#ive been ridiculously busy T~T

[creacherkeeper]

Werewolves?? Werewolf family?? Where wolves??? Where werewolf family??

i posted about this a few years ago because i was running a werewolf motw short shot and i was talking to my roommate at the time about how its really kind of dumb my moms side of the family arent werewolves because if this was fiction it would be so stupidly obvious we all were

like. we're all very very strong. i am very small but my friend who's 6' (so 9 inches on me) frequently cannot beat me at wrestling and called me "freakishly strong for someone my size" and that whole side of the family including the women can put on muscle really easily

we all have very big, bulky, strong jaws but weird teeth. my cousin bit the dentist's bite force measuring tool in half and my braces took SO long because my teeth were so big they had to remove 8 of them because they didnt fit in my mouth but the braces were SO painful because my teeth and jaw just refused to budge and my braces fully snapped in half multiple times because my jaw was stronger than the metal

our senses of smell are fully ridiculous. we're often able to tell what family members have been in the house hours after they've left even if they weren't wearing perfume or cologne (my cousins were able to tell my mom had stopped by for a few minutes about 6 hours after she left)

almost all of us struggle with insomnia. i personally really thrived on graveyard shift and had no trouble staying up until sunrise and then sleeping during the day

my cousins are all pretty big and bulky. they can house food like nobodys business but are all on a scale from lean to muscular despite mostly eating junk food and heavy meat. one of my cousins was so big and mature looking and had so much facial hair at such a young age that my aunt started carrying around his birth certificate to get him childrens prices at restaurants. he can eat a large pan pizza in about 4 minutes flat. his nickname was werewolf child

ive also, since being on T, grown a frankly ridiculous amount of hair. ive been on for 14 months and im pretty much covered. one of my former roommates described me as a brillo pad ToT like even other jewish trans men have been like literally how and why do you have this much hair so fast. i started getting a mustache at the beginning of week 5 of T ,,,,

i grew up with biting as a very common form of affection. i didnt realize that was weird until leaving the family for college. if youre in a good mood and someone is near you you just grab them and bite their hands or arms or shoulder. if you bit really hard and left marks it meant you were really happy

my family is very Enmeshed and we were very much taught that family is the most important thing no matter what and you always remain loyal to and protect the family no matter what. this meant that fights between family members had to be immediately forgiven no matter their severity. (violence cw) my aunt was immediately accepted back into the family after trying to break into my grandmother's house and physically attacking several family members in the middle of the night. i wasnt there to witness it because they left me a few doors down with a baseball bat and our biggest dog but she tried to bash my moms head it and also left very large claw marks all the way down her arm that scarred very badly. when i asked what we were going to do about her the next day my mom said "we take her back because she's family. she was just a little out of her head"

also all the older members of the family are like. Haunted and while they've shared some pretty bad parts of their lives and childhoods theres large chunks they just all refuse to talk about and hush each other if any of the "kids" walk in while they're talking. for as completely god awful as my family is my grandfather was excommunicated from them and the entire family went no contact and every single one of them refuses to tell us why

this is also just a very funny, minor thing that happened recently but within the last couple weeks i had a string of nightmares that ramped up until a final one in which i was a werewolf and then i suddenly had three nights of very heavy, peaceful sleep, and then immediately went back to having nightmares and bad sleep again. and i looked it up after and the three nights of heavy peaceful sleep where i didnt remember any dreams were the hunters blood full moon lmaoo

so yeah. thats why my family is definitely werewolves. like if it were fiction it would just make sense. also this is why when i write creative nonfiction people always say they "dont understand my metaphors" when i'm just writing literal things about my life and family

[sanzuslover]

daddy tonight

shigaraki tomura x all mights daughter reader

warnings: yandere behavior, stalking, death threats, misogyny?, kidnapping, non-con, domestic abuse, daddy kink, ect.

<3

you were all might’s daughter, everyone fancied you, you shined bright like the stars. shigaraki hated you so much, you were 2 years younger than him, 18, yet you were still a popular and successful hero.

you were ridiculously hot, but that wasn’t all…you were literally his most hated hero daughter, shigaraki had been stalking you ever since you were 14, he was young too so he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

it was a miracle how he didn’t decay you, he could if he wanted to, maybe when you were younger but definitely not now, now you were a hero a real hero and not one in training.

he had smelled your panties and stolen your belongings in various occasions but you never seemed to notice— of course someone like you wouldn’t.

shigaraki wrote everything down about you, he studied and observed you a lot, but lately he can’t since you turned 18 and there’s a lot of other men dying to marry you, who wouldn’t wanna marry all might’s daughter?

ever since you turned 18, you’ve been acting like those dumb whores he hated, shigaraki is a man who is always busy so he still is a virgin, it made him mad how there’s a small possibility that you aren’t one.

it would be unfair he thought to himself, he waited all these years for you yet all you did was go on live tv and show the whole world your very tight hero suit and that cute innocent little face.

you always blushed when being interviewed, he thought it was cute but only him should see you like that, you always looked so needy, like a whore.

he could tell you were a daddy’s girl, always whining and crying when things didn’t go the way you wanted them to— he thought you and him both had that in common.

•

its 6:38 pm as shigaraki plays with his cock, he keeps on stroking his manhood till he cums all over your face, well the poster in his room that has your face on it.

“i actually am dating someone!” you say

shigaraki almost broke his scarred neck and he looked over to the tv screen and saw you and a man…what? what could you be doing with him? shigarki couldn’t understand.

you smile and blush at the camera and the man puts his hands around your waist, he brings his handsome face close to yours and kisses you, you of course kiss him back, the lady interviewing you cheer you both on.

shigaraki hands fly to his neck and he starts scratching and crying at what he’s seeing right now, how dare you? how dare you (name)? he still can’t understand why.

“…this brat…i need to go now!” shigaraki yells.

he grabs his coat and leaves the new lov hideout, he doesn’t know why but he feels he has been a little too nice to you, you’re taking him for granted.

shigaraki arrives and waits for you, its early and he knows for a fact that you’ll be here late so he just waits in your house, he decayed your front door.

•

you were a bit drunk and your boyfriend senju had left you, you get in your car and drive back to your house, your dress was so tight it made you mad so you took it off.

you prayed and begged nobody saw you like this, what would people say if they say all might’s daughter with only a bra and panties, they were sexy too.

it was late at night so you could barely see and so it made you calm down a bit since you were almost naked, you went in your bag searching for your keys but almost died as you say your door…it was gone?

“hah what the hell” you whisper to yourself and walked in

you wish you didn’t since now someone was chaining you with some anti-quirk chains, you screamed at the person but they only laughed, the lights were turned off so you couldn’t see them.

“S-STOP Y-YOU WHAT ARE YOU DOING???! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM” you said

the person— man now laughs and your stomach now hurts from it, he was a villain, you could tell with that laugh of his, he came close to your ear, his hot breath hit your ear.

“of course i know who you are (name)” he said slowly

you screamed and started moving trying to fight against him but it didn’t work, he only laughed at how pathetic you looked trying to push him off.

“come here, i won’t hurt you” he whispered in your ear and you just cried and closed your eyes

he grabbed you and pulled you up the stairs where your room was at, he laid you down on your bed and locked the door, he then turned on the light.

you instantly cried when you saw him, he was the villain who invaded ua— the school your dad worked with. he started laughing like a psychopath.

“…that face, ive waited years to see you like that” he said and sized you up and down

you shook your head and cried even more.

“i can’t believe you became such a slut, wearing that really? are you trying to provoke me?” he said as he walked closer to you, he touched your hair with 3 of his fingers

“…(name) do you know who i am?” he asked

“…y-yes” you told him

“no, do you know who i REALLY am?” he asked and looked you in the eyes

you only shook your head and he smiled at that, he started taking his shirt and pants off, you looked at him confused, he was getting naked.

“s-stop!” you told him

you started to move around but shigaraki quickly sat on top of you, he looked at you and you cringed, you shook your head ‘no’ and he laughed.

he grabbed your face with 4 fingers and looked you in the eyes, your eyes looked so innocent and pleading to him, he creepily smiled when you started gagging.

“hahahahah hahahah, so…you smelled me right? i haven’t showered in weeks!” he told you in a mean manner

you gagged and looked at him as if he was the ugliest creature ever to exist.

“plwease ewa you’re so smelly! and ugly! get off me!” you screamed and cried but shigaraki had enough of you

he slapped you and pulled down your panties, he started pumping his 2 bony fingers into you in a unpleasant and fast manner, you cried even more.

“S-STOWPP!” you yelled

“hah, don’t you EVER treat me like that bitch or i’ll kill you!” he yelled back at you

you gasped and looked at him with a scared face, he was threatening to kill you…he wouldn’t do it right? he could end your life with all 5 of his fingers, it terrified you.

“n-no s-sorry…” you whispered and shook your head trying to convince him

“im going to hurt you real bad if you act all naughty now” he warned you

you started to cry and moan when he kept on scissoring you with his fingers, he did it so rough and to his surprise you were really tight, he smiled at this.

he started kissing your cunt and he pulled his fingers out of you, you felt empty and he chuckled when he saw your disappointed face.

he kept on kissing and tongue fucking your pussy so hard and good that you couldn’t stop crying and moaning, this was like heaven to him.

“you like it don’t ya” he asked you

you moaned and cried out to him but this made him mad, what did you do wrong? you should be the one mad, not him.

“when i ask a question you answer me…got that!” he slightly yelled at you

“mhm!” you screamed and cried when he slapped your pussy, it hurts so much.

“s-sir shigaraki” you said and he slapped your pussy again, causing you to moan and cry

“it’s tenko” he said

“h-huh?” you asked, he looked at you and told you

“i said call me tenko” he said and then started rubbing his fingers up and down your cunt.

“ah~uh” you moaned

“imagine what all might must think if he saw you like this…getting fingered by a villain…” he evilly stated

you started crying and screaming at the thought of that, you were a hero…getting fingered by a villain, a villain who hates your dad, how disappointing.

shigaraki turned you around and pushed his dick all the way up your pussy, he then grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear

“your daddy must be proud don’t ya think?” he whispered

you shook your head ‘no’

“doesn’t matter cause from now on im your daddy” he laughed and pulled your hair even more

“w-what do you want ah~” you moaned

“y-you” shigaraki was slightly out of breath, your body looked so perfect like this, all for him.

“w-what do you mean?” you nervously questioned

“you know w-what i mean ah” he moaned as he started slamming faster into you, your ass bounced on his belly and he smiled at this.

“so good~” he whispered

“ah AH t-there!” you moaned and whined, shigaraki groaned.

“so fucking good for me ngh” he moaned, yet all you could think about was your father, it was killing you.

you were getting off to a villain fucking you, how disgusting. you should be ashamed of yourself, what if he came in you?

“hey pay attention bitch!” shigaraki snapped his fingers at you “can’t believe you’re ignoring me”

“s-sowy” you cried and shigaraki pulled out and flipped you over, his hair hitting your face, he was sweating and so were you.

you’re cheeks and lips were red, his cheeks were red too. he then started to put his very long veiny dick in your pussy, he groaned.

“ah~ yes… a woman like you deserves to be treated like a slut…not a hero” he told you as he looked you directly in the eyes, his look was so intimidating.

you whined when he said that, you knew, well more like you believed that if you were a boy all might and everyone else would be way more proud of you.

“i-its hurts s-sir tenko” you whined for him and he started aggressively slamming his hips into you “AHHH~ T-TENKO!”

“mhm i knew you would like this, you’re such a dirty girl, call me daddy” he groaned out, he watched as your tits moved up and down, so hot.

you thought about it, he’s literally fucking you without your permission! he came and disintegrated your door, it was expensive! how will your dad react to thi-

“AGH NGHH D-DADDY, TENKO S-STAWP” you moaned with tears in your eyes and shigaraki drooled all over your tits and stomach, it was so nasty.

“mhm, my good girl, i see you’re learning your place…” he said and a feeling inside your stomach started growing, it felt so hot and you knew what was gonna happen.

“im g-gonna i-ima cum!” you moan out and cum on his dick, your pussy clenched around his dick in a filthy way, how file of you.

“uh-uh what a bad girl…and here i thought you were behaving good” shigaraki told you with a dry laugh, your eyes widened in fear as his hand came to grab your neck.

with tears in your eyes you looked up to him, his bloody eyes were staring into your soul, you started shaking and gasping for air, you thought he was going to kill you.

“i could kill you right now if i wanted to…” he told you and looked down to your red glossy lips “but i won’t…never”.

he forcefully kissed you and you allowed him to since you were scared he was going to disintegrate you, it was a horrifying thought.

he moaned into the kiss, he was waiting for this, to feel your lips on his, even if it was by force…he doesn’t regret anything at all, he loves it all.

with his free hand, he started playing with your right breast, he pinched your nipples and you opened your mouth to protest but shigaraki just inserted his tongue into your mouth.

you arched your back and started kissing him back, the feeling was good but it was bad, this felt like a sin, a very dirty and taunting sin.

he then let go off your neck, and allowed you to finally breathe, it felt good but then he started pulling it in, again, you both moaned.

he started moving, it hurt, he was going a little too fast and the look in his face scared you, he looked as if he going to kill you, what did you do wrong?

tomura had remembered why he even came here…because of that damn tall handsome male, he was jealous and he lost control, something in him was telling him to punish you— that you deserved this.

“you know, i was mad at you…no…i AM mad at you! how dare you go with that brat…he doesn’t deserve you, no one does!” he screamed at you with angry eyes, he then started pulling out of you.

“w-wha-“ you tried to talk but he shushed you and sat on the right side of the bed, he grabbed a fist full of your hair and looked at you in the eyes while talking.

“i spent almost my whole life loving you! and this…this is how you repay me! how embarrassing of me to fall in love with the daughter of the person i most hate in the world! i hate everything and everyone!”

you shook at his words, your tears were falling down your face like a lake, your lashes were wet and scalp was in pain, he was gripping your hair a bit too tight.

“i’ll kill him, everyone! him, your dad, all of them!” he screamed and then started crying.

“don’t you understand…? these heroes, your dad, they don’t love you! i did and do everything for you! yet all you is be ungrateful, i’ll make you learn!”

he pulled you by the hair and off the bed, he pushed you on your knees and forced your mouth opened, you started crying even more and trying to stand up but couldn’t when he pushed his dick all the way in your mouth, down to your throat.

“a-ah yes…now you’re being useful! you need to understand that im the only person who loves you” he said and you looked up to him through your thick lashes and rosy cheeks.

you looked so cute, like always, he thought he could take a picture of you and so he let go of your hair and grabbed his phone that was on the bed, you started shaking and asking questions but he just shut you up with his dick, again.

“i love you but you gotta learn” he said and started pushing your head up and down…faster and faster until he came, it felt so good and he pulled out to let some of his cum fall on your face.

“aww don’t look at me like that, smile, all heroes smile right!?” he said and slapped you when you didn’t smile, you cried and obeyed him this time.

“good good…” he said as he took a picture of you with a sad smile, you looked so hot, all for him, oh and your dad.

“i wonder what all might would say if he saw this…” shigaraki tormented you, you cried and begged him not to show anyone the picture.

“t-tenko p-pwease n-no…” you cried and crawled to him, he looked down on you and kissed you, you kissed back, scared.

he picked you up and sat you on the bed, he told you to go to sleep, but you shook your head ‘no’.

“(name), i said go to sleep” he said as he walked over to you, he got a blanket and covered you with it, he didn’t take off the chains on your wrists.

“…i w-won’t tell anyone about this…just please…don’t show my dad that picture, tenko” you looked at him with sad eyes.

“…okay” he whispered

shigaraki wanted to laugh in your face but, he decided to be nice and so he turned off the lights, and waited for you to go to sleep, and so when you did, he turned on his phone.

everything was going to be so good now, he’ll finally have you, he’s going to cum in you and breed you, he knows you’ll be a great mom.

he laughed at the thought of how all might and everyone would react to this, what expression would all might do if he saw your belly growing, his grandchildren will be the children of a villain, the one who hates him the most.

shigaraki looked at your beautiful sleeping face and smiled, he planted a kissed on your forehead and looked for all might’s number on his phone, he had it since he stalked you.

he clicked on it and send it to him, shigaraki laughed at this, would you get in trouble? doesn’t matter cause tonight he’s your daddy.

{end}

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

[kpopper]

hi!! (mouse anon here)

sorry it's been so long, I'm not as active here cause of my work and COVID!

I hope you've been doing well!! 🥰

oops you're right, I remember you rec'd My Name in one of the previous asks

thank you for that, I loved the show <3333

(Military Prosecuer Doberman is still on my list but I've been in a show slump so I haven't watched it...yet 😭)

I totally understand wanting to watch the lighter shows, I was trying to find shows to watch but I wasn't feeling the darker ones. I think Signal was the darkest show in my opinion. I forget if we talked about it but either it's pretty haunting or I was in my Sensitive™ phase lol

I still need to watch Twenty Five Twenty One, Tomorrow, and Uncanny Encounter (along with like 100s of other kdramas) so I'll update you if when I do!

I've recently watched Life on Mars and The Killer's Shopping List and they're both a mixture of crime/mystery and comedy!

I really enjoyed Life on Mars but I still don't know how I feel about the ending. It's a good ending but there are some pretty heavy implications. Otherwise, it was like a found family crime show and it was great!

I really loved The Killer's Shopping List! It's so short (8 eps) and a lot of the actors stood out to me. They even had a plot line for one the characters that I really enjoyed (if I said it, I'd spoil it haha). There were some plot holes and some things were confusing but I adored the main character and a lot of the side characters.

if you watch any of them, I'd love to know your thoughts! <333

(our interactions are mostly why I use tumblr so thank you!!)

mouse anon pt 2!

I can't believe I forgot to mention A Business Proposal!! It was so good and I agree, the 2nd couple was amazing! I wish they showed more of their relationship but I still like the main couple

I also keep seeing posts about Extraordinary Attorney Woo so I plan on watching it when it's completed! ✌️

hi!! this is the mouse anon!

I just finished Military Prosecuer Doberman and I really liked it! I'm not always a romance person but I wish the the 2 leads got together a lot earlier 😭 I think we deserved that at least 😭

I just started extraordinary attorney woo and I love it!! I love the romance and (most of the) characters in it! it's all about the trust 😭😭 I'm on episode 5 so hopefully I love it through the end :))

-----------

i am. very behind. forgive me T^T im hardly here for more than five minutes a week too, and i only show any sign of life to reply to your messages <3 i hope you've been well and safe. what do you work with?

we never talked abt signal! ive seen it around but it def has some dark vibes and i never got interested in it lmao i think one of the darkest ones i watched was the guest. it felt like a whole horror show. and save me was.... a tough cookie to swallow too. for me to watch this shows i need to be angwy ò.ó trying to feel smth. thankfully its not usual lmao

honestly twnty five twenty one was.... a ride. it took me 4i39242900 weeks to finish it. in fact i only gathered courage to watch the last episode last week lmao i loved it though. it just hits so close to home in so many ways i had to take long pauses in between.

ive just googled life on mars and honestly. im not a big fan of the time travel cases. everytime its mentioned in the plot i automatically turn my interest off 😭😭😭😭😭

i ALMOST started The Killer's Shopping List last week!!!! was trying to feel smth and i hovered over the episode one for a while. now that i know you like it i will come back to it <3333

a business proposal was soooo cute. i was not expecting it to be that cute. the last ep though was. like idk. the ending was every romcom ever written. the whole show was like that but the ending rlly got me laughing on how ridiculously cliche it was. how he gets to korea and off the car and proposes and etc. honestly jfesklfjsiofsjefklssjflsfkslsioefjesoi it was rlly funny. the ending of the second couple too, but idc cause they were cute.

prosecutor doberman was THAT show that i was not expecting to rlly enjoy and once i started i binge watched the whole thing 😑 dont get what it was but it put me thru hours of it without a single thought in my brain. thank u prosecutor doberman.

also attorney woo!!!!!!!!!! im watching it but my netflix is sooooo behind on the actual releases its a nightmare everyweek, having to fend off big spoilers. but yeah i do hope i like it to the end!!!! its so cute i cant stand it

lately ive been watching minamdang cafe (also very behind bc of my netflix), alchemy of the souls and attorney woo. its my go to serotonin for every new ep. also just started big mouth and its.... interesting. there's a brazilian drama that im 99% sure has the same basic plot but im curious to see where it heads.

also going a bit beyond the krama universe, if you have the opportunity to watch severance on apple tv, it's deeeeef worth the hype and time.

OH! and i just saw good detective is going for a round 2? i cant remember the s1 plot for the life of me but i remember watching it through the end. so i guess i have something else to look forward too now as well

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Characters: James T. Kirk, Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Tarsus IV, Trauma Anniversaries, Jim needs a hug, getting together fic, Bones Finds Out About Tarsus, Jim's Having a Hard Time, Disordered Eating, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Sharing a Bed, Hurt/Comfort, Academy Era Summary:

Missing a text was understandable; everyone forgot to reply now and then-- and Lord knew Jim had the attention span of a golden retriever pup with a new toy on the best of days-- but this was ridiculous; not to mention rude, inconsiderate, and about twelve other things Len couldn’t be bothered to list because he was too busy stalking the streets of San Francisco at 2200 hours on a Thursday looking for the kid.

Not that Len was worried, mind. Jim knew how to take care of himself, and while he sometimes got into little scrapes and scraps at the local dives he’d never come back to the dorms with anything worse than a busted rib (yet).

Jim was evasive at times, sure, but his behavior the past few days-- or weeks, if Len was being honest-- had been off in a way Len couldn’t quite place. He’d been quieter, for one thing; he barely spoke unless he was spoken to, and when he did there was a lifelessness to it… flat, listless. And he’d been missing meals.

 The "Bones Finds Out About Tarsus" fic no one asked for.

[liquorisce]

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene. 

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me. 

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

i.

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)  

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”   Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

 “… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

 “Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

 ii.

 She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

..

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

v.

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”  

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.  

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

 viii.

 She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

 “You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

 She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

 “You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

 The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,”  -

 “Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

 “Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

 Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

 To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

 Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

 But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

 “… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

 “He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

 “… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

 She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

 “She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”  

 “… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

 “I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

 “… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

 “Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

 “But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

 “Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

 “… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

 “… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

 “You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

 “I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

 She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones.  The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

 Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

 “Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

 Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

 “… Did you tell him your real name?”

 She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

 “… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

 “… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.  

 “You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

 And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

 …

ix. 

 “… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

 He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

 “C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

 She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

 “It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

 He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

 “I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

 Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

 …

 x.

 When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

 He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

 And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

 “Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

 She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

 “… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

 “… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

 “You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

 She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

 “Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

 “… Why’d you guys break up?”

 He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

 She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

 “It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

 Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

 “What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

 “Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

 “Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

 He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

 His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

 “My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

 “… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

 The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

 The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin - 

A/N:  i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

[evandearest]

The Garden of Eden | Part IV: Betrayal

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (4/4)~

Summary (Part Four): Warnings are to be remembered, although most stored away for future use only to be forgotten. Cycles repeat to teach lessons; to warn of future events. Threats may remain even if not for the blind eye to see. However, ignorance might be the biggest threat of all.

Warnings (in this part): murder, blood, death, poison, religious twists, dark themes

Word Count: 5,018 (haha this part ended up with the most words... to end it off I suppose!)

Notes: This is the last part of the Garden of Eden! I just want to say thank you to all who read - especially @etoile-writings , for supporting me. Please go check out her series Adam and Eve, as it is a literary masterpiece and she deserves so much recognition.

I have seriously had so much fun writing this - it really has been my pleasure. I also want to apologize to all those who may have been waiting for awhile for the final part! Disclaimer: I tried my best to edit the grammar and everything in this but this is the best I could do! I hope there’s not many mistakes I may have missed. Please ask any questions and give me all your comments about this finale - I’d love to hear any and all thoughts! I also hope everyone is safe, healthy, and happy :) Feel free to send in other requests, whether it be AHS or Supernatural.

Also a heads up - keep a look out for the final review and analysis if you are interested. It is still in progress but it should be out within a couple of days at best.

A few side notes - the Countess and James are still legally married here, as they are in the show, but in this situation it is only because they haven’t gotten the chance to divorce. This part may seem to have very long sentences, but I just wanted to let you guys know that it is a writing technique that I used to create mood, tone, and theme. That’s all, thanks!

Tag List: @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss

Something about the young couple in the bar had your mind reeling. Their hands remained interlocked on the table, both of them staring at one another with all the joy and adoration that only true love can bring. Their relationship was new and exciting. The honeymoon phase was always so perfect. You remembered how that had felt with James; so invigoratingly energizing. It was enough to make you feel as if you ruled the world; love blinding a vision of truth. It was, for many years, what you had considered paradise to be.

Paradise.

You realized now that it never had been perfect with you and James. There were so many things standing in the way, so many hidden threats. When you were younger, it had been your parents and their obsessive need to marry you off like an object to a rich man. Even as he had began his journey to success, James’ social status as new money hadn’t seemed good enough to them. When you had first gotten back with James only just around a month ago, you had thought that you’d conquered everything. You had been blind to the truth which was right in front of you once again. You should have expected some kind of change in James. It was inevitable, after all that time spent apart.

But now, however, right at this present moment... well, now, everything was out in the open. Now, you and James truly understood one another. Now there really was nothing in your way. You could see no obstacles ahead, no threat, so long as James was by your side. All you saw was James, and all that clouded your mind was your admiration and devotion to him. He was your everything; your soulmate, your leader, your God. He had dragged you from the fire and brought your paradise back to you; good, true, and everlasting this time around. Your precious Garden of Eden, controlled by none other but you and your God.

Your God; who had been the utmost of clever in his recent schemes. He’d been outraged when he did it, but it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t brilliant. He was of excellent prosecution; his statement out in the open and clear. A Sunday morning: police finding piles of dead bodies compiled with numerous copies of nothing other than the book of God himself. It was sadistic and morbid, but it was perfect. It was everything that James needed to say. He was on the verge of something momentously renowned.

Once James was finished, no one would ever forget his message: religion was the worst thing to happen to society. It controlled the will of man, when truly nothing in creation could stop anything. Everyone was put equal on the Earth to sin, to live in the most pleasurable way.

It was the entire reason Adam and Eve had been cast down. They were sinners, except the garden was a place controlled by God’s rules. They had wanted to control their own lives, so God banished them to Earth. James, however, had created his own paradise; his own Garden of Eden. He had climbed so far above all other men that he now controlled the garden. He had to prove to others the ridiculousness of holiness--for all were meant to sin. Religion was, essentially, suppression. To some, it may seem horrible, but to you, it was art. A simple expression of belief that most didn’t understand.

Voices floated into your ears, startling you out of your thoughts. Soft echoes through the lobby of your beloved’s name piqued your interest, your feet immediately carrying you to the railing without much thought. You left your drink on the bar’s counter--still full, but long forgotten. Your eyes landed on four men clad in black suits, shiny gold badges on their shoulders reflecting light from the chandeliers above. You scanned the area, noticing a certain maid standing close by, listening in, much like you were.

“We have suspicion based upon evidence that Mr. March was involved in the murder this past Sunday. We have already taken the time to get a warrant for his arrest,” one of the officers explained to the receptionist at the front desk. Time seemed to take a standstill, your heart seeming to stop completely as your brain registered the man’s words. No, this couldn’t be happening.

The cycle was repeating again. They were trying to tear you apart again.

You didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. He said he was careful, and you could never see James making a mistake with something this important. He was detail-oriented, his brain practically ran off of the certainty of perfectionism. He would never let a small mistake ruin everything for him.

The entire empire he’d built, and everything you’d rebuilt, was about to be destroyed all over again.

Your body seemed to catch up with your mind as you sprung into action. You twisted around, your feet pushing you forward only to come to a halt at the close proximity of the once unknown presence behind you. Your eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping your lips at the stop you made compared to your sudden momentum. You stared into the eyes of none other than The Countess, clad in only the most extravagant clothing and makeup.

“That’ll be a hard one to get out of,” she said, although her face was seemingly expressionless. You stared at her, your frenzied brain jumping to the first conclusion you could make.

“Did you...” you trailed off, your breathing suddenly heavy. James couldn’t have made the mistake, so that means that somebody else had to of given the police some kind of tip in order for them to seek James out. The woman standing before you was quite possibly the number one suspect. “Did you do this?” Your voice held tones of disbelief and anger.

Would Elizabeth really go to such extent when she hadn’t even expressed a major disliking? She hadn’t talked to you at all since that first time, in fact the only interactions you’d had with one another were passing glances. She’d seemed to have just steered clear of anything to do with you or James. You had no idea what she had thought, but you had supposed that she didn’t care about you and James, otherwise she would have spoke her concerns. Had you been wrong about her? Could a simple mistake end it all over again? Elizabeth scoffed, her face hardening.

“Oh God no...” she said wryly, a small sarcastic grin forming on her lips as she looked at you quizzically, “what would I get out of it now? As I am still his present wife, I don’t need James dead to use his money. And besides, now that he has you he no longer bothers me.” She was smug as she spoke to you. She grinned, all teeth and mischief, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a winning situation for the both of us if you ask me.” She paused, her grin falling slightly as her gaze wondered off to peer down into the lobby.

“I could bet I know who the rat is, though,” She said, turning back to you. “I’m wagering it’s his loyal minion. That poor woman has been in love with James since the beginning of time.” She paused, her eyes intense as they rested on your face. “And based on your expression you think so too.” She smiled at you and then turned, walking slowly away from you. “Good luck,” she called back to you without turning around, your eyes watching her back as she went.

You stood contemplating her words for a moment. Elizabeth was smart and straightforward, and from what you could tell if she had a problem she would speak her mind. And what she had said made sense. Miss Evers was in love with James, but her love was unrequited, and that’s why she constantly seemed at odds with you. She could never even have a chance to be with him, so long as you were around.

Your feet carried you quickly as you raced to the elevator. The police were still conversing with the receptionist, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out where James was. You recalled a conversation you’d had with him in the morning, concluding that he had to be caught up attending to his hobby.

The police would find him in his office, in the middle of his business, and it would all be over. He would be taken from you once again.

You didn’t even knock upon arriving; you opened the door and closed it quickly behind you. You turned to face James, in all his blood-covered, god-like glory. You took in the scene of James’ office quickly, your eyes tracing over every detail. A large bin sat in the center of the room, a rugged corpse contained within it. James had been busying himself with pouring a substance over the body, of which could only be acid, as it had sizzled upon impact with the dead man’s skin. At your arrival, James halted his methods in confusion.

Several items were scattered across the floor, one of which catching your interest. The glass of the vase; a damp spot surrounding the area where the unaltered mess remained. The roses remained too, the petals wilting from lack of nourishment. You paused, your mind trying to puzzle out their unmoved position. Miss Evers had to have been in here since last night, so why wouldn’t she move them? She might have been scheming, but she was extremely adamant on being neat when it came to James’ specific rooms. You couldn’t see her ignoring it, and yet here it was sitting puzzlingly. You were caught off guard for a reason not entirely known to you. Something about their appearance had you alarmed, a string of words suddenly ringing out in your head; perhaps a memory brought to the surface.

“If you betray the rose, the rose no longer profits you.”

The old woman was suddenly prevalent in your mind, her warning dawning upon you, your heartbeat stuttering at the looming echo of her words. James was waiting for you to explain yourself--the police were coming--Miss Evers had betrayed you--everything you and James had worked so hard for was crumbling down around you. Your heartbeat was fast, the pulse beating quickly, perhaps the reason for the pounding in your head.

You looked James in the eyes, studying his features. He was so handsome--even before you knew him, that day in the garden when you had first seen him--you had marveled at his beauty. And that was before he’d become such a man; his features sharp and masculine, beautifully sculpted by the gods. His dark brown eyes and hair, so dull yet so prominent--a symbol of his darkness. You could stare at him for eternity and never bore, your love for him everlasting.

And yet, here you were at the end with no escape, hell a threat once again hanging above your heads, looming just around the corner. Just a few more minutes and everything would be over. Just a few more minutes and you’d be lost again, stranded without your guide; your purpose--your God.

“James,” you gasped, stumbling slightly as you made your way to him. You’d just managed to get to him before you fell over slightly, your arms reaching out to grasp onto his tightly. He caught you, keeping you level as his face filled with concern. The pounding in your head was intense, beginning to drown out your thoughts and quicken your breath.

“Darling, tell me--what is it?” James demanded, his voice panic-stricken. He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, his widened orbs meeting yours with intensity.

“I-it’s--the- the police,” you barely managed to get the words out, clinging onto James like he was your lifeline. Nothing seemed right; your thoughts suddenly taking too long to form into words, your breathing heavy, vision blurry, and it was becoming much harder to stand. What was happening? You stared into James eyes, shifting all your focus into him. “They’re here to arrest you.” One hand gripped his arm firmly as you brought the other to rest upon his cheekbone, leaning chest to chest as your body began to collapse into him. He held you steady, forever the one and only thing to truly support you. “They’re going to take you from me,” you sobbed, an onslaught of tears overcoming you. “Again,” you cried quietly, gasping for air.

The door opened, your heart skipping a beat at the intrusion, your mind going straight to the thought of the police. Your eyes landed on Miss Evers instead, confusion settling on you once again. She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? Why was she here now, to prove something? You wished you had the strength to question her, to say anything, but everything felt heavier and heavier as more time passed.

“Tell me,” James barked at her just as she’d closed and locked the door, “what in all creation is happening? Speak right this instant, and quickly.”

“The police are here,” Miss Evers explained, James grip on you tightening as you leaned onto him for support. He glanced down at you, worry glinting in his eyes as you just barely managed to look up at him.

“Darling,” he whispered, “what is happening? Are you ill?” A moment of silence passed as you tried to respond, your mouth opening but no words becoming audible. A moment of silence passed, the only action being James assessing you. Your words couldn’t seem to form, a burning spreading through your entire body. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You began to wonder yourself if you were somehow ill.

“It was supposed to be me!”

The maid across the room suddenly shrieked, desperation clouding her judgement as she flung her arms up in the air. “I was the one for you!” She sobbed, stumbling slightly as an expression of hurt formed upon her face. “I always loved you, and these women--they never did! They used you, and I always cared!” James eyes widened, shock coming across his features. He stared at the woman, contemplating her words.

“But you never saw,” the woman said sadly, her head hanging in shame before her face went emotionless. “And so I did the only thing I could.” She looked at him, dead in the eye, a type of malice suddenly overcoming her. “You’d be surprised how easy it was.” Her eyes settled upon your frame, your head moving slowly to get a glance at her. You stared, blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out. You could barely comprehend what she was saying, but you felt as James’ breath quickened. It was taking all of your willpower to stay awake--you needed to, for James.

“What?” he stated, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, a rage within his eyes even you had never seen before as he stared at her. He was tense, as hard as a rock, glaring daggers at the woman who had seemingly betrayed him.

“I--,” Miss Evers hesitated, obviously intimidated by his fury, but decided to continue. “I’ve found that you have a secret stash of cyanide in the bar.” She faltered once again, her eyes shifting away from James and to the floor. “I wanted us to be together, and she-” she pointed at you, “-she was always in it for the money! They all are, all but me!” She burst into tears, falling onto her knees in hysterics. Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain to gather all of the information. She poisoned you at the bar. You remembered brief flashbacks of the one tiny sip you’d taken of your previously forgotten drink.

James seemed to be shaking as he gently moved you to sit in a chair by the wall, turning away from you for only a moment. Your eyelids began to flutter as sleep beckoned you, visions of James’ movement around the room the only thing to hold your focus. A loud pop suddenly reverberated off of the walls as it rang out, causing you to sit up slightly from your slouched posture, your eyelids flying open to search for the source. James stood over the body of his betrayer, smoking gun resting within his palm.

You felt so weak, your thoughts jumbled, unable to focus on only one. Only now you knew it wasn’t just an overreaction. You’d only taken a mere sip of the drink from the bar, but you supposed now that it had been enough for the poison to go into effect. You wondered briefly how she’d gotten the cyanide into the drink in the first place, and exactly how much she had put in for it to have such a potent effect on your body.

Your eyes traveled to her corpse, and to the fresh blood splattered across the wall from the headshot. You blinked, barely registering what had just occurred before you. You were too dazed to process the incident, even if you understood what had occurred subconsciously. Relief was the only thing you felt; relief for one less thing to worry about standing between you and James.

Eyes shifting slightly to the left, you stared at the browning roses, the sweet old lady’s warning once again echoing, a distant memory brought to the surface of your mind. James crouched in front of you, suddenly the only thing in line of sight, his lips moving but you couldn’t hear his voice over your own in your head. The roses were dead. You left them on the floor. You betrayed them for--

You sprung up once again as a loud banging at the door shocked you back into your senses. James glanced briefly at the door before turning back to you quickly. He pulled you out of the chair, holding you up and close to his chest as he stroked your hair tenderly.

“James,” you just barely whispered as he shushed you.

“I know, darling,” He said reassuringly, pulling back to look into your eyes. “It’s all going to be okay, dear. It’ll all be over before you know it.” He smiled charmingly as you nodded weakly, holding tightly onto the cloth of his shirt to maintain stability. And you believed him in that moment, as he always seemed to find a way.

One way, or another.

You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as the pounding on the door increased. Or maybe it was the pounding in your head; at this point you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was just a figment of your imagination. Cold metal pressed against the skin of your temple, your brain too bleary to question it. Mere seconds passed as you contemplated moving, but suddenly it was as if everything had settled away. James’ warm body faded from your grasp.

-🤍-

Your eyelids fluttered open, eyeballs moving back and forth as you tried to become familiar with your surroundings. You recognized the familiar room immediately, for it was your bedroom when you had first moved into the Cortez. You felt strange. Zen, almost, but maybe that was just because the pounding was gone. You felt... disconnected. It was the most out of touch with yourself you’d ever felt.

You climbed to your feet from the floor, thoughts running rampant at what was unknown to you. Where was James, how did you get here, how long had you been here, and why did you feel so cold? Flashes of what seemed to be both years ago and only moments ago clouded your mind, filling you with dread. Scenarios of what could be frightened you and sent you into a state of panic, pushing you forward.

Out of the room you went, through the quiet and empty halls, searching, searching, searching--no fixed destination ahead except something, anything, that could lead you to your James.

It seemed that days had passed before you finally found the lobby of the hotel. Navigation through the building was proving to be much more difficult than you remembered. Why was it taking so long?

The lobby was sparsely populated, unlike the usually crowded area that you were used to. You glanced around, noticing only a few people in the bar, the receptionist, and someone asleep on the sofas. Your feet carried you to the hotel entrance, pushing the first door open, the sunlight peeking through the opaque glass surprising you. If it was the daytime, then why was the hotel so empty? On ordinary occasions people came and went like flies; the Cortez was a hotspot in the city of Los Angeles, after all. Your hands reached out to push open the door to the outside, the metal handle of the door cool against your skin, and then suddenly nothing. In front of you was the door no longer; profound confusion coursing through you as you stared at the walls of your bedroom once again. You had been there one second, and in the next it was as if you had been teleported back in time.

And so the cycle repeated for what seemed like years; many times set adrift through the halls, eventually to the lobby where the sunlight no longer shone through the windows and unusually few people inhabited. You were reaching forward for the handle of the first door for what seemed to be the hundredth time, only to freeze at the call of your name from a familiar voice.

“Y/N.”

Your name sounded of honey dripping off his tongue. It was like hearing that voice for the first time again. All your worries deflated and anxieties subsided--for you had found your God once again. You turned to face him, to see his face--the face you had longed to see for what felt like years but may have been minutes. You still didn’t entirely understand the detachment from your body you felt; it was as if you no longer had a life source, no blood running course or lungs cycling air. You felt out of place and trapped at the same time.

Just as your hopes had soared, they plummeted at the sight of the bare lobby. Emptiness sat instead where you had expected James to be, crushing all sense of direction. You wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the hotel to shreds with your bare hands. But just before you gave up all hope completely, your eyes caught on the tiniest of details.

Barely noticeable, unless payed close attention to; unless already a prominent object in one’s mind. Small, dainty, white petals lay scattered in high correlation, leading on to an unknown but obviously specific destination. You treaded lightly as you followed the path closely, afraid any disturbance would somehow make them disappear.

Unease settled through you, possibly just a usual feeling as of late, but considerably appropriate when meeting the isolate hallways once again. You began questioning your sanity; was this just yet another repeat in the cycle? You’d been lost for so long, was this just another loop? What was the energy here, and why did it not feel like you and James’ beloved Cortez, the place you called home? You felt like you were stuck in a punishment of some kind; a purgatory; a hell.

And at last, you arrived; the room in which this cycle had began, or ended. The office of James Patrick March: Room sixty-four. You paused, contemplating, before making a bold decision and gripping the handle, opening the door and entering the room. There you stood in what was once James’ office, now empty of most furniture, only few items remaining. And there it remained: the vase on the table in the center of the room, petals leading straight to their source.

Inside sat the very white roses themselves, southern California glory and all. They looked just like the ones in that very first garden: huge, bright and beaming, petals spread with all the beauty and radiance of nature and purity. And just behind them stood their God; the master of the garden who held the utmost control in his realm. Your God, who’d saved you from hell; who’d broke all cycles.

The feeling you felt at sight of James did not fail to excite you just the same as it had on that first day years ago. Something about his presence next to yours soothed you, for you knew that he was still there, that he hadn’t been taken from you, that no matter what had happened you were still okay so long as he stood next to you.

You rushed forward and into him, basking in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, but the challenge once again presented itself: an unignorably apparent absence of warmth. It’d been just before you’d first woken up what seemed like years, or maybe just hours ago, that you’d been in his embrace just the same, his warmth seeping into you and igniting your soul as you had faded in and out of consciousness. But now, you couldn’t feel it. You felt his body wrapped around yours, but nothing inflaming, the detachment from your own warmth just the same. It was missing, a shell of a comfort that used to always be present; something you had gotten entirely used to, for to be absent of warmth was to be dead...

You gasped, pulling away from James to look him in the eyes, the reality setting in and the drunkenness fading away. Your mind was becoming clear, all clarity suddenly bestowed upon you.

“James, are we...” you froze in panic, for it felt as if you didn’t have lungs, the normal rise and fall of the simplicity of breathing gone... the feelings of life were all gone...

And it clicked.

“James,” you whispered, your eyes tracing over the details of the room. The blood stains on the floor and walls were the only evidence of foul play left. You felt strange, for people didn’t normally expect to see the place of their death after the fact. Realizations settled over you as you stared at the room, just as you had initially when entering to warn James of the police, the truth of the events that had happened finally dawning upon you. In your poison-induced state of mind, it’d been hard to realize. You had been dying, the poison slowly but surely shutting your body down. You’d barely processed it when James had held the gun to your head and pulled the trigger, ending your pain.

“Yes, darling?” James replied to you, bringing you back to your conversation. You stared at him longingly. Although you didn’t entirely understand why you were still here, or the concept of the afterlife, you were glad to have James next to you. A moment of silence passed as you tried to pinpoint what you wanted to ask him exactly.

“I have so many questions,” you said, deciding to just speak your mind. You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking rapidly as you tried to sort out your thoughts. “I-I’m so lost, James.”

“Of course you are, dearest,” James said reassuringly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. He stared at you sadly. “I’m terribly sorry for all that happened, you must feel perplexed beyond understanding my dear.” He paused, his eyes traveling over your features as you stared up at him, listening intently. “This was simply my only choice, darling. You were succumbing to the poison’s grip long before I finished your pain. Miss Evers...” He trailed off, his jaw clenching tightly. “Nevermind that. I came to a conclusion upon the authorities’ arrival, and that was that if I was damned to be put away I might as well flee with you, my queen... it was the only right option.” He smiled down at you softly.

You smiled right back at him, your love for him the only warmth left inside of you now that you no longer had your body to call home. You basked in the feeling of being close to him as he pulled you to his chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss against your scalp. Even if you didn’t feel warmth, simply the love you had for him was enough. He tenderly stroked your back, calming your nerves. It amazed you how he could ease your mind so easily, if only just a little. However, you couldn’t shake your thoughts away. Sure, you could just let it all go, but the truth of the matter was simple.

Your entire life had been a cycle. A cycle of undeniable foolishness; you’d been ignorant of the truth for all of your living years. Oh, how it angered you. You hated something truly for what seemed like the first time in your life. You hated yourself; you’d let yourself believe false truths just to live in an illusion that you thought was happiness. You were naïve. And ultimately, that was what had ended you.

You’d ignored all warnings and left the roses to wilt, betraying the one thing that had always been on your side. You’d ignored all threats and committed yourself to making paradise in the land of the evil; it was simply impossible. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a place for the living. It was a place of freedom, and so long as you’re living, you can never truly be free. For in life, one threat always remains: death. You could never truly be protected. You could never truly have paradise.

But with James, in the Cortez, in the paradise he’d created for you... even death didn’t stand a chance. It was a gateway to greatness; a place where nothing truly stood in your way, where no threats were great enough. You couldn’t be harmed, or imprisoned, or separated here; you were finally utterly invincible; real Gods. Hell and Earth were no longer a threat. It was your true paradise that James had promised you.

Your Garden of Eden.

---------

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

[clonecaptains]

PAPERCLIPS | a Javi Peña x reader fic

rating: T for dramatic elements; will change to M in future parts

summary: You think your crush on Javi goes unnoticed - until Steve and Connie take matters into their own hands. 

a/n: ive had this story idea in my head for months and im so glad it’s finally out of my head and actually WRITTEN!! there will be a part two for sure, and others if i feel inspired!!

Paperclips

Being Javier Peña’s neighbor isn’t the worst thing to happen to you. Being a secretary at the DEA office is. Seeing Agent Javier Fucking Peña every day of the week is slowing killing you. His cute little ass in those tight ass jeans. He knows what he’s doing, and you hate him for it. The suits are just as bad. Displaying his broad shoulders, showing off his sharp jaw. You want nothing more than to yank him to your level by one of his ties and kiss him harshly. Yeah. You hate him.

But you won’t do anything about this hopeless crush. You haven’t done anything for weeks.

Your desk sits up higher, you look down at the boys from your perch. Javi’s desk faces away from you, which allows you to stare at the back of his head (and ass) all day. Every once and a while you get lucky and see his face when he leaves his desk to go out in the field, or when he comes into work in the mornings. He’ll turn and offer a nod or a simple wave good morning.

You are friendly acquaintances. You’ve spoken on occasion at the dreaded office parties. The only reason you ever have gone to those are the free food and the small chance to see him.

Your staring at the back of his head is the most you do lately, your crush too strong to get up the nerve to ask him for coffee. Luckily, he can’t see you pine away for him.

But unbeknownst to you, there’s a watchful pair of eyes that have seen your longing gazes at the back of Javi’s head.

One Steve Murphy.

He’s seen every glance. Every flustered look cross your face. He doesn’t want to pry, not at first. But then he remembers how his buddies set him up with Connie. And hell, Javi could use someone nice like you in his life. Someone less dangerous to get involved with than communist informants.

Steve’s told Connie every detail, it’s much more entertaining to discuss then the heavy topic of death and drug lords. Connie’s only concern is the office romance drama, but she’s your friend. And she wants the same thing for you – Javi is a good man. And being neighbors with you, she’s also seen the looks you’ve given as Javi walks down the hallway.

They are planning more on how to get you with Javi than you are.

So far, your plan is hoping he’ll need a paperclip and will come ask you for one. And then suddenly ask you to coffee and then take you back to his place and-

Oh shit.

Javi’s wearing a blue shirt today, your favorite. And you might have let your eyes linger a little too long. And you’ve just made eye contact with Steve. He quirks a brow at you, and a small smirk appears on his lips. His piercing gaze just past Javi makes his partner curious, and the object of your affections turns his head in your direction.

When Javi’s eyes meet yours, you quickly avert your gaze. Trying to busy yourself with something important. Which consists mainly of organizing your already organized desk.

Javi is none the wiser, he shrugs and goes back to work. But Steve, he saw all that he needed to see.

You spend the rest of the day with your head down. You’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. It pains you that you’re missing out on the blue shirt though.

Normally after work you come up with some excuse to try and say hi and bye to Javi on his way out. He almost never goes straight to his apartment after office hours because he’s typically working out in streets. It’s your small chance to get some form of interaction with him.

Tonight though, you get out of there as soon as possible. It kills you to leave, you can hear Javi and Steve laughing at their desks. You want to turn around and see that smile you dream of.

So instead, you get out and head home.

You look forward to a quiet evening. You need a distraction. Something, anything to keep your mind off of him. Which only seems to make you think about him even more.

It’s getting later and the wine in your system has you feeling warm. There’s a warm buzzed feeling that spreads over your body and settles between your legs.

Maybe the wine wasn’t such a good idea. And you’re being ridiculous. So, Steve saw you looking at Javi. Is that a crime? Javi is handsome. Most women in the office notice him, even the married ones get a little smile on their face when he walks by.

It’s more than that. Having your crush discovered isn’t the end of the world.

Maybe you know that if Javi was interested he would have done something by now. Maybe you know that if Steve tells Javi about your crush that something will happen. Or that something won’t.

You want to get over this crush, but all you can think about is the arousal between your legs. You’ve seen him bring women home, but it’s been some time. That’s given you a false hope you think. Regardless, you know he’s a good lover. Thin walls.

You ache.

Those nights when he’s brought a woman home have been awful. You don’t listen on purpose, and more often than not you wish you couldn’t hear. Couldn’t hear women scream out his name, wishing it were you crying out his name into the dark.

On top of all that, you know that most times when he brings someone home, it’s been a bad day for him. He brings a prostitute home to ease his sorrows with the high of a release. You want to be there for him not just sexually, but emotionally. Living next to him isn’t the worst thing, but not being able to help him when you’ve seen the weight he carries is.

You’ll see him at work the next morning and try not to pretend you didn’t hear the headboard thwacking and how much you wish it were you.

Yeah. That wine wasn’t a good idea.

You’ve created a fantasy which you entertain, maybe it’s wrong but right now the wine is talking. Your fingers tease yourself and you’re close to the edge when you hear a rapid knock on the door.

Feeling flushed and disoriented, you quickly tug your pants back on and hurry to open your door.

You’re met with the sight of a woman, obviously drunk.

“Is Javi here?” she laughs twirling her hair with her fingers. You feel sick.

“You have the wrong apartment,” you tell her and point to Javi’s front door across the hall.

Disrupted by the noise, Javi’s door opens. His eyes widen in slight shock at seeing the two of you talking. He pushes his door open, and this other woman walks past him into his place. His eyes flick up to you in a silent apology and he closes the door behind him with a click.

The silence in the hallway is deafening. You stand in your doorway in disbelief. You can hear muffled voices across the hall, and you slam your door behind you in anger. You wince at the slam, then you sink down to the floor. Tears fall from your eyes, who were you kidding?

You get no sleep that night, and every sound that drifts over from his apartment to yours fills you with dread. You’ve heard nothing sexual in nature, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

You don’t even want to go to work. You don’t want to see him. You’re mad at him, even though you’re actually mad at yourself.

Most of the day goes by before you really get a chance to see him. And for that you are grateful.

You smell his cologne before you see him, and his tall frame hovers by your desk. His voice comes out gentle and raspy.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he starts. A small part of you hopes he’ll apologize for what it looked like, apologize for hurting you. “I’m sorry she disrupted your night.”

Oh.

“Thanks,” is your weak reply. You can’t even bear to look up at him. Shit, he smells really good too. He almost never comes up to your desk. And now that he’s here, you just want him to go away.

“Javi, I-“ you manage to look up at him. And you don’t have a clue what you’re gonna say. His eyebrows raise as he’s ready to listen to what you have to say.

“Great!” You hear Steve’s voice cut through. “I’m glad I got you both together!” he claps his hand on Javi’s shoulder. “Connie and I are having a little get together tonight, and we want you both to come! Be there at 7!” he squeezes Javi’s shoulder and gives you a nod and leave before you can tell him no.

Javi shakes his head but gives you a soft smile. “Connie’s cooking isn’t that bad,” he jokes getting a laugh from you. Even though you curse yourself for laughing, you’re still mad. But when you see him smile at your laugh, you’re not….completely mad.

You spend the rest of the day and afternoon panicking about what to wear. Who else was going to be at this “get together”?

You can only assume it’s a casual thing, but still. Knowing Javi will be there has your insides churning.

You arrive early to help Connie, and to compose yourself. You’re helping her to set the table when Javi walks in. He gives a polite nod, and Steve is quick to greet him with a beer.

You flush, and Connie sees you actively trying to avoid any looks. She gives you a gentle nudge with her elbow, getting you to look up at her.

“It’s alright,” she whispers. “He’s into you.” She looks over at the boys in the small living area. Javi’s shrugged his jacket and is sitting with Steve, one of them laughs at a joke.

You nod your head ‘no.’

“He isn’t,” you tell her with a small shrug. “Is this all that’s coming?” you ask trying to change the subject. It dawns on you then that this is a setup, a double date. You start to panic.

“Hey,” Connie’s words are soft but firm, “it’s just dinner.”

She’s right, and you know she is. But you’re not sure if you can handle looking at him. All you can think about is the woman who came knocking on your door last night and him taking her in. What else would she have been there for other than to get a little taste of Javier Peña?

It’s hard to avoid those big brown eyes when he’s sitting directly across from you at the table. The conversation is light and humorous. But the way Javi is looking at you, it’s as if he knows something. Like he can read your mind.

“Dessert?” Connie’s cheery voice tears you from your thoughts.

“I’ll help,” you tell her. You need air, you feel like you’re suffocating under his glances.

“I’d say it’s going well!” she giggles once the two of you are out of earshot in the kitchen.

“How can you even tell?” you groan. “He’s not into me Connie.”

“I don’t know, he’s been making eyes at you across the table.”

“Connie,” you hiss. “He is not into me. He brought home some woman last night. Why the hell would he be into me?”

“How do you know-“

“I know. I know!” you hiss sharply trying to keep your voice down. “He brings those women home for a fuck, I know I’ve heard! And I will NEVER be one of those women.”

And not that you want to necessarily be one of them, that he fucks only – but-

“He doesn’t want me.”

“Who said that?” Javi’s voice has you turn in the little kitchen. You almost drop the plate in your hands. Connie and Steve exchange a look. Your eyes are fixed on Javi. You wish the earth would swallow you whole.

Embarrassed and upset, tears start to well up in your eyes.

“C’mon,” Javi offers you his hand. Your arms are crossed tight against your chest, but at the softness of his voice you relax and take his hand. He guides you out of the apartment, and you turn to Connie – she gives you a smile and a nod saying, “it’s ok.”

So, you follow Javi. He guides you down the hall to his apartment. He pats his pocket but doesn’t feel his keys.

“Shit,” he laughs, “they’re in my jacket pocket-“

“We can go in mine,” you reply pulling out your keys and open your apartment door.

You’re not entirely sure what is happening, but you open the door and he follows behind.

“I didn’t bring her home for sex,” Javi tells you the moment the door closes behind him. “She’s an informant, she only pretended to be drunk so no one would be suspicious. Her idea, not mine.”

“So, you know?” your voice hesitant.

“Know what?” he leans against your kitchen counter. Your arms have crossed against your chest again.

“Know how I feel?” your face heats up.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I could feel your eyes burning the back of my head, and my ass,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. He gives a gentle wink, his eyes bright and eyebrows lifted.

You bury your face in your hands, “was I that obvious?”

“Honestly, I thought you were checking out Steve at first,” he laughs. Your laugh joins his, and you feel more relaxed. “The only reason I never said anything was-“ he nibbles on his lower lip trying to think of what he wants to say. “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

“What?” you gasp. “How could you think that?”

“My life is fucked up baby, why would you want in the mess?” He takes a step closer.

“All I wanted was to be there for you,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your jacket.

“That’s all you wanted?” he takes another step closer. You can feel the heat of him. You look up at his face, he’s standing so close. His brow is raised. “That’s all you wanted?” he repeats in a whisper.

“Javi,” you whisper and melt into him as he closes the gap between you with his lips. His mustache tickles your upper lip in the way you hoped it would.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“You don’t have to explain,” you cling to his shirt. You start to laugh and press your forehead against his solid warm chest.

“What’s so funny?” he laughs.

“This isn’t how I thought this would happen.”

“Oh?” he raises that eyebrow again.

“I thought-“

“What?” he kisses your forehead and cheeks.

“I just thought you’d come up to my desk and ask me for a paperclip or something and then ask me for coffee.”

“Baby, I will ask you for a fucking paperclip if that’s what you want.”

You snort out a laugh and he squeezes you tight. He kisses you again, and you feel dizzy.

“I don’t do this. Ever,” you flush.

“It’s ok,” he whispers kissing you again, “all I came over for was a paperclip.”

//

MASTERLIST

[unholyplumpprincess]

Desperate For Your Taste

Anon asked:  Imagine vamp bloodhound forcing themselves to only drink from animals or bloodbags because they feel thats more respectful than hunting humans, so during a season of the games their supply runs low and they get to a point of desperation where they beg their reader s/o to let them drink and reader's like "uh yeah ive been offering since day 1" And bloodhound just WORSHIPPING them while drinking and telling them "you taste so good" and then maybe they thank them in a *special* way after?😳

I modified the prompt just a smidgen!!!! Love me some desperate Hound.

Reblogs > Likes. Age in your bio (18+ only) or get blocked!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader has a vulva but is gender neutral, vampire Bloodhound, drinking of blood, going off an old idea where vampires had venom in their fangs to paralyze their ‘victim’ so wellp, you aren’t BOUND but ya can’t move, Bloodhound’s excessive and polite pet names but ALSO their excessive body mods, so pierced tongue + split tongue mentioned. You’re welcome.

Words: 2.5k

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Truly, you could have laughed when you found out Bloodhound was a vampire.  

Memories of headlines reading ‘local legend part bat?’ hitting you when they’d revealed it to you. They knew that you wouldn’t be scared, but for you to giggle at them had been something they hadn’t been expecting. Well, until you burst out giggling with, “So are you really part bat? Do you  got   wittle  pointy ears and wings?” And they’d pushed you playfully, softly and told you that you were ridiculous.  

Aliens existed, different alien beasts that you could hunt or talked like any other person- sure, why would vampires not be real? Though it did lead to you asking questions about eating. It definitely explained their like of raw meat and how they’d wait at your door for an invitation- something which you had assumed in the past was simply their polite behavior.  

~Rest under the cut~

Eating was easy enough to understand. Bloodhound explains that it varied, like humans, what they wanted one day. They could eat raw meat or very rare cooked meat, they could merely drain the blood from something but that took a lot of effort and different vein points to bite down onto to get a proper fill, and they vaguely hinted that there were other ways than that, but when you asked they didn’t elaborate. Merely brushed it off with a healthy flush to their cheeks and a, “Another time, my love.”  

But they did admit they did not ever indulge in humans. Nor would they indulge in animals or beasts they had not killed by their own hand- it seemed improper to them. You asked about blood bags, but they had made a face akin to a child being offered vegetables so you assumed that was off the table. Though when you asked why not simply chomp anyone in the arena, going so far as to suggest that Mirage would probably love a death like that, Bloodhound had softly laughed.  

“Feeding from...a person is seen as very intimate. And though Mirage is attractive, I am afraid you are the only one who holds my heart, my love.” They’d said softly to you, holding your hand that day and tracing patterns into your palm. Of course, this had started with you whining that you’d offered for them to chomp you since day one of being in a relationship, going so far as to gesture at your neck only for them to tell you that they were not hungry.   

Despite the fact their eyes had lingered on your neck a little too long before they’d politely looked away.  

Liar.  

Now though, now in the season they’ve been looking a little...unhinged. In the arena they are normally ruthless, but now their ratings are higher than ever due to their need to chase their prey down. Bloodhound’s shots are on point with killer accuracy, to the point sometimes they take the last of their opponent down with their raven hatchet in hand. You start to notice it gets worse when they do not do their signature sign off of their kills, no longer taking the time to do a brief prayer for them, but instead seeming to linger a bit too long on the blood on their hatchet before wiping it off on their thigh.  

You watch from the cameras like everyone else. You’re sure no one else would notice- their ratings were getting higher from this anyway. But you know for a fact they’re hungry. Bloodhound must not have had time to scope the island for fresh meat, or time to take a trip to the kitchen to find meat yet cooked and yet frozen. Regardless of the reason, your concern grows.  

When this week’s matches come to a pause, you’re not surprised to hear the knock on your door- they normally return to your quarters to spend the weekend anyhow. Though as you answer the door, you’re surprised to see them in their casual clothing.  

Their hair is pulled up into a ponytail, red curls sticking up here and there with a braid framing the side of their face and a raven feather braided into it. Their rounded glasses with red lenses hide their eyes, as well as the lower black face mask with white sharp teeth painted on the front hiding their lower face. A black lace bralette, their fur lined cropped leather jacket, and leather pants make your eyes near about wander and linger at the peeking  underbust  tattoo and thinking about licking the line from their--  

“My love,” Bloodhound breathes out, their voice desperate.  

“Right! Please, come inside!” You quickly reply, watching as they cross the threshold as if an invisible barrier had come down. They seem...frantic? The door being kicked shut behind them and you hardly have the time to open your mouth before you’re being scooped up from their impossible strength. You let out a laugh hooking your legs around their waist as their hands grab your ass and carry you straight to your bed.  

You’re dressed in your lounge clothing. A loose t-shirt and matching lounge pants with some cute cliché green alien design on them. Certainly nothing fancy like their own clothing. But once they lie you down on your bed, they take just a moment longer to kick off their boots before they’re climbing on top of you, fitting between your spread thighs.  

You smile up at them, plucking their glasses off their nose to set on the nightstand beside your bed and turn your head back in time to watch them unhook their mask to toss elsewhere in your room. When they lean down, you expect a kiss, but instead they nudge at the crook of your neck with a soft growl.  

Immediately you roll your head to the side, allowing their lips to press hungry, open mouthed kisses over your jugular. It’s so sudden that you whine faintly in your throat, hands coming up so one can grab their shoulder and the other resting in the bulk of their ponytail. “H-Hound not that I mind or anything, but are you a--”  

“Hungry.” They growl out against you, their split tongue sliding across your neck and making you shudder. “I have not been able to- ah- to have a moment to-” They groan lowly, as if irritated at their inability to speak. You gently shush them, pulling their ponytail lightly and watching them comply obediently to pull back and look at you.  

Their good eye’s slit pupil is thinned out dangerously, their full lips parted and double set of sharp canines exposed. Bloodhound’s eyes are half lidded, heavy, as if they can’t get enough of your scent. They looked absolutely desperate, punctuated further by their whimper and their bottom lip wobbling attractively before they manage to choke out. “Please. Please, my sweet one. I shall be  gentle,  it will not hurt--- have you eaten?” It comes spilling out all at once, their tone desperate before concerned and you choke on a laugh.  

“You don’t have to ask, you know, I’ve always been willing. And yes, I have eaten, it had sugar too so I won’t be fainting on you either.” You reply, gently tugging their hair so they’ll be guided back down to your neck. You adjust a little bit to be comfortable on your pillows, letting them shift their own body until they’re no longer on top of you. Bloodhound curled almost into your side, one arm over your chest and their face still buried into the crook of your neck. One of their  legs  slots against yours, the other tucked a bit over your thigh and hip as if they’re spooning into your side.  

You’ve tugged their hair out of its ponytail. Idly massaging their scalp as Bloodhound mouths at your neck. They seem almost nervous, or teasing  themself, their breaths coming out like soft, hushed growls instead. You give them a gentle tug to urge them, tensing yourself up when you feel the brush of their fangs.  

“Relax.” You hear cooed into your mind, immediately feeling at ease and you suspect it’s some sort of ‘vampire magick’ happening. And then you feel it, the quick stab of their teeth that you’d only ever felt nips and scrapes of. It makes you jump lightly, a sharp gasp leaving your lips, fingers curling into their hair at the same time their arm seems to anchor you into place.   

True to their word, it doesn’t hurt, merely just a quick burn before it soothed itself out. At first you expect that this feeding business was easier than you thought, easing your fingers in their hair and returning to massaging their scalp. You can feel the gentle suction on your neck, the vague feeling of their tongues lapping you up and the soft moans of contentment they let out.  

And then you feel it. No, not pain, but this sort of...warmth. It blossoms from that area in your neck, curling down your spine until your eyes are fluttering and you feel your breath quickening, your heart rate matching. “H-Hound?” You whimper out, confusion in your tone, and they moan against you in response.  

You think you’re figuring out why feeding off another person was ‘intimate’. You feel like you’ve been edged for hours. There’s a wet feeling between your thighs, but you can’t feel yourself able to even move. Even your fingers have stopped in their hair, feeling like your body was made of warm jello. Warm, horny jello.  

Bloodhound’s mouth pulls from your neck, licking the wound shut before they’re moving overtop you again. Your hand falls from their hair, falling to the bed limply and you can move it ever so slightly, but it feels like you’re trying to move it through a pool full of pudding. Bloodhound doesn’t look concerned, so you remain calm, looking up at them as they fit back between your legs. You think you like the way their eyes look dangerous, or the fact they have to wipe their mouth off with the back of their hand so their lips aren’t stained red.  

“You should be feeling arousal,” They begin, their voice thick and low as they run their fingers over your sides. The very touch makes you whimper, feeling all too hot. “Every touch should feel twice as sensitive.” They continue, dragging their nails back down to grab your t-shirt and pulling it slowly up.  

“I can feel you want this, my love, you are always so good for me. But I wish to hear it as well.” Bloodhound murmurs when they’ve pulled your shirt above your chest, tracing their fingers down to between your chest. It feels like they’re tracing both fire and ice across your skin, feeling every little thing like any touch they gave you was pure pleasure-   

“Yes. Yes- you're- fuck, Hound, is this some kinky shit all vampires have?” You manage to whine out. It makes them laugh at least, a low chuckle at your humor as they gentle grab your chest, circling your nipples with their thumbs. Your reaction is immediate, a moan sliding past your throat and your head lolling slowly to the side. Even the smallest action has you sobbing out when their nails scrape across your nipples.  

“I suppose you may see it as a type of venom,” They explain  cooly . They sound less desperate now, their tone still hungry. But their nails brush along your skin downwards to the waistband of your pants, hooking their fingers in and helping you out of them all whilst speaking. “Traditionally it was to ensure prey could not escape and that it would be pleasurable for them instead. Now?”  

Bloodhound tugs off your underwear with their last word, sighing as they spread your legs apart and begin to slide between your legs. Your face flushes red when you feel them nuzzle the mound of your sex before inhaling your scent with a low groan. “Now, it is for intimate moments such as this.” Spoken with a breathlessness to their tone.  

“W-wait, are you still hungry?” You breathe out, aware of the dull throb in your neck. You’re surprised when they lightly chuckle, their warm breath fanning across your slick cunt and making you shiver.  

“My love, I need only to feed on any life force. I have had my appetizer, now I am ready for my meal.” They speak so calmly, yet it sounds like pure filth from their mouth. Their talented, talented, cruel mouth-  

Normally you’d fist your hands into their hair and squirm, but you find yourself unable to even do that. Feeling much like a doll as they use one hand to press over your mound, two fingers pulling your labia apart and exposing your clit. Even their very breath over your slick flesh makes you want to cry, feeling your clit jerk before their mouth even touches it in an open mouthed, hungry kiss.  

Their split, pierced tongue is always such a blessing. Sliding down through your folds to lick up your slick and coming back up to your clit where their mouth gently seals over it. Suckling lightly and popping off a few times just to make you sob out. They’re always such a messy eater, nosing at your clit, messily licking you up and teasing your clit by sandwiching it between the split of their modded tongue.  

Bloodhound moans against you, their free hand pressing at your inner thigh to keep your legs apart and to feel how you twitch despite being unable to move. They moan even louder at your cries of sensitivity, unable to cover your mouth or control your vocal  chords  with every cry. They eat you like they’re starving, their mouth sealing over you just to lick over you sloppily, narrowing their mouth down soon enough to seal back over your clit and tracing mindless shapes around the length of it.  

You cum in about a minute flat. Wracking your entire frame with tremors and your cunt squeezing around nothing. Bloodhound moans against you again, the vibrations making a cracked sob roll from your lips, but they merely pull back for just a moment to kiss at your inner thighs.  

“You taste divine, ansi bráð mitt.” They growl out lowly, watching as you roll your head slowly to meet their hungry gaze. When they grin, it looks wolfish, your slick on their lips like a form of gloss. You whine at their hungry look.  

“Hound-”  

“Shh. You can give me three more, can you not?”  

You whimper out, toes already curling when they lower their head back towards your cunt when you nod.   

“Good. Now, be good, little one. I have earned this treat.”  

You suppose you finally got your answer to what else they could eat.  

You think you prefer this method.  

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Here’s the heavy sh^t I said I was writing

Tw for bullying and attempted suicide, and overdosing

“Hey, freak!”

Boa put his head down and walked faster. He wasn’t looking to get beat up again. His parents already wanted to move, but it was his senior year, he didn’t want to have to adjust to a new school, a new city. He also didn’t want his parents to put themselves under that type of financial stress for him. He was fine with the bullying. He could take it.. mostly. Usually.

Well enough.

“Snake boy! I’m talking to you!” He apparently wasn’t walking fast enough because someone grabbed his shoulder, turning him around to face them. The kid was on the football team, a bit shorter than Boa but definitely a lot stronger. Boa bit back a comment on how unoriginal of an insult snake boy was.

“… what?”

“Got ya something.” The boy shoved a bag into Boa’s hands, he looked inside… three bags of extra strength Benadryl and a razor.

“… what the hell is this for?” Boa asked, he had a vague idea…

“Listen. Boa. I think we both know nobody wants you here.” The guy said, “And you’re too p^ssy to take yourself out without a push.”

“I’m not going to kill myself.” Boa had been told to before, but someone putting the stuff in his hands-this was a special type of audacity, huh?

“It’d sure make this town less of a sh^t hole.” The boy walked away, and the one left standing there couldn’t comprehend how somebody could actually tell someone to do that and still be calm. He should’ve tossed out the bag. He wasn’t going to do it-that’s what he told himself. Regardless he shoved it in his school bag, making sure it was at the bottom and unseen, and headed home.

And it stayed down there in the bottom, for about a week. He came home with a black eye and a few other bruises, he managed to convince his parents he’d fallen down the stairs, barely.

He went up into his room, making sure Monty was fed and taken care of before writing a note. Once he felt it was good enough he grabbed the bag and slipped out of the window. He ignored his snake’s calls for where he was going.

He didn’t want his parents to be the ones to find him, it’d break them.

He decided to walk around town first, he didn’t know why. Maybe to find a place, maybe to put it off? He didn’t know.

It was always peaceful around here at night. The sunset was always nice, and it was quiet. Even the wild snakes didn’t say much, minding their own business as they stayed in the bushes and looked for food. He wasn’t quite sure how long he stayed out there, before finally finding a place he wanted to do it. He slid down against the wall, taking one of the pill bottles out, reading the drug facts.

His mind made up and yet he was still stalling. He was weak. But there’d be no more bullying, no more ridicule, if he was dead. You can’t be an outcast-can’t be a freak- if you’re dead. His parents would care for Monty, they’d find a way to cope, and that was the entire list of who would miss him. He’d fade out of existence as it was known, with no greater mark on the world than some weird kid who was too tired of being hurt.

He woke up in a hospital, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were foggy, he felt like sh^t. His mouth and eyes felt dry, he realized after a moment that he had a breathing tube in, along with an iv. He stared at the ceiling, not wanting to turn his head, he wasn’t sure how a breathing tube worked and he wasn’t trying to hurt himself on accident… well that was ironic. He’d apparently failed to kill himself and now he was trying not to hurt himself.

He heard the door open and pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He heard two pairs of footsteps and heard his parents talking to each other in Spanish.

*”… do you think he’s going to wake up soon..?”

“.. I hope so… I should’ve seen something was wrong.”

“… we both should’ve but-we can’t change it now we just have to be there for him.”

“We’re lucky we found him in time…”

“I know.”

“He could’ve died.”

“I know, hun, but he didn’t, he’s here, he’s breathing.”

“Not on his own.”*

It was a few days before Boa was cleared to go home. He was shocked the hospital hadn’t stuck him in a mental hospital honestly, but he was glad to be home. His parents were worried for him all the time now-not that he could blame them.

They hadn’t made him go back to school yet, he was thankful, rumors spread fast and he wasn’t ready to hear someone say they wished he’d succeeded.

He heard a knock on the door, he sat up, calling for the person to come in. It was his dad, holding a bag of oranges-probably from the farmer market near their house. He sat on the bed next to Boa, pausing before hugging his kid. Boa hugged back, burying his face in his dad’s shoulder.

“How are you holding up?”

“… I’m fine dad… what’s with the oranges?”

“You like the farmers market oranges.” His dad paused, “I want to make a deal with you, okay?”

“… what’s the deal?”

“I’m going to buy you oranges, every week, and as long as I’m buying you oranges, you can’t try… you can’t try to kill yourself again. Okay?” His dad still hadn’t let them go, the oranges were sat by the two on the bed.

“… that sounds like a good deal.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“… I love you dad..”

“I love you too, more than anything.”

Boa sighed and checked his phone, it’d been a hard day. He’d finally brought Tommy’s things back to him, it felt like giving up. He felt like giving up.

He saw a notification from PayPal. 10 dollars. ‘Buy yourself some oranges :)’

He sat up, taking a deep breath. Yeah he was hurting right now, but things would get better.

He was going to call his parents later.

Right now he was going to go get some oranges.

[aciid-eater]

“First meetings”

Shishio Tsukasa x reader

Warning: none

Summary: Y/n meets Tsukasa for the first time when she stays a little too late at the hospital.

__________________________________________

"Come on Mirai, I know you can do this!" Y/n stated encouragingly, shaking fists in excitement. The younger girl sitting across from her lifted her head to look at y/n. Y/n locker eyes with her and smiled, causing Mirai to look back down at the table in determination. The two were placed in a fairly large hospital room, sitting at a small table in the corner by the large window.

The child, Mirai, was hooked up to a mobile IV, dressing in a pink hospital gown. The table was littered in papers with simple math problems on them. Y/n watched intently as Mirai muttered to herself before turning back to y/n, her blonde hair bouncing with her movement.

"23..?" She muttered unsurly.

"Yes! You did it, I'm so proud of you!" Y/n cheered, as a beautiful smile graced her features. Mirai giggled, her confidence boosted just a little.

Y/n looked over to the clock on the wall, it was almost 8:30. She stood and began packing things up into her bag.

"I gotta go chickadee." Y/n stated. Mirai whined.

"But it's almost nine, onii-chan will be here soon, I want you to meet him." She pouted.

"Maybe another day, okay? I have to go, but I'll be here on Wednesday." Y/n said, swinging her bag around her shoulders.

"Why not tomorrow?" Mirai asked.

"Because I have a show, I won't be done until 8pm." She replied.

"Can I go? I've never seen one of your shows before." Mirai shakingly stood, pulling her IV stand along with her as she paced over to pull on y/n's jacket.

"Pleeeeeeease."

Y/n looked down at the blonde girl's puppy eyes in sympathy.

"I'll tell you what." She began, squatting down to the girl's level. "Take this, and if you can convince your Onii-chan to bring you, I promise it will be a show you'll never forget." Y/n stated, handing the girl a business card.

"Oh thank you, n/n thank you so much!" Mirai cried, clutching the card to her chest.

Now past the small delay, y/n was finally ready to leave the hospital, as she turned to the door, the handle rattled. Y/n froze, she stayed too late. Cursing at herself for getting to occupied with teaching Mirai math, she frantically began fixing her clothes. It would be weird to explain to someone why you spent so much time helping their little sister when you weren't affiliated with either of them. Y/n had been volunteering for Mirai for months and not once had she met Mirai's brother.

Finally the door swung open.

"Onii-chan!!" Mirai yelled in glee.

Standing in the doorway was a face y/n knew all too well. Tsukasa Shishio, the strongest high school primate. She had seen him online and on TV and she often heard her female classmates gushing over him during school. He was tall with broad shoulders, his posture was demanding and his built arms flexed under the sleeves of his school uniform. Y/n was still frozen, the words she planned to say caught in her throat. Shishio, why hadn't she noticed that name before?

Shishio's face softened at the words of his sister, then hardened again as he took sight of the stranger in the room.

"Who are you?" He asked curtly, voice hard but smooth at the same time.

"I-I was just g-"

"This is n/n-chan!" Mirai cheered. Shishio steadily walked over to the two, unintentionally towering over y/n.

"I-I'm y/n, s-sir, y/n l/n" she stammered.

"Sir?" He chuckled humorlessly "Call me Shishio, we're basically the same age."

"O-Okay." Shishio was horribly intimidating, yet so very beautiful, more than she had ever seen online. His entire look was so conflicting. His eyebrows were harsh, but his eye lashes were delicate. His muscles were huge, but his hands were gentle as he lifted his sister into him arms, moving her over to her hospital bed.

"Goodnight Onii-chan, goodnight n/n." Mirai mumbled as Shishio tucked her in.

"Goodnight chickadee, I'll see you when I do." Y/n said quickly, bee-lining to the door.

"L/n." The way he said her name made a chill run down her spine.

"Y-yes?"

"May I speak to you outside?" Y/n turned around to meet Shishio's eyes. He had a soft smile placed on his face, but his eyes were cold. Y/n gulped.

"Of course."

As soon as the two were in the hallway and the door was shut, Shishio's smile disappeared. He lifted his head and peered down at y/n through his eyelashes.

"So you're the one that has been with my sister all this time?"

"Y-yes." Y/n squeaked. Her palms were sweating as she was terrified out of her mind.

"Might I ask why?" Y/n shut her eyes tightly and lowered her head a little. Her speech was quick and uneven.

"I-I've been volunteering here for a while a-and I met Mirai on one of my s-shifts. I had taken a liken to h-her because she reminded me of my own s-sister and I s-saw that she needed a t-tutor. I apologize, I didn't intend to intrude and I w-won't make the mistake again I-"

"L/n." Y/n shut up immediately, slowly opening her eyes to see Shishio looking at her with a sympathetic almost ashamed look in his eye.

"Don't be ridiculous, you haven't intruded on anything. I was just a little skeptical, Mirai is very important to me." He stated. Y/n unclenched, slowly relaxing her body.

"I don't blame you. I would be too." She said softly, her voice reminding him of a softness he'd known not before.

"If anything, I should be thanking you. I'm glad someone is here with her all day when I cannot be. I try to stay here as much as I can, but that's not as often as I wish it was." He said.

"Well she's lovely to be around, and quite my favorite here." Y/n was fully relaxed, but still not able to look Shishio in the eyes for longer than a second.

Shishio noticed. He noticed how tense and nervous she was around him. How her body clenched into a fight or flight stance as she talked. Now calmer, she still couldn't hold eye contact with him. Was he that scary? He had only ever seen fear in the eyes of his opponents, never in the eyes of Mirai or those of the girls that ogled after him. So this was new.

"I-I'm sorry, for scaring you just now. Maybe I could take you to a cafe or a park sometime, as an apology, and a thank you?"

The girl relaxed a little more, a small smile formed on her lips.

"That sounds nice. I-I'll get right back to you, promise, but I must be getting home. It's dark out and I want to get inside before it gets too late." She said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"oh yes, don't let me hold you up." Shishio stated.

"Goodnight Shishio, I'll see you when I do." Y/n walked away from the male a little too quickly, leaving him to smile softly at her nature and reminisce on the lovely way she said his name.

[juiice]

The Locked Tomb Fic Recs (3)

Part 1+ Links

Ive read most of the tag at this point, so i figured I’d make one of these. I’m not as good as bookmarking them all though :(. I just pulled these out of my bookmarks and stopped when I got too many.

The criteria for this one is under 600 hits published before 2021. The theme is

... Post-HTN!

(All fics under 5,000 words.)

i am quicksand / lick me from your hand by Propergoffic Rated: M (more like E?)

Was this really a good idea?

"I said to myself, what would Griddle do?"

And you came up with 'lock the door, get so high you could eat a star, and think really really hard about the hottest girl in the whole-ass galaxy?' I'm so proud.

You know the an infinite amount of monkeys would eventually type something already wrote? this one is so close it might as well be cannon. well- cannon if the lobotomy didn't happen.

Anastasis by Historymiss Rated: G

You’ve never been very good at sleeping, and death has never been your friend.

very short- but it dosnt need to be a word longer

How to Make the Universe More Great, More Hot by Swiftyfrisko Rated: T

Harrowhark Nonagesimus’ walls came crashing down that night in Canaan House.

Unable to move on, her personal mission has been to restore their shared destiny. But has she been a fool to dream the impossible? A bigger fool to let that dream become an obsession?

She’s about to find out...

love the snark on this one- and the merging of personalities we didnt see in HTN

much wisdom is much grief by Celestialbisexual Rated: T

After everything, God grieves, and thinks, and plans.

John fic! great characterization of everyone's (least?) favorite bastard of a man.

my love took me down to the river to silence me by Celestialbisexual Rated: M

Cytherea is waiting for you at the River. She’s got a little boat tied to a stake at the water’s edge, and she’s wearing a frankly ridiculous sunhat. She waves you down as you approach, as if there’s any chance of you missing her.

“Well” she says, smiling her million-watt smile, “you fucked that one up rather spectacularly.”

“You’re one to talk.” You snap. “You got murdered by a toddler with a bone fetish.”

“I missed you too, Mercy.” Cytherea says, and rises up on her tiptoes to kiss both your cheeks. “Now come along, we’ve got a very busy afterlife ahead of us.”

this is my favorite fic ever. i must have daydreamed up more of it because i swear it was longer. i love cytherea's character in this and how she interacts with her sibling lyctors. if i made a best tlt fics list this one would be up there. it needs more love!

[ric0cheted]

battle magic

a witcher, a bard, and a sorceress encounter each other on a hunt. it all goes downhill from there. 

(aka jaskier may have a little combat magic. as a treat.) 

this is the dumbest, most chaotic thing ive ever written. please enjoy.

Fuck, Geralt hated monster hunts.

Not the contracts he took from frightened villagers, or even those given to him by the local authorities of the bigger territories. It was the spectacles, the hunts that people flocked to for huge sums of coin and acclaim, put on by the bored and rich.

Geralt didn't hunt monsters for sport, or glory; nor to furnish bastard lords with trophies to mount over their mantles. But Geralt was a Witcher. He had a job to do, and that job didn't make enough coin to turn down the bounty on a creature he already intended to pursue.

The reports told of a monstrous beast, roaming the forested mountains that formed the border between Kaedwen and Redania. From what Geralt could tell, it sounded like a wyvern; but mutated somehow, strange and twisted. A kindred spirit, Geralt supposed, lips curving bitterly.

Whatever. The hunt began tomorrow--up the mountain and through the trees, avoiding the others as thoroughly as possible, hopefully reaching the wyvern before they could. Geralt was grateful only for the fact that the mountain was shorter than its nearby brethren.

Well. That, and the tavern at the bottom of it. Ugly and dirty, but a tavern, still. Geralt bought a drink and claimed a table in the darkest, dingiest corner of it, assuming that his demeanor was foreboding enough to dissuade those foolish enough to want to talk to him.

Apparently he needed to rethink how fucking foreboding he was, Geralt thought, darkly, given that it took naught but a half hour for some idiot to approach him. Geralt took stock of him out of his periphery; tall and lithe, clad in a ridiculous blue outfit with an instrument--a lute, maybe--strapped to his back. Handsome, enough that Geralt would bet good coin that he was also profoundly annoying.

He reached Geralt's table and struck a casual pose, to limited success. The dark, messy hair swooping over his blue eyes looked stupidly, purposely disheveled. "You know, for a man as dashing as yourself, you seem to be tragically lacking in company."

Of course Geralt wasn't lucky enough to get a regular idiot. He got one with balls to hit on a Witcher. “Fuck off.”

The man had enough sense to not sit down, but not enough to stop talking. “The name's Julian! Julian Pankratz. Just a humble bard, as you can see.” He gestured towards his lute. “My apologies for interrupting whatever deep thoughts you’re clearly entertaining, but I’ve never met a Witcher before. I can’t imagine how many stories you must have, of all of your noble deeds and, just--general heroism, I suppose." He smiled at Geralt, eyes bright and eager.

Geralt scowled, but the bard's baffling enthusiasm was sincere enough to lower his hackles. Just barely. "Well, then. Fuck off, bard."

Undeterred, Julian flashed him a saucy grin. “How about this? I’ll fuck off and leave you to your Witcherly business, once you’ve let me buy you a drink far better than the swill they’re slinging for the rest of this lot.”

Geralt swept his gaze across the room and let it fall on the bartender, who was serving everyone from the same dingy barrel. "Must've missed the menu." His voice turned mocking. "Or are you going to pull some strings? Have a lot of connections in bumfuck Redanian taverns?"

“I’ve found that purse strings are the most effective strings to pull. Well, the second-most effective.” Geralt raised an eyebrow and Julian winked and waved towards his lute once more. “Through the lute, one can reach the purse and, just as critically, the heart! Which also happens to have very pull-able strings. It’s tremendously versatile, really. The, ah, lute.”

Geralt snorted despite himself and considered his ale. It really did taste like goat piss. Geralt carefully weighed the prospect of a decent drink against being forced to suffer through the bard’s...everything. “Will you keep your mouth shut while I’m drinking?”

"I cannot, in good conscience, promise that,” Julian replied, beaming. “But! I’ll buy you an especially expensive drink as compensation for your time.” Geralt rolled his eyes, but shoved his mug towards Julian. He watched the bard dart over to the bar and chat with the bartender; the man raised his eyebrow at the coins Julian subtly slid over the counter and, to Geralt's immense consternation, pulled something out from beneath the bar and poured two mugs of it.

Julian sauntered back and took the liberty of sliding into the booth across from Geralt, looking deeply smug. Geralt frowned and took a wary sip from the mug passed to him. It was good. Fuck.

"So," Julian said, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. "Would you prefer to regale me with what I'm sure will be tremendously vivid and intrepid tales, or would you like me to fill the silence while you drink?"

"Is that an offer or a threat?"

Julian pursed his lips in thought. They were very pink, and very soft-looking. "Hm. Both, I suppose." The bard cupped his chin in his hands and leered. Geralt groaned and took another swig.

One drink turned into two, turned into three, turned into Julian fumbling the fourth mug and cleaning the fancy ale trickling down his wrist with delicate swipes of his tongue, turned into Geralt hoisting Julian up by the thighs and shoving him against the back wall of the tavern to suck dark bruises into his throat and grind their hips together in a rough, dirty rhythm.

Julian dragged Geralt into a hot, biting kiss, moaning breathlessly against his lips. "Let me down, come on, let me see it,” Julian panted, scratching his nails down Geralt’s arms. Geralt gave him a parting bite just below his jaw and dropped him, allowing the bard to frantically undo Geralt's pants.

“Oh, fuck," Julian panted, pulling Geralt out. He licked his lips and stared at Geralt’s cock. "Gods, that is something.” He nuzzled against it, before heaving a regretful sigh. “Listen, love--”

Geralt scowled through the hazy lust and tugged at Julian's hair. “Don’t call me that.”

Julian pulled back to make a disbelieving face at him. “Are you always this crotchety with your bedmates?" He directed his gaze towards the night sky and sighed again, dramatically. "You really are lucky that you’re so incredibly attractive.”

Geralt stared at the bard with matching disbelief. “What about you? Do you always fucking talk this much?” Julian licked a stripe down his cock and Geralt’s mouth snapped shut.

“Anyways, as I was saying, I would really, truly love to tackle this, but I've got a job to do tomorrow, and I need everything, you know." Julian gestured vaguely at his throat. "Intact." He looked wistfully at Geralt’s cock. “And that would ruin me. Fuck."

Geralt bit back a groan of frustration. His cock throbbed. “Then what do you propose we do, bard?"

“Ah, well,” Julian said. He tilted his head and paused in mock thought. "I can eat you out until you cry. Or you can fuck my thighs. Or you could jerk us off with those massive, lovely hands of yours." Julian sat back, legs spread, eyes glinting. "You've had sex before, right? With a man? I wouldn't want to deflower you behind some shamble of a tavern."

Slowly, Geralt raised both eyebrows and looked down at Julian. "You want me to answer those, or do you want to get up so I can show you?" Julian nodded quickly in assent, a blush rising to his cheeks. Geralt offered him a hand up.

"Wait, wait, wait! One for the road." Julian leaned forward to suckle briefly, gently at the head of Geralt's cock. “Okay, okay, I’m done,” Julian breathed, rocking back, ignoring Geralt’s shocked moan and instinctive thrust. He slapped lightly at Geralt’s thigh. "Down here, anyway. What do you say to a location change, Witcher? I’m sure you’ve got a tent or something somewhere.”

***

Geralt woke the next morning with the sun, and without Julian. He wouldn’t have cared, if it hadn’t meant that he slept so deeply that he somehow missed the bard leaving. Swearing, he rifled through his supplies and gear; swords, potions, coin purse, each of them present and accounted for. He huffed out a breath, relieved that he hadn't been robbed blind, and by a bard at that.

Readying himself quickly, Geralt set out for the day, armored and armed to the teeth. He made it to the border of the forest in good time; he'd taken a different route than the other parties, and while he couldn't be sure that it would pay off in the long run, he certainly appreciated the quiet.

He smelled Yennefer before he saw her, the scent of lilac and gooseberries drifting in the breeze; it took but a moment for her to fall into step with him. “I thought I might find you here, Geralt. It’s good to see you."

Geralt looked her over. “Good to see you too, Yenn. Bored with your lordling already? Looking for somewhere to summer?” Geralt gestured broadly to the forest around them. “Seems like the Pustulskie mountains are nice this time of year. Rampaging beasts aside, that is.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, gathering her skirt up to step over a muddy patch of grass. “No, to both. But you know that. I’m here on business, and I thought we might be able to help each other.”

“Oh, is that what you thought?” A smirk played at Geralt’s lips. “And I figured. This isn’t your usual crowd.”

"Quite," Yennefer said, dryly. "I happened to see some of the others on my way. Charmers, all of them, with their quaint little blades and ratty beards."

Geralt hummed in agreement, pushing a tree bough aside. "There's even a bard here, if you can believe it.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about them. Shit. He felt a touch of heat rise in his cheeks.

To his surprise, Yennefer tensed. “And what, exactly, did this bard say his name was?”

"...Julian?" Geralt paused, trying to remember through the haze of drink and his own indifference. “Fuck, not pancakes. Pankratz?”

“Jaskier’s here?" Yennefer hissed. "Geralt, we need to move." She quickened her pace, hurriedly traipsing through the trees.

Geralt matched her stride, snorting in amusement. “Why, are you secretly afraid of lutes?” The rest of her words caught up with him. “Wait, who the fuck is Jaskier?”

“Because I refuse to let him jeopardize this endeavor.” Yennefer scowled, brow furrowing. “Fuck, what is that idiot even doing here?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Yenn. I heard we’re hunting a wyvern, might be for that.” Yennefer stopped in her tracks, turning to shoot him a look that suggested that he should hold his tongue if he wanted to keep it in his mouth. “But if you tell me what the fuck you’re talking about, I might be able to help.”

"Julian Alfred Pankratz," Yennefer said, voice dripping with derision. "Otherwise known as the troubadour Jaskier." She prodded at a flower emerging from the dirt with the tip of her boot and rolled her eyes, tone turning lofty. "Oxenfurt's first mage."

Geralt stared at her. "Mage? He told me he was a bard." He scoured his memories of the night before, trying to remember an instance in which Julian--Jaskier--had used magic, had given any indication of magical ability whatsoever.

Yennefer made a disgusted face. "Ugh. He is." Her eyes narrowed intently, gaze sharpening. “What else did he tell you?”

Geralt kept himself from coughing, just barely. “We didn’t exactly bare our souls under the moonlight, Yenn. I think he mentioned that he had a job to do today, but that was it.”

Yennefer closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, grimacing. Geralt could hear the grind of her teeth. Without speaking, she reached into a pouch at her side, picking carefully through the contents and quickly withdrawing a blue scrap of cloth tied with twine.

"I swear, this had better be worth it," Yennefer muttered under her breath, undoing the twine. Wrapped in the cloth was a lock of soft, brown hair. Pinching it between her fingers, she brought it to her mouth, whispered something Geralt couldn’t parse, and blew on it.

Geralt startled as the lock of hair immediately burst into flame, billowing smoke that drifted against the wind. Yennefer’s gaze snapped to the direction that the smoke had begun to waft, a vicious, determined spark in her eyes.

"You find the wyvern, Geralt. I'm going to go have words with our bard."

***

Geralt saw the glade before he walked into it. Even through the trees, he could tell it was gorgeous--the light of the midday sun shone brightly upon the foliage dotting the clearing; at its heart lay a clear, glittering pool of water.

It would've been the picture of serenity, if not for the massive, fuck-off wyvern right in the middle of it.

Geralt had seen wyverns, had seen royal wyverns, with their golden fringe, massive horns, and venomous barbed tails. But the creature before him was far larger than it should've been; besides, all of the wyverns Geralt had encountered had just a single tail. This one had three of them.

Wings folded close to its body, the wyvern dipped its gaping maw to drink from the spring. Geralt let out a very quiet breath, grateful that it hadn't seemed to notice him.

A slight movement to the right caught his eye. There, weaving slowly, quietly through the trees, was Jaskier, wearing no armor, carrying no weapons, and seemingly oblivious to Geralt’s presence. The only equipment that the bard seemed to have with him was his fucking lute.

Geralt watched, dumbfounded, as Jaskier inched closer; using what Geralt could only assume was his singular shred of reason, the bard kept to the shadows where the forest canopy was too dense for sunlight to break through. By the time he’d managed to process the idiocy he was witnessing, Jaskier had tiptoed right to the edge of the glade.

Mage or not, Geralt thought, that fucking moron was about to get himself skewered. 

Gritting his teeth, Geralt growled, drew his sword, and burst into the clearing. The wyvern reared up, towering over him as it unfurled to its full height; Geralt should've been prepared for the beast’s ear-splitting screech, but he still had to fight the urge to drop his sword and clap his hands to his ears.

Because of course he did, Jaskier swore and rushed into the clearing, entirely defeating the point of Geralt’s ploy. The bard stumbled to a halt beside him, staring at the wyvern in awe.

Geralt shoved him away and hefted his silver blade, bracing for the heat of the wyvern’s breath as it snapped and bit, the sharp rush of air as its tail--fuck, tails--whipped around to stab at him. Instead, the wyvern just shrieked and flapped its massive wings before taking flight, vanishing over the tops of the trees.

“Shit,” Jaskier breathed. He bolted into the forest, following the direction that the wyvern had flown. Geralt followed instinctively, faster than Jaskier but slowed by the foliage in his path.

He crashed through the treeline just after Jaskier, emerging onto a flat, grassy plateau. They both watched the wyvern soar through the air, making its way towards the peak of a nearby mountain. Jaskier clenched his fists and let out a wordless yell of frustration.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Geralt sniped, sheathing his sword. He surveyed the plateau, noting the cliff's edge a couple hundred feet away.

“No!” Jaskier hissed. “That was not the time for--for gallantry!” Comically aggrieved, Jaskier threw his arms out in a broad sweep. “Gods, do you know how much harder this is going to be? At this distance? With these acoustics?”

Geralt stared at Jaskier, but the bard just sighed, reaching for his lute and checking its strings. “Needs must, I suppose.” He quickly strode forward and turned toward the forest, frowning when Geralt followed and stood in front of him.

“Listen, if you don’t mind, I really need to get to this,” Jaskier said, hurriedly, peering over Geralt’s shoulder into the trees. “I encountered an, ah, acquaintance of mine back in there, and as delightful as I find your company, I really don't think I bought myself enough time to hang around and enjoy it.”

An acquaintance. “Yennefer,” Geralt breathed.

Jaskier stared at Geralt, aghast. "Excuse me, you know Yennefer?" His eyes widened with mounting horror. “Oh, gods, are you with Yennefer? Professionally? Sexually?” He brought the lute closer to his body, cradling it protectively. “That’s--horrible, really. For both of us, I suppose.”

“What the fuck did you do to her, bard?” Geralt snarled, drawing his sword.

Jaskier eyed the blade. "Not to worry, just something to hold her in place, for the time being.” He bit his lip, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "This is a nice forest, really. Quite a bit of flora and fauna, all very obliging."

Geralt lunged forward. Jaskier danced just out of reach, shockingly nimble. "Oh, she’ll be fine! For that matter, it’s only going to keep her occupied for so long, and I would really, really, rather not have to deal with what comes after.” Geralt growled, but Jaskier just grinned at him, clever and confident. “Fighting Yennefer would be messy, to say the least.”

He took another swing, but Jaskier dodged once more and leapt back. “So,” Jaskier announced, strumming lightly at his lute strings. “If you’ll excuse me, love.”

Geralt barely had time to wonder what the fuck the bard was doing before Jaskier’s fingers came down on the lute and a battering wave of force smashed into Geralt, throwing him backwards. Like Aard, Geralt thought, dazed, as he tumbled head-over-heels through the grass. Skidding to a halt, he coughed up a mouthful of dirt and lifted his head.

Ahead of him, Jaskier looked to the sky, opened his mouth, and started to sing. The bright swell of it burst forth from his chest, accompanied by the sound of his lute, a livelier tune than what’d sent Geralt flying. He couldn't understand it, but that didn't keep it from filling his head so completely that he could barely think over it.

Gritting his teeth, Geralt got up and stumbled a few steps forward, only to hear Jaskier weave the same violent sound from before into the lute's melody, unleashing another concussive blast and hurling him to the ground once more. Geralt punched the dirt, furious, and looked up to see Jaskier wink at him, lips quirking up as words continued to spill forth from them.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Geralt shouted, trying to pitch his voice to carry over Jaskier's. Instead, Jaskier closed his eyes, voice spiraling through the air, head cocked as though waiting for something. After a moment the bard's eyes flew open, shining with delight. His voice rose to a crescendo before hitting one final note and breaking off, just as suddenly as it had begun.

Geralt staggered to his feet, yet again, only to see Jaskier scrambling to return the lute to its place on his back. "I'm going to rip that lute apart with my bare hands," Geralt seethed at him, hands flexing, teeth bared.

"No," Jaskier said, looking past Geralt, blue eyes bright and wild. "You’re not." With a parting grin at Geralt, he turned and began running towards the cliff's edge.

About to give chase, Geralt paused for the barest moment, tilting his head; just beyond the echo of Jaskier's song ringing in his ears, he could hear something that set his teeth on edge, something unearthly. It sounded like--

Geralt dropped like a stone and flattened himself to the ground just as the wyvern barreled through the sky, swooping over the plateau and missing him by a claw's breadth, keeping low as it hurtled past him.

Screeching, the wyvern pulled up to Jaskier's flank, about to outpace the bard. Geralt watched, stunned, as Jaskier put on a final burst of speed and leapt sideways, grabbing the stringy tendrils hanging from the wyvern’s sides and scrabbling up onto its scaled back, situating himself ahead of the beast’s dorsal spikes.

With two flaps of its wings the creature soared over the cliff edge, bringing it and Jaskier into the open air. Taking the wyvern into a broad turn, Jaskier wheeled them around to face Geralt, looking tremendously smug.

Something bright and scorching roared past Geralt’s head. Whipping around, Geralt saw Yennefer run forward and send another fireball hurtling towards Jaskier and the wyvern, just missing them. The wyvern shrieked in agitation and Jaskier crooned at it, patting at its spines. He glared at Yennefer, who held her hands up, flames already beginning to lick at her palms anew.

Geralt grabbed her arm, ignoring the heat of the flickering fire. "Yennefer, enough. You'll just shoot them both out of the sky."

"Who says that's not what I intend to do?" Yennefer muttered, viciously.

"Yennefer!" Geralt growled, tracking the way the bard tightened his grip on the wyvern, lips parting around a volley of words. The creature's jaw lolled open, too, teeth bright and sharp; its tails flicked from side to side, dripping venom. “Don’t do this.” Yennefer glowered, but extinguished the fireball.

Seemingly reassured that Yennefer wasn’t about to take another shot, Jaskier laughed, joyously, and flashed them a winning smile.

“Yennefer, good to see you! As always, kindly consider dying in a fire. Geralt, genuinely lovely to meet you, and I hope that this is but a mere bump in the road of our blossoming acquaintance!" Geralt snarled when the bard had the gall to fucking wink at him, again. "Swing by Oxenfurt, if you get a chance. A week, give or take." With that, Jaskier petted fondly at the wyvern’s side and whistled, beaming when it trilled and beat its massive wings, taking to the sky.

Geralt stood there beside Yennefer, rooted in place. Silence hung between them. It was almost jarring, after the tremendous noise that had reverberated through the air just moments earlier.

“Well,” Yennefer said, finally, huffing out an annoyed breath. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Geralt agreed.

[queenmylovely]

Wedding Party II

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. A game night between friends will surely take off the tension from whatever’s going on with you and Ben. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cussing, building tension, charades 

A/N: This is the third and final (multiple) part(s) of my 500 follower celebration!! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause it’s been a minute, whoops. I was planning three parts for this, but I got into the charades so we’re looking at four instead! (p.s. if you want to try to guess the charade movies before the characters do that’s how I tried to write it lol) Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Part I, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist

(yet again wonderful gif by @mrbenhardys) 

💖💖💖

Ben couldn’t believe how close he had come to kissing you the other night. He had diverted it last second by kissing your cheek, but even that teetered too far over the line of what was supposed to happen. If fucking someone at Rami’s wedding wasn’t allowed, then developing a full-on crush wasn’t either. But boy was he.

Even though you were the one that had mentioned hearing about him when the two of you first met, he was surprised to see that all of the references to you by his friends hadn’t failed to live up. In fact, he would probably say that what they said didn’t do you justice. Though he wouldn’t advertise it, he had also done a quick instagram stalk and thought you were even more beautiful in person.

Rami hadn’t slipped up like Lucy and mentioned your name specifically when telling him not to sleep with anyone at the wedding, but even so, Ben found all of his focus on you when it came to that rule. Whether it was because you had known of but never met each other for so long or simply because of who you were, you fascinated him.

Which he knew was dangerous in this particular situation. But he reminded himself that he would only have to see you at the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, wedding, and reception. He thought that maybe after that something more could develop, but until then he would have to stay on track.

_

But when Ben got out of the car to head into Rami and Lucy’s building and held the door open for someone behind him, his whole plan was ruined when that person was you.

“Oh, hi!” you said cheerily and he said hi back; you were trying to mask the mixture of excitement and dread you were feeling. Excitement at seeing Ben and spending time with him and dread at seeing Ben and spending time with him.

The two of you walked across the lobby and to the elevator. Ben pushed the button and you waited together. He had the same internal dilemma going on but he just smiled and said, “I can assume you’re going to game night too then?”

“That’s a safe assumption. Haven’t seen you at one of these before,” you pointed out, trying to make casual conversation. The elevator dinged and you both got on, Ben again hitting the button for the correct floor.

“Yeah, my last film had a lot of night scenes and stuff so I was always busy. But that’s in post and my next one will be mainly day shoots so I’ll be able to come to more of these,” Ben explained as the elevator doors opened and the two of you walked into the hallway.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” you commented during the short walk to their front door. You reached up and knocked twice.

“Yep.”

Then at the same time, the two of you sighed. Your heads whipped towards each other in confusion and you were both about to say something in response or question when the door opened.

“Ben! Y/N! You made it, and look at you arriving together, already practicing for the wedding, huh?” was Joe’s excited greeting when he opened the door.

“Hey mate, good to see you,” Ben told Joe, giving him a hug.

“Hey Joe,” you said with a smile as you hugged him. Then you teased, “Did Lucy and Rami hire you as their butler or do you just really enjoy opening doors?”

Ben laughed at what you said even though he didn’t have the full context and you felt your cheeks heat up.

As the three of you walked into the apartment Joe just barked out a laugh and told you, “You’re hilarious.”

You smiled at him, “I try.”

Once you reached the living room, you saw both Rami and Lucy there, setting up the snacks. Gwilym was there as well, but he was pouring a couple glasses of wine. They all put down what they were holding and came over to do the usual greetings and such. Apparently, it was only to be you six because some of the other regulars had other obligations.

After everyone had a little plate of snacks and a glass of red or white, Rami began his usual little spiel at the beginning of game nights, “Alright everyone, welcome to game night. We will be playing team games, so partner up now.”

“Dibs on Gwil,” Joe called out, looking directly at you with a smirk. If only he knew how good he had really gotten you.

You shot back, “That’s fine by me. I’m sure Ben will be a great teammate.”

All the same, Ben shot Joe a quick look that he didn’t understand and you shot Lucy a quick this-wasn’t-my-fault look that she accepted with a nod.

Rami continued, “Great, we have three games lined up, but we can play as many times as we like. Lastly, remember that this is strictly a friendly competition, so no sore losers when Lucy and I beat all of you,”

“Oh it’s on,” Joe replied. Then he and Rami got into a little trash-talk.

Ben laughed and turned to you, “Are you competitive?”

“Well… I suppose that’s something one could say about me,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“I hope I’m not too big of a disappointment then, I’m not the best at these types of things,” Ben said with a slightly awkward smile.

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” you said, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Anyway I’m not nearly as competitive as them.”

You nodded towards Rami and Joe who were jokingly getting in each other’s faces, unable to hold back their own laughter. Ben and you burst into laughter, joining Gwil and Lucy’s at the sight. It took you a second longer to realize that your hand was still on Ben’s shoulder. You only did because Ben had looked at it and you removed it before it became so awkward you had to leave.  

Luckily, Rami and Joe were done with their shenanigans and everyone was ready to start the first game. It turned out to be charades and little slips of paper were quickly divided between the three groups.

Rami and Lucy went first and both were ridiculously quick at guessing each other’s answers. You supposed it came with living together and such as well as being actors.

Then Gwil and Joe were up and they didn’t fare quite as well. For some reason, Joe was being far too elaborate with his acting and would mime putting on a swimsuit, putting on sunscreen, swimming, and then being chased by something just to get Jaws. Gwil was good at the charade as soon as he actually started, but he seemed to overthink every word before he started.

Finally, it was you and Ben. You went first, saying before you started, “Sorry I’m literally the only non-actor here.”

Ben waved you off with a laugh. Then Lucy flipped the timer over and you quickly opened the first slip. It said Jurassic Park and you breathed a quick sigh of relief. Then you pointed at Joe, put your hand to the height of a little kid and did T-Rex arms.

“Jurassic Park!” Ben exclaimed and though Joe said something about that not being fair, you moved on.

Next you mimed taking a ring off and holding it up to your eyes, staring at it intensely.

“Lord of the Rings, next!”

The next one was harder, but you got going. First, you pretended to be eating toast and coffee. Second, you did some characters: one with crossed arms and a frown, one flexing muscles, one reading a book and pushing up glasses, one flipping their hair and giggling, and one pulling their hair and shaking their head.

“Okay, okay, eating and drinking, a meal? Breakfast? Breakfast. And these are different people? I don’t know that first one. Then a jock? A nerd? A pretty girl? Oh, oh! The Breakfast Club!” Ben shouted, looking proud of himself for getting it and you couldn’t help but smile before moving onto the next one.

You ended up getting five before time ran out, just one less than Lucy had on her turn. Now it was Ben’s turn to do the charading and you were ready to be the one guessing.

As you switched spots, Ben whispered to you with a smile, “Good job.”

Trying not to show your happiness at his little praise, you just nodded and returned a whisper of, “Thanks.”

Ben got ready, doing a little jog in place warmup as a joke and you probably laughed harder than necessary. Then Lucy counted down from three and flipped over the timer.

As Ben picked up the first slip, you leaned forward to pay attention.

With a nod, Ben started his first charade. He mimed someone in the shower and for a quick second you pictured what he would look like in the shower. But once you said shower, he moved to the next part, getting out of the ���shower” and then whipping back the curtain and pumping his from near his head to in front of him again and again. Then you realized that he was pretending to stab someone.

“Psycho!” you yelled and Ben grinned.

After picking up the next slip the first thing Ben did was scrunch up his face in a snarl, crouching down to all fours and making a hand into a claw, stalking closer to you. You felt a weird mixture of apprehensiveness and something else as he got closer and had to remind yourself this was a clue.

Ben was only about a foot away from your legs before you blurted out, “Cat, uh, lion, tiger!”

Tiger was the one so Ben stood up and then mimed rowing a boat. You thought for a second before quickly stating, “Life of Pi.”

Two more slips later, you were only two away from a tie with Lucy and Rami and you had about thirty seconds on the clock.

Ben snatched up another slip and read it, a frown taking over his face for a second. Then he recovered and started miming drumming. Next he did guitar and keyboards then singing.

“Drums. Ok, guitar, keyboards, oh a band!” you said and Ben nodded before moving on.

Next he started dancing, which you could hardly stop from laughing at, but just because it was cute. He was doing lots of 70’s moves like the hustle, YMCA, John Travolta’s move from Saturday Night Fever, and others you didn’t know the name for.

“The hustle. Um, YMCA? The Village People? Disco?” you said as you tried to stifle your giggles.

Ben nodded quickly and then motioned to keep going.

“Um… a disco… band?” you questioned and got another carry on gesture from Ben. “ABBA?”

After a thumbs up, Ben mimed the sign for movies and then singing and it came to you and you jumped up, “Mamma Mia!”

“Yes!” Ben exclaimed right as Lucy called out time. He came over to you by the couch and brought you into a tight hug that almost lifted you off the ground and you laughed out loud in surprise.

Lucy cleared her throat and you and Ben let each other go quickly, turning to look at her. She just raised an eyebrow and smirked, “You know you two didn’t actually get enough to tie me and Rami.”

“Good thing it was just a friendly competition,” you pointed out with an equally fraught with meaning smile.

“And we have two more games to try and beat you guys,” Ben pointed out, with a regular smile.

“Actually, I think you mean that you have two more games to lose to us,” Joe cut in, breaking all the tension and making everyone laugh good-naturedly.

_

The night went on and in the end Rami and Lucy did win because while they lost to you and Ben in trivia, they beat everyone during taboo. Poor Gwil and Joe didn’t win anything, though they claimed that was because they were out of practice.

Once the games were done, music was turned on and everyone got to chatting. You were talking with Joe and Rami about New York and the other three were talking about their upcoming projects more in depth.

Then you realized your drink was running low and excused yourself to go refill it. What you didn’t see as you were walking over to where the wine was was Ben jumping up and excusing himself to do the same.

Just as you were reaching to grab a bottle, you heard him say, “Allow me.”

You turned to realize he was standing just a step behind you and you slowly placed the bottle in his outstretched hand. Then he reached around you to set down his glass and grab yours and you sucked in a breath at the feeling of him just barely brushing against you.

Ben started pouring the wine and as he was doing so, looked up at you with a hint of a smirk on his face.

You realized you were probably just staring at him with your mouth open so you fixed your face and said, “So is this becoming a thing? Are you always going to make my drinks for me?”

Ben laughed lightly and handed your glass back to you. As he picked up his glass, his arm grazed your waist and you had to physically take a step back so you wouldn’t take one forward and kiss him.

Then you heard loud laughter coming from the couches and you both looked to see Rami sitting on Lucy’s lap, both of them laughing so hard they could barely breathe. You smiled at the joy and Ben looked at you with a smile.

“They’re so in love,” he commented and you nodded, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“I’m so excited for the wedding. It’ll be beautiful,” you replied. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings and not everyone’s meant for it but they are.”

“Really?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, some of them are more in it for the wedding than the actual marriage you know?” Ben nodded. “Luce and Rami want a special day, but it’s more important to them who’s there than what it looks like.”

“I had a mate from primary who must’ve had over 300 people at his wedding. I didn’t even get to talk to him and we had been best mates when we were young, so they’re definitely doing the right thing with quality over quantity too,” Ben told you.

“Wow, yeah. I guess along the same lines I can see what Lucy means. But it was a little much to tell me we couldn’t--” you stopped yourself right before revealing that you weren’t allowed to sleep with Ben to Ben. You hoped that Ben didn’t notice your abrupt stop, but he did, his brows furrowing.

“We couldn’t…?” he asked, his thoughts flashing to his conversation with Rami.

“I just-- we, like, the guests, couldn’t-- well shouldn’t-- or it’d be better to--”

“Hey Y/N, who was it from our class that got married recently with that wild theme wedding?” Lucy called over to you, and you quickly took it as a chance to get out of this conversation with Ben.

So you turned to Lucy and as you spoke, and slowly walked over to where they were, leaving Ben to either stay where he was alone or join everyone else in the conversation, “It was Amanda. And the theme was that elf… village? From Lord of the Rings, the one where Cate Blanchett lived.”

“Lothlórien,” Gwil informed everyone.

“Sure. Some of it went over my head, but it was pretty,” you commented. By that time, Ben had taken a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours. The conversation turned into a debate about theme weddings but it was hard to stay fully focused with Ben’s warmth interrupting your thoughts. Those damn thighs aren’t fair, you complained to yourself.

_

This time, you were the first to get up to leave since you had brunch with a friend the next morning.

“Are you good to drive?” Lucy asked since you had had three glasses of wine.

“Oh, I took an uber here, so I was just going to take another one back,” you answered.

“This late at night?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

“Well I always kinda take ubers this late…” you mumbled.

“You know what? I have something tomorrow too, I can take you home. I’ve only had a glass and a half,” Ben suggested, holding up his half full glass as proof.

“Oh, you don’t have--” you started but were interrupted.

“Per-fect!” Lucy said with a smile and you resigned yourself to accepting the ride.

You and Ben gathered your things and then said your goodbyes, getting hugs and kisses from all, especially Lucy who was four glasses in and a little tipsy.

Then you and Ben walked out of the apartment, following the same path you had taken together only a couple hours ago. You chatted about this and that but you were more focused on how your hands would brush against each other every fifth step or so than the conversation.

That is until Ben said, “So you’ve never used my number.”

You weren’t expecting that so you coughed in surprise before answering, “Well, I texted you saying it was me so you had mine too.”

“Well… okay,” Ben said a little sheepishly.

“Okay,” you responded before pulling out your phone. You went to your Instagram dms and found a meme that you thought he would like and sent it to him. “There you go, I used it.”

Ben took out his phone when he got the notification and opened it, laughing when he saw what it was, “Oh my gosh, this is so cute. You know I have a dog.”

“You do?” you asked, getting excited.

“Yeah her name’s Frankie. Here,” he replied, going to his home screen where you could see a picture of just about the cutest beagle you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my goodness, she’s adorable. Ugh I love her,” you said, going a little goo-goo at the sight of the dog. It helped that owning a dog was always an item on your pro list for guys.

“She’s the best. Oh, here we are,” Ben said, gesturing to his car.

The two of you got in, but before he turned on the engine Ben said, “Here, watch this video of her.”

Ben leaned over the console to show you and you met him halfway, both of you turning your eyes down to the phone to watch Frankie running around what you would assume is Ben’s apartment, fresh from a bath. You and Ben laughed at her antics and when she jumped up on the couch and wiggled around on her back, Ben’s groan in the video and groan in real life synched up and you lost it.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh too, but he said, “Hey, that left a stain, that’s a suede couch.”

That just made you laugh harder and soon both you and Ben were leaning on each other for support as you tried to catch your breath. As your laughter finally died down, you looked up at Ben, whose face was only a few inches from yours and as a couple more giggles passed your lips, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Ben’s. You looked back at his eyes and caught him doing the same, biting your lip in anticipation. Both of you leaned a little closer, a little closer, until you were so close you could feel Ben’s breath on your lips.

Then your phone’s ringtone went off, louder than reasonable and you both jumped in surprise. You picked it up again and saw that it was Lucy calling.

“Yes, Lucy?” you answered with a bit of a sigh, your rational mind returning and reminding you that you weren’t supposed to kiss Ben.

“I forgot to tell you to text me when you get home!” she practically yelled and you held the phone away from your ear. You could hear Rami shushing her on the other end.

“Okay, I will, don’t worry, Luce,” you reassured her before saying a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Ben had turned on the engine and was starting to pull out of the parking space.

“She just wanted me to let her know when I get home,” you explained.

“Yeah I heard,” Ben said with a laugh. “Just, uh, tell me where to go.”

“Oh yeah,” you replied, remembering that he was taking you to your house and not back to his.

💖💖💖

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[yespolkadotkitty]

Tinderbox, pt 5

Part IV here

The heady scent of freshly brewing coffee stirred Rosie, and she blinked, disorientated. How long since she'd slept that well - deeply and dreamlessly?

She sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over her face. The pillow beside hers was empty.

Had Marshall-

"Coffee?"

He appeared from behind the partition wall which hid the kitchenette, holding two mismatched mugs. His hair curled wildly, and he wore his black boxers and nothing else. His lightly furred chest made desire stir in her belly again.

"Yes please." She took the mug from him, shying away a bit when their fingers brushed, which she knew was ridiculous. They'd done much more than touch hands, last night.

"Listen-"

"I know that-"

They both spoke at the same time. Looking sheepish, Marshall rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

"You first," Rosie said, playing for time.

"Thanks for last night," he eventually said, after a sip of the hot, black brew.

Rosie arched a brow. "Is this where you say thanks, and you had fun, but you don't do relationships?"

He looked stricken for a second, sat down on the bed.

Rosie wouldn't be deterred, though. "I'm a big girl, Detective. I didn't start dreaming of white picket fences and naming babies just because you gave me the best orgasm I've had in years."

She heard herself too late and looked away sharply.

"Rosie."

He said her name so gently, and it sounded beautiful in his accent. She looked up, embarrassed to her core. She'd forgotten never to speak before she'd drunk at least half a cup of coffee.

"Police work is hell on relationships."

He looked like he spoke from experience. Her heart squeezed.

“I didn’t say I wanted one.” Her words sounded hollow to her own ears, but she had to protect herself. The moment she’d asked him to step over her threshold, she’d known it’d likely be sex. No more, no less. Was it true that humans were biologically programmed to fall in love with whoever they copulated with? Or some romantic myth?

“Rosie-”

God, she loved and hated how her name sounded in his voice. Melodic. She pushed off the bed. “I need a shower.” She dumped the half-finished coffee on the table that doubled as a painting desk and eating space and headed for the bathroom without looking at him.

I wish he’d go.

I wish he’d stay.

She put the shower on hot, and, still naked from last night, stepped under the spray. She tilted her face up to the water, then heard movement. Marshall stood on the other side of the glass, silent, something sad in his blue, blue eyes.

Because he looked as if he was about to leave, she reached around the edge of the glass, sank her hand into his hair and kissed him softly. “Come in.”

He shed his boxers and followed her under the spray. Thankfully the shower cubicle was the largest thing in the tiny bathroom. Marshall dominated the space as he banded his arms around her, pulling her close, and she felt the drum-drum of his heart as they kissed. He tasted dark and bitter, of coffee and goodbyes, and she hugged him close, trying to say without words that she’d never forget the warm weight of him next to her in bed, the feel of his hair curling between her fingers, the catch in his breath as he’d orgasmed.

“I thought you didn’t sleep so good,” she whispered against his mouth.

His brow winged up. “Evidently, a night with you was what I needed.” He bent forward until their foreheads touched under the heated spray. The gesture was so sweet that it completely disarmed her, and the backs of Rosie’s eyes burned. Don’t go was on the tip of her tongue.

Instead, she released him and reached for her bergamot shower gel, squeezing some into her palm. The thought of him smelling like her, hers, just for a day, made something fierce rear up inside her.

She rubbed her hands together and slid them up into his hair. Marshall dipped his head obediently and Rosie worked her fingers into his curls. The rush of water meant words would be next to useless, and she liked the silence.

He rinsed his hair afterwards and turned her, washing hers. Rosie let him take care of her, desire arrowing straight to her centre at the feel of him hot, hard and ready against the small of her back.

As the water cascaded over her, cleaning the shampoo residue off her hair, Rosie leant into Marshall as his hands cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples to hardness. He let his right hand play, slid his left down her body to where she was slick with want. She gasped as he rubbed her in ever-decreasing circles, learning how she liked to be touched, how fast, how gentle. She came on a sharp exhale, her body bowing against his in an orgasm almost more memorable than last night’s.

Rosie turned in Marshall’s arms, her hands immediately going to his erection. He caught her wrist, met her gaze.

Don’t have to, his blue eyes said.

This man and his puppy dog face. She rolled her eyes. He grinned. Her heart skipped a beat.

Slicking her hands with a little more shower gel - the smell of bergamot would never be the same again - she got to work, fisting him with one hand, cupping his balls with the other, savouring the way his eyes drifted closed. He braced one large hand on the shower wall behind her, kept the other on her hip as she handled him. Rosie watched his face, watched him bite his lower lip as he got close, and hell if it wasn’t one of the hottest experiences of her life.

He bit off her name and she stroked faster, harder, twisting her wrist.

“Fuck.” He spilled over her hand in a hot rush, the muscles of his belly clenching as he thrust into her hand. His breathing came raggedly as he gathered her close, dropping his head and pressing his face into the curve of her neck.

He reached behind her, shut the water off, grabbed a couple of towels from the rail under the sink and passed her one.

Rosie took it, rubbing it over her dripping-wet hair. Her body half-shivered in post-coital bliss.

“You fell asleep last night before I could ask you. Is Marshall your first name?”

He scrubbed the towel over his face. Droplets of water ran down his chest. “No.”

“What is your first name?” she wrapped the towel around her, tucking it in just under her right arm. Steam from their long shower floated in the air around their bodies.

“Walter.”

“That’s….. Not what I expected.”

He chuckled. “My brother’s called Charles - Well, Charlie, mostly. I think I pulled the short straw.”

She gazed at him for a moment, and then an alarm sounded from the living area, and whatever moment they’d been having was broken.

Marshall secured the towel around his hips and bent to his jeans, retrieving his cell phone. Whatever he saw on it made that stony look appear back on his face. “I’ve got to go.”

“I know.” She hugged the towel to her. Salami jumped down from the futon and rubbed up against her leg, sensing her discomfort. “Thanks again.”

“It’s…” Indecision paraded over his face, then he dropped the towel and crossed to her in three strides, yanking her close and kissing her fiercely, holding her with a gentleness that suggested he thought she might break. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

From across the room, his cell phone complained again. He let Rosie go, then dressed methodically; boxers, socks, jeans, hip holster, boots, t-shirt, parka. He shoved the phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

Rosie busied herself feeding Salami and brushing her hair. The last thing she needed was to be caught mooning like a teenager. She glanced over to see him fit the Glock snugly into his hip holster, and then he stood by her front door, smelling like her shower gel, sadness ghosting around his mouth.

“Goodbye, Marshall,” she said softly. Her pride made her stay rooted to the spot by her bed, hairbrush in hand.

His gaze dropped to her mouth for a hot second, and she almost said, stay, stay and kiss me again, but she kept her lips still and silent, and he nodded once, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible, and opened her door and then he was gone.

Thanking my beta, @ly--canthrope !

Tagging: @brokenthelovely @mary-ann84 @leapingoveroblivion @boiled-onionrings @pinkzsugar @dr-kayleigh-dh

[merryfortune]

Day 3 / Water

Clover and Violets 2021

Ship: not applicable | Merag/Rio

Universe: ZeXal

Word Count: 1,069

Rating: T

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Post Canon, Selfcest

   Rio hadn’t been feeling like herself as of late.

   She couldn’t describe it. It was just an emptiness. Like she was missing something, like she was the proverbial glass of water now half empty. 

   Logically, Rio knew that because a lot had happened as of late, she was going to need some time to replenish. After her stay in the hospital after her loss to IV, she knew that very well but she was stubborn. She liked to be in control and on top of things, busy and hands on and lately, she had been anything but. She felt dragged through the mud. Lethargic.

   Even just getting out of bed was a pain but she was dying of thirst.

   The halls of her childhood had always been lonesome, ever since the accident, but it somehow felt worse as of late as Ryouga wasn’t even the same. He didn’t feel the same emptiness that she felt ever since the crescendo of the war between the Barians and the Astral Beings that they had become embroiled into as the crown jewels.

   She just wanted to be her own person again. Like before she had found out about Merag and her previous life and whatever her connection to that girl Iris was. It was all so confusing. She just wanted to feel at home with her own self, her own heart, and her own soul again but instead, she was in a fugue state. Trying to understand where she began and if her previous lives had ever truly ended.

   At least the process of walking down the hallway, going to the kitchen, and pouring out ice cold water into a glass so that she had something to drink was easy. In theory at least. At least easier than trying to unravel the mysteries of time and space and how they intersected with her.

   But that didn’t stop her from dropping her glass of water at her door. 

   So close but so far, it appeared. She sucked in a breath of air and frustration vented through her body in her veins with the fresh breath. She scolded herself for being clumsy and the searing self-loathing was the most she had felt in what seemed like weeks.

   Rio reached out and she turned on a light. She felt the water pool at her feet and it was too cold, even through the buffer of her bed socks and slippers. She looked down at the mess she had made. The pooling water seeped through shards of glass and over her floorboards. It wouldn’t be that hard to mop up, she looked around and stepped aside from the puddle. She had a spare face cloth somewhere, that would work and she knew that should be a dustpan and brush somewhere.

   As she put her mind to cleaning up her mess, she felt that emptiness from before recede. It was as though Rio were welling up with something. She didn’t feel akin to how she felt before the accident that left her with burns nor before learning of the Barian World but she was starting to feel whole again.

   Rio got to her knees and she started to pick out glass from the puddle. Wanting to be rid of it before she started mopping up the puddle itself. She felt relatively lucky that her glass had split into big chunks, there weren’t many small shards or anything else. When she fished out what appeared to be the last of the glass, she put down her cloth only to stop. To blink.

   She saw herself in the puddle. Well, not herself. Her reflection. And not truly her reflection either. She saw her Other Self in the puddle and it mystified her. She stared.

   “Merag…?” Rio murmured.

   The name of her Barian self felt wrong and clunky on her tongue. In her mouth. It was weird and wrong to address herself like she was someone else but this was someone else whom she was staring into the eyes of.

   Merag’s mouthless face was sharp and angular, like the facets of a perfectly cut jewel. Her eyes glowed magenta. 

   “Rio…”

   She blinked. She was harrowed surely not. This was ridiculous. This couldn’t be-

   Rio laughed. How dare she deny the gravity of the situation when she was living proof of far more absurd things.

   Merag’s eyes softened and she spoke, “Oh, Rio, I’ve waited so long to see you.”

   The dribbling trails of the pooled water began to quiver. Began to rise off the floorboards in tendrils and solidified. Turned to ice. And a sculpture of Merag appeared before Rio. 

   Rio watched intently as such peculiar things happened. Oh, it was like a dream but it was nothing like a dream as well as she stared down the Barian whom she used to be. Whom she was. But only sort of for she was all ice. She wasn’t the magical, spatial energy which Barians were made of. She was incomplete in this opaque, icy state.

   Still, it fascinated Rio to see herself from someone else’s perspective: her own. She admired all the angles of Merag’s body and wanted to get to know her more from this perspective, both familiar and alien.

   “How are you…?” Rio tried to ask.

   “A side effect of being released from Vector, perhaps?” Merag shrugged. “I’m just so happy to see you, Rio, oh I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me-”

   “Sh, shh, its fine.” Rio murmured. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

   “Thank you, you are too kind.” Merag could have sobbed but she remained strong, if only for Rio.

   “Is there something I can…?” Rio’s voice trailed off.

   “To help me?” Merag finished her question for her.

   Rio nodded and hummed. 

   “There is.” Merag replied.

   She leaned in and elucidated Rio without wasting a second. She kissed where Rio’s mouth should have been and where hers should have been. Merag closed her eyes, thanking Rio profusely. Rio kept her eyes open in shock: both physical, Merag was ice cold, but mental too because how strange it was to kiss one’s self without a mirror. But with that kiss, like a fairy tale, Merag was brought to life completely. 

   She became her own self separate from Rio, like water from a pitcher shared between two glasses, though their souls. Their souls still connected but not with reincarnation but something else. Something like love.