#it's been on the verge of collapse for years it was only a matter of time

[alackofghosts]

not me pining for my country house stay during my holiday, only for mom to tell me the bathroom ceiling collapsed 😭

[mercwiththem0uth]

small drabble because i can't stop thinking about wade letting his guard down and completely relaxing around you </3

like look at him he's just so soft 😭

he'd come home from a long day of fighting and collapse on the couch next to you. if it was a particularly long and difficult day he would barely have the energy to lift his head to rip his mask off, before throwing it carelessly to the floor. he'd reach over his arm to loosely grab on to you, just wanting to feel your touch but with moving as little as possible. you'd shuffle closer to him and wrap him in your arms, encouraging him to lay down against your lap. your hand would stroke over his head whilst the other rubbed against his suit-clad back. he'd eventually let out a big sigh as you felt his body relax, finally completely stress-free and in his safe place where he doesn't need to make a hundred jokes per second or speak any thought that entered his mind.

as much as he loved to talk to you and try to make you laugh, and would sometimes yap until you couldn't take it any more, he would also enjoy to just be in a comfortable silence with you, especially after a hard day. you'd been together for a couple of years now, you knew absolutely everything about him that there could be to know, just the same as he knew you. eventhough your relationship thrived off of quick-wit and long chats, you appreciated these gentle moments where he clearly just wanted to be wrapped in your arms and feel safe and loved.

he would ask a few questions about your day, voice hardly raised above a whisper. and as you spoke gently in response, he would gain the energy to let out "hmms" and sighs in agreement. showing that he was listening, even whilst being on the verge of sleep.

he doesn't like to admit it, but he can really struggle sometimes to constantly make jokes and talk all day whilst at work. he's more comfortable with you than he is with anyone, so he knows that he can just be quiet when he comes home and take a rest if he needs to, because he knows that you love him for HIM, even without the humour and self-depreciating jokes. it took him a long time to learn that, but when he finally realised he didn't need to talk down about himself all the time around you, or make a joke out of anything and everything, he knew you were the one.

he'd eventually sit up after a while, give you a soft kiss, and venture into the bedroom, before returning in his comfy clothes like hoodies and sweatpants. or some sort of hideous pair of unicorn pyjamas. he'd sit as close to you as possible and lean his head against your shoulder, his hand intertwining with yours as his thumb rubbed circles against your skin. your arm would be wrapped around his shoulder pulling him close, and occasionally dropping kisses to his head. when he felt like talking he'd tell you about his day, commentate on the movie you're watching, or just say random things about random stuff, and you'd just look down at him with pure admiration in your eyes. eventually he might drift off to sleep cuddled against you, but never before mumbling about how much he loves you.

he'll fall asleep whilst thinking about how he can't get over how much he appreciates and adores you. someone who loves him for any version of him. his talkative, loud, full-on, sexual self, or needy, clingy, quiet self... the side of him that only you get to see. someone who doesn't care what he looks like and makes him feel loved no matter what. someone who matches his crazy but also his calmness. someone who loves spending time with him and would do anything by his side but also allows him alone time if he needs it. you're just perfect to him. and he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

<3

a/n: [ have had a deadpool smut in the works for a while, will hopefully be uploaded soon ;) ]

[averseunhinged]

hii! Just saw your promt post, and I was wondering if you could do either Jealous!Klaroline or Klaus comforting caroline after something bad happens to her? sorry if these are too bland 😭😭

hi! thanks for the prompt! i had a lot of fun with it. i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but i hope you like it. it ended up technically being both prompts in one.

cw for light angst, (kind of mild, i think) jealousy, klaus's issues, caroline's issues, death of a parent, grief, and it's pretty gooey by the end. we went the full-ass gamut in 2k words. no magic babies. very loose adherence to canon. title is from rock of gibraltar by nick cave & the bad seeds.

for the next thousand years

Caroline was wearing color again.

She'd draped herself in mourning black since she'd surprised him at Rousseau's nearly a year ago, still in her funeral dress with her severe hair barely mussed, but barefoot and ghastly bloodless, holding onto her humanity in a white-knuckled grip.

"My mom's dead," she had said, and he'd scooped her up as she collapsed. Cami had quickly ushered them out the back while Caroline began to weep. "How does anyone survive feeling this?" she'd sobbed into his neck as he carried her home.

How does anyone survive feeling this? he still wondered.

Caroline was in color again, a brick red cocktail dress, the close-fitting pencil skirt a demure knee length, but the scooped neckline was risqué. She was laughing and vibrant, witty and magnetic. No one she spoke with could take their eyes off her. She was a charming force of nature, and she'd spent the evening on his brother's arm.

Oh he wasn't stupid. He knew there was nothing going on. Caroline had gifted him with proud, beaming smiles, whenever he caught her eye, and a thousand years at one another's side let him easily read the encouraging looks Elijah had shot him, but there was an additional significance to them Klaus didn't understand.

Still, it was Elijah who ushered her around the room, making introduction after introduction, her hand tucked into his elbow, or his at the small of her back. Klaus could imagine what people thought of them. How charming they were. How perfect for each other. What a lovely couple.

The glass in his hand cracked. He slumped further down at his table in the corner. Rebekah had done a marvelous job fashioning a more modern version of a speakeasy in their home. The lights were warm and low and made everything seem soft-focus, and the crystal glittered under them. There was a live band playing and--

They were doing the damn foxtrot. He didn't know Caroline could foxtrot.

Maybe he should have guessed this would happen. She had been just a small-town cheerleader when they met. Nothing and no one in the grand scheme of things, but she'd still drawn his attention swiftly and irrevocably. He'd known she'd be transcendent once she made her way into the world. Only, he had thought he would be the one on the dancefloor with his arm around her waist.

He was being ridiculous of course. Even if Elijah had been a serious competitor for her affection, rather than an older brother enjoying needling the younger, Klaus wasn't doing himself any favors. He had experience in these matters after all. A long, sullen pout wasn't likely to steal her attention back. He needed to dredge up a bit of the charm and joie de vivre that made her halfway tolerate him in the first place, but the longer he lurked and watched, the more he felt on the verge of causing a scene. In this case, discretion truly was the better part of valor. He liberated a full bottle of bourbon and another tumbler from the catering staff and made a swift exit.

On his way out of the ballroom, he brushed past Camille and tried to do his best impression of someone who very much did not need to talk about his feelings. She saw the bottle of bourbon in his hand and the look on his face and groaned.

"I really don't want to play wise bartender tonight," she said, slightly tipsy.

He rolled his eyes. "So, don't."

"Okay," she agreed to his surprise. "You need to get your shit together."

"Excuse me?" he snapped.

"You didn't want the wise bartender. So, you get your friend, Cami, who is also friends with the source of your angst. I know more about what's going here than you seem to. This is supposed to be a special night, and you're being a dick."

Klaus continued his escape without acknowledging her. Occasionally, it was necessary to concede the last word, if one wanted to avoid eating one's friends.

Out on the balcony, he poured himself a drink and let the guilt gnaw at him. Cami was right about one thing. This was a special night. He wished he could undo this mood he found himself in, but the harder he tried, the more he risked sinking into certain violence. After the first glass, he left it on the table and went to lean on the balcony railing. He shut his eyes, breathed in the night air, and tried to let the sounds of his city unwind the chains around his spine.

The tap-tap-tap of high heels, divorced from the sounds of partygoers and merrymakers, on marble and then hardwood, pulled him out of his attempted meditation. He'd know the sound of her gait anywhere. This was the quick step of anticipation with a dash of nerves, rather than the sharp staccato of impatient annoyance.

"Did my brother run out of important people clamoring for an introduction?" he asked, directing his question toward the view the moment he smelled the sweet, seductive frangipani oil she'd recently begun using as a perfume.

"Oh boy," she muttered under her breath.

There was the delicate clink of glassware on the metal table. He smelled the crisp, heady scent of an excellent champagne before he heard the pour. A glass appeared under his nose, held by a perfectly manicured hand, nails painted gold just a touch paler than the wine. He took the glass from her and ducked his chin to hide the smile that threatened at the appearance of their thing. They touched their glasses together with a crystalline ping.

He made a thoughtful noise after the first sip. "Marie Ledru? I'm surprised we're serving that."

"We're not. I heard it was your favorite, so I got one out of the wine cellar earlier."

Wine cellar was dubious nomenclature for a dungeon where they also happened to store their spirits. He was shocked Caroline ventured down there. It had been left off the initial house tour, since the last thing she'd needed was to be assaulted by the scent of blood and death.

"Well, Elijah's just full of prodition tonight."

"I have no idea what that means," she admitted. "But it was Rebekah, actually. She practically had to draw me a map, because she made Cuvée Goulte sound like a cat choking, and I couldn't begin to guess how to spell that."

"Bekah's French has always been enthusiastic," he laughed into his glass, the bright effervescence of the wine working to lift his mood.

Or perhaps it was the company.

"I know I've been a total disaster since I showed up here," she said. He made a dissenting noise, but she steamrolled over him. "And I'm not exactly sorry about that. My mom deserved to be mourned, and I needed to do that somewhere," she trailed off as her voice tightened until it was barely audible.

He tried to observe her in his peripheral vision without making her feel studied. She was blinking rapidly, her head tilted back as she looked up at the sky. Light pollution made the stars nearly invisible, and the party had purposely been held on the night of the new moon, but she seemed to look beyond, far off to somewhere he couldn't begin to imagine. Lifting the glass to her nose, she breathed in slowly. Her eyes slipped closed. She smiled, small, but true.

She took a sip and held it, tasting it, before beginning again. "I needed to be somewhere no one would judge me for how I grieved. Whether I was doing it too fast or not fast enough. Too publicly or not publicly enough. If I cried as charmingly as Elena does. Mystic Falls is where I come from, and I'll always love it, but I can't spend the next however many years wondering if I'm living up to whatever they think I should be."

"I understand," he said quietly, with more compassion than he typically had, hoping the small undercurrent of disappointment was hidden from her.

"No," she said, and there was an edge of desperation to it that worried him. "I'm still messing it up. I know this wasn't what you had in mind. It hasn't exactly been the reunion you imagined."

She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't right, either. He'd wanted her to come to him when she was ready. Not just for him. He'd wanted her to be ready for herself. Ready to be who she truly was.

He leaned into her, resting his shoulder against hers. "Caroline--"

"I've been trying to be better," she continued before he could disrupt the point she was winding her way towards. "I've been spending a lot of time with Cami, because she gets how it feels to be totally alone in this one specific way. We have friends, sure, but no more family. Not just blood relatives. The real kind, who know everything about us and love us anyway."

It wasn't a notion he enjoyed thinking about. Whatever their disagreements might be, despite the way they irritated him ceaselessly, he held his siblings tight to his chest, hostages to his greed. Caroline had no such ties remaining, and he had no way of giving them back to her. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her, as though he was anchor enough to stop her from floating away.

She left her champagne on the edge of the balcony and burrowed into him, beneath the protective wing of his jacket. In heels, she was too tall to tuck herself under his chin the way Rebekah did when she was younger. Caroline wound an arm around his back and gripped his shirt hard enough to leave wrinkles. She cupped his neck in her other hand, fingers inching into his hair, and tucked her nose into his cheekbone, her forehead to his temple.

Klaus wanted to abandon his own champagne to hold her close, but couldn't bring himself to close the circuit. Instead, he took a sip, hardly tasting it around the distraction of the woman pressed against him.

"I know I've been useless since I got here," she whispered into the soft skin near his ear, her voice so very small, "and not at all the girl you wanted in Mystic Falls. Elijah was already helping me with the financial stuff; so, I asked him to help me learn the ropes in New Orleans, too. I wanted to--"

His glass toppled down into the garden below. It was a waste of fantastic champagne, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn with her in his arms.

"--prove I belong here," she was still saying, even as he fluttered kisses onto her cheeks. "And I might not feel exactly like the same girl I was before, but I'm still the best parts of her. I'm still something. I'm still--"

"Everything." He pulled away just far enough to see the way the tears she fought were catching in the soot of her blackened lashes. "You're everything."

She looked at him as though he was both ripping her wounds open and sewing them closed. It's all for you, he'd told her once, and longed for a time when she'd accept the tribute he was offering. He'd never dreamed she'd give the same in return.

When she kissed him, it was like that day in the woods outside her hometown, with all the joy of reconnection and none of the sorrow of an imminent parting.

In a while, once they'd had their fill of soaking each other in, he'd take her back inside to their guests and show her off on the dancefloor. If there was anyone else who simply had to meet her, they’d best enjoy doing it with him attached like an additional appendage, because he wasn't letting her out of his arms again that night. Or for the next several days. Or perhaps ever, if she would allow it.

"Happy birthday, Caroline," he pledged against her lips.

How does anyone survive feeling this? she'd asked all those months ago.

Like this, sweetheart.

Exactly like this.

[idkfitememate]

I am CRYING. FURINA MY BABY YOUR TEAPOT LINES MAKE ME CRY. SHES SO INNOCENT BUT SHES BEEN SO TRAUMATIZED IT HURTS ME. WHY FOCALORS WHY.

😭😭 Furina asks us to dress up as a duo with her. And she said she’d even do our makeup. She’s trying to take back her stolen childhood. MY EYES ARE PUFFY FROM TEARS.

DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE ‘the more you let someone in the easier it is for them to hurt you’ LINE. SHES SCARED TO LET PPL IN AND IM WAILING.

I wanna give her all my love and affection!!! 😭

-🦌 anon, who is curled up on the floor crying

The Curtains Close

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Otter Reader x Furina & Neuvillette

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 1.1k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Angst to fluff, Furina is going through a breakdown, Neuvillette realizes he’s been distant

Forcing Furina on a bed wasn’t easy. The entire day was spent with and you having a “bonding day” and spend the day inside.

Makeup and clothes whirled past in a blur of blues and makeup was pressed into your fur. The entire day was fun, eating snacks and overall just having fun.

At least, it would be if you didn’t notice the sadness behind Furina’s eyes.

Every time she looked at you in your frilly little dress with a big blue bow around your waist and a smaller blue and gold bow around your head.

Now, you’d be a little ticked at being forced into an outfit, but seeing her on the verge of tears when you began to shake your head no - no matter how much she would deny it - you forced your pride down your throat and and put it on.

Her smile was worth it.

The entire day you could just feel her off-ness, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The events pertaining her curse and the death of that bi- I mean Foçalors had just passed and Furina was finally free.

Free to be human once more.

You, knowing the lore, knew that she had suffered with being alive - unchanging and never aging - for five-hundred-years. You knew that both Foçalors and Neuvillette understood that that would have and has had lasting effects on the poor girl.

But you knew they’d never understand. How could they? They were immortal. They had to get used to the passing of the ones they knew if they were mortal because they were literally built for it. Furina wasn’t. She never was.

And now that she was free, she was coming. Crashing down.

The curtain had fallen and the star of the show has fallen to her knees. Her tears stain the floor as the crowd leaves and her wails echo through the empty halls.

To be honest you haven’t seen much of Neuvillette around. You understood that he had new issues to attend to as the new overseer of the nation of Fontaine. But you barely see him in the halal’s anymore.

Your thoughts were immediately halted when you heard small sniffles coming from your friend.

Your head whipped in her direction only to see tears pouring down her face. You rushed over as fast as you could, wiping those tears away as you gently chittered at her, pulling her crumpled form up so she could face you. At your concerned expression, she only cried more.

“I-It’s just,” she started, “… Did she ever love me? Was I ever even worth anything to her? I played my part and danced till collapse and I didn’t even get a thank you! I don’t understand… I watched my friends die… I watched my f-family die… I outlived all of them! And I didn’t… even… get a thank you…” She broke down back into sobs, holding onto herself as she rocked back and forth.

You could only watch as she shattered in front of you. Pain and guilt rose in your stomachs as you stared. Huffing, you jumped off the bed, and grabbed your stuffed jellyfish, dragging it over and throwing it up before climbing up after her.

You gently nudged it towards her and made sure she grabbed on before jumping back down and racing through the halls.

You ran out the building as fast as your little legs could carry you, the winds of Teyvat boosting your form farther. You continued on until to made it to the Opera Eclipse and ran through there until you made it to Neuvillette’s office.

You didn’t even bother to knock before shoving to door open and rushing up to him. He stopped his writing and looked down, his eyes softening at you. He opened his mouth to speak before you grabbed his sleeve. You yanked and pulled and he finally stood up, allowing you to lead him.

Making it back home, you all but forced the man into Furina’s room, and forced him on the bed. She had stopped sobbing by this point, but silent tears still ran down her face.

She looked shocked at Neuvillette’s appearance and he looked shocked at her dishevelment. You shuffled up to her in the ridiculous dress you had on - you would later find out it perfectly match the dress Furina had on when she came into being, after being separated from Foçalors - and part her lips.

“Do you… wish for me to repeat myself?” She whispered, looking at the slightly panting Neuvillette with worry. But at your nod she sighed, realizing why you did this.

And if her Otter wanted something, who was she to deny them that.

When she parted her lips you leapt from the bed, and walked out of the room to give them privacy. You could tell she hesitated at your lack of presence, but hearing her start to speak after you closed the door, you wagged your little tail in relief.

Staring towards the kitchen, you planned on getting them both nice tall glasses of water.

And by the time you got back and managed to open the door, you were met with Neuvillette holding the girl close and shushing her, a light patter of rain outside.

“Of course we’re grateful. I’m grateful. I am so sorry my Lady that I had neglected you. I will say it until the stars and the moon itself command me to stop that you are appreciated. That I care. And though I cannot speak for her fully I can say that my Ar- … Foçalors did care for you. And she loved you. I love you. I care for you. I will never understand the trials of being human and I know that what she did is irreversible, but I do want to be there.” He continued to speak to the crying child in his arms, neither noticing you walking in while dragging the glasses of water in.

Making a small noise, the Sovereign looked down and smiled at you, though you could see the tears in his eyes. He picked you up then the glasses, handing one to Furina who was still clutching your plushy.

“And I can also say that our darling here loves you and cares.” Neuvillette mused, running a hand quickly through your fur.

You chuffed in response and licked the girls face causing a giggle to escape her throat.

Here she was wanted. Here she was needed. Here she was loved.

And you were going to do your damndest to make sure it stays that way.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Wanna hug her and hold her and give her kisses on the cheek and UGH- My baby໒꒰ྀི ╥﹏╥ ꒱ྀིა

I personally think she’s like… a teen. She looks like a teen. So imagine being in a mental state of an adult with the emotional state of a child and being forced to watch everyone you know and love die. I couldn’t do it she is so strong but I STILL WANNA HOLD HER MY BABY!!! ૮꒰ ˶꒦ິ꒳꒦ິ˶꒱ა

[valkyriesaga-if]

Built a few years after the Collapse, the city of Yggdrasil was meant to be a haven, a refuge. A utopia, where everyone could find their place and be equals.

But that’s the thing with utopias and ideals; they don’t last very long.

Yggdrasil was barely 20 years old when the Magi Council rose above their human brethren, firmly splitting society in two: the magi on one side, who wield privilege like a sword, and the humans on the other, whose only privilege was to stay alive and quiet.

After all, how can you deny Magi what they want, when they are the only thing protecting you from what’s outside the walls?

You’ve been living in the Helheim district for almost as long as you can remember, raised amongst crooks, conmen and criminals all your life. While this hardly seems like ideal conditions to raise a child, it was better than having the Council find out your secret. Helheim was the best place for secrets. You knew it, your mother knew it, everyone in Yggdrasil knew it.

You’re an undeclared Magi. In a city where showing the barest hint of magic can get a child taken away from their parents and chain them forever to the Council of Magi, raising a child under the watching eyes of kingpins, thieves and prostitutes was a shield, an armor. The best protection love could offer.

Every day, you live on the edge of the razor. One wrong move and your life could be upended entirely. But when your mother is on the verge of losing her house, her business, her entire life to Greed, you can’t just sit there and watch it happen.

Being hired to steal the Eyes of The Watcher, the most precious gems in all of Yggdrasil, located right in the heart of the Council Chamber, didn’t seem like such a bad idea, at the time.

Genre

Post apocalyptic, urban fantasy, heist

Content Warning

The story will be 18+ for violence, potential sexual themes, explicit content and gore.

Fully customizable MC: name, gender identity, sexuality, appearance, personality and demeanor

Interact with a varied cast of NPCs

Shape your relationships with your fellow gang members, from lovers to platonic besties, all the while keeping in mind that they are all criminals and liars, just like you.

Experience the Nightmares™

Engage in highly illegal, highly dangerous activities, and maybe some light rebellion and overthrow of authority on the side

Polish your skills such as stealth, combat or knowledge, and discover more about your magic

Spend some time in the luxurious streets of Asgard and other delightful places such as a Helheim fighting ring, the city sewers or a defunct meat factory

Hallucinate?

Pet the cat

The selfish mercenary - Lònan [M, he/him]

Money is the only thing that matters to Lònan. He has made that very clear since the beginning. Obviously, he doesn’t seem to care that much about his own life, otherwise he would have found another way to make a fortune. One that doesn’t involve going into the heart of the enemy territory to steal the most valuable and well guarded artifact in town, for example. Just a thought.

The disgraced Magi - Yugō [M, he/him]

Magi have virtually everything they might want. Money, luxury, and an unending hoard of lackeys to cater to their every need. So you can’t help but wonder what might lead one of them to hide amongst the rats in the dark alleys of Helheim, and Yugo is not inclined to answer your questions.

The unwelcome guest - Halloran [M, he/him]

No one really knows who Halloran is or what he wants, but he seems to keep inviting himself in your dreams, taking great pleasure in playing with you and your sanity. Only he is a cat playing with a mouse, and you can only hope that he won’t eat you whole.

The estranged friend - Mavis [F, she/her]

Back in the time you lived in Midgard West, you and Mavis used to be friends, practically joined by the hip. While she remained as kind and gentle as you remember her, there is a hard edge to her eyes that wasn’t there before.

The mysterious outsider - Koyal [F, she/her]

A courier from outside of town, you’re not sure why she joined your ragtag group of criminals. Calm and quiet, she mostly keeps to herself, but you can’t help but feel her watchful gaze on you every time you have your back turned.

The disembodied voice - Morgane [F, she/her]

You’ve never met her in person, your only contacts with her being over the phone, as she gives instructions to you and the rest of the group. She seems to be the only one in direct relation with the person who hired you for some trivial B&E in the most secure facility in Yggdrasil.

Lònan/Yugō and Koyal/Halloran are potential poly routes.

TBA

This is my first IF and English is not my first language, so feel free to send any constructive criticisms and corrections my way.

This is very early development, so many things are subject to change as i work on the story

Asks are welcome and reblogs appreciated!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I started doing sex work while still living with my mom?

Warning for sexual mentions(nothing heavily explicit though)

I (18F) can't get a typical job like working in customer service or physical labor because of a mix of reasons. I'm both physically and mentally disabled, for one. I have chronic pain & chronic fatigue so extensive physical labor or any job that requires being up for a long time is out of the question for me, as it would cause me a lot of pain and put me at risk for collapsing or falling asleep due to exhaustion. I also have heavy social anxiety and sensory issues, and despite being in therapy since I was around 11, this hasn't gone away. I still have problems with stuttering when talking to people I don't know, and feel on the verge of panic the entire time. I also can't handle loud noises well- I carry around a pair of headphones constantly but that does mess with my hearing so I couldn't really use those in a customer service focused environment. I'm a full time student as well, and will be for several more years, as I'm going straight into college out of high school. On top of all that, I can't drive yet, as the process was delayed due to concerns that my health issues would make me a hazard on the road, so I won't have my full license until late this year.

I've tried looking for other job types before, but nothing I've been able to find works. I've tried doing art, but it's not easy to get people to actually commission you- I've only gotten 1 so far and I've had commissions open for almost half a year. I've tried content creation but have yet to build a platform big enough to make money from it. I've looked for online focused jobs such as creating captions or proof-reading others work but realized very quickly I'm not equipped/qualified for that job due to my problems with processing audio correctly, and my problems reading and writing correctly first try- I often have to re-read things many times over and re-type things at least once to get it at all correct, as words and letters get mixed up in my brain sometimes or I just accidentally skip over entire words or even sentences. And even then I sometimes still get it wrong. So I'm a pretty slow worker with things like reading, and something that requires listening to something and then writing what was said took so long it wouldn't meet the time requirements a lot of places are looking for in workers for that (that I've seen).

So the only idea I have left for making money so I at least have something to help pay for college and to go towards me being able to move out someday is some sort of sex work. I'm not planning on doing anything super risky, like meeting up with real people or anything that would show my face. So I wouldn't be worried about this bothering my mom since she's not really sex negative or strictly against sex workers or anything if it wasn't for one thing. I'm not sure if this will work either. I have a lot of acne problems all over, and problems with picking at my skin that leave scratch marks in a lot of places. And I'm not sure anyone would be willing to pay to look at that. It's not something that bothers me on an individual level, it's just a part of me, but that doesn't really change what other people do or don't find attractive. So it just kind of feels disrespectful to be selling that kind of thing in my mothers house if it's not even going to be significant enough for it to matter financially. And, of course, there's always the risk my mom could see it, and I worry it would upset her to see her daughter selling that kind of thing. But I don't see other options left for how I could make enough money to not end up drowning in student loans down the line, or end up living with my mom for many years into adulthood- which wouldn't be fair to her since she's not financially well off either. I don't plan for it to be a permanent job, just something to help me through my college years till I can start working in the field for what I'm getting a degree in or until my issues get well enough I can work a more typical job.

WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[fatuismooches]

HIIIIIIYA BB THE BRAINROT HAS BEEN HITTING THESE PAST FEW DAYS IDK WHAT IS IN THE AIR BUT I KNEW I HAD TO RUN TO YOU!!!!!!!!

okay so its kinda basic honestly. but do NOT think about pantalone returning home to you in snezhnaya after being stationed in liyue for like half a year or so, the longest he’s ever been away from you. he wasn’t one to leave the region at all, but at the tsaritsa’s orders, he had business to conduct at the northland bank. do NOT think about jumping into his arms as soon as you see him, how tightly he’s squeezing you to his chest, his familiar scent engulfing you once again, making your eyes misty because LORD YOU HAVE MISSED THIS MAN‼️do NOT think about how much he’d spoil you with his attention and touches and literal stockpile of gifts he’s bought you while abroad and lastly. do NOT think about how hesitant he’d be to leave your side after that. clingy clingy pantalone :’)

okay byeeeee hope youre doing amazing always 🫶🏻!

HELP NOT THE AIR😭 BUT OMG THANK U FOR GIVING ME THIS BRAINROT I'M LOVING IT SMMM💕💕

I am NOT!! thinking about Pantalone realizing how much he misses and craves your presence while he's away. Like, when he first received the mission, he was quite disappointed and knew he would miss you. But when he's been stuck in Liyue for only a few weeks, it really sets in and hits him that he actually can't see you for months. He thought he could bear it, he's been alone since childhood, but he's finding it harder to keep his composure when he's going to sleep in a fancy Liyuean bed without you by his side.

I am NOT!! thinking about Pantalone honestly being obvious about his clear pleasure about finally being able to return home, like the soldiers can see it easily. Don't get me wrong, he's a master of hiding his true emotions, but... his smile is a lot bigger, he has a bunch of soldiers carrying loads of gifts for you, trailing behind him. (They are on the verge of collapsing but if they dare let one of your gifts touch the ground they'll be executed later 😭) A conversation between them goes something like : "Which of these do you think [Name] will prefer?" "Why not both, sir?" "An excellent idea." (+ He has a calendar in his temporary office, with a bunch of important business dates etc circled. And then he has the day he finally departs from Liyue circled and an estimate of the day he finally returns to Snezhnaya, with a picture of you near it ;)

I am NOT!! thinking about how you have been seated by the window for hours on the day you receive news that Pantalone is finally back in the country. You have your boots, coat, gloves, hat, all at the ready to pull on in record speed as soon as you see his carriage in sight. You're literally pacing back and forth, heart racing, while your attendants reassure you to the best of their ability. And when he finally pulls up to the front of the mansion, and he steps foot out of it and looks directly, and gives you that particular smile, the one reserved specifically for you, you just. Race into his arms nearly tripping (luckily the snow is shoveled every day near the mansion)

I am NOT!! thinking about how you say his real name very very softly so that he is the only one that could hear it. And his heart just. Melts. <333 You bury your head into his chest, the fluffiness of his coat tickling you, his strong arms wrapped securely around you ;) Meanwhile the regular Fatui and attendants are just like 🧍‍♀️ with their eyes glued to the ground. They know better than to disturb you for the rest of the day. You could spend literal days opening his gifts and you still wouldn't be done 😭

I am NOT!! thinking about how he probably has a stack of paperwork left in his office from his absence, but he's refusing to even think about it and merely sends away the Fatui soldiers who remind him of it, that there are other people waiting on the documents that need his approval. He tells them very simply that he is busy with "other matters" (other matters being you, spoiling you, spending every second with you, telling you stories about Liyue [he saw Childe fooling around too much and lowered the amount of money he gets 😭], listening to you tell him everything you did while he was away, etc... the point here is obvious)

I am NOT!! thinking about how you're probably the one who has to convince him to go back to work again (you're starting to feel bad for the antsy Fatui soldiers, and kind of scared that one of those blue-haired men is gonna pop up again 🚶‍♀️) and the response you get is a groan (his morning voice is insane 😭🙏) and tightened arms around your waist. With lots of very gentle hair stroking, kisses, and encouraging words, he very begrudgingly gets ready to leave and finally take on his very boring duties again. He is not happy about waking up early and leaving his beloved alone in bed again... but such is life. You make it up to him by visiting his office during his breaks and giving him lots of smooches and attention 🥰

I am NOT!! thinking about how you two probably have separate boxes where you kept the letters you two exchanged while he was away. And you tried to hide it from him because you were embarrassed but it turns out he did the same thing, so you just put the boxes next to each other so either of you can read the lovey-dovey messages again ;)

[queserasora]

DOFLAMINGO X FEM READER, NSFW WORD COUNT: 6.2k CONTENT WARNING: Mean ass Doflamingo strikes again. He is so mean, we already know this but I have to say it because I don't need people crying about him being mean. THAT'S JUST HOW HE IS. Dom!Doffy, consider this a dark romance~~ if you may, it's a bit toxic guys so like I don't recommend but that's just how the cookie crumbles, actually it's pretty damn toxic, like maybe this is on the verge of yandere doffy, idk you tell me, unprotected sex (please wear ur party hats in rl), biting and lots of degradation because Doffy loves talking shit, like it's so much shit talking it's half the fic, biting a lot of it, like everywhere, anal play, so much teasing, pussy slapping, he likes to tie people up because he finds it hilarious so bondage lite, blindfold???, yeah that too, lots of cum, it's everywhere A SUMMARY: Y/N (aka Butterfly aka Six) knows she doesn't have many weapons to use against Doffy so she tries depriving him of her undivided attention. Doffy lasts two whole days before he snaps.

PART ONE | PART TWO

He thinks two hours of hanging from his canopy bed by the wrists should be sufficient. If you hadn’t learned something by then, Doflamingo simply could not help you. There was only so much he could do, in his unending benevolence, to assist you in learning the skills needed for survival. Had he not taught you enough throughout the years you had known each other? Had he not been an attentive, and detailed instructor?

Had you, really, learned nothing?

He wanted to blame himself for this. Perhaps you had inadvertently exploited a weakness, he himself didn’t know he had. Doffy thought, if he should find it, he would cut it out of his body with his own capable hands. Too irate to face you, he sends two officers to cut you down from his canopy bed.

Your arms had started to grow numb. The uncomfortable tingling soon becomes painful. You kept shifting your weight on the bench bed, as if that would help alleviate the ache in your arms, or the throbbing of the small nicks and cuts of your wrists. At the sound of the door creaking open, your heart jumps. You turn your head quickly, but it is not he who walks through the door but two officers you know well. 

Shame heats your body before it grows deathly cold. 

It is apparent they’re fighting off embarrassed smiles as their mouths twitch. Their fingers move about carefully, as if they feared the repercussions of touching your skin for too long. What belonged to Doflamingo, belonged to him for the extent of its life. Although your body collapses as soon as you're free, a weight coming from it you didn’t know you possessed–you’re not dead yet.

You hold onto this realization as strong arms help you down from the bed bench, and half carry you out of his bedroom. You grip it tightly, like the air between your hands, until your nails bite into your skin. If there was any pride left in your war torn body you’d use it, despite the possible repercussions.

Your acts of rebellion are limited in range, so you do the only thing you can do–you deny him of the tiny bits of intimacy he craves from you. When he peers over his shoulder at you, you do not make eye contact. You look past his broad shoulders and to the intricate paisley pattern of the wallpaper in front of him. When he tries to make small talk, something you know he detests, you keep your answers short, clipped, monosyllabic if possible.

It is childish, you know this, but it is all you have. A blunt weapon was still a weapon. With enough force behind it, sometimes it could kill.

Six was being childish. He had put up with it for two days. This was as far as his immeasurable patience went. Doffy had half the mind to grab her by the hair and make her submit, no matter how many men were currently present in his office. Her usual soft, and pliable mouth was spread thin into a harsh line that made him frown. Her shoulders pushed back stiffly, as if she was busily carrying the weight of something.

That something, whatever it was, he would smash it to pieces.

Baby 5 is talking, and Doflamingo brings a hand up in the air. He curls his fingers in a quick snap of his wrist, grabbing onto thin air. She silences immediately. Her gaze follows Doffy’s to find it behind him, on the girl he affectionately called Six. Baby 5 had asked him once, defying common sense, what he meant by that.

He had laughed, and laughed and laughed.

Six, for the amount of steps she was to stay within him. Six, because he sometimes forgot her name.

Whether that was a lie or not, Baby 5 had no intentions of finding out. Just like she had no intentions of staying behind to see whatever sick twisted games Doffy was about to begin. She knew that smile well enough to know her time was up. She begins to make her exit wordlessly as the rest of the men in the room are already departing from the room.

“Lock the door,” Doffy says as she reaches the threshold of it. Her hand hovers on the doorknob and she gives one last look over her  shoulder. You make eye contact with her, and she notices the tension in your jaw, the way you suddenly bore holes through her forehead. A sensation close to pity settles in her chest, so she leaves quickly and locks the door as she was commanded before a conscience can begin to grow where one had already died before.

You stand silently, hands clasped in front of your stomach. His presence growing closer to your body was almost enough to melt away all your resolve; brick by brick, you had laid them one after the other these past two days. It all threatens to come toppling down when his fingers graze your chin. He clasps it with a clammy hand.

“Don’t make that face,” he says calmly, tilting your chin upwards. You follow his hand’s command with a small frown. “You know how much I hate it. You have been ignoring me. I can’t forgive you for that.”

You say nothing. What was there to say? You had been ignoring him in hopes of hurting him on some kind of level. You turn your face away from him, freeing your chin from his grasp. Doffy tuts, and steps closer, breaching whatever miniscule space was left between your chests.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he says calmly. Doffy’s hand reaches for your face again, and you turn to face the other way. His fingers tangle in your hair, a curling lip is the representative of the last vestiges of his patience. His free arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you towards him until you are flush against his hardened body. Your breathing quickens. You despise the way your body warms up against his. It was such an easy, predictable thing. A flimsy paper that couldn’t even hold the weight of your convictions. “Your punishment,” he concludes when you still give him no reply.

You can’t help the way your eyes narrow. It is foolish, you know, to feel anything akin to injustice. You think to blame it on your still fading bruises; the ones on your skin and on your ego. You continue to think this when you utter your next words: “Punishment for what?”

“Six,” he says, tone growing impatient. The tangled fingers in your hair give a tug–an unspoken reminder to keep your eyes on him. His voice is short. His fingers dig into the skin of the small of your back. “Do I need to spell everything out for you? You’ve committed a grave sin.” Doffy brings his face close to yours. He presses his nose against your cheek and inhales noisily. The heat of his breath on the apples of your cheek is enough to have shivers coursing through your spine. You grab onto his mostly open shirt, tug on it as if it would bring you to your senses. His tongue runs flat up against your cheek, leaving a trail of hot saliva in its wake. 

Six was a nickname he used when he felt particularly mean. You flinch when he licks your other cheek, expecting the worst. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says against your ear, fingers still knotted in your hair. The hand on the small of your back travels slowly over the curve of your ass. His fingers are devious, and unapologetic. They are used to always getting what they want, so they settle for digging into the supple muscle of your derriere. For their affront, they pull a small gasp from your lips. Doffy smiles besides himself. “You know I loathe being ignored, don’t you?” His teeth bite down on an earlobe. A whimper lays to rest in the back of your throat as you crush it down. “You of all people should know better.”

There’s a fluttering in your heart you want to squash. The pained sound in his voice, feigned or not, tugs at your heartstrings. You consider giving in, letting him have his way, and getting it over with. There was no use living at odds with Doflamingo. It wouldn’t benefit you in any way. 

“You’ve injured me,” his words are breathy, strained, as he brushes his lips against the line of your jaw. Your eyes close at the feel of his breathing scorching your skin. He kisses down the side of your neck. Kisses so wet and hot, it clouds your reason. There’s a slickness slowly seeping into your underwear. You become more acutely aware of this as the fingers on your ass move to slip between the waistband of your pants and your waist. “Now you have to pay the price.”

You nod, blindly agreeing to anything he could possibly propose. If it was your soul he wanted, he could have it. The method was up to his diabolical whims.

Doflamingo bites down on his lip. Not because the erection in his trousers is beginning to get uncomfortable–although it was. Not because when he sucks on the hollow space of your neck you moan so deliciously it makes him want to rip your clothes off—although he did want to do that. He bites down on his lip to keep the laughter at bay. You were so predictable, so pliable, so easily swayed. All he had to do was touch you, and you unraveled around his fingers, just like string. 

He releases you. You sway where you stand, suddenly breathless and dizzy. Doflamingo moves around the desk, and reaches for the inside of a small drawer. He pulls out two pieces of pearly white silk. It drags on the floor as he moves towards you.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Six,” he says, and gestures at your hands with one of his. “Now give me your wrists. I’m taking away some of your privileges.” You blink, unsure if you had any privileges to begin with but you concede, holding up your hands together, inside of wrists touching each other. He binds your wrists with one of the pieces of silk. “And because you dared to avoid my gaze,” he says, giving the knot on your wrists a good pull. You jolt towards him, and shout as he catches you by the forearms. Doflamingo leans forward, enough for his breath to tickle your nose when he speaks: “I’ll take yours away.” A sense of fear ices your veins. Your mouth moves, words refusing to form. You think to ask for him to reconsider but his hands are quicker than your mind. He is tying the silk over your eyes, like a blindfold.

The last thing you see is his grinning mouth, and a pair of shades reflecting your own face back at you.

Darkness consumes you. Your breathing sounds inexplicably loud to your ears. You focus on steadying your breaths, making them shallower and shallower. The sound of rustling startles you. You turn your head in the direction you think it’s coming from, but his hands are on your shoulders pushing you back. You stumble backwards until the back of your thighs hit the edge of the desk.

“Don’t,” he hisses against your ear. “Move.” You hold your breath before a shudder forces you to inhale loudly. He is tugging at your waistband. You feel thick fingers press against the skin of your hip as he grips the fabric. He had instructed you not to move but your body jerks as he pulls the fabric. The sound of cloth ripping, strings being torn and undone fill the still air of the office. A cool breeze touches your hip, your thigh, and even lower as he continues to tear the right pant leg all the way down.

Your breathing quickens. White teeth dig into your bottom lip as you struggle to keep quiet. He hadn’t asked you to not make a sound but you didn’t want to try his patience. Not when his fingers were on the other side of your waist, destroying whatever was left of the other pant leg. Another forceful tug, and you’re free of your pants. Cold air kisses the back of your knees.

“I hate these pants,” he complains, kicking the remains of the clothing item out of his way. He advances towards you, grasps your hips with heated hands and flips you around. You shout, as he bends you over the desk, ass up. “Why do you insist on this stupid suit? They are ugly. I thought I told you, I loathe ugly things. I’m throwing them all out,” he insists, his large palms running over the width of your ass cheeks. “Every single one, and I’m filling your closet with dresses. And skirts,” he pauses, hands still on your ass. Dresses and skirts so he wouldn’t have to tear into them with brute force. Doflamingo brings one hand up and slaps a cheek. You cry out as the sting blooms into a burning ache.

Doflamingo goes into his haunches. You feel him panting against the back of one thigh. You breath hitches. His mouth moves lower, to an ankle. He flicks his long tongue out, and grazes the inside of your ankle with the tip of his tongue. It’s hot, and wet, enough to make you twitch. You curl your fingers tightly, trying to fight the urge to rub your thighs together. It shouldn’t have aroused you so much, but you feel the growing wetness becoming worse in your underwear

The scratchy feel of your stockings over your skin is enticing. He hates it but he can’t stop. His tongue drags up from the back of one calf, all the way to the back of a knee. He stops there, contemplatively for one nanosecond, before he decidedly sucks on the sensitive area. You whimper, and he chuckles up against your thigh. His detailed attention is on the lovely crease of your ass cheek. Open mouthed kisses, and licks leave a slippery trail that mimics the dripping wetness from your pussy.

By the time he’s done with your other leg, you feel soaked. You rub your thighs together, the stockings scratching and creating a pleasant friction. You increase your pace. Doflamingo stands up in time to watch your salacious movements. He laughs before slipping a leg in between them to stop you.

“Enough,” he says, trying to hide his humor. “You’re always trying to do something like this. Can’t you stop being a slut long enough to quietly take your punishment for once? You’re always  making me work twice as hard. Be a damn good girl,” he finishes with a snarl. “And stay fucking still.” His thick fingers seize the stocking over your ass and he rips them open. You gasp and barely have time to process that when he is seizing the band of your panties. You know what he’s about to do but you cry out all the same when the fabric rips as well, leaving you completely exposed.

He would never admit it. Doflamingo would rather be strung up, beaten, burned and humiliated than to admit it. He’d choose imprisonment or death before he admits how the sight of you bent over his desk, pussy glistening already with your arousal, has him thinking stupid, feverish, foolish thoughts.

He should fuck them out of his mind while he still could.

His teeth find their mark on the swell of one ass cheek. You cry out when he digs in, leaving bruises that bloom into pink-purple flowers in the shape of teeth. He leaves mark, after mark, until he has counted eight total. His mouth presses at the top of your crack, a soft kiss that you know could only lead to debauchery. You wiggle your hips, trying to shake him off. Doffy tightens his hold on your hips, and slams you down on the desk. There will be more bruises on top of the old fading ones but you don’t care. The only thing you care about is the way his tongue is following the path of your crack.

“D-Doffy!” you stutter, slamming your tied hands down on the desk repeatedly to try to get his attention. His hold on your hips is unshakeable. You close your eyes tightly, when they move to your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

He pulls your ass cheeks apart. “Don’t be stupid,” he tells you without looking away. He frowns down at your puckered hole, two shades darker than the rest of your skin. “I do as I please and you…” he pauses to tilt his head. He is aware you can’t see him but he shoots an incredulous look at the  back of your head. “Did you forget you are the one being punished? You have no right to say anything.”

With his case spoken for, he turns his attention to your hole once more. With your ass cheeks spread, he dives in, his tongue flush against your crack. His tongue circles your hole in a way that deeply shames you. The tickling pleasure makes your toes curl, and you try to keep quiet, try to still the small twitches of your belly as pleasure builds inside you. His circles become tighter and tighter, faster. Your neck pulls your head back. You cry out, a long soft moan hanging in the air.

Doflamingo pulls away to look at your sweating forehead. He grins. “Heh,” he chuckles, pulling your ass cheeks apart once more. “Look at you. You keep forgetting your place.”

He takes a rattling breath, nose wrinkled. Doflamingo hacks and spits into your hole. A glob of foamy white saliva hangs on your hole before it slowly drips down to your bright and puffy pussy. He leans back, fingers still digging into the supple flesh of your ass. You feel him let go of one cheek, and his thumb moves towards the middle. There's a protest forming in your mouth. It tumbles clumsily out of your lips, but he’s pressing his thumb against your hole regardless. He presses it further in, tip sliding in even when you try to speak again.

You cry out as he makes it past the first knuckle. He moves it inside you, soft wide circles. Your hips buck as you try to get away from him, a building pressure around your asshole. You whimper, and moan, the sensation so intense and so strange it scares you. He laughs when you ask him to wait. He laughs again when you sigh in relief when he pulls out his thumb. He laughs, lastly, when he inserts index and middle finger instead and you cry out. You’re banging your hands on the desk again, words almost unintelligible flying out of your mouth. You hate the way your folds are slick with your arousal, how your moans don’t stop no matter how many times you command them to go away in your mind.

“Oh?” you hear Doffy say, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he thrusts his fingers into your hole, time and time again. He is rough enough to shake you, to keep your hips pushing and bruising against the hardwood of the desk. “All of a sudden you can speak? How interesting. Should have done that two days ago.”

He reminds himself he is merciful, sometimes, and pulls his fingers away when you give a painful cry. Doflamingo looks down at his fingers, a frown heavy on his brows. He reaches for the back of you, and wipes them clean on your crisp white shirt, careful to go under the fingernails.  “You know,” he says, looking down at your dripping pussy. You’re so wet you’re soaking down the inside of your thighs. Shiny folds greet him, beckoning him for a lick or two, a good suck, a good fuck.  “You kept saying it was dirty while I was fingering you but you’re the dirty one. You’re fucking soaked.”

Doflamingo isn’t a man who kneels. He grabs your hips and pulls you up, helps you fold your legs so that your knees are on the desk. You lean forward on your elbows. Your breathing is loud, and erratic. The heat circling around you feels suffocating. Sweat covers your neck, and you feel it slipping down between your breasts. You can’t see him, but you feel him moving behind you again. His mouth hovering over your pussy. You take a deep breath, as the high of expectation seizes you. You’re desperate. You want to feel his mouth on your pussy. You want him to lick you and suck on you until you cum but Doflamingo has other plans.

He touches your entrance lightly with the tip of his tongue. Just as lightly, he traces your entrance. You flinch, and whimper. You move your hips, trying to follow his mouth. Doflamingo tuts and grabs your hips. “Six,” he says testily. “If you don’t stay still I will stop being so kind.”

He licks lightly over each lip. “You need to come to terms with this already,” he says breathing against your clit. He puffs hot air against your sensitive nub. Your toes curl in pleasure. Doflamingo brushes his closed mouth against your swollen clit. “I know what you want, and you’re not getting it. That’s my justice.” He kisses the opening of your pussy before kissing your clit. “Now just take it.” He parts his lips and bites down on your clit.

The heat of his mouth disappears. You whine, feeling cheated and petulant. Doflamingo slaps your pussy for your brattiness. “Apologize,” he says sharply. “You haven’t uttered a single apology. Did I not say you’ve injured me?” He slaps your pussy again. The sting is shocking, humiliating. You grip the edge of the desk so hard you fear your fingernails will split. “Apologize, Six,” he growls and slaps you one more time. You cry out, feeling pleasure jolt down the inside of your thighs. You’re dripping wetter and wetter. Your body is trembling as you struggle to keep yourself up in this position. Your biceps are burning, your thighs quivering. 

“I’m sorry!” you mutter quickly. It is the best you can manage at the moment but it appears dissatisfactory. Doflamingo slaps your aching cunt again. “I said I’m sorry! I'm so sorry!”

“Good,” he says, rubbing his hand roughly over your pussy. You moan, almost purr, as he slathers your slick all over. “Now thank me.”

You gasp, and turn your face around. You don’t understand what he says at first, so he repeats himself. Still you splutter: “What?”

Another slap to your sensitive puffy pussy has you arching your back with a cry.

“I said, say thank you,” Doflamingo mutters over your ear. You feel his body leaning over your back. “Don’t forget your manners. It should be considered a blessing that I'm even touching you.” He slaps your pussy one last time. “And you say?”

You mumble it at first. He can’t hear you so he grabs your cunt tightly. “What did you say? Enunciate, Six. Do you know how to speak?”

“Y-yes, sir. I said thank you. Thank you so much,” you breathed out, lungs burning from the effort. He chuckles lightly against your ear.

“Better. Much better,” he says before kissing your ear and pulling away. 

Doflamingo seizes your hips, and swiftly flips you around. The sudden movement causes your stomach to dip, and you cry out, arms flying out to grasp anything. You feel his shoulders, and grip tightly. Doflamingo shakes you off without finesse. He pushes your back on the desk, and pulls you towards the edge of the desk by the hips. He pulls your legs up, until your thighs are flushed against his front. Your knees bend, and your lower legs drape over his shoulders.

“These,” you hear him hiss around your ankles. Doflamingo’s nose brushes against the top of one foot–exposed by a kitten heel. “Are also atrocious. We’re throwing these out too. Every single one.”

He takes them off your feet quickly. You wiggle your toes, taking advantage of the only freedom you have currently. Your silent moment of victory is short lived. Doflamingo is tearing at your stockings against, revealing your feet. Your breath catches in your chest as you feel a hot wetness on the inside of one foot. It tickles pleasantly. Still, you wiggle your toes.

“Stop,” he growls against your foot, moving his mouth to your toes. He sucks on them noisily, one at a time. Drool slides down in between your toes, and you crinkle your nose. It is an odd sensation, but you refuse to pull your feet away. This temporary moment of discomfort was not enough to make you risk his wrath. 

He tires of your feet and at your lack of reaction. He tires of the way his breathing is ragged, how heat has forced him to sweat right through his shirt. He tires of the way his erection is throbbing in his pants. 

Doflamingo fights against it by seizing the front of your shirt. He pulls in one go, buttons ripping from their seams. They fly out in different directions, zooming past your face and his. You feel one hit your forehead. Another bounces off one of the lenses of Doflamingo’s shades. He cackles, amused by his own little stunt. He is laughing still as he leans forward, your legs bending with his actions. You feel his hardened cock press against your heated pussy. You’re maddened at the thought. You want the fabric separating you to disappear and curse your lack of strength. You are so consumed with your desire to have him inside you, deep and hard, that his bites barely register. He is nipping over the swell of your breasts.

There is no delicacy or tenderness to his actions. He has pointedly reminded you, time and time again, that this was not done in pleasure. This was your punishment. So he clamps down hard on your tender flesh, and covers your tits in dark pink bruises. You cry out each time, body trembling from a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Doflamingo loses interest when there’s no more room to mark so he shifts to your belly. He bites and sucks where he can. He leaves his imprint on your skin, for you to see later in solitude and think of him; only of him.

Your ribcage calls his name and he drags his tongue up and over it. He counts each ribcage in his mind, and leaves a bite for each one.

The assault is endless. The desk becomes an altar with you as a sacrifice. Doflamingo lights a fire, tall and full of rage, with every drag of his sharp teeth, with every desperate suck against your skin.

His mind is a mess. He can only think of tearing you open. He can only think of digging inside you, to rifle through your insides to see what was crawling in there that did not belong. He wanted to see himself in every part of you, slowly consuming you until there was nothing left but the spirit of him.

You; his carnal legacy. 

His tongue drags at a painfully slow pace over your nipples when he pulls your bra down with a wild tug. Doflamingo draws shapes that he has no names for over the swell of your breasts. His fingers pinch your erect nipples, and he lets your cries guide him. You moan when he flicks them with his thumbs, and he knows this is punishment. But what good was a punishment that punished him? He couldn’t hold out any longer.

He dives against your breasts, his mouth sucking in a nipple with viciousness. Your back arches as he bites town and tugs. Pain makes your nipple throb, and you aim at his shoulder with your tied hands. He deflects you and pushes you back down on the desk.

There is no apology, no words to soothe you or pacify you. You didn’t expect any anyway. Instead, he lifts your breasts to lick the underside of them. His hands knead your breasts as he pushes against your heated core. His erection is enticing, and you move your hips against him. You hear his breathing against your ear picking up speed before it disappears.

You breathe through your mouth, quick little pants that make your chest burn. You hear a buckle, and a zipper coming undone. You swallow thickly, fingers twitching where you’re holding them against your chest.

Doflamingo looks down at you as he pulls his cock out of his underwear. It bounces against the flat of his belly. A hand moves to  grasp it, and it pumps it lazily. His eyes are too busy devouring your body instead. You are a mess on his desk. There is your arousal leaking out of you, pooling under your ass. Your skin is bruised and battered. Your chest rises and falls in rapid succession. He smiles.

You are pathetic. You are a mess, and you are all his.

He presses the angry tip of his cock against your entrance. You clamp down on your lip, and before you can fully ready yourself, he snaps his hips and bottoms out inside you in one move.

A cry gets stuck in your throat, and your mouth is open but no sound comes out. Your back is arched, even as he pummels into you relentlessly. His cock feels divine. It is thick, pushing against your walls, a stretch so satisfying you wish you could feel it time and time again. Everytime he snaps his hips you can hear the loud slapping of his balls against your pussy.

You’re whining, and moaning, thrashing in place. The sounds almost overpower the sound of wetness. The squelching sound of your pussy makes him smile. He holds on tightly to your knees as they’re folded over his shoulders, busily watching his glistening cock slide in and out of you. 

“Oh, now you really have a lot to say, huh?” he grunts as he increases his pace, his hips slamming against your ass time and time again. You whimper, feeling your pussy starting to get sore but the fire inside you continues to build. The pain is not enough to make you want to stop. “Now you want to give me your goddamn attention.”

Not that he’d stop for you. Not when he’s like this.

You’re being far too loud for his liking. It is driving him mad with lust. He reaches out to the desk, his hand pawing blindly as he continues to snap his hips. You’re so tight around him it makes him clench his teeth. His fingers touch moist fabric, and he grabs the sad remains of your panties. 

“Be quiet for a second,” he tells you and shoves the panties in your mouth. You gag, and cough. He hears your mumbling against the fabric, but it is muffled. He chuckles in delight. “Better. Much better.”

Now that your moaning is not ringing in his ears, leading him away from reason, he can focus on his work. He watches your tits bounce on your chest. They jerk every time he slams against you so he goes even harder, delighted at the sight of them. He closes his eyes, focuses on the lewd sounds of your wet pussy, the way air slips in and makes inappropriate sounds. He chuckles, admiring the way your walls start clamping around him.

“You’re gonna cum already?” he asks you. “Oh. That’s right. You can’t talk right now.” He laughs at your muffled cries. Sweat is coating his chest. He feels his shirt sticking to his lower back. The heat is all consuming, and so is the heat of your pussy. It is greedily sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

He groans loudly, when he feels you cumming. Your toes curl, and spit soaks your panties. You taste the saltiness of your arousal on the fabric and breathe out through your nose, trying your best to catch your breath. Your orgasm is violent. Your body jerks as it continues to course through you. Doflamingo doesn’t let up, and he edges you closer and closer to an ecstasy that is almost unbearable. You scream against your panties, legs shaking. You’re so overstimulated you feel tears wetting the silk of your blindfold.

Your drool is slipping down your chin, and down your neck. It collects on the hollow of your neck. You catch a ragged breath, and pray–pray for release. At this rate Doflamingo will  be the end of you–or at the very least, the end of your pussy.

Doflamingo chases your high down. Demands it comes back. He isn’t done yet, despite the bruises already starting on the bones of his hips. He feels that cushiony spot inside you and he rams his tip into it, time and time again. Your legs twitch and you give another shrill cry.

Just when you think you could die, heat forms once more. A coil so tight, binds itself at the pit of your belly. You feel a strange urge, as if you desperately need to go. You try to warn Doflamingo but he’s not listening and you are too weak to fight anymore. Your back snaps, and your vision goes from black to white. You feel liquid gush out of you.

Doflamingo gives a startled gasp, he watches you soak his pants with mild irritation.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, still thrusting inside you. “There’s just no end to your nastiness. You just had to ruin my pants? I am almost done dealing with your punishment and now I have to think of another one. You are nothing but trouble, my Butterfly.”

You mumble something he can’t interpret and doesn’t care to do so. His laughter rumbles in his chest as he continues to snap his hips, on and on and on. 

“You’re mine, you know that?” he tells you and turns his face to kiss one knee. “You’re my slut.” His voice is a hoarse growl. Teeth flashing white. “You are my butterfly. My captive poor pathetic little thing. You’ll never leave me, do you hear me? I’ll never let you go. You’ll always be tangled up with me.” You whimper, and thrash in place. “You’ll never be able to leave. Not that you want to. You like this too much. The way I fuck you.”

He is right, of course. The thoughts of leaving his side were fleeting. You couldn’t picture a life without him. If it meant living in his shadow until he turned to look at you then so be it. You didn’t care about the pitiful glances people gave you or the thinly veiled words of advice. You had decided a long time ago that this is where you would be happy to die, underneath his forceful hand.

“You belong to me. You have no right to deny me anything,” he reminds you, as he leans forward to nip at your bottom lip. He kisses you, and you think you might die. It had been so long, you thought the day would never come. You moan when he presses his mouth against yours. You dare to part your lips, to seek out his tongue but he is gone as quickly as he came. “You can only adore me. You can only look at me and think of me.”

He rips the panties out of your mouth and you gasp for air, gulping and gulping. Doflamingo wraps his fingers around your throat as he continues to fuck you.

“Say it,” he hisses, his voice breaking. “Say it’s only me you want.”

You swallow and nod slightly. “It’s you. I only want you.” You say his name, over and over. Doflamingo smiles widely, feeling at the moment, victorious. 

And with this sense of euphoria, he feels himself close. He pulls out quickly, leaving you aching and pulsing around nothing. Doflamingo pumps his cock desperately, roughly, a few times before he spills all over your battered pussy. His cum is hot and you flinch as it touches your sensitive skin. There’s drops on your belly, and on each side of your inner thighs. The cum on your pussy drips slowly and eases towards your ass.

Your mind is fuzzy. Your body is still hot, and everything is aching and throbbing. He’s moving again, you feel him ahead of you grabbing things from the ground. Doflamingo wipes his hands on the ripped clothing before he drops them on your belly.

“Clean up,” he commands in a congenial tone, shoving his half hardened cock into his soiled pants. He adjusts as best as he can and zips up. “I got you a new dress for tonight. It is imperative that you wear it for dinner. Are you listening, Butterfly?

You don’t have the strength to speak. Your throat feels raw from all the crying and moaning. So you nod, once, twice.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he says. His voice sounds distant. You hear his footsteps, farther away. There’s a click at the door, before it closes. Then silence.

He leaves you on the desk, blindfolded, naked and worn out to the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Jason Comforting You

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, panic attack, no escape, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 814

Part 1: here

(A/N:) Happy spooky season!! My time has come once more! I have lots of horrific goodies planned and I can't wait to share them all! So enjoy the treats, the frights, and nightmares as I start getting back into the groove of writing! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

You awoke suddenly, to misty sunlight streaming through a severely cracked window. Your surroundings were unfamiliar and the bed you were placed in had seen better days many years ago. It creaked and groaned as you turned your head. You had been brought to a shack as the memories of last night suddenly flooded into your head, rushing headlong into the forest as the strange masked killer kept a tight grip on your wrist. You jolted up with an audible gasp and tumbled from the musty mattress. Hearing the thud of you hitting the creaky floor, Jason eased up from the chair he had been occupying in the darkened corner. You almost released a terrified shriek when he stopped. His head cocking to the side as his eyes watched you carefully from the holes in his mask.

"Why?" You asked after gaining a little bit of courage.

He continued to stare, refusing to move as he just breathed breaking the silence surrounding the shack.

"Why me? You killed everyone else why would you spare me?"

Still he didn't say a word, but this time he did step forward coming closer to you. You flinched bringing your legs to your chest. He stopped before turning away. You relaxed a little, ready to flee if you needed to. Though you were sure it wouldn't matter if you did try to run. Everyone else in the camp had ran and their demise happened anyway. He searched through a bookcase that was on the verge of collapsing, junk fell to the floor, each thud and bang making you jump and twitch. He turned back around holding out his hand. You flinched, scooting backwards. But still he persisted. A crumpled nametag fell from his discolored fingers. Slowly you reached for it and plucked it from the dirty floorboards. It was severely damaged and it looked like it had been soaked in water at one point. But you could still make out the name.

"Jason," you looked back towards him. "Is that your name?"

He nodded eagerly before looking down again at the nametag expectantly. You took another glance, noticing something else written under his name.

"Voorhees. Is that your last name?"

Once again he nodded and you realized he was the victim of drowning all those years ago. It was the counselors fault of their negligence and it had cost one of the children's lives. The camp had been closed for a long time afterwards until someone bought the land and tried to open the camp back up. Only for tragedy to strike once more. You were forced by your parents to volunteer at Camp Crystal Lake as they tried to open it again. Once again it ended in a horrific scene and it seemed like now you were the only survivor. Now you were trapped face to face with the boy who drowned in that lake a long long time ago.

"Why did you take me," you wanted to make sense of it all. Fighting down the panic you tried to stay as still as you could as he knelt down in front of you. With a timid finger he stroked your warm cheek. Fighting tears as your emotions overwhelmed you.

"Can I please go home," you pleaded as Jason leaned down closer. The depths of his eyes searching, trying to understand why you were so upset.

"I don't want to stay here and I promise I won't tell anyone about you."

Jason only stared. You decided to take a chance and slowly stood up. Jason did the same never getting more than a foot away from you. You couldn't figure out what he could possibly want as you stepped backwards towards the shack entrance. Jason realized quickly what your intentions were and grabbed you quickly. You screamed, sobs wracking your throat as you struggled. He hugged you tightly, his scent surrounding you. He smelled of murky water and his skin felt cold and clammy. Like he had been steeping in the water of the lake for so very long.

"Please," you shouted. Repeating the same word over and over again until you couldn't bear the turmoil inside. You fainted, going limp in Jason's careful but tight embrace. Your body shook uncontrollably as he carried you back to the creaky bed. He laid you down gently, tucking the strands of hair behind your ear. He couldn't explain why he took you and he didn't want to lose you. You were a treasure that he refused to let anyone else have. He lost a lot already and losing you was not an option. He dragged the chair to the bedside where he could watch you sleep and planned everything you two could do together. You slept fitfully as the nightmares tortured you in the dark abyss and you knew if you woke up another terror would take it's place.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

hello!! can you please write a drabble for connor with an s/o who just finished their last final, and now they just want to nap and cuddle with him? gender neutral please! thank you!!

05/03/2024: Hello! First ask of the year! I certainly can try, friend! Thanks for your undying patience! Shit has happened, bros, but I've just been re-reading my old fics and they've brought me some long lost joy, so I am trying to make a comeback! (Please reblog this so people know I'm posting again -- with evidence!) This is a perfect thing to write on the day of my exam results (we passed, guys!) so now I can reflect on the traumatising experience that was exam season.

The Complete Masterlist

Finally (Connor x GN!Reader)

You put down your pen with a sigh of relief.

Finally, it was all over.

These last few weeks were torture; hours of studying a day, taking a break only to eat or to steal some hours of restless sleep. Your brain fried while you studied, and you half wondered how you made it through exam season alive.

A few hours ago, you were on the verge of throwing up your breakfast. Now, as you turned the lock to your apartment door, you could only feel intense fatigue. Gentle noises from the kitchen put a smile on your face. Connor was never a loud person, in both words and actions.

"I'm back," you announced, entering the kitchen to find Connor making two cups of tea.

"Y/n," he greeted with a reassuring smile. "How was it?"

"Not terrible, but could've been better," you shrugged. At this point, you really couldn't care. It was over, and that's all that mattered. A yawn overcame you. "Tired now, though."

Connor nodded, pouring water from the freshly boiled kettle. "I made us some tea. What would you like to do to celebrate?"

You thanked him gratefully, moving to take your favourite mug off of the counter. "Honestly? Can we go back to bed for a while? I want to sleep these past few weeks off."

"Of course." He followed you as you led the way to your shared bedroom. Teas placed on the bedside counters, you changed into some comfier clothes and all but collapsed into bed. Connor climbed in with slightly more tact, and you crawled into his arms. He pulled you close with one hand and opened a book he was reading with the other.

His thumb gently traced the skin of your arm, soothing and constant. It wasn't long before your eyelids began to close, fluttering in time to his heartbeat.

Sleep came soon after.

[asofspades]

Listen, as someone who used to be this academic weapon, who handled living in a very toxic borderline abusive family situation for more than a decade, who balanced getting perfect grades while being the parentified oldest "daughter" and pushing through social anxiety, depression, swersidal thoughts and an ED all while getting bullied at school and being autistic without a formal diagnosis and far from having any help only got more expectations because of supposedly being gifted and also ignoring chronic pain and fatigue and pushing through it until we'll into college and now having burnt out because I pushed myself way too far I want to say that I feel kind of uncomfortable about people thinking that Nico's character has somehow been "nerfed" by Rick because he no longer does what he did during Heroes of Olympus, like, listen, that kid completely pushed himself way past the edge, he almost vanished into shadows, hes canonically dealing with so many mental issues he had to resort to Dionysus to not go insane , he literally has an unspecified eating disorder derived from all the crap he's been through. Like, of course he's not going to be doing what he was back then, he was killing himself literally, he was running on fumes, spite, the verge of mental and physical collapse anda shit ton of adrenaline. That kid definitely has long time and chronic issues derived, he's not going to be the same, and he's still extremely OP if we're being honest, he has a ton of abilities just naturally running in the background, he can now turn people onto skeletons directly and command them. One would think that he's now fully useless in combat the way people talk about him supposedly being "nerfed" in ToA but honestly I'd just be glad if that kid never had to use any of his abilities ever again and could just let himself actually rest.

It feels a bit like an attack to all of us who've been through stuff and wouldn't be able to go back to the level of productivity and the ability to handle stuff that we had in our worst moments where we were running on spite and fumes and hopes of making it out of we struggled enough and are now experiencing burn out and skill regression. Like, I feel like that kind of people are telling me I'm now useless even after all I've been through because I can no longer do what I did at my worse moments in life.

Like, I could legit run on just caffeine with no sleep or minimal sleep and no food for up to 3 days and still get good grades and do all teh household chores and homework and exercise to the verge of collapse, however I now am exhausted no matter how much I sleeps concentrating is the hardest thing ever, I do stuff half assed because I really do not have enough energy and I gave up on putting everything on my shoulders because I was genuinely collapsing in on myself. Like, this shit happens.

And maybe that's just me because if my personal situation but it really does rub me the wrong way, I'm sure Nico could pull the same bullshit again and push himself past his limits to the brink of death, the thing is that boy is tired and trying to heal and move forward and doing that would just be going backwards in his recovery. He has plenty of time ahead of himself to heal and grow stronger and capable of doing stuff without getting as exhausted but like it's been less than a year between the end of Blood of Olympus and TSATS obviously he's still recovering.

People say they wanted a story of him recovering and all that, but I feel like what they really want is just Nico magically getting rid of any real effect all the shit he went through had on him, which just isn't realistic.

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

So... you're a bat

Summary: You move to a new town for work, you need a house... you didn't expect a housemate to come with it.

Pairing: Vampire!Natasha Romanoff & Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 2462

Warnings: Mentions/hints of past murders

A/N: Hello everyone I actually managed to write :) It's just a nice fluffy fic with vampire Nat being a cool housemate! Hope you enjoy!

(and also my fics haven't been doing so well since I keep disappearing and reappearing, so any reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!)

—————————————————

The house viewing was pointless; moving across the country for work - on a minimal budget, you were just looking for anywhere to live, no matter the condition. And this was your only option. A house that was being sold for cheaper than any apartment’s security deposit; it was practically free, and from the viewing, you could see why.

A dilapidated mansion on the verge of collapse, the stairs had fallen in years before, so there was no access to the upper floors. Windows were smashed, floorboards were rotten, and some ceiling tiles were non-existent. No wonder the real estate agent looked so surprised to hear you take it on the spot.

What could you do? You didn’t have the money for anywhere else. And this mansion had one redeeming quality in that its front room had been done up by a previous homeowner, redecorated and fully insulated to make it livable. When you wondered aloud why they had stopped at just that room, you were shut down, the agent insisting that was a question you didn’t want answered. 

Off-putting, to be sure, but you left it at that.

—

There wasn’t much for you to unpack; the single livable room was fully furnished and decorated within the day. Almost everything you needed, packed into one place. It wasn’t really that different to a college dorm, and you’d survived that before.

A chill hit you the second you opened the front room door, making you hesitate in the doorway. It would be so cosy to stay in the warmth, but instead, you braved the cold, final box in your arms.

Creaks echoed around the frame of the house with every step you took; it felt like they would echo forever – until another gust of cold wind rushed through the windows to smother any other source of noise.

With it came an even higher-pitched squeak, and flaps of wings came startlingly close to your ear. You turned just in time to see a flash of black graze past your face.

You yelped and stumbled, only just maintaining your hold on the box and keeping your balance.

When you regained your stability, you glanced in the direction the flapping had gone. A bat stared back, perched on the exposed house supports.

Bats in the attic. Another of the many mentioned issues that came with the property; this was just one you’d forgotten about. They were most likely the reason the house hadn’t been torn down decades ago, and why repairing the house was such a difficult task. How could you not disturb them in a place like this?

The bat had watched, unblinking, through your whole musing. You darted your eyes back to it, then ducked your head and carried on to the kitchen, shutting the door behind you.

—

You crossed paths with the bats constantly; each time they would brush close then stare – pure black eyes, unblinking in their gaze. It was creepy, and you learnt to stop walking around in the dark, when flapping wings and grazed touches would be the only indication of where they were. 

Still, if the bats weren’t leaving and you weren’t either, it seemed the only solution was to take care of them.

You searched for their diets; results indicated insects, fruits, or even blood - depending on the species. It was informative, but with one issue. You hadn’t a clue of the species.

That was how you ended up with a bowl of berries in one hand and a bowl of beetles in the other, climbing up the rickety stairs on your elbows and knees. It was one of the worst ideas you’d ever had. There was no railing for you to hold, and you wouldn’t trust any one of the steps with your full weight, not after two instances where the stairs crumbled into dust underfoot. It became even more of a crawl the further up you got, but you were determined to get there and finally managed, both the bowls and yourself left intact. 

Once again, the bat sat patiently at the top, having watched the entirety of your slow ascent. You wondered why you only ever saw one at a time. Did they take turns coming out? Or was there only one? TV always showed them in groups but you had no idea, pop culture isn’t always the most reliable source.

“This is for you,” you told the bat, setting both bowls down. You’d give it a day to see which one was preferred. At least you’d have use of your hands the next time you scrambled up.

—

“NEITHER?!” 

Both bowls remained full. The bat had inspected it. You’d watched the bat inspect it. And it had taken nothing.

“If you don’t like berries or bugs then what do you eat?” you mumbled, gathering the bowls back up.

“While the berries are preferred, my palette is actually a bit different.”

You really couldn’t be blamed for screaming. Which was then drowned out by smashing ceramics, which you also couldn’t be blamed for. The sudden voice startled you and your body’s reactions kicked in, taking control of your actions to drop everything and flinch forward, away from the voice. 

The upper level wasn’t prepared for such a forceful step, and suddenly the environment blurred, everything looking like it was shooting up… or you were falling down. 

“Oh. oh, shi- I’m so sorry!” the voice rambled, “I didn’t mean to scare you!” It has a body now, a redheaded woman. She had rushed forward and caught you, stopping a potentially deadly fall.

You paused. “You snuck up behind me. In my house. And didn’t mean to scare me?”

“I forgot you could understand me.”

“What does-”

Before you could even ask, the woman decided to show you, morphing into the ever-watching bat before your eyes. This also had the effect of removing her arms, and you dropped to the floor once again. The thud echoed.

The woman morphed back into a human, just to gape at you. When you groaned, she raised a hand to cover her mouth. “I’m-”

You waved her off before she could apologise. Yet she continued. “It’s been a while.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“It’s fine.” You stood up slowly, clutching your chest as you did. “So… you’re a bat.”

“Oh… would you prefer blood then…?” You mentally slapped yourself. Why was THAT your reaction to a vampire in your home? They were creatures you thought belonged to fiction. And seeing someone turn into a bat was definitely not a regular occurrence. Was it offensive to ask if she wanted blood? A stereotype maybe?

“Blood would actually be much better, yes, but I have my own sources.”

“Thank god for that because the beetles were hard enough to source.” Speaking of, they’d been on the floor before you fell… you really hoped there weren’t squished beetles stuck to your back. Your cheeks started to heat with embarrassment, what if the vampire’s first impression of you was just falling and having beetles squished into your back?

“Um… I would like to apologise about the stairs though. They’ve been falling into disrepair for centuries and I’ve been meaning to get them fixed. When you can fly upstairs though it’s easy to put it off, then people keep moving into my house and I couldn’t do it without exposing myself, and I guess the years just slipped away.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just stay in my own bit downstairs and then-... did you say this is your house? Um, is it okay that I’m living here? It’s just that someone kind of sold it to me and I have no money or-”

“You have been a gracious guest so far, I see no reason for you to leave.”

“Thank you then, I’ll stick to my own areas and leave you some privacy in your own home.”

She nodded, and you turned away, cautiously approaching the stairs.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

“You know my name?”

“Of course. I’m Natasha. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

—

Vampires had messed up sleep schedules, you learnt that one fairly quickly. Every few minutes another thud reverberated outside your window, almost shaking the house with the weight. You checked your phone; it was 4am.

You didn’t even bother getting changed. Only one person would be up at this time, and if she was going to wake you so early before your alarm, she was also going to get the worst version of you: tousled hair, cartoon pyjamas, and so sleep-deprived you would fight a bear if it meant you could go back to bed.

When you opened the front door, there Natasha stood, in just a vest and jeans, on the back of a pick-up truck. Where she got the vehicle was beyond you, but it was filled with dark oak wood planks, and she was lifting several trees’ worth of it at a time, dropping it down onto the floor to produce the bangs that woke you.

“NATASHA…uh… I don’t know your last name.”

She smirked. “Romanoff.”

“NATASHA ROMANOFF, IT IS 4AM! What on earth are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to risk you hurting yourself on the stairs now you live here, so I thought I’d fix them.”

“I’ve lived a lot of lives.”

“By yourself?”

“Can you at least let me sleep first? I’ve got to be up in 3 hours for work.”

“Right, yes. I forgot about those things. I’ll wait. See you later, Y/N.”

With that, she flew off, while you rubbed your eyes and returned to your room. Did she even have a clock? You should get her a clock.

—

Graciously, Natasha did wait for you to awaken before she continued, and by the time you left the house, she had moved on to hauling the wood inside.

Upon your return, the stairs were near completion; the redhead had a drill in hand, securing the final few steps with remarkable speed. 

You didn’t even register the ‘wow’ that came out of your mouth until Natasha turned, grin widening to see you home. 

“You like it?”

“How-? I mean, yeah! It looks amazing! But it’s been like, ten hours?”

“Practice enough and you get faster.” She shrugged.

“That much faster?”

“Well…that and vampiric super speed.”

“Oh-”

“It’s cute that you believed me though,” she said with a smirk. You grumbled at her smugness, her arms were stretched over the step behind her and a playful grin adorned her face. 

“You were nicer as a bat.” You teased, sticking out your tongue. Your confidence did not come with the same ease as Natasha’s seemed to - leading you to exhale far too heavily when she laughed, relieved that it hadn’t pushed the boundaries of your newfound friendship/living situation.

You noticed Natasha raise an eyebrow, but she didn’t question it further. She just kept up her smile until you began to walk away - at which point she called out for you again. You spun on your toe the second you heard her, looking up quizzically. She wasn’t in the same spot. Before you could even narrow your eyes at the –now vacant– spot, Natasha reappeared in front of you, followed by a characteristic rush of air.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” The vampire apologised, paying little concern to how far back you’d jumped. “The stairs just need to be finished and uh, I was wondering if you wanted to join me? It’s nice having someone to talk to again.”

You smiled. “What do you have for me to do?”

—

The stairs were a massive improvement; your one-room house suddenly became a whole mansion for you to explore. Which, admittedly, meant more issues for you to find. Natasha had done centuries worth of dusting though, so at least they were clean issues. 

But broken floorboards, collapsed ceilings, smashed windows…there were a whole host of issues, and had you friendly resident vampire not been there to help, you might have just smashed the staircase down again and ignored it all.

As it were, you did not destroy Natasha’s hard work. The vampire saw the stress in your eyes the second you made it upstairs, so she volunteered to repair the house as best she could. She’d acquired a whole host of skills over the years, so her work would save time, money, and the hassle of hiring builders. And she’d enjoy it – she reassured you of that.

It took over your lives for the next few months. When you weren’t at work, you would be helping her, though, with Natasha’s speed, she still ended up doing at least 90% of the work. But she seemed to enjoy the company and praised your small achievements, so that was enough for you.

When it came to housemate bonding activities, you had to say, the standard drinking games didn’t come close to completely remodelling a mansion together. She could tell you the history of every room, the moments she’d spent in there, the functions, even down to the original decision on wallpaper. It was fascinating, and offered an insight into how Natasha once lived: regal and rich and respected enough to own an enviable mansion. And now she spent her days hammering floorboards into place with the broke, graduate, housemate she had acquired.

You asked her then if she missed it; the parties, the customs, the people. 

Natasha hesitated, casually holding the entire wall frame upright as she paused to think. “No,” was her simple answer. “I’ve lived too many lives for far too long to miss them all. I learn from them, I enjoy the memories, but I move on.”

You both fell quiet, silently returning to the build. How long had it taken Natasha to stop missing the past? You had a couple of decades of memories, and even that was enough for you to miss and grieve the past, but she had centuries. Lifetimes of experiences also meant lifetimes of loss.

“This, though.” She interrupted, “This will be a memory I enjoy. It’s been a long time since I’ve made one of those, so thank you, Y/N.”

“I’m glad I met you, Nat.” 

“And I’m glad I didn’t drain your blood.” She grinned, fangs on display.

You sighed. “Ever the affectionate, Natasha.”

—

It was interesting, to look back on life and see what might have been. Natasha advised against it, and given her experience with life perhaps she was right, but you couldn’t help it. One house viewing, accepting the least hospitable house you’d ever seen; had led to this. You owned a mansion now, restored to its full glory and craftsmanship. And you’d gained a friend in this new town, an immortal housemate, like it was no big deal. 

So many memories for the future you to enjoy.

[crisalidaseason]

Ninth entry: Exhausting nights.

Waking up earlier and sleeping later. The exhaustion catches up to you fast. Of course, a few hours of sleep can replenish the energies just fine…if you can sleep peacefully.

Ever since Liam became Violet’s shadow, general meetings in Xaden’s room were moved to at least an hour later than usual - to everyone’s annoyance. That night would not be any different.

After making sure Violet entered her warded room, Liam finally took a well deserved shower and decided to rest for a few minutes. The events of the night set an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders, a mocking proof of everything Liam was trying to avoid. The feeling of self doubt was brewing inside him and shame settled on his stomach, he did not have time for any of that but there was nothing rational about emotions.

That doesn’t mean you can’t hurt me.

Violet’s words still rattled in his mind. No matter how subtly - or not so much - Liam tried to convince her that Xaden cared, only his brother could be the one to actually build trust. And no matter how hard Liam tried to push Xaden towards Violet, only she would be able to slither through the iron walls he built throughout the years.

But Xaden was convinced distance was the only answer and Violet was too busy trying to survive the next challenges.

The devilish eyes Barlowe sent her haunted Liam more than he cared to admit. He knew the man stood no chance against him or Xaden, but the pure hatred in that motherfucker’s eyes could not be forgotten. That would be a problem, a real one. Liam considered for a moment if he could challenge Jack since killing him on the mat would be within Codex. He would have to ask Emetterio for the challenge.

And Xaden…Liam had honestly lost hope. His brother was making a mistake like no other and it could cost Violet’s loyalty. Liam was ready to put his hand on fire to prove she would join their cause, but he also knew the woman enough to understand how detrimental hiding the truth would be. Hiding the real threat beyond the wards, the deal with her mother, hiding Brennan Sorrengail. If someone had hidden Sloane from him after years of mourning…he would be fucking pissed.

Liam shook his head, looking for his pocket knife and block of wood. His emotions were all over the fucking place.

“Liam”

The voice startled him, the shame now bubbling through his face at the startle. He was distracted. Liam bolted to open his chambers' door immediately.

“Bodhi?”

The man was leaning beside his door, hair damp and dressed in night clothes, though he was likely ready to head to the meeting. Fuck, Liam was supposed to report before everyone else showed up. He motioned to leave the room, but Bodhi pressed a hand on his shoulder.

“Xaden canceled the meeting and also your reporting. Don’t ask me why, he did not explain”

Liam frowned at that. It was odd for Xaden to just cancel a meeting out of nowhere, and even more strange for him not to demand for a full report on Violet.

“Good news is that we get some blessed sleep, Mairi” Bodhi joked.

Maybe being Xaden’s cousin probably meant that sleep deprivation was a part of their blood, considering Bodhi seemed to be on the verge of collapsing. His dark circles were prominent and the shoulders were slumped, a mirrored image of his cousin indeed.

“Thanks” Liam replied “get some sleep”

He clasped Liam’s shoulder, bidding him a quiet goodbye. He watched as Bodhi disappeared to the next corridor, leaving Liam alone in the hallway. He was about to close his door and have a deserved sleep when the door next to his opened quickly, revealing his favorite ward.

“Violet?”

Liam frowned at the sight of her, his farsight more than capable of catching changes in her appearance. Her eyes, normally a very pale shade, were almost completely black. Her pupils had been just as dilated earlier that night but in that moment they were taking over all the expansion of her amber-blue hue.

Tairn.

He thought she had it under control, she was able to do so back in the gym.

“You all right?” he asked again once her silence did not break.

Her eyes quickly focused on him. She already had a frightening stare normally, but it was ten times worse in that state…and Liam was fucking uncomfortable.

“Are you sleeping in the hallway?” her voice is strained.

Deigh, is there something we can do?

Not necessarily. It’s her dragon’s emotions, her burden.

Yes, but…she looks strange.

“No” Liam replied to her “Just hanging out here before turning in”

She assessed him, in a more animalistic version of their first real interaction months ago. Her eyes were rapidly moving over his frame…as if she was considering him prey.

Liam shivered. What the fuck was Tairn sending her?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, pocket knife and block of wood long forgotten in his hand.

“Like what?” she said, but her mind was clearly not present.

Like she wanted to eat him or something.

“Like…Like something’s going on. You don’t look like you feel—you know—like yourself”

His words seemed to hold some effect since the pale shade of her eyes grew a little, pupil fluttering like a cat adjusting their sight. Her focus less animalistic and a hint of panic spread through her features.

“I’m good! Go to bed!” she managed to grunt, closing the door forcefully.

Liam stood there for a few minutes, not a single clue of what just happened. All he knew was that Violet had been overtaken by Tairn’s emotions again…but that particular time it did not seem to be rage that overcame her. He tried to remember if Deigh had ever sent anything other than anger through him, but with no success within his memories.

Do we all look that creepy when dragon’s send unsolicited emotions?

We do have a tendency of heightening your instincts, physically and mentally. Deigh answered.

He knocked on her door, too worried to just leave her there to deal with it on her own, but she did not answer.

The little woman is safe now and you cannot run to her aid whenever Tairn overpowers her senses. Deigh’s voice rumbled inside his head, slightly irritated.

It feels wrong to just let her be. She would have helped me!

Were you not the one who promised to trust her judgment? And we shall admit you would not accept her gesture of help anymore than she would.

Deigh was not necessarily wrong. There was scarcely anything someone could do to bring Liam back from Deigh’s rage. Violet was able to separate herself from Tairn before, he had to trust she would be able to do it again. Besides, whatever that was, Liam never wanted to experience being on the receiving end. He was still shivering while closing his door, deciding that he would deal with that in the morning, after a few hours of peaceful sleep.

Though sleep was far from peaceful.

Liam had grown used to the night terrors after five years living the same flashes over and over again. He was used to how the relic burned in sync with Codagh scorching his mother in a disturbing repetitive cycle, his heart gutting at the memory of the lifeless eyes of his father, the stabbing guilt as he witnessed - for the millionth time - Sloane’s crying features as leadership ripped her out of Liam’s arms.

That night though, his nightmares learned a new face. The body that it belonged to resting on his lap, the pale familiar face with pale eyes staring at him. Liam frowned as he watched her lips move silently, mouthing the same words over and over again. Wetness stained his left hand resting on her stomach, the horror settling as the red liquid seeped through her armor.

It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late.

A familiar laughter called his attention. Laying on his back was Jack Barlowe, throat slit - though the wound did not seem to bother him. The fucker stood, towering over Liam and laughing quietly, a bloody knife on his hands. Liam looked at Violet once more, but it was not her face staring back.

It was Xaden’s.

Liam gasped into the early morning. The room was bathed in the blue shade announcing dawn. He continued to breathe rapidly, pumping air into his lungs and forcing his heart to beat slower. Sitting on the bed, Liam tried to shake the nightmare off of his memory before it consumed and distracted him from his duties. No good in letting the cruel images his consciousness conjured haunt him throughout the day.

The mind is a formidable enemy, do not yield to it. Deigh whispered into his mind.

Did I wake you with?…you know, Liam asked

Your panic did, though I suppose nothing can be done about such involuntary behavior.

Sorry nonetheless, he tried.

Deigh did not reply, but he could feel the comfort through the bond. The dragon was not one for comfort, but he was a strong anchor whenever Liam seemed to wander. He sent a wave of gratefulness back to the dragon, impulsed by the interaction enough to leave the bed and prepare for the day. By the luminosity of the room, it was nearly time to leave for the archives. Liam dressed quickly, making sure to slide his latest finished sculpture in his breast pocket. Buttoning the shirt of his uniform, he slipped outside of the room, already hearing Violet’s door open.

“Good morning” he greeted, swallowing at the flash of the nightmare.

He focused on Violet’s face, finding her thankfully pale eyes full of life. There were dark shadows under them and he grimaced at the thought she might have had a terrible night dealing with Tairn’s emotions once again. He felt guilty, maybe he should have insisted in helping her.

“Good morning” she whispered, a shy smile on her lips.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

She nodded, but her eyes did not meet his.

“Violet” he began “I’m sorry, I should have helped you-”

“No!” she blurted louder than advised considering there were cadets sleeping around them.

Liam startled at her tone, eyes blinking.

“Sorry” she whispered again “just don’t worry, ok? There was nothing you could have done anyways, and you already do too much”

“Did you get angry again?”

She sighed, heading to the quadrant’s library to retrieve the cart. Liam followed her, but his eyes never left her face. Violet looked at him through her peripheral vision, pale cheeks flushing a deep red - to his utter confusion.

“Not really, Liam, but I ‘m also not comfortable talking about it” she muttered “just know that I got it under control really quick, don’t worry”

He nodded, not very happy about being left unaware of something, but it was probably the irony of life considering he kept worse secrets from her.

“You seem…unwell” she told him after they retrieved the cart, beginning their journey to the archives.

Her eyes focused on him completely and he had to look ahead to avoid comparing her face to the one of his nightmare. She was alive and well.

“Way to make a man feel desired” he teased.

He took the cart from her hands, allowing his hands to be occupied to hide their trembling. He was too on edge to carve anything - and the figurine was complete anyways.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked.

He nodded, no point in lying. That was a truth he could tell her without Xaden’s nonsense. He was not comfortable talking about the contents of his nightmare though, nor would Violet be happy knowing she was indirectly the cause of his troubled sleep.

“Standard nightmares” he simply replied “I got used to it, but sometimes I wished I had a break”

Violet’s eyes continued their assessment of him, at least she was staring at Liam humanly that time.

“I know some concoctions that may help” she replied “the ones that just knock you the fuck out”

He chuckled slightly at her suggestions. He did not like sleep aid drugs, but maybe he could use one to recover for a night or two.

“I’ll take the offer” he said “though I do have some resistance to sleeping draughts”

She snorted.

“Believe me, I know drug resistance better than anyone. I’ll get you something that puts me to sleep whenever my body flares too much”

He laughed out loud.

“I’ll probably sleep for days then”

She chuckled and he felt some of the tension dissipate from his shoulders, the remnants of the nightmare were a dim light in his head.

Previous chapter

Next chapter

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 10

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/149322682

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Give yourself to her...she's right here...so close...so very very close...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Nearly two days after he found Ellara in the N109 Zone, Xavier stands before their shared apartment building holding his sleeping partner in his arms. Though its only been a few days, it seems like he hasn't seen this building in ages. It's a far cry from anything luxurious, but this aging building has been 'home' for several years now.

He takes a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply of the crisp winter air. The falling snow should be a relaxing sight; it typically is. But, not tonight. On this night, he can't let his guard down, can't relax yet. They left N109 and its perils behind. But, just because they've made it to Linkon doesn't mean they're safe. Eyes could still be watching. In fact, an unwelcome intruder already is.

Up above, a large crow circles and settles on a light pole. Its eerie red eyes observe his every move.

Choosing to ignore this particular development, Xavier hugs his beloved's petite body close, giving himself a moment -- just that -- to feel her warmth against his cheek. He takes it in, using it to fuel his resolve. Within his core, his Evol pulses and writhes. It eats at the edge of his awareness --whispering, beckoning -- and it takes all of Xavier's self-control to keep it in check.

He should take her to his apartment, not hers. It's only logical. She'll be safer there, on his couch, tucked against him while she sleeps. Yes, far from prying eyes. In his arms where she belongs.

With great effort, Xavier shakes off the voiceless whispers and focuses on the task before him. Right now, the priority is to get Ellara home safely. Nothing else matters. Not the mark on her neck, or the crow leering down from above, or the long-imprisoned monster now lurking in his thoughts and making its demands. Jeremiah is already working on a new Limiter. Just need to wait it out until he can get it working.

If only the last week hadn't been so harrowing. He needs sleep. And food. Medical help probably for his injuries. His body is on the verge of collapse, and losing that Limiter isn't helping anything. Breaking the collar was not something he'd intended to do. But, the battle hadn't left him much choice. Or rather, Sylus hadn't left him any recourse.

What was he supposed to do? Walk away and let that monster keep his Ellara in his claws?

Again, he shakes his head.

Escaping the N109 Zone had proven to be much harder than Xavier had anticipated, even with help from his contacts. Based on the intel he had on Noxis, only a handful of sectors and areas were free of their surveillance. He couldn't risk them catching wind of Ellara's whereabouts, so they'd had to take the long way out. Truth be told, he hadn't even wanted to take her back here.

His apartment may not be safe, either. They were watching...always watching...

No.

She needs to heal. She needs to return to some normalcy in order to recover both in mind and in body.

And, he needs time as well.

So many things will only get much harder from here. Keeping her safe will require all of his strength and fortitude. Noxis will seek every opportunity to capture Ellara's Aether Core. No doubt they want to use it to make LUMINIS even more powerful. If anything was made clear with the disaster at the Mythe, it's that Noxis isn't some two-bit upstart looking to corner the market on a simple drug. Someone is planning to do something grave with LUMINIS. This operation isn't new. It's been in play for some time, and those leading it know exactly what they're doing.

Clenching his jaw so hard his teeth hurt, Xavier looks up towards the third floor of the building. Taking the elevator seems too daunting at the moment, so he Jumps. Taking care not to jostle the sleeping woman in his arms, he teleports a few feet above her balcony then floats down until his feet softly touch the tile. The sliding door is unlocked, and he manipulates his Evol to open the door and allow him entry.

Though it's been over a week since she's been home, her apartment still smells like her. Strawberries and cherry blossoms. Sweet, addictive. Her favorite lotion from a hole in the wall boutique down in the Azure District. A pile of detective and fantasy novels sits atop her living room table, their covers full of scuffs and creases. On the couch, her Betsy doll smiles at him from beneath Ellara's favored blanket.

Everything looks as though she hasn't left. Neat. Organized. Tidy.

With one small difference.

Someone's definitely been here.

Taking great care not to wake her, Xavier lays Ellara on the couch. He adjusts her injured arm so that the sling he forced her to wear doesn't twist. She doesn't stir, sleeping like the dead. Her palor hasn't improved since he first saw her, either. He hasn't been able to confirm it, but something is definitely wrong with her Evol. Now that the collar no longer binds him, he can feel it clear as day.

A winter breeze comes through the open balcony door, and Ellara shivers in her sleep. He should lay down beside her and wrap her in his warmth. Keep her safe from the cold. But, someone's been here, and there's no telling what they took or left behind. Now was not the time to lay down arms. He needed to investigate the place first.

His gaze gentle yet alert, Xavier covers Ellara with her favorite blanket and stands up. In his hand, he summons the hilt of a golden blade, ready to engage in combat if the need arises. He moves silently to her kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. A sigh of relief; a release of tension in his shoulders. No one else is here, and Xavier takes a breath to keep his Evol and emotions steady.

He goes back to her bedroom. Her theme of gray, white, and black continues here from the living room. A cute desk stands against the wall, the cork board in front of it covered in small baubles, photo stickers, and plushies. Xavier smiles when he sees that most of the photos are of their times spent visiting the arcades in Linkon.

The bed is made, and all clothes and items are put away neatly. Not a thing looks to be out of place except for a single duffle bag sitting on Ellara's bed. It's new. Not hers. Wary, he walks up to its perch on the edge of the mattress and unzips it. Inside is a bunch of clothes packed into stacks based on use: shirts, pants, socks. Too neatly packed for his little workaholic. She always works too late on her reports and packs her things at the last minute, forgetting half of what she needs at home.

Something different about the closet, too. He shuffles to it but hesitates at the door. His instinct warns him not to open it. But, he needs to investigate. What if this is what's got him on edge? Of course. Now is not the time to hold back. He needs to ensure that this apartment is safe. Steeling himself, he grits his teeth and slides open the door.

Ellara is a frugal woman. She wears the same three sets of uniforms for work and only has a few everyday clothes that all fit neatly into bins on the closet shelves. Her hangars are usually empty. But now, something bulky hangs wrapped in a white designer clothes bag like a bright centerpiece. On the zipper hangs a slim stretch of paper with a single word on it scribbled in impeccable penmanship:

"Raincheck."

Xavier reaches for it.

Open it. Don't be a coward.

Against his better judgment, he unzips the bag all the way to the bottom. From within spills an extravagant evening dress with a stitching of the night sky stretching over a river. It's made of the finest silk and stitched with golden thread. Precious gems adorn the breathtaking scenery. A long flowing skirt ripples down to the floor. The quality is second to none. Without a doubt, it's a work of art. One of a kind.

Ellara will be a vision in this. Radiant, like a Goddess of the moon.

Shame it is not intended for you.

Anger simmers like an acid pill in his gut.

Because this item is clearly not something Ellara would ever buy for herself.

And who else could it be from but him, the same man that had dared to take her deep into the darkness, to touch her with his filthy hands, and to mark her like he owned her?

How dare he?

For centuries, Xavier had waited. Prayed and hoped. Then waited again. And at last -- at long last! -- he'd found her in a place where her life was her own. In a time when she could live as she desired and could choose him. He'd vowed not to interfere with her free will -- vowed to let her decide of her own volition whether she wanted their paths to unite. More than anything, he wanted her health and happiness, even if that wasn't by his side.

But, never had he really imagined that she might choose someone else instead.

Dizzy with fury, he stumbles back into the living room to stand before the couch. He watches Ellara sleep, his hands trembling and his heart in his throat. His nails dig into his palm as his hand clenches into a fist. He fights against the voice, so loud now. So insistent.

...she's so warm...and alive...alive at last...and mine... MINE ...

Why should he fight it? The voice was possessive, yes. Extreme, perhaps. But, it had a point. Nothing was yet decided. Sylus had played his cards, and now it was Xavier's turn. He'd waited on the sidelines long enough. He wasn't going to surrender her heart without a fight.

But, the voice was wrong, too.

Her free will mattered above all else. His vow was eternal, and he would never break it no matter how his soul cracked and shattered. He loved this woman more than his own unnatural immortal life, bought at the expense of her very heart. And it was that heart that he would protect with all he had.

From any who would harm it.

Even the monster inside of him.

As though sensing his determination, Sylus's crow flutters in through the open door and settles on a nearby bookshelf. It's crimson eyes narrow as it stares Xavier down.

Time to take care of this particular nuisance. He raises his hand, prepared to strike the unnatural thing down with his Evol, when his Hunter's watch rings with a message from an unknown number. He accepts it, grimacing when he reads the contents.

Be content with your role...or risk losing the gift you've been granted.

He types back without hesitation: "The loss will only be yours."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Twenty four days, nineteen hours...

That's how much time passes from the moment when my life shattered on the rocks of chaos. Or maybe it wasn't a moment. Maybe it was a specific day? I can't be sure. So much happened in such a short amount of time that I can still hardly wrap my head around it all. In just a few weeks, I'd gone from living a calm and ordinary life as a Deepspace Hunter to facing one dramatic turn after another.

I'm losing my identity - my very purpose.

Who am I, if not a Hunter fighting Wanderers?

Who am I, if not Xavier's trusted partner?

Who am I, if not a lonely young woman who loves reading about detectives and fantastical new realms to a candlelit microwave dinner?

I try to think back on how it all started, wondering if maybe there was something I could have done differently to prevent this downward spiral.

Upon returning to Linkon, Xavier and I checked ourselves into Akso Hospital to treat our injuries. Doctor Zayne happened to be on shift. After hearing about my near-death experience, he was more than glad to help in screening me for any major after-effects. While succumbing to his battery of tests and inquiries, we reached out to Captain Jenna to schedule a debriefing.

As expected, the Captain was relieved to hear that I was alive and seemed to believe our story about me being injured and staying with a friend to lay low for a while. Naturally, the conversation turned to the truth about what happened in the club the night of the explosions. Reluctantly, we gave her everything we had on Noxis. There was no one better than Xavier and I to continue the investigation, and she was poised to place us at the head of it once our injuries were healed.

That's where everything started falling apart.

Doctor Zayne returned, and when he dismissed everyone from the room to speak to me, I knew something was seriously wrong. He didn't disappoint. Showing me the result of one test after another, he revealed a disturbing fact.

My Evol was gone.

Completely.

Something was blocking the Evol channels in my body, and if it wasn't resolved soon, my heart would be affected. The bouts of exhaustion I'd been facing weren't a result of the darkness in the N109 Zone. My Aether Core was shutting down, and there was no guarantee that one of these times, it wouldn't take my entire heart with it. At least, that was the theory. Not enough was really known about altered bodies like mine. Maybe Zayne was taking it too seriously; or maybe I wasn't taking it seriously enough.

Whatever the case, I asked him to keep it confidential. I didn't want anyone to know, especially Xavier. A solution was out there. I just needed to find it. Zayne said it could be temporary. If so, I just needed to figure out what would jump start my body back into its normal function. I wanted to remain positive. The alternative simply wasn't acceptable. I had too much to live for; too much still to do.

Though Zayne agreed to keep my sudden health problem a secret, I couldn't necessarily hide that something was amiss. He gave the Association a cursory diagnosis, claiming that I had a temporary disability due to my injuries. That's what we used for official record. However, the disappearance of my Evol rendered me basically useless in my former role as an S-Class Hunter. I retained my physical combat skills, but I couldn't Resonate with any of my weapons. I was more of a burden in combat than an ally, and with how fast paced and dynamic S-Class missions were, nobody could take the risk.

The first week went by in a flash of shattered hopes. I trained relentlessly, pinning everything on how weak my body was after my ordeal at the Mythe. I trained until I was ready to fall over. Yet, no matter how much I pushed my body, my Evol remained dormant.

On the second week, I was placed on extended medical leave. Suspension in all but name. Jenna wanted to reassign Xavier to a different Hunter as a partner, but he pulled some strings to avoid that. The thought was appreciated, but it did no good. Though my partnership with Xavier wasn't nullified, I was not allowed to accompany him on any missions.

After my diagnosis, he'd thrown himself into the Noxis investigations. He was determined to find out as much information as possible about the substance. We were both on the same wavelength. If my condition was caused by the LUMINIS spilling on me at the Mythe, we needed an antidote. This goal ultimately separated us for days on end, leaving me feeling useless and alone.

Tara was still in the hospital recovering after her kidnapping. She'd been transferred from the hospital in the Arctic to Akso just a few days before our return to Linkon. Unfortunately for us, she had no memory of who had attacked her. I visited her when I could, but she had her own battles to fight with physical therapy and getting back into her work at the lab.

To help ease my loneliness and help me feel more connected to what was happening, Xavier brought me to his friend Jeremiah. He was a tech genius and helped me obtain and configure a new phone and Hunter's watch. Since I was on suspension, my access to the UNICORNS database was revoked. Somehow, he helped me get past that. At the very least, I could do research now.

I started to lose hope in the third week. By the fourth, I couldn't sleep and hardly had any appetite. Worse yet, Sylus hadn't contacted me even once since we were separated on the battlefield. At first, I was worried something had happened. But then, doubts plagued me. More than once, I found myself brooding over what the twins had told me about being a prisoner or something Sylus was merely using for entertainment. A disturbing thought began to haunt me: had Sylus known about the disappearance of my Evol? Is that why he'd sent me away? Was I no longer useful to him without it?

I couldn't believe that he hadn't tried to reach me even once. The only line I had to him was Mephisto, who followed me everywhere I went. The crow's presence was oddly reassuring. At the very least, it helped remind me that I hadn't dreamed up everything that had happened in N109. Mephisto was Sylus's companion. He wouldn't have sent him to follow me if he didn't care about me. Right?

As I sit on my couch trying to understand where to turn or what to do next, my phone suddenly rings with a tone I've never heard before. I look down at the flashing notification.

Message from "Unknown". Do you accept?

I click the confirmation.

Are you tired of being on the sidelines? If you are, meet me at the Destiny Café tonight at 9PM. Come alone.

I hesitate. My hands start to tremble with excitement and fear. This doesn't sound like something Sylus would say, but who else would write a message like this?

I type back: "Who is this?"

To my surprise, my phone rings again.

What you choose to call me doesn't matter. I already told you, didn't I?

Biting my lip, I type a response: "Malakai?"

I have what you want most and a proposition to go with it. Will you wait until your heart stops beating at some random moment? Or will you come to me and make a trade? It's up to you.

I suck in a breath.

What I want most?

He can't be talking about an antidote, can he?

I jump to my feet and run to my closet. Sliding open the door, I notice a strange empty hanger I hadn't seen there before. Did Xavier bring it from his place? Shaking my head, I focus on getting dressed. I put on my Hunter uniform and holster two regular hand guns to my hips. I pull on a pair of combat boots and tie my hair into a braid. Glancing at my watch, I check the time:

2:15 PM

It's still early, but I want to go and scope out the scene before the meeting time. The Destiny Café is a very public place with many visitors and patrons. The 24-Hour venue is a popular hot spot for everyone from couples to gaming nerds who want to get away from the hustle and bustle of the every day. It has a public open bar, an internet café, and private rooms that can be rented for a fee per hour. No doubt Malakai will have rented one of these. If so, I can check the records with the staff. Though I'm on suspension, my Hunter's watch and uniform should make me look legit enough to gain some information without too much resistance. 

Would Malakai really try something under such public scrutiny? 

This could be a trap. It probably is. Absolutely. Definitely. But, I don't have the luxury to risk refusing. If Malakai has an antidote, then I have to try to get it. I don't know what connection he has to Noxis or why he was at the Mythe that fateful night, but this is a lead I absolutely can't ignore. His threat about my heart already has me sweating bullets. I've been trying to ignore Zayne's warnings, hoping that it was just his paranoia. But now, a second person has mentioned the possibility of my heart stopping. If that's true, then I'm living on borrowed time. Either I go and risk falling into a trap, or I stay here and wait for death to take me. When put that way, the choice seems clear. 

Is there anything I can do to try to protect myself, though? Jumping into the fire is something my old self would have done without thinking. But, I'm wiser now. At least, I want to believe so. I consider texting Xavier, but I hesitate. He's on a mission right now, and I don't want to distract him. But, I'd promised Sylus that I wouldn't be reckless, and I never want to see so much pain in Xavier's eyes again.

Running my hand through my hair and letting out a frustrated burst of air, I type him a quick text to let him know what's going on. Our relationship has been strange since our return to Linkon. He's been more distant than usual, though I can't really blame him after that awkward night at the bunker in the No Hunt Zone. I have no idea what he thinks of me anymore, and I'm too scared to assume. For the moment, I've chosen to stick my head in the sand until all of this blows over with my Evol.

I glance at Mephisto dozing on top of my TV and walk up to him. He lazily cracks open an eye. If I had to give an animal an emotion, I would have chosen "disgruntled" in this case. For a mechanical thing, he certainly has personality. Frowning, I clear my throat. I've haven't spoken to him in a while. Doing so always felt ridiculous. But, now...

"Sylus," I whisper, instantly feeling like an idiot. Despite that, I keep going.

"Sylus, I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know where you are or why you haven't reached out to me at all. Actually," my ears feel hot, "this just feels really stupid overall. But if there's a chance that you can hear me, then..." I take a breath. "I'm going to meet someone named Malakai. Tonight. Don't know if that name rings a bell. I met him at the Mythe the night I was injured. He was wearing a mask and seemed to be one of the people interested in buying LUMINIS. I have no idea if this is a trap, but he made me an offer I can't refuse."

My pride churns and boils inside me, but I take another breath and continue. "The truth is that I'm helpless right now. I don't have my Evol, and even if I did..." I hesitate. Why is it always so hard for me to ask anyone for help? Is it because I already feel weak and useless? Isn't asking for help just affirming that?

Another breath.

"This isn't courage. It's desperation, and if you can hear me I surely would appreciate some backup."

Mephisto is looking at me with both eyes now, the red within reminding me so much of his master. For a moment, I let myself feel how much I miss Sylus. How much I need him. The emotion is so strong that I have to immediately bury it deep within the back of my mind. Where I'm going, I can't afford distractions. I have to assume the worst case scenario: nobody will come to help me tonight. It'll be up to me and me alone to get myself out of this mess.

I turn towards the door and check my guns and clips one last time.

"Are you coming?" I ask Mephisto. He caws in his typical annoying way and makes a fuss as he flies over and reluctantly sits on my shoulder. "Alright. Let's do this."

[foxdev1l]

hi last time i asked for thoughts it went really extremely well and i've been six-obsessed since. i didn't even like a/b/o before but i'm crazy now. anyway you mentioned you have a/b/o notes on pretty much all characters so i'm politely shaking your brain more please 🤲

thanks for the ask <3 very sorry it took me so long to reply - i spent the last two months trying to finish a big fic on ao3, and that took up most of my time and energy. but i've finally managed to scrape together the a/b/o headcanon notes for most of the geese - some longer and more detailed than others - and i hope you enjoy it as much as the six one. feel free to add your own thoughts and opinions :]

thank you to @hollandstrophyhusband for brainstorming with me, and @uncleclam for being a dan expert and helping me come up with the second half of his headcanon!

CW: nsfw, identity issues, self-destructive behavior

A/B/O HEADCANON FOR THE GEESE

Richard – Alpha

He presents very early on, as an Alpha to his own smugness and the annoyance of anyone else. He's flourishing, unstoppable, not afraid to lean into any stereotypes. He wears his status proudly, clogs up the air with the obnoxious stench of Alpha pheromones wherever he goes. 

He's a fucking bastard, pushy towards Omegas without caring whether or not they already have a partner. And he loves to rile up other Alphas, cocky and overconfident as he is. 

It's only when he ends up pressed against a cold, stained wall – fledged, sharp teeth scraping along the tendons of his neck and a knee dug into his growing erection – that the consequences of his actions finally and truly sink in.

Julian – Beta

He's not an Alpha like his brother, strong and resilient and born to become something great. But neither is he an Omega, can't be married off to some strong, influential Alpha. 

He is completely and utterly useless. His mother despises it.

Jacob – Omega

There is an undisclosed box of suppressants crammed between a bottle of mouthwash and a pack of razor blades in the cupboard under his bathroom sink. It sees the artificial light of the bathroom twice a day before it gets pushed back into its hiding place – all the way against the back of the cupboard to make sure not even one of his nameless hookups can find it.

He can't remember the last time he went into heat, and it's not right, it's not healthy, but he can't make himself stop.

His body is beginning to fold under the abuse. It's still holding together, is not on the verge of collapsing, but it's showing in smaller, more painful ways. The inability to regulate body temperature, constant headaches, shaky hands, and recurring bouts of nausea.

What little pheromones still manage to leak through despite the strong suppressants get dampened by scent blockers. He uses sticking plasters to tape them over his glands. They make his skin red and irritated but he can deal with it – he’s fine.

Others think he's a Beta, which is almost just as embarrassing, but at least no Alpha looks down on him, mostly just ignores him – it's a small mercy.

What he's lacking, he tries to make up for in other ways. He seeks out bar after bar, fuck after fuck, desperately trying to compensate for who he truly is.

But there's an itch deep inside him, and no matter how many times he gets his dick wet and presses someone else into sheets underneath him, it's not enough to scratch it, to satiate the hunger within.

There is a part of him, longing and yearning and disgusting, and no matter how hard he desperately tries to get rid of it, it stays.

Luke – Omega

Luke is slutty, has done a lot of stupid, risky things over the years, and he's always half-expected this all to end with a child. But he always assumed he'd be the one knocked up.

A male Omega can impregnate another Omega, though it's rare and risky. That’s why Luke is so shocked when he comes back to find he has a kid.

His instincts are clawing at his insides with the vigor of a wounded animal. Being away from his child hurts, seeing it getting raised by a complete stranger – an Alpha – is even worse.

Dan – Beta

Dan is a beta. There is nothing particularly special about him, though that suits him just fine. He likes being ordinary, being able to slip through the cracks unnoticed, away from prying eyes and unnecessary attention.

He does, however, have a few things to say about their current political system, if one were genuinely interested and patient enough to listen to him – about the oppression of Omegas, the glorification of Alphas, and, above all else, the exploitation of Betas.

But all in all, he's just trying to get through life, keep his head down as much as possible, and being a Beta is pretty convenient for that.

It doesn't keep him from experimenting, of course. There are drugs, altered pheromones that, instead of giving you the kick of a high, can simulate a heat or a rut upon injection. 

Alpha pheromones are much more pricey so Dan mostly keeps to the Omega substances. It's addicting, intoxicating, and he can't help but seek it out, that pleasurable thrill, the feverish lust, if only momentarily.

It's a risky game he's playing, he knows, for the gratification of fleeting ecstasy. He's heard the stories, of people overdoing it and ending up in a constant state of heat, getting trapped in a never-ending spiral of overwhelming pleasure.

But taking drugs is always risky. He's never expected anything less.

Besides, compared to all the other stuff he's got lying around in his flat, being non-stop horny is probably the least of his worries.

Dean – Beta

Dean is a beta. His anger is neither that of a hot-headed Alpha nor is his gentleness rooted in the caring nature of an Omega. He just is. He's never cared much for his secondary gender, has never let it bother him. He's got other things he rather focus his energy on.

Driver – ???

Driver is a fucking mystery. No one knows his secondary gender, but most people aren't brave enough to flat-out ask. 

He's got that unbothered and cool persona of a Beta and the assertive, intimidating facade of an Alpha. But he can also be strangely quiet and shy, almost akin to an Omega.. Sometimes people wonder if he ever even presented in the first place.

Steven – Alpha

Steven is an alpha stuck in a constant state of rut.

Lars – Alpha

He presents late as an Alpha and spends his first rut gently rutting against a pillow, cheeks tear-stained, too overwhelmed to do much else. It's hardly pleasurable, mostly painful, and his father decides to put him on suppressants pretty quickly afterward. He just can't be bothered.

It doesn't really help though. The suppressants keep Lars’ ruts subdued but never truly kill them. He can still feel it, a straining pressure just below the surface; an itch he can never quite satisfy no matter what.

It's frustrating, irritating, keeps him on edge, and makes him fuzzy and restless, but he's too scared to quit the suppressants, the mere thought of going through another rut as maddening and consuming as his first almost unbearable. Albeit, it can't go on like this forever. The suppressants take a toll on his body, and, as stubborn as he is and as frightening as he feels, he knows he's going to have to lay off eventually.

 His next rut is going to be worse than his first, aggressive and forceful. What he needs is someone he can trust. Someone patient, understanding. Soft but firm. An anchor he can hold onto when he finally eases off the suppressants, to soften the rough edges of his rut as it overtakes him, and to hold and soothe him when all is done.

K – Omega

All replicants are designed to be Alpha's, although their DNA has been altered to make them more suitable. The strength and resilience persist, but the rough edges – the ruts and aggression and possessiveness – have been chafed away to make space for a modified, more obedient type of Alpha.

Officer K is made to be an Alpha, just like all the other models, and he does not waste much thought on it, has more important things to focus on. 

That is, until one day and without any warning, he goes into heat.

His madame has just sent him away to hunt down another old replicant gone rogue halfway across the entire city when it happens. It starts slow, a low simmering heat below his skin, a fuzzy vision, and a quickening of his pulse. 

Then it hits him all at once.

It must have been a malfunction, during his creation, while he was being processed. K isn't sure.

He barely manages to drag himself to the nearest hotel before the worst of his heat hits. The next few days are a haze, spent terrified and alone. The skin on his arms and chest is irritated and painful by the end of it, scratched raw by his nails in a desperate attempt to gain back control. 

When he gets back to the police department, he offers his madame the replicant’s bagged eye like a gift and hopes she won't ask why it took longer than usual.

He does not tell her what happened, has instead chosen to chase down illegal heat suppressants on his way back to keep most of his…issue contained. Buying the suppressants off some sketchy dealer has left a bitter taste of guilt behind but the fear of what may happen if someone realizes he's malfunctioned – is nothing but a failed product – is enough to keep him tongue-tied.

They will retire him, K has never been more sure about anything in his entire life. And so he continues to take heavy heat suppressants, drowns out the overwhelming, traitorous smell of an Omega with scent blockers.

It's painful, stressful to always be on guard, in a constant state of fear that someone will find out his secret. But K has made his decision. 

It's fine. After all, it only helps solidify the growing belief that something is truly and fundamentally wrong with him.

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 9: Alt Prompt - Lightning Strike ♡

@febuwhump

Special treat for today! This is official Ventis lore from his backstory document :) Everyone clap.

Some context: This takes place before Ventis was banished from his kingdom. He is 17 years old and still going by his birth name, which is Jasper. This is told from the perspective of Peer (16 y/o, childhood best friend, royal healer's assistant), who is watching Jasper's father try to train him in draconic lightning sorcery.

Content: Child abuse (child is 17), choking, electrocution, torture?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Use thunder. Push me away.”

"I can’t!”

Peer sucked in a sharp breath. Lord Riinturuth had Jasper by his throat, not quite lifting him off the ground but forcing him to stand on his toes.

“You can’t because you refuse to try.”

“I’m trying, Father! I promise I’m trying.”

“Then fight me!”

“I can’t!”

Lord Riinturuth shoved Jasper with a frustrated growl. He ran a few stumbling steps to regain his balance, then turned to face his father again just as the man directed an arc of blue lightning towards him.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough to avoid the hit. So far they’ve been nothing but small zaps of electricity, but the bolt that struck Jasper’s ribs was pure, concentrated energy.

Lord Riinturith wasn’t holding back.

And Peer watched, petrified, as Jasper crumpled to the ground. A scream echoed through the ruins.

Peer was at his side in an instant, the words to a healing spell already forming on his lips.

“Don’t.”

He stopped short, his hands hovering over Jasper’s chest.

“What?”

Lord Riinturuth’s face was void of expression, impassive even as his son lay trembling at his feet.

“There’s no better teacher than pain. Let him learn.”

Peer’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t happening.

Jasper curled into himself, clutching his side with shaking hands and turning his face into the dirt in a failed attempt to hide his tears. Peer could see past his slender fingers that the lightning had seared straight through his clothes and left a horrible burn on his skin.

“Please, my lord. If I don’t heal it now it will scar.”

Lord Riinturuth ignored him in favor of kneeling next to Jasper.

“This is just a taste of what happens when you don’t fight back,” he said matter-of-factly. “When you face a real enemy they will not hesitate to hurt you worse than this, and you will not have the luxury of someone standing by waiting to heal you with magic. Your apathy is going to be your undoing.”

Peer clenched his fists, resisting the urge to start a fight he knew he wouldn’t win. Apathy? Lord Riinturuth was the one to force Jasper to take the nightspill in the first place, and yet he seemed to think he was justified in punishing him for the symptoms. Did he think Jasper could overcome the side effects by sheer force of will alone? How could he be so delusional?

“Now get up.” Lord Riinturuth hauled Jasper to his feet, deaf to the agonized sound that tore from his throat at the motion. “Try again.”

“I can’t,” Jasper mumbled. He swayed where he stood, face pale and tearstained.

Peer could tell with only a glance that Jasper was on the verge of collapse. Still, there was nothing he could do but back away to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

“Discomfort is unavoidable in any fight. You have to learn to push past it.”

Peer scoffed internally. Based on the severity of that burn, ‘discomfort’ was a vast understatement.

“Now-” Lord Riinturuth held out his hands, readying a spell. “Defend yourself.”

Peer refused to let this continue. He didn’t care if Lord Riinturuth disintegrated him.

“My lord!”

Lord Riinturuth’s head whipped towards Peer.

His voice shook but he pushed on. “He can’t take another hit. He’ll die.”

Peer wasn’t trying to persuade him. He was simply stating a fact, and Lord Riinturuth seemed to recognize that.

The man looked at Jasper once more. He didn’t have to say anything. His message came across clear enough.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper whispered.

Lord Riinturuth left without another word.

Peer ran to Jasper’s side just in time to catch him as his legs gave out. He lowered him to the ground safely.

“You’re okay,” he rushed out. “Let me see.”

Jasper shook his head stubbornly and held tight to his side, more tears streaking down his face. Peer found his own vision starting to blur as well, but he pushed aside the urge to cry. He could be upset later, when he didn’t have a job to do.

“Come on. I’m trying to help.” Peer took Jasper’s wrists and he was allowed to slowly draw his hands away from the wound.

His eyes watered dangerously at the sight of it: an angry red spider’s web of blistering marks that wrapped around his ribs and branched towards his stomach. It was hot to the touch as he pressed his hands to it and started whispering a prayer to Berronar. When he lifted his hands there was nothing but a faint scar left.

“Alright, breezy. Let’s get you home.”

“I wanna drink.”

“…Fine. One drink.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people who i want to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump