.

“Are you okay, honey?”

No response. Instead, Arthur sighed and sniffled, picking up a pebble and throwing it into the fire. Kris waited patiently, rubbing his broad, tense shoulders.

“I need to be alone” was his lapidary answer. His wife nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be in our tent when you’re ready” she murmured, exhaustion getting the best of her.

While Kris got undressed and laid down to get some rest, Arthur remained perfectly still, sitting on the log alone. The fire was burning into his clear eyes, broadcasting his internal turmoil. He observed it like he wanted to part it and walk through it, to disappear forever. He desperately kept the pain inside his chest, and it jabbed at him mercilessly, slicing his breath short. He refused to let it out at the risk of breaking down, losing his composure. He couldn’t afford it: his composure was all he had now; he was the solid rock upon which everyone in the gang could count on. There simply is no time for weakness, when dozens of people depend on you to survive.

But he wanted to talk. Desperately. He wanted to tell Kris how much he was hurting. But his mind bounced back and forth between doing it and thinking it was stupid. After all, he had no reason to be that upset. It had been long enough now, hadn’t it? He was just being a big baby.

The outlaw had lost count of how long he’d been staring into the crackling flames, inhaling their smoke. The full moon peeked through the naked trees, stars glistening like tiny gemstones on a black evening gown. Everyone else had already turned in.

He should’ve gone to bed, but his eyes were wide open, his chest and shoulders too heavy. He missed Kris.

Arthur poked his head in their shared tent. His wife laid on the cot, sleeping peacefully. She looked like an angel: an halo of dark, wavy hair circling her head on the candid pillow. His chest temporarily felt a bit lighter in front of such a peaceful sight.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Arthur undressed and climbed into bed next to Kris. He cuddled up to her, nuzzling his face into her shoulder and inhaling deeply. She smelled like home, like his safe place. It was so comforting, he almost forgot all about-

“Arthur…” she protested, making him curse under his breath.

“Sorry, dear,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake ya”. His grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her into a hug. Kris exhaled, melting into his embrace and stroking his forearm. She has missed him, too.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” she asked, sleep still heavy and low in her voice.

Silence. Just rhythmical breathing, Arthur’s heavier and more disjointed. He exhaled, burying his face into Kris’s hair.

“Something happened yesterday…” he began. Nervous, he fidgeted with the stitching on Kris’s underwear, pulling at it and twirling it around his fingers.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Kris encouraged him softly.

“Not really…” His mind at fought a dire war between the effort of bringing up something painful and the temporary comfort of burying it down with the rest of his past.

“Okay,” she took his restless hand in hers, squeezing it lovingly. “But I think you should, honey. You’ll feel better after”.

She moved her head so she could look at him in the eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The blond nodded. He knew.

Kris smiled and kissed him on the cheek, cupping it and rubbing the coarse stubble with her thumb in a circular motion.

Arthur now felt reassured enough to open up, but he still hid his face in Kris’s thick hair.

“I was passing through this small village…” Arthur gulped, doing his best to spit the words out, where they wouldn’t rot him from the inside out. He paused to recount the scene.

Arthur rode in from the west side of the village, passing right in front of the tiny graveyard. He noticed a bunch of people gathering around an open grave, mourning the loss of a fellow citizen. What struck him the most was the utter silence and reverence in such a big crow: must’ve been someone important. He felt compelled to stop and watch from afar, like pulled into place by an invisible thread. The priest was the only one speaking, sending the poor soul off to their final rest.

As the clergy man droned and read from the Sacred Scriptures, Arthur got off his horse and approached, keeping at a safe distance from the funeral. Curiosity got the best of him, so he leaned out to have a look at the dug up hole in front of the tombstone.

His heart sank down into his stomach. That was too small of a grave.

“Today we lay our dear Ishmael to rest. His life was taken from us too soon, but when the Lord calls, we shall answer, and so now he sits next to His throne, in Heaven, forever safe from earthly suffering.”

Arthur felt all blood drain from his face. He desperately wanted to run, but he couldn’t bring himself to just turn around and leave. He felt like he deserved to sit through this. Like he had to.

Once the priest finished his speech, the undertaker began shoveling dirt on the casket, and it wasn’t long before the tiny body was hidden from mournful eyes forever, six feet deep.

A young woman, who had to have been the little boy’s mom, threw a red rose on the coffin, her face a veritable mask of pain. Two other women had their arms linked to hers, the only force holding her up and preventing her from falling on her knees, wracked by grief. And fall she did; she began to wail desperately, a sound which pierced right through Arthur’s chest and sent a wave of white hot pain straight to his head. Before he even noticed people were staring at him, he was bolting back to his horse and taking off at full speed.

“Oh, Arthur…” Kris sighed, the picture he painted way too real and raw.

Arthur swallowed the knot in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak again, but nothing came out.

“I…” he paused, feeling his eyes sting unbearably.

“I miss him. Every day” he closed his eyes, tears that had been locked away for too long wetting his face.

Kris held him closer, squeezing him into a hug that she wished could’ve healed all his pain. Arthur wept in his wife’s arms for the first time ever, his deep sadness spreading to her. He never talked about Isaac, ever. It left Kris feeling so shocked that this was even happening. She froze, unable to come up with anything to comfort her grieving husband. She silently embraced him as tight as she could, caressing his hair and waiting for his sobs to settle down. With each one of them erupting from his chest, Kris felt a sharp knife stabbing her heart. Oh, there’s nothing worse of the sound of your beloved crying.

As Arthur calmed down they laid there for a while, entangled in each other’s arms, without speaking a word.

“Y’know,” he broke the silence, voice still broken. “I think this was punishment. I couldn’t save ‘em, and now I’m paying for it.”

“No, Arthur, this wasn’t your fault. Please, don’t blame yourself.”

He insisted, pain permeating his every word. “If I was there, I could’ve protected them.” Kris had never heard a sentence spoken with so much regret. She listened, heartbroken by all the guilt he carried, and felt so utterly powerless in the face of it.

“And now I’m scared I’ll ruin things again” he confessed, pressing his palms against his eyes to erase that poor mother’s face from his memory. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“Arthur.” Kris removed his hands away from his face. “Look at me.” She intertwined their fingers together.

“You do deserve a second chance. And you won’t ruin it. Because we are in this together, and I’m not backing down. Ever.”

Arthur looked up at her, unconvinced. “You should be with someone better.” he whispered, breathing it out with all the melancholy left in his lungs.

Kris laughed softly and shook her head. “I probably should, but I won’t” she brought his hand to her lips, “because I wanna be with you.”

Arthur smiled, eyes filled with unshaken love. Here stood his wife, his family, the finest woman he ever met, his second chance at life, at love. A day hadn’t passed where he didn’t feel grateful to be with her, even if guilt and conflict sometimes clouded his judgment. He wouldn’t let his past ruin the precious thing they had together, in the present.

He leaned forward, meeting her lips and rubbing his nose against hers gently.

“Afraid you’re stuck with me, Morgan” Kris joked, actually making him laugh for the first time in who knows how many days.

He cuddled into her shoulder. “I think it’s the other way around, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Mh. We shall see” she snarked, closing her eyes. “Goodnight, dear. Try to get some sleep.”

Arthur obliged, finally feeling lighter. What do you know, Kris was right. Again. He closed his eyes and Morpheus’s gentle embrace lifted him off the Earth, giving him some respite.

#my personal addition to the “oh arthur” movement #sorry had to do this to yall #had to let him vent bc he never really does in the game and i need to see it #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #tw child death #tw death

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starlight-bread-blog · 10 months ago

Note

Katara made it very clear that she never ever wants to see Yon Rah again and most of the Zutara fandom supports that decision of hers.

So I guess the possible downside of Katara choosing to marry Zuko means sharing Zuko's burden of reforming and rehabilitating depraved war criminals like Yon Rha and all those who are even worse than him.

Then there's this whole thing with Aaron Ehasz imagining Zuko being Azula's Iroh and she reforms in that way along with my and a few other's ideas of Aang showing her how open and master her own chakras. Speaking of Iroh, does anyone remember his ruthless and brutal 600-day siege anymore? There's no way he'd avoid dropping bodies that whole time.

Looks like Katara will ironically be taking Aang's advice about forgiveness after all but I don't think it'll be necessary for Katara to look for Yon Rah again and say so.

What do you think?

Tw: War crimes, genocide and nazism.

Disclaimer: I don't know what actually happened post canon. I tried to look on internet forums and it seems as the topic wasn't addressed in the comics. For this answer, I'm going under this assumption.

Sorry for not getting to this sooner, life got busy and I didn't want to give some half assed answer to such a delicate topic. There's a lot to comment on so I'll break this down step by step.

"Katara choosing to marry Zuko means sharing Zuko's burden of reforming and rehabilitating depraved war criminals"...

The fire nation commited atrocious war crimes, leaving them with with many war criminals. War crimes are more than punishable. If it were real life, neither Katara or Zuko would have to reform and rehabilitate any of them.

An example of this would be the Nuremberg trials after WW2. Even recently, in 2022, Irmgard Furchner (an 98 year old women) faced a trial for being a secretary of a concentration camp (to put it lightly, she was very much a murderer). No one is getting away with their actions.

I read the relevant section from a Red Cross's document titled "Analysis of the punishments applicable to international crimes (war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide) in domestic law and practice". (The section being "States’ obligations under IHL to prosecute and punish international crimes").

I found something interesting. (ID in alt text).

*Grave breaches are more serious, vile violations of humananitarian law. Everything above applies to "genocide and crimes against humanity".

If Katara were in a position of power in the Fire Nation, not only would she not have to reform anyone, she also might get to help with the trials for them.

"Then there's this whole thing with Aaron Ehasz imagining Zuko being Azula's Iroh"

I don't know about his plans for Aang's other ideas, so I can't comment on them. What I did find was a short thread of his. And after reading it, I maintain that – like most ideas – his vision can work with sensitive execution.

Azula was still very much a 14 year old victim of grooming when the series took place. Her brother can help her through her redemption under one condition – the desire to be better should come from her.

He shouldn't sit through any mistreatment whatsoever. He'll guide her through a path he already went through, but she has to walk with him. Azula needs to be safe for Zuko. Only then, redemption would be possible.

"does anyone remember [Iroh's] ruthless and brutal 600-day siege anymore?"

The difference between Iroh and Yon Rah is what they're up to now. In the present Yon Rah is just some guy living with his mother. Meanwhile Iroh took back Ba Sing Se from Fire Nation colonizers.

Yon Rah isn't out here fixing his mistakes, he just got off scot-free. On the other hand, Iroh is a changed man and took action to correct his past on the same scale.

At the end of the day redemtion isn't Aang's idea. It's one of the major themes of Atla. It wants to show that people can change and grow. So it does. Zuko changes, Mai changes, Ty Lee changes, and Iroh is their future.

He tried to conquer Ba Sing Se, and now he took it back from conquerors. He was the worst of them all, and now he's unrecognizable. He's warm, wise and sweet. There's a meaning to it.

That doesn't mean that war criminals in the current day, scums who made no affort, will get away with their crimes. That doesn't mean Katara would have to go through the mental torture of reforming her colonizers.

That is it! I hope I didn't come off as aggressive, I didn't mean to. Thank you for the ask, sorry for taking me forever to write this, and have a lovely day!

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bagerfluff · 1 year ago

Text

I Adore You (But I Hate You)

Percy Jackson x Male Half-Blood Reader

Prompt - Adore

TW - Internalized Homophobia, Past Abuse, Child Abuse

Adore.

You hated the word.

Some people love it. It's soft. When you saw it there's no way to be mad when you do. Most people used it with happiness and love in their voice. Because they had love in their minds and spilling into their tongues when they use it.

"I adore your smile", "I adore your eyes", "I adore you".

You hated it all.

The word that's said with so much love it would make anyone smile when someone said it. Even the goddess of love herself. Maybe she cursed you to hate the word. Maybe it was because of who came to mind when you thought about or heard the word.

A boy.

With black hair, sea green eyes, and a smile that was brighter then the sun. You thought about him ever since he came to Camp Half-Blood with a horn and a scared look in his eyes. That just made him more cute in your eyes.

But you couldn't.

No.

You were a guy. A demigod. He was also a demigod. That was wrong. That's what they said. Everyday when you came home from school that's what they said. "You have to find a nice girl to marry and have kids with". That's what they said. So that's what you have to do. So why did your heart flutter when that boy smiled at you.

Why did you get sweaty and why did your heart hammer behind your ribs. This wasn't suppose to happen. The boy was to cute. He looked good you knew that. That's why everyone tried to get with him. That's why the flirted with him every chance they got.

You were suppose to find a girl that made your heart hammer like it did when you were around that boy. So why did you get mad when someone made the boy smile or flirted with him. You weren't suppose to care. He could do and flirt with whoever he wanted. So why did you want to punch who he did flirt with.

Why did you want to be in their shoes?

Maybe that's why you hated the word adore. Because when you thought about the word or wanted to say it you thought about him. You wanted to say the words to him or hear him say them to you.

"I adore your bright smile", "I adore your sea green eyes", "I adore you".

But that wouldn't happen, no that couldn't happen. You were both guys. But what was wrong with that? You saw boys and girls love each other at camp. You didn't mind, that was their life, they could do what they wanted. So why was it bad when you did it. They never explained that to you.

But when you came home and told them that you liked a boy in your class they yelled. You didn't have dinner that night. So you never said that again. You kept locked it like it was worth millions of dollars, or worth your life.

Why was this so confusing?

Why did you really hate the word adore?

#lgbtq #gay #bisexual #bisexaul #pansexual #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x male reader #percy pjo #percy jackson #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo series

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kiaradaughterofselene · 3 months ago

Text

Open starter! (Its gonna be angst you guys)

(Btw tw for mentioned transphobia and internalized transphobia) (It's so much easier to make angst ones tbh) (but i will sprinkle in some fluff from time to time)

Kiara was finally back at camp. Yay! But the more time that passed, the more obvious it was that she wasn't okay, and she certainly wasn't the same as she was before she went on that quest.

She looked... shaken. She would flinch at any sudden sounds and movements, as if scared that something would get her or that she would be attacked.

For whatever reason, you decided to check on her. When you walk into the Selene cabin, she isn't really doing anything. She was just sitting on her bed, staring off. The vacant expression on her face was one she did not often wear.

Tag list:

@the-gods-abandoned-us

@arisdaughter

@mache-of-greece

@demigod-jack-hearth

@kaiaalwayswins

@unhinged-waterlilly

@southerndaughterofeos

@yourlocalfallenstar

@son-of-the-moonlight

@luci-likes-dinoss

@elixs-mythology-corner

@bast-the-best26

@emdabitchass

@if-chaos-was-a-boy

@luck-is-crucial

@love-lightning-forethought @the-prince-telemachus @pink-koi-lovejoy @apollos-favorite-child @ariathemortal @cass-sees-the-future @reyna4ever

#willows pjo ocs ♡#insomniac daughter of the moon #pjo roleplay #pjo rp #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #pjo oc #pjo rp blog #pjo oc blog #pjo open starter #pjo oc rp #pjo ocs #pjo rp starter #pjo rpg #rrverse #riordan universe #riordanverse #riordanverse oc

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ryverbind · 10 months ago

Text

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Beg For It [21]

TW: smut :P

_______________

dacnorthxx started following you.

sallysusedtoiletpaper: VI WHO IS THIS WHO IS NORTH WHY IS THIS INTERACTION GIVING ME LIFE??? t0ddles2: @sallysusedtoiletpaper frontman of dark autumn complex sallysusedtoiletpaper: @t0ddles2 oh omg ok... I've never heard of them are they any good?? ashypoops: I haven't heard of them either. What genre? More importantly DOES VI HAVE HER VERY FIRST SHIP toodswithoutthed: @ashypoops I WAS ABOUT TO ASK BC THE CHEMISTRY!?!? they're obsessed w each other... I went stalk his profile. Ship name options: northlence, violeth... t0ddles2: they're rock/metal. even if u don't like the genre, they're worth a listen sallysusedtoiletpaper: WORD I just followed him and their band account >:3 also @toodswithoutthed I'm personally a fan of violeth. I'm linking this shit in the faces fan discord ashypoops: THERE'S A FAN DISCORD??? can u send me an invite pooks🥺 sallysusedtoiletpaper: @ashypoops ofc😘 sallysusedtoiletpaper: OMFG SOMEONE BEAT ME TO THE CHAT EVERYONE KNOWS NOOOOOO

———

Yea, so I lost my job. Big shocker.

Once my boss found out that I dipped mid-shift, the text was typed out and sent by the evening.

In any other situation, I'd be fucked. Indefinitely. Completely broke and flailing to get a new job. In fact, that was my first thought. As soon as I got the text, I clicked onto my bank account to check how much I'd have to live off of until I found a new job--

--only to find out that I had over $2,000 just sitting around, which was such a nice surprise. I don't think I've ever had so much money to my name before in my entire life. And all the transactions were straight from all my streaming apps. All within the past two weeks since being back in LA.

To say the least, losing my job couldn't have happened at a better time. Now, I can put my focus into something I actually enjoy doing.

But first, a trip to Nockfell, which is proving to be more chaotic by the second.

"Todd, dude, there's a chemistry to this thing, okay? It's a ritual," Larry says, all seriousness and business face as he stares back into Todd's uninterested gaze. "I can't fly without it."

Todd blinks, a flash of frustrated disappointment crossing over his features. "You're not taking an edible before the flight, Lartholomew."

Ash had a ticket ready for me before she even got to LA yesterday. Her entire mastermind plan was to abduct me whether I liked it or not-- not that I would've said no to begin with. And besides, having her at the apartment to help me pack last minute made pre-flight stress non-existent.

Travis is camping out at my apartment. He was more than happy to kick me out of my own house, claiming that my bed is comfiest anyway. Regardless, he said he had no desire to return to Nockfell anyway. And dad was just excited for me to go visit considering how much I've complained about missing the little town over all these years.

Sal and I haven't spoken since his last commanding text to me. Right before his very sudden face reveal. He's caught in an almost petrifying silence-- has been since he put his prosthetic back on. I, on the other hand, very much resemble a little puppy whimpering and begging at his feet. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't dare to physically exploit my internal thoughts.

The really sickening truth is that I'm so desperate to see his face again that I'd trip him down a flight of stairs just to recreate yesterday's scene.

Just kidding. I don't mean that. I definitely don't.

"All our seats are kind of screwed up, so I have no idea where you're sitting, sugar." Ash pokes my cheek, her chin in her palm and elbow propped on the armrest of her seat. "I bought them kind of last minute so I took whatever they had available."

A little smile tips my lips as I turn my attention away from the grumpy smurf and focus on my stunning best friend. Her viridian irises glow with renewed joy and energy like our plans check off so many bullet points on her bucket list. "That's okay," I reply, tilting my head. "At least we actually have seats, right?"

Ash grins, her maroon shaded lips accentuating the light freckles along the bridge of her nose. "See?" she chirps, arm winding through mine to pull me closer. "You get it. When do you not get it?"

Our plane calls for us to board, and so begins the toxic, anxiety-inducing split-up of the century. I lose all The Faces somewhere in the crowded line that gathers at our gate in just a matter of seconds. That's okay though, I'll probably end up sitting with some old lady that smells like an odd mixture of peonies, Dial soap, and Lysol. You know, a funeral home and two colds away from death. So long as she's nice, I'll catch her dentures when they fall out of her gaping mouth as she naps.

Anything for MawMaw.

I hobble my way into the plane, brain set on finding my seat before stressing about all other one hundred and fifty two things I have to worry about later. People are everywhere and it's, expectedly, a huge plane. Three rows-- two seaters against each wall and a row of three seats down the middle. Sickening, really. Social anxiety's worst enemy is looking for means of escape only to be met by even more people.

I block everyone out as best as I can, pretending that the people I bump into are just very dense pieces of furniture. Or, actually, even better-- a bunch of really buff kitties. Yep, just passing through a horde of Maine Coon's and Munchkin's.

I spot row F, my pupils zeroing in on the letter like a scope on a gun. Target acquired.

The majestic way I veer around what my mind imagines is a really tall Siamese and their spouse, a yellow Persian, is something that the directors of The Matrix are pissed that they couldn't come up with. I swing my foot around a figurative pair of paws and reach my free hand out to grip onto my seat-- F20. That's right bitches, I did it.

I swing my suitcase up, somehow managing to actually get it into the overhead compartment. I give it a good shove with both of my hands and a grunt, then pull the backpack off my shoulders to keep it at my feet when I sit down.

But now that I've stopped, cats are pushing past me and it's so aggressive and rushed that they suddenly aren't sweet, fluffy kitties anymore. They're people again and I'm starting to get dragged away from my seat by this sea of shared distress.

Nimble fingers latch onto my wrist from the seat beside mine-- the seat against the window. The hand tightens around me, giving my body a good yank forward. I use the aided force to weave my way around a few more people up until the hand pulls me into my seat.

I huff out a breath, pushing my hair out of the eyeholes of my mask. And begrudgingly, I turn my head to meet bright cerulean hair.

Sal isn't looking at me, he's facing the window. His entire stature gives off a mixture of unbothered and ashamed. He shouldn't feel that second one-- never. Granted, he shouldn't feel angry half as much as he does but that's besides the point.

Ever since it happened, I could tell that the abrupt exposure of his face has been heavily weighing on him. I don't owe this man a single thing-- he's been awful to me in so many ways, but I give credit where credit is due. Not only did he own up and apologize to me yesterday, he helped me to my seat... and he is handsome. Regardless of how he views himself.

He's my biggest enemy and I, his. But if I plan on getting fucked during my visit to Nockfell, I have to give him the Beating of Truth.

"So," I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. If you couldn't tell, I'm absolutely forcing myself to do this even though it's the last thing I want to do. "How are we working around Ash, Larry, and Todd when we get to Nockfell?"

Sal's head tips up a bit, like he's wondering to himself if I actually just spoke to him. Then his head pivots sideways so that he can side-eye me.

"What?" He asks, voice genuinely shocked and confused. It makes my heart stutter a bit. Any time he speaks in a tone that isn't aggressive, it completely reboots my system.

"How are we going to follow through with this arrangement?" I try again, simplifying it into Sal terms. He has a wide vocabulary range; maybe using bigger words will snap some sense into him. For added effect, I lean onto the armrest separating him and I, trying to show that he doesn't repulse me or anything of the sort.

Sal doesn't move away, instead, he adjusts his body so that he can address me. Fully turns his prosthetic face to me and settles into his seat. I didn't realize how tense he was when I first sat down, but watching him relax now shows me how much my simple mention of our agreement settled his mental turmoil.

He's quiet for a moment, eyes dancing across my mask and body before his gaze meets mine again. "You still want to?" he finally decides to ask, eyebrows lifting beneath his prosthetic.

"Yea," I snort, scrunching my nose up as if his question is ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, stupid question. I know the answer and the words came out before I could stop them. In more ways than others, that was a genuine response though. I can't accept that Sal would be so put off by his own appearance because I truly think it's so lovely. I have to remember though that not everyone sees themselves the way I see them though.

Sal's brows bunch together again, his eyes narrowing. "Stupid fucking question," he echoes my own thoughts, voice even and void of tone. Whoopsie.

I roll my own eyes, sighing. "Well, to settle the whole debacle," I start, aiming to just bite the bullet and extinguish the awkwardness and misplaced fear vibrating between us. "I think you're quite the catch."

Friendly banter is weird. Borderline uncomfortable, but... not quite. Just so that I'm ready to get this over with but I'd be prepared for it to happen again.

A nasally snort leaves Sal and he rotates his head so that he's facing the pair of seats in front of us.

"So," he prods, ignoring my statement. "North?"

Mission success. I know he'll never admit it and he doesn't need to, but I think he appreciates the compliment.

"What's it to you?" I counter, adjusting my position in turn. I sit criss-cross applesauce in my seat, making sure my feet don't touch Sal because God forbid. "You still get to fuck me."

"Not much," he says lowly, hand moving to ruffle up his fringe. There's that dagger tattoo again. And then his head tilts just a bit, haunting sapphire blue piercing straight through my soul like the weapon etched onto his skin. "But you're mine. North can't give you even an ounce of what I can."

Fuzzy fingers, a pounding heart, and the worst case of cold sweats possible dominates my body for the rest of the flight. My brain replays that statement over and over again, plaguing me with recurring physical reactions like I've just heard it in real life again. I wish he hadn't said anything at all if it was going to leave me like this.

Neither of us said another word. The only sound between the two of us was the constant cracking of my knuckles accompanied by me putting my feet on the ground-- then sitting criss-cross again-- then having to readjust again and again and again. He left me quite literally restless and I'm sure he's relishing in just the knowledge of it.

Landing in Nockfell was a quick divergence from bubbly hearted affliction in my being. A good distraction from Sal.

Perpetual autumn. Nockfell never gets too hot or cold. The air is always misty, the sky always grey and cloudy. Tall, ever-growing trees dominate both night and day, stealing all the light from the sun and hiding it in their leafy treetops. Nockfell houses the kind of atmosphere that I've dreamt of returning to for years now; the gentle eeriness and chill that I've longed to bask in ever since I left.

We step out of the airport and into the small parking lot where a suspiciously blue haired man is waving at us with a big, dad-like grin on his face. Not a question in my mind. That's Sal's dad-- the cropped, receding cerulean hair was the first obvious sign but as we grow closer, his bright azure eyes are the second giveaway.

"Wassup, daddio!" Larry exclaims, wrapping Sal's father up in a huge bear hug (which is so Emo Buff Daddy of him). I nearly forgot that Sal's dad, who I now know as Henry, is also Larry's step-dad. Crazy.

"Not much, big guy!" Henry chuckles, rubbing Larry's back affectionately once the hug comes to an end. He pats Larry's shoulder, that big smile still on his aged face. "You guys brought the friend back! Convinced her to come huff up our humid air?"

Henry moves over to Ash, Todd, and then Sal to hug all of them. He purposefully places a discreet kiss on top of Sal's head before turning to me.

He holds his arms open suggestively and my heart flutters. "You okay with hugs?" He asks me. "Everyone's family here."

A grin of my own sneaks onto my face as I take a little step toward Henry and wrap my arms around his middle.

Henry's arms latch around my body, shielding me from the moist, heavy air of Nockfell and anything else that could possibly hurt me here. His embrace is so comforting, so familiar, so protective that tears I've been holding back for weeks suddenly rush to the surface.

I love my own dad, he's perfect, but being hugged by his near doppelgänger reminds me of how much I miss him. I wish dad and I weren't apart so often. But that'll change soon with the money I'm making.

I don't allow myself to weep, I hide the tears and pull away from the comforting hug I needed so desperately to smile sweetly at Henry. Lovely man, his own smile widens.

The group of us piles into Henry's old 2000 Nissan Pathfinder to navigate around Nockfell.

We first stop at Ash's place-- a home I haven't seen in a decade now. Everything is so nostalgic-- the tall, two story, white-painted, wooden home and the canopy of evil-looking trees that hide it from the road reminds me of a time that's been ripped away from me.

Ash leans on the door of Henry's SUV, the window down for her to speak to me before she disappears. "I'll come by Sal's or the apartments later to scoop you up, 'kay? Parents and I have a meeting with some guys to transfer ownership of some things to me before the move." She chews on her lip, a deep yearning in her pretty eyes. "I'd let you stay with me if I could."

I shake my head at her-- I don't want her to feel guilty for handling business. "No that's okay." I tell her sweetly, grabbing onto her hand. "I'll kickback with the guys."

Ash smiles, squeezing my hand in hers before breaking off to head to her house.

Now, I never imagined I'd end up coming back to Nockfell in general, but to stand in Sal Fisher's home? These were even more improbable odds.

And worse, Todd suddenly slips out of the house with the very mean (he's ditching me!) excuse of meeting with Neil for a late lunch. That just leaves me, Larry, and Sal standing in the spacious kitchen of their shared two-story home. It's quaint, roomy, and pretty nice. I imagine it's kept up specifically because Sal tends to it.

And Sal, he doesn't say anything. Which is typical behavior from him. He only, swiftly, spins on his heels, luggage in hand, and disappears into a room right past the stairs. Okay, fair. It's late in the afternoon-- naptime.

And now it's down to two.

I look to Larry with a grin. And he's grinning back excitedly, wiggling around like an antsy child who's about to go on a field trip.

"I can't believe we managed to get you over here," he whisper-yells, screaming silently. You know, just open-mouthed and head tipped to the ceiling in pure excitement.

"Even Copernicus wouldn't be able to debunk this turn of events," I joke, watching Larry dance around his kitchen. I put my bags down. I'm sure we'll figure out this situation later when Ash returns.

Larry opens up his refrigerator, moving around some bottles before uttering an expletive. "Ah, fuck," he hisses out, quickly lifting his head which results in him slamming said head into the freezer door. I pause, wincing, eyeing his silhouette warily while awaiting whatever he has to say next.

He resurfaces from the fridge, rubbing his aching head and chewing on his bottom lip. "I left my fucking bags in Henry's car." He curses again, glancing up at me with agitated eyes. "I have to run over to the apartments real quick." Larry starts inching away from the fridge and I feel my heart leap. How could he forget his luggage in the car? And is he really about to leave me here with the master of aggressive seduction himself? We're bound to tear this house apart either via sex or a physical fight. I just don't know which one.

"I'll be like... ten minutes at most," Lar says, squeezing past me and around the kitchen table, rerouting to the front door. He gives me a look that screams vulnerability and urgency. "Please don't kill Sal, and don't let him kill you. Okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

I blink at him, running my tongue along the inside of my dry mouth. This is not going to go well. "Okay," I say anyway. I can already see the headline on the newspaper-- 'Masked Streamer, Sally Face, Brutally Murders and Chops Up Rising Streamer, VioletViolence, With Kitchen Knife.'

Larry nods at me, pinches his lips together in a moment of concerned hesitation, then disappears through the front door.

I stand in the empty kitchen for a moment, watching the back of Larry's head through the front door window. "In a jiffy..." I murmur to myself, recalling the most soccer-mom words I've ever heard come from Larry's vicinity. It was so odd, I mean he would never say something like that, but here we are.

The house is empty aside from myself and Sal. What the hell am I supposed to do? Watch The Office?-- well, that actually doesn't sound bad at all.

I can literally do anything I want, though. I have been given the most opportune opportunity to act upon my will as I see fit. With that in mind accompanied by the suspiciously good conversation a certain blue-haired individual and I shared on the plane, I think I have an idea of what I could do. And I know I'll have a willing partner.

This will either end in a homicide via kitchen knife or an orgasm. I'll take my chances.

A sly little grin fights its way onto my lips as I spin on my heels, trekking over to Sal's room. His door is closed, giving him an ample amount of darkness to hide in while gaming or sleeping or whatever he's doing. But for me, it's the ample amount of darkness to create a moody setting. It's perfect.

The cold, metal doorknob sits comfortably in the palm of my hand as I give myself one last chance to think about this. I really shouldn't do this, but the timing will never be this good again. With everyone moving to LA, I may never get a chance this convenient since someone will always be around.

That's the last little bit of encouragement I need to twist the knob and slowly push the plain, white painted door open.

The wood squeaks on its hinges, making Sal turn his head up from his PC. His dark, shadowed eyes meet mine. They go from curious to a bit miffed in half a second— but he doesn't say anything, really just ignores me and turns back to his setup.

My heart races. He didn't turn me away or tell me to get the fuck out of his room. That's a good start. But that also means I can actually follow through with my very sudden plan— a plan which has no plan. I didn't even brainstorm what I could do because I genuinely didn't think I'd get this far.

I watch him closely, noting the way his computer casts a cool, blue glow against his prosthetic. His hand moves the mouse around and he clicks on various things, really paying me no mind at all.

My teeth clamp onto my bottom lip as I step past the threshold of his room, grabbing hold of the door and slowly closing it behind me. Once it latches into place, I wait, simply observing the man with my back to the door. For good measure, I turn the lock. You know, just in case I manage to get somewhere.

And he still doesn't look my way. The fact that he's ignoring my presence right now makes anticipation build up within me. My heart thumps a little faster than it already has been. My cheeks feel warm, I can't keep my hands still. It's like my brain is kicked into overdrive, forcing me to take notice of every little thing.

I lick my lips and take a step forward, scratching at the skin on my knuckles. I take another step, then another, my body growing warm with anxiousness all because I may stand in front of this man, present myself to him, and come to regret it. I really might embarrass myself. Just because we agreed doesn't mean he wants me at this exact moment.

But before I'm even really prepared, I'm standing right beside him. And he's sitting there without a care in the world, comfortably propped up in his gaming chair and pulling up different comments on what looks to be YouTube.

I've done about all I can for right now, but we are on limited time. So I watch him for a moment. He has to know I'm right here— I wasn't quiet, I didn't avoid his field of vision. I'm right here.

And I still get nothing.

Time to think. Should I say something insulting? That usually gets him riled up. Maybe then, one thing will lead to another.

I bounce on my heels for a second as I think up a quick insult. "Is this how you waste your time? Figured you'd at least reply to some of your fans if you were going to read their comments. Kinda shitty of you." Low blow probably. I don't really mean it, but I'm sure he'll take it seriously. His fans mean a lot to him, it's the best way to gain his attention.

But Sal doesn't even react, only scrolls through a few replies under a comment and clicks 'like' on a some. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look at me. Never makes a sound.

I roll my eyes. Playing hard to get are we? He fusses at me for not complying all the time— he's such a hypocritical asshole. I hate that I'm into it.

I swallow thickly, putting my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous fidgeting. "Sal," I try, cringing a bit. That was desperation— he has to know that.

Again, nothing.

He really must be trying to piss me off, that or he isn't interested at all. But thankfully, the zero interest half doesn't stink like I was afraid it would. Instead, it spurs me into action.

He can ignore my words all he wants, but he can't ignore me.

"I'm going to touch you," I warn because consent is important. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me."

I wait a good thirty seconds but he stays silent.

I pinch my lips together then grab onto the armrest of his chair, pulling it back just enough to place my body between him and his computer. He simply looks up at me with disinterested eyes, so I go further, fueled by the spark in my soul and the rage of him purposefully pretending I'm not even there.

I take a step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance, then easily slide myself onto his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my own, his skin smooth under my fingertips. The dark ink on his biceps contrasts beautifully with the milky color of his skin and it's quite an honor to finally run my hands over his art.

I watch the way my fingers drag down his arm then up again, returning to his shoulder. I'm on top of him and he still hasn't said a word, still hasn't touched me. At this point, I'm yearning for something— anything.

The only good sign I'm getting is that he hasn't pushed me off.

I glance up, looking into his blue eyes that are darkened by the shadows of his room. They're watching me closely, no ounce of emotion reflected in them. He's just observing.

My other hand travels to his prosthetic face, gripping onto his jaw in the way that he does to me so often. "Think you can ignore me?" I whisper, a little smirk quirking my lips despite how badly I wish I could contain it.

A slight furrowing of his brows is what I get in return.

Ha, got him.

He still doesn't say anything, but I've piqued his interest at least.

"Larry's gone," I say next, my eyes traveling to the rough prosthetic in my hands. I run my thumb over the underside of his jaw, feeling a number of scars.

"I assumed so," he says, voice a bit deeper than it normally would be and toneless like it seems to have been all day.

My gaze meets his again, and this time there's a little fire in his pretty eyes. There's desire, interest, slow-building exhilaration. I love seeing this look on him.

"Mhm," I hum, moving my other hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck. "Are you going to sit here and ignore me like the asshole you are, or are you going to have mercy on both of us?"

Sal slowly blinks, eyes traveling over my form, drinking me in like I'm the last drop of water on earth. "You called me an asshole for a reason," he bites out. "Don't expect much. Unlike you, I can actually hold out."

"But what's the point of holding out?" I counter, tilting my head to the left. "Larry's heading to the apartments. We have about ten minutes. That's enough room for one of a couple options. Stop being a little prick and do something."

"More like twenty. Larry takes his sweet ass time." Sal's eyes narrow. "You think insulting me is going to coerce me into this, you little bitch? Thought you knew our dynamic well enough by now." My words are getting to him. That's exactly what I want.

"I do know our dynamic," I whisper, leaning my head down so that my face is level with his. I look into his cerulean eyes and they gaze back at me, one pupil dilated. Then, I bend lower until I'm at the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

I use the hand holding his face to tilt his head up and away from me, using the angle as leverage to place my lips onto his warm skin.

I hear a muffled sigh from him in response and it takes everything in me not to smile.

My mouth moves slowly along the side of his neck, placing meaningful, wet kisses along his throat. But when I get to the hilt of his tattoo, I bit down gently.

He flinches at the feeling of my teeth digging into his skin, then completely aborts his mission to ignore me completely.

Sal's hands fly to my waist, one gripping tightly onto my hip and the other trailing up my back and into my hair, gripping the strands tightly before yanking my head back.

My teeth are ripped from his neck immediately and Sal pulls me away from him by the base of my neck. I gasp, staring into his captivating azure eyes from just centimeters away. His prosthetic nose bumps my mask's and he holds me there without a word.

His eyes trail down my face and heavy breaths follow his gaze. His cold fingers are curled into my neck, his nails digging into my skin.

I swallow, wondering if maybe I should have just minded my own business, stayed in the living room and waited for Larry to come back. Maybe I pissed him off.

I lick my lips and blink at him, my mouth gapes open as I try to find something to say. He's silent. It's not awkward, just scary. Scary is ten times worse.

Sal must see the regret and fear in my eyes because his own eyes lessen their harsh glare a bit and then he rasps out, "Can I touch you?"

Every inch of my body goes rigid with shock, anticipation. "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the underside of his jaw while my heart runs an entire marathon in my chest. Now is not the time to get nervous because I sweat when I'm nervous. I need to be horny– not nervous.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes set on mine. I feel his chest rise ever so slowly, then go back down the same exact way. The pause between us is utter agony and I feel like I'm going to start spazzing out or something. Honestly, with the way I'm sitting on top of him, I might just fall over and die on the spot. That feels less incriminating than whatever is about to ensue.

Cool fingers grasp onto my thigh, his palm flattening against my skin. His hand drags up to my side, followed by his other hand leaving my neck to grab the other side of my waist. The feeling of him touching me, just like he'd asked, fills me with memories I tried so desperately to forget just a couple weeks or so ago. This is deja vu in the best way.

In one swift motion, Sal lifts me up and plops me on top of his desk. I brace myself with my hands on either side of his keyboard that lays behind me. Questions of concern start flowing through my brain because this is an odd place to be.

"Don't knock over my shit," Sal breathlessly informs, eyes glancing up to me. HIs hands move to the waist band of my bottoms and I suck in another anxious, anticipatory breath.

I nod quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he looks down at my waist, his hands circling to the front of my stomach and fumbling with the button of my shorts. Oh my gosh.

I gulp, looking at anything but the man between my legs, currently pulling down the shorts I'd traveled in. His cold fingers brush along the outside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. He's slow, purposeful, dragging this out to get whatever reaction out of me that he can. It feels like my heart is about to explode.

I have no idea what he's about to do, he doesn't warn me either. I don't have the guts to watch this scene play out. The prospect of his dilated pupils, messy hair, and that glare in his captivating eyes is too much-- so much that warmth pools between my thighs before he can initiate anything.

"You look scared," he murmurs and I flinch at the gentle, comforting tone he uses with me. I've never heard something such as this come from him and be directed at mebefore.

"I am," I answer honestly, licking my lips while his fingers slowly pull my shorts down my legs. I lift myself a bit to aid him, shivering when my bare legs meet the cold surface of his desk. "A bit."

"Why?" Sal asks, hands pressing onto my thighs. With how warm my skin is and how cool his fingers are, the contrasting temperature is enough to spark an aneurysm. He drags those hands of his up my legs until he reaches my panties, hooking his digits into them.

I shake my head, chin quite literally tilted up to the ceiling. I'm not quite sure what has me so scared. Am I afraid of myself? Him? Getting caught? Being dropped again?

One risky hand leaves my hip and Sal's prosthetic comes into view. He's hovering over me, in a standing position now. His hair falls onto my shoulders, shielding us from the rest of the world like a curtain. I blink up at him, breath caught in my throat as a rush of chills invades my body.

"Hey," he says. His voice is a bit on edge, but it's concerned. So concerned that it distracts me from my own fear for a moment. "You're okay," he continues, his hand gripping onto my chin and pulling my head down so we can be eye level. I look between his bright eyes-- his eyebrows are risen a bit, as if to communicate to me that I can trust him. But can I?

"I'll take care of you. If you want to stop, if you don't want to start-- let me know. Say anything and I'll end it immediately." He tilts his head a bit, eyes glancing over my face. This is different. This looks vulnerable. "If I made you uncomfortable at all, I--"

My head shakes in opposition. I don't even have to think about it. "No, it's not that. It-- I trust you." The words spew out of my mouth and I immediately regret it. Something smug takes over his expression and I press my lips together, grabbing onto his wrist connected to the hand that's still holding my chin. "I trust you with this. If I was tied to train tracks, I wouldn't even think of calling you." I narrow my eyes at him to exemplify my point. His eyes squint as if he's... smiling? I'll ignore that. "But you've never... made me uncomfortable. You always ask. You always check. So..."

I watch him nod slowly, our gazes never disconnecting. He seems to contemplate what I've said, measurably formulating his next move. "Do you want to talk about what's stressing you then?"

My head rears back and my eyebrows furrow, his hand falling away from my face. "What brain eating amoeba has overtaken you?" I blurt out, holding a hand out between us. It's incredibly odd-- this is out of place. "You are never concerned about me-- what is this?"

If you can't tell, I'm not a fan of change. I greatly prefer stability even if it's toxic.

Sal drops the caring act almost immediately, his eyes rolling so hard that I'm worried they'll sink into his body. "I can't go down on you if you're freaked, can I? I wouldn't even feel comfortable doing that. I'm an asshole, not a monster."

I pause, every facial feature relaxing as his statement slaps me in the face. Key words: go, down, on, you, asshole, monster. Yep, only monstrous assholes go down on their enemies. I'm the very brave, very eager, very shocked recipient of this going down.

I take a deep, shaky breath, blinking at Sal who watches me with what looks like a raised eyebrow. "Okay," I breathlessly whisper. "How are you-- are you..." Why am I rambling? What kind of answer am I looking for? Obviously the prosthetic is about to come off and I just have to contain the desperate, whore-like rage within.

"Shut up, Vi," he chuckles over my nickname, grabbing onto my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the desk as he sits in his chair again. My fingertips press into the wooden surface while my heart threatens to pound its way through my ribcage. "Just let me taste you."

Cue internal screaming. I'm so going to faint-- and the addition of watching his pretty guitar-playing hands leave my skin to unbuckle his prosthetic is pushing me to astronomical heights. I don't even exist anymore. I'm just a wisp, a little phantom fairy watching her favorite sex movie play out in real time. It's called Faceless Fixation. She's the Fellatio Fairy. I don't even-- whoever is writing my life needs to give me a break.

I'm shivering like I have hypothermia by the time Sal carefully pulls the prosthetic off his face, making sure to not mess up his hair. And then he glances up at me. Bright eyes hesitant, sort of wide. Eyebrows risen just a bit and lips pressed together like he wants to say a thousand things but can't. He looks so nervous and it's a moment we can both share.

For reassurance (I think we both need it) I smile at him. Just a slight upward tilt of my lips as I press my thighs together. He's so beautiful. Every scar, every indentation, every feature, every little freckle. Just wow-- he's a sight to behold.

Sal's gaze flits to my lips, then down to my legs and he grabs onto them again, purposefully pulling them apart. His black polished nails dig into my skin as he gazes down at my underwear. I'm so used to watching his reactions and feelings portrayed only through his eyes, but watching the way his jaw tenses and the moment his lips part like he can't wait any longer makes me feel like I'll implode.

His fingers run up my legs to my hips, dipping into my panties and pulling them downward. I gulp over the sight, relishing in the deja vu. How kind of him to not rip these this time.

I lift myself up as he shimmies them down my legs, finally pulling them from around my ankles and holding them up for me to see. I blink, warmth rushing to my face at his boldness. And Sal, well-pleased, quirks a little seductive smile at them before switching his gaze to me.

"I haven't even touched you and you're soaked," is what he murmurs, eyes dancing over my half naked body with very little focus on my face. It's like he's glued to what hides behind my clenched thighs, eagerly awaiting what he'll find between them. "You're inflating my ego way too much," his voice is a bit louder this time-- darker, more sinister. The pronunciation of his words shows off charming, slightly crooked front teeth and sharp canines. I'll never know how I haven't ascended already.

I shiver, trying and failing to hide my reaction. But it doesn't really matter, seeing as Sal caught onto it anyway and his hooded eyes are on mine, a dangerous glint clashing with the hypnotizing azure shade of his irises.

His hands are on my legs again, fingers roughly squeezing my skin. He isn't putting off his plans again though. When he separates my legs and I try my best not to push him away out of fear, Sal leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my left thigh.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I bathe in the feeling of his soft, jagged lips moving along my sensitive skin. I commit the image to memory, absolutely astonished over the way his blue eyes are closed while he inches closer and closer to my pussy.

I'm unable to take a full breath at this point, my body is tense while I try to hold myself in an upright position, pathetically falling apart as his mouth dances along the inside of my thigh like he's studied and perfected each step he takes. His hands are molded into my skin, they've become a part of me. He's pressing my thigh up to his face, leaving the most inebriating kisses. I wish he would stop teasing me already.

At the same time, I'm obsessed with the way he's handling me. Delicately, carefully, but he's in full control and making me wait. Testing me. Seeing if I'll push him, hoping I'll give him a good reason to punish me.

Sal's eyes open again, glancing up to meet mine. I suck in a breath, watching as he opens that dirty mouth of his and bites into the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh.

I hiss, wincing at the slight pain but my eyes never leave his. They could never. And he loves that, takes it as a challenge because those sky blue eyes close and he bites down harder, sucking my skin into his mouth to leave his mark.

Some kind of satisfied, sickeningly delighted feeling swells in my chest at the knowledge of having a mark from him on my body. It's primal, it's a little weird, but I adore the idea and maybe he does too. After what he said to me about North on the flight to Nockfell, I'd guess he's more than happy to stake his claim even if it's invisible to the outside world.

Sal finally pulls his teeth from my leg, revealing a gnarly, dark purple mark in his wake. He places a quick, soothing kiss to the abused skin before trailing his way closer to my pussy. He masks his destination with more wet kisses and bites and I'm so worked up by now that a light sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead. I can't be doing this-- this is complete torture.

"Sal," I groan out, flinching at the sinful tone of my voice. It makes him pause his movements as well. "Please," I tack on, the word quiet and agonizingly pleading.

He hums against my skin, eyes zeroed in on mine. I hate being so direct, it's terrifying, but it's worth it if it'll end up with his tongue buried in me, right?

"Beg for it," he says lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. His tone makes me shiver, as well as his words and I would drop to my hands and knees if he told me to right now.

My lips part upon hearing him and I release a shaky breath, thighs drawing together until he stops them with his tight grip. My heart is running a marathon, my limbs are trembling and I'm wondering if maybe this is all just a really awesome dream.

"Please," I repeat, voice coming out as a whine. For once, I don't regret it because this is what he wants. "I'm desperate." I don't know how else to portray to him that I need this-- the wait is nearly excruciating. "I need to feel you."

Sal pulls away from my skin, tongue lapping at all of his bite marks before a sadistic smile pulls at his lips. "How much do you hate me?" And he's waiting, waiting for a wordy explanation of my distaste for him. But now, with the way things have changed between us-- even if it's slightly-- describing my loathing somehow feels harder.

So I snort, trying to coerce him into putting his mouth on me again regardless of the location. But all the shivers, waiting, and very slow building orgasm is slipping away into the distance. "A lot," I whisper shakily.

He gives me a look, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as if I've disappointed him. "You can do better than that, Vi. Where's the fire?" He leans toward the thigh he hasn't captured with his mouth yet and skims his teeth along my skin. "Should I give you an example?"

I lick my lips, a sudden fluttering in my chest making me feel light headed. I hesitantly shake my head-- the longer he isn't paying attention to me, the farther I am from cumming. I can come up with something to say can't I? Of course I can. He's infuriating enough.

"Alright then," he mumbles monotonously, finally ditching my thighs. He yanks me a bit closer, eyes still rifling through my soul. "Then tell me. And if you stop," he warns as I swallow against the pounding in my chest due to his positioning, face mere inches from my sopping cunt. He's dragged this on long enough. "I stop. Keep that filthy mouth of yours moving."

He waits for me to launch into a monologue of detest. His mouth so close to my clit, breath tickling my skin and forcing a quiet little whimper from me.

"I fucking hate the constant foul mood you're always in," I force out, feeling my heart leap into my throat the second the words leave my mouth. Because Sal keeps his promise and with an inebriating grunt of approval, he finally attaches his lips to my clit, tongue running over it like he's desperate to soak up every inch of what I have to offer.

The feeling of his mouth on my pussy is incomparable to any other type of satisfaction in the world-- this is what I've waited for. And he happily makes up for the lost time, expertly flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves and sucking it farther into his mouth. He moans against my cunt, hands dragging up my thighs to cup my ass and force me even closer to him. He squeezes my skin, a reminder to keep talking.

I dig up all the things I can't stand about him, slathering them across my brain so I can tell him about it. "You're a brick wall. No matter what I say, you refuse to listen. How come you're never open to hearing anyone out?" I whimper between words, squirming around on his desk and trying my damn hardest not to ruin any of his belongings.

Sal lifts my legs over his arms, pushing them onto his shoulders and I swear I'm about to combust. The way his tongue maps figure eights and circles around my clit does nothing to help, only sends me further toward falling apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers curling over the edge of his desk, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling past my lips no matter how badly I wish I could keep them inside. "You have some kind of God complex. You think you're right about everything, have to be in control of everything and I can't stand it. I can't stand you and your constant need to have everything you want."

His teeth graze over my clit and my mouth falls open, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like I've never experienced before. He moves downward, his tongue buried between my folds and licking up every bit of my arousal that he can get. Upon getting a better taste of me, he moans and I can feel the vibration of it everywhere, all the way up to my fingertips.

"I hate how easily you turn me on, how wet I get just from a simple touch," I admit, teeth clamping down onto my bottom lip as his tongue explores the inside of my pussy like he's been starved of me for far too long. His nails dig into my skin, the action eliciting a stinging sensation that only adds to the pleasure he's giving me. This is everything. "And you're so unfair. So pretty, so damn attractive with that horrible personality of yours. Why can't you be pretty through and through?"

I open my eyes again to watch him, drowning in the prospect of his face buried between my thighs, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. I watch as he drags his mouth up to my clit again, drawing patterns and shapes I don't care to know over the bundle of nerves. The rough, slick feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place is addicting. So long as he's around to bring me to new heights like this, I don't need anything else. Maslow's hierarchy of needs has never been so wrong-- this is my sole need.

I can't help myself-- I reach a hand out, my fingers burying themselves into Sal's hair. It's soft. Just as soft as I knew it would be. And he doesn't seem to mind, only continues to suck on my clit and abuse it with his tongue. I close my hand into a fist, lightly tugging on his hair. I need something to hold onto.

"And your stupid fucking mouth," I groan out, sucking in a breath that never fully fills my lungs. His tongue dips into my pussy again, making another little groan follow my first. My thighs are clenched tightly at this point, quaking furiously. Sal never tries to stop me, doesn't calm me. It's clear how much he enjoys bringing me to ruin. "All the awful things you say, so many dirty words and you are so good with your tongue. I've never craved and loathed something so much in my life."

Sal smiles against my pussy-- I watch in pure amazement as the corners of his lips curl upward like what I said was everything he's always wanted to hear. It's so lewd, so perverted and I absolutely will never forget this moment.

One of his hands lets go of my ass, trailing down my thigh again but moving to the inside this time. As his teeth gently nip at my clit and his tongue laps at my pussy, the tips of his fingers press against my opening, a silent request for more of my profession of hatred. A profession I'm more than happy to give him.

"I can't imagine how much I'll hate the way you fuck me just because I know it'll be better than any sex I've had before," I tell him, watching his mouth move against my cunt with furrowed brows and my lips parted in intrigue. Oh, he's so good at what he does.

Sal's eyes meet mine again. Eye contact with him when he's in such an erotic position is incredibly intense. I feel like my entire body is going to crumple before he can finish me off and it all counts on if he's able to hold me up or not. But as soon as his cerulean gaze meets mine, two of his fingers sink into me. The action is slow, drawn out, and drags a nasty moan out of me in turn.

Sal whimpers against my pussy, taking care of me like he promised he would. When his fingers reach as far as they can go, he curls them, causing me to flinch at the sensuous feeling. There's so much going on to the point that every inch of my body feels impossibly overwhelmed.

My sensitive clit gets sucked into Sal's mouth again, but then he pulls away. His fingers make up for the absence of his tongue, pounding into me in the same salacious way he's done before.

"Is that all you've got?" he grumbles breathlessly, glazed eyes glaring into mine. This is the expression I'm used to with him-- anger and dominance.

I choke on the breath I try to take, my thighs pressing into his neck as his fingers slam in and out of my soaked cunt, digits only pausing their relentless pace to curl into me. I try to fight against my one working brain cell, try to form words for him, but-- "I can't." is all that I'm able to create, the two short words coming out as an imploring cry.

Sal stands, finger-fucking me into an alternate dimension. He hovers over me, his hair brushing my shoulders and neck. I watch him, an absolute mess beneath him but I can't look away-- even through the panting breaths that morph into whimpers and moans.

His eyes glance between mine, seemingly contemplating something in that meticulous mind of his.

"Yea, you can, gorgeous," he grinds out behind clenched teeth, using the hand that's gripping my ass to press me against his chest. Our even closer proximity somehow forces his fingers deeper into my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Tell me more." My mouth is dry, I'm going to cum soon, and hopefully I don't actually fall over before that.

Sal takes a page out of my book, leaning closer to me and nipping at the skin of my throat. A little gasp falls past my lips and I finally let go of his hair, dragging my hand down to his neck. Those fingers work me to the core, never ceasing their movements and pushing into me with so much perfectly applied force.

His mouth moves along the side of my neck, his lips still wet from my juices. I have no idea what gave him the confidence, but I'm not mad. Everything that couldn't be done with his prosthetic can be done now and he's taking advantage of it. "Speak," he snaps, tone not so gentle or comforting like it was when this first began. "Or else."

My mind is blank. "I'm about to cum," I begrudgingly whisper, completely overtaken by his fingers thrusting into me and his thumb focused on my oversensitive clit.

I shut my eyes, my free arm wrapping around his shoulders. Every inch of my body is tense, senses heightened and alert. I don't think I can possibly hold on any longer-- I doubt Sal needed my confirmation to tell that I'm close.

His digits curl into me again, repeating the action. I follow up with a loud whimper, my nails digging into the skin of his neck as he sucks on the skin behind my ear. I wish he'd have ditched the prosthetic sooner because I've really been missing out.

The hand still gripping onto my butt retreats to my stomach, fingers disappearing under my shirt and crawling across my ribs to my bra. He treats it as if it isn't even there, hand easily dipping beneath the fabric. His palm envelops my breast, squeezing gently and massaging the skin. It's such a considerate touch compared to the way he treats the rest of my body-- he knows exactly where the sweet spots are.

"Cum," he commands, lips brushing the shell of my ear and fingers pounding into my sore cunt, thumb running over my hardened nipple.

My head drops onto his shoulder and with one more curl of his fingers, I do as he says and fall apart in his arms. I burst almost instantly, doing anything to keep myself silent over the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the inside of my pussy, riding me through my orgasm just like he did the first time. My teeth sink into his shoulder, a muffled whimper following soon after. Sal tenses up in my arms, a pleasured breath falling from his mouth and fanning over the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he purrs into my ear, lips skimming over the warm skin at my throat. He leaves one more sloppy kiss to my neck then pulls away to look into my eyes again. I can hardly hear anything he says as my teeth are forced away from his shoulder, still reeling from the orgasm that slammed into me nearly unannounced. My limbs feel like jelly as chills run up my spine. "You listen to me so well," he continues. I can't even look into his eyes; I just watch the way his lips move. How his tongue presses into the back of his teeth to pronounce a syllable. His sharp canines that undoubtedly left their own bruises on my skin.

I gulp, unable to peel my eyes away from the mouth that masterfully brought me to climax. For the first time ever, I wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine. How soft his scarred lips would feel, not on my skin, but captured by my own. What his tongue would taste like. What his teeth would feel like nipping at my lips.

Sal doesn't move away from me-- keeps our close proximity with his nose nearly brushing my mask's. He slowly, delicately pulls his fingers out of me but only continues to gaze into my eyes.

This is dangerous territory. Very dangerous. Because the impossible is coursing through me right now and I... somehow can't find it in me to hate him in this exact moment.

But then he blinks. Stands to his full height, moving away from me. His azure gaze turns to the desk I'm sitting on and he grabs my panties, offering them to me. Not an ounce of emotion evident on his face. I'd always wondered what he'd look like simply because I was curious if his face gave away his emotions better than his eyes could. It's pretty impressive how he's able to keep a straight mug though, RBF and all. Especially when he lifts the hand he fingered me with to his mouth and licks my cum off. He doesn't even look at me as his tongue runs up the length of his digit, just turns away from me and walks to the other side of the room.

I'm floored, jaw dropped and pussy wet. Again. That's really fucking hot.

I watch him strut away, follow his movements as he drops to his haunches and opens up his suitcase with his clean hand. He grabs something then faces me again, beginning to walk back with a finger still in his mouth.

My chest tightens at the sight. He can't be doing this to me. Not when Larry is going to be home any minute-- he needs to keep both his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Sal has some mercy on me and finally finishes cleaning his fingers, eyes darting up to mine again. He walks up to me, right where I'm still sitting on top of his desk and drops fabric onto my bare thighs.

My brows furrow and I look down, grabbing lace. I lift it up, unfolding it to see that it's a near replica of the lace underwear he'd ripped off of me in Vegas. Only it's a completely brand new pair. No rips, no issues. My heart swells a bit at the gesture-- he bought a new pair like I'd told him to. I wasn't even serious, but he did it anyway.

I puff out my cheeks, contemplating what to say. Thank you's are virtually nonexistent between us. My eyes flit up to meet his again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching me.

"You taste good," he nonchalantly comments, causing an infuriating blush to heat my cheeks.

"Thanks," I murmur, holding up the lace panties to show that I'm thankful for them too. "You taste pretty good too." He does. I'll have to return the favor to him when I get the chance.

A barely audible snort comes from him and I almost smile.

"I'd fuck you, but Larry will be back any minute and Ash probably isn't far behind him," he says, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. "I suggest you put your clothes back on. Panties are clean, I washed them."

My eyebrows raise and I pinch my lips together. Huh. "How kind of you," I say half sarcastically. Only half because it's helpful that they are clean-- it's almost like he knew he'd place me in a predicament where I needed fresh underwear. "You trying to kick me out?" I add. Of course he is, I'm just trying to make my way out of here as awkward-less as possible.

"Hell yea," he says proudly, "I have shit to do."

"Are you calling me a distraction?" I ask, looking toward him as I shimmy my underwear and shorts up my legs then start working on the button.

Sal tilts his head, hand on the doorknob. "And a mild aggravation."

"Oh, wow," I gasp, feigning surprise. "Mild? I must be working my way onto your good side."

"Fuck me good enough and we'll see how far you get," he replies, eyes watching my every move but face still unreadable as I begin walking toward him.

I roll my eyes. Of course. I pinch my lips together and give him a disinterested look. This is my lesson to never try to have a casual conversation with him again. He clearly doesn't want it, which, fair. Our agreement is sex, not friendship. "Okay," I say dramatically when he opens the door for me. "Bye, Sal."

The man nods his head, acknowledging the shift in the room. His eyes stay glued to mine like they have been the entire time I've been here. Now that I'm not distracted by his mouth on my pussy, I realize that this is an odd thing for him to do. He looks at me every once in a while, but not in such a... scrutinizing way.

He purses his lips and says, "Bye, y/n."

Every nerve-ending in my body suddenly shuts off. Everything is still. I have no thoughts for a moment, no physical reaction. Just stillness. I don't breathe, I don't move. I just watch him.

There's no way— he has to have mixed up my names. It has to be that.

And then everything hits me. Sal Fisher just said my name. And not the fake one that I've been hiding behind. He said my actual name— the one that's on my birth certificate. And now my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, my breaths are uneven, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"What the fuck," I say shakily. I'm not ready for this. I'm going to completely switch his thought process around-- "did you just say?"

The look in his eyes changes, they light up a bit as if he's caught me. And still he decides to mess with me. "Huh?" he innocently asks.

Okay, I'd really like to wake up now.

My eyes narrow. So that's the game he wants to play? This isn't the time and I don't have the mental capacity to handle this. Not only am I recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but I was just getting over the overwhelming anxiety I suffered from yesterday.

"I'm not y/n, if that's what you're thinking," I rush to tell him, even adding in the fakest little smirk I've ever slapped onto my face. Anything to get him off my tail, whatever I can think of to save my ass. This really can't be happening to me.

He's still watching me speculatively and it's making my brain itch. "You know," he finally starts, voice disgustingly pleased. "I went out on a limb with that one." I watch in horror as a little smirk begins to grow on his face. I don't want to accept it yet, I really don't, but I think I'm fucked and not physically.

At the end of the day, he's still managed to fuck me in multiple ways. I cannot stand Sal Fisher.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask him, clearing my throat quietly while taking a safe step out of his door and into the living room. I try my best to keep my eyes on him while extinguishing the fear from my gaze. If I act horrified, he'll sniff me out instantly. That is, if he hasn't already.

Sal chuckles deeply— it's, shockingly, an amused and prideful one rather than something sick, dark, and twisted. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I try my best not to adore the way his scars stretch with his laugh and the sight of his pretty teeth. "Any other woman would have assumed I was sleeping with someone else if I called them by another name," he says lightheartedly, tilting his head down a bit. "But you didn't. And that can only mean that I'm right."

I open my mouth to decline, fear thrumming through me. He caught me red handed. I can't fucking believe this.

"And don't try to deny it, you won't change my mind. I've been very sure of who you are for months now."

My head slowly begins to shake of its own accord. He never fails to shock me. "How..."

Sal shrugs. "You couldn't have timed your introduction more horrendously. Think about it," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I bitch at y/n over a phone call, then the next day, a wild VioletViolence pops into my life and isn't too surprised by my shitty personality. The second you were added to the Discord server, I had my suspicions." He shrugs nonchalantly, like the confirmation doesn't bother him in the slightest. "I talked it over with Larry and Todd too. They're pretty sure of your identity as well. They were just nice enough to wait for you to tell us on your own." His eyes narrow, sly like a fox. "But I'm not nice and wanted to know for myself. Wanted to scare you a bit too."

I swallow over the bile rising in my throat. Scare me, he did. I have no idea what to do with myself. I must look like a deer in headlights nearing its death sentence. "It... it doesn't bother you?" I decide to ask in a small voice, unable to blink as I watch him closely.

That same smug little smile is still lighting up his marred face as he says, "Regardless, I still can't stand you and I'll still fuck you stupid."

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A/N::::::: OMFFGGGGG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGESSSSSS PLEASE!!! more specifically the end of it! i've had this last scene written since like... 2022 o_O

i want to give a HUGE thanks to my very good friend, Phoebe, who inspired me to write the catalyst of the smut scene with this AMAZING piece of art that they drew :3 i am soooo so grateful for having the opportunity to see the art in general, but getting to write it too??? OMG so incredibly grateful <33

side note: this is my first time writing a smut scene like this one-- well, actually any time i write a different kind of sex it's new for me LMFAO i am exploring EVERYTHINGGGG and i also have no idea if this is any good. so like last chapter, if y'all could give me some tips or things you like and didn't like, i would GREATLY appreciate it :3

i'm going catch up on my neglected homework. as always, have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night. my heart belongs to all of you <3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #smut

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