#just gonna throw this one out into the wind and pray i can find it later

[thawthebeez]

thinking about the sk8 the infinity boys. boy. langa ..my fellow canadian brother. i have so many thoughts about him.

[merakiui]

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”  

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle. 

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you. 

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer. 

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

[chelseeebe]

trick or treat

18+. mdni. no smut but my blog is 18+.

day six of spooky week and reader bravely offers to take the party trick or treating, finding an unlikely guest along the way

a/n: six days of consistent posting has actually made me lose brain cells.. i don’t like this as much as i wanted to but i’m sticking to my guns and posting anyway. i’m not sure if tomorrow’s will make it up in time but i’m going to try my absolute hardest <3

☾⋆⁺₊🎃´₊⁺~

knuckles wrap against the grand wooden door, hoping to god it was dustin that answered and not steve. 

you can hear a barrage of footsteps on the other side, rushing down the hall to get to you first. the door swings open, dustin and his makeshift skeleton costume sit on the other side, a harsh scowl when he realises it’s you and not his friends. 

“what’re you doing here?” crossing his arms over his chest. 

“i’m coming with you, joyce ask-“

“-you don’t need to babysit us,” throwing a temper tantrum at the mere suggestion of you joining them on their journey around hawkins. 

“well, joyce says otherwise,” crossing your arms over your chest, you meant business. “jonathan’s busy and she wants someone to watch out for will so you’re just gonna have to deal with it,” sticking your tongue out for good measure. 

dustin huffs, nostrils glaring as he stomps back into steve’s living room. 

the older boy was helping him get ready, terribly painting a skull onto his grinning face. a faint argument rises from behind the door, scuffed footsteps fighting to reach the door before you had the opportunity to look in. 

“-we don’t need a babysitter at all! let alone two!” dustin screeches, throwing his pillowcase on the ground as he reaches the door, steve appearing behind. 

“two?” you question, looking down at the abandoned treat bag and then back up to a sheepish looking steve. 

“well.. i mean, you can’t take them all around hawkins on your own, i was just.. offering to join you,” his hand rubbing the back of his neck, ignoring dustin’s scowl to focus on your face. 

“oh,” attempting to hide your blush, passing it off as if it were just the chilly october air, “yeah.. sure, i could use some help,” stuffing your hands into your pockets, concealing your squeal of excitement. 

“great! great.. yeah, let me get my jacket and we can go,” rushing off inside while dustin sulks like a petulant child.

“you two are gross,” he remarks snidely, turning up his nose at the two of you.

it's a chilly evening in hawkins, your coat not doing enough against the wild wind. much colder than usual for this time of year which makes you a tad unsettled. after everything that had happened last year, a sudden drop in temperature didn’t seem like something you should ignore. 

steve walks beside you, humming to some pop tune as his eyes stay trained on the boys and which houses they were at. 

“so you’re going? to new york?" he starts,  keeping two strides behind the boys at all times, dustin would surely suffer a mental breakdown if you dared got any closer. 

“yeah,” you nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets, “there’s a really good opportunity for me up there,” a twinge of something in your chest, unwilling to come off as braggy at all.

“that’s cool..” steve whistles, looking anywhere but at you, “i’ll miss you- i mean, we’ll all miss you,” clearing his throat in a pitiful attempt to hide what he really meant. 

“i’ll miss you too steve,” smiling softly over at his flushing cheeks, “you can come visit i’m sure,” shrugging indiscriminately. 

your all-consuming crush on steve was no secret to those around you, you’d been longing after him since freshmen year. hanging on his every word even during the multitude of girlfriends and hookups, desperate for his attention to one day fall unto you. 

though now you’re actually friends, like, real friends, you find yourself hoping that he doesn’t look at you, praying he doesn’t notice your sorry eyes or your longing smile. afraid that he’d find you utterly pathetic and tell you harshly that you and him would just never ever come to be. 

“but hawkins won’t be the same without you,” his feet crushing the dried auburn leaves, “who’s gonna help me take care of these guys?” chuckling softly, the cold air billowing from his lips. 

“you’re just gonna have to find a new babysitting partner,” shrugging softly though your heart sinks a little. 

steve’s mouth opens to reply but is abruptly interrupted by the gaggle of kids storming up the sidewalk to you. in a cleverly thought out formation, dustin at the front, mike all the way in the back. 

“we were thinking,” dustin starts, a tooth-achingly sweet grin plastered on his face, “and we think that you two shouldn’t have to spend your entire evening following us around, so,” looking around at his friends, “we’re happy to offer you half of all of our candy if you just leave us alone,” grinning as if he had offered the deal of the century. 

steve looks perplexed, sharing a questioning glance with you before turning his attention back to the eager boys in front, “what makes you think we want your shitty candy?” 

dustin’s smile drops, nose scrunching with such visceral anger, “look steve, we know you’d rather be off making out with each other or whatever, so why don’t we just cut the shit? you guys go home, we can take care of ourselves.” 

he puts his hand up to make a point, sputtering noises that don’t exactly make a coherent sentence, “that’s not- what the hell, dustin? mrs. byers asked us to watch you it’s not-“

“we’ll be okay! my mom just worries,” a bright-eyed will steps forward, offering his two cents. 

steve exhales, looking to you once more before shrugging. you were the one she’d asked anyway, not him.  

“what if something bad happens? like.. like last year?” you query, looking solely at will now. 

“it won’t,” solemnly shaking his head, “i’m better now, i promise.” 

your lips pout, contemplating whether the little shits could be trusted. joyce would never be mad at you, wise to her son and his friends tricks. 

“okay..” nodding slowly, “but i’m taking you up on that candy offer, and i want the good stuff.. not smarties or mints or whatever shit you think you can trick me with,” a harsh glare to the clan of boys. 

mike goes to protest until lucas’ elbow meets his ribs, a chorus of thankyou’s echo out before they sprint away, tripping over themselves to get as far away from you as possible. 

“i didn’t think you’d say yes,” steve remarks, a humorous tone to his voice. 

“what can i say? they drive a hard bargain,” suddenly regretting letting them run amok around the hawkins streets, “do you think i should’ve said no?” 

“oh no, definitely not,” falling into laughter, “i don’t think they would’ve let you say no anyway.” 

you scoff, looking around at the busy street, “you’re right.. i’m gonna uh.. head home then, since we’re not needed anymore,” attempting to hide your disappointment at not getting to walk around with him all night. 

“you wouldn’t wanna.. watch a movie or something, would you?” steve interjects before you can walk away, “my parents are out of town so my house is empty and i’ve got popcorn,” sweetening up his deal. 

your heart thuds a little too hard, unsure of whether you’d still be alive after a movie alone with steve, on his couch. but you nod anyway, continuing back in the direction you’d came from. 

his house is sterile, it honestly reminds you of something from a showroom, not meant to be lived in but just admired. kind of like steve, when you think about too much. 

you weren’t going to be together, he was a prize, someone you’d lust after but never truly get. 

the opening sequence to friday the 13th pulls you from your sour thoughts, sitting just inches away from him and his meticulously styled hair, the consolation of freckles and moles you’d connected a thousand times in your head. 

he doesn’t look real, a figment of your imagination except his chest is rising and falling in time with yours and he keeps shifting in his seat. 

“so when do you leave?” startling you from your haze, pulling your attention to him. 

“uh.. june, i’m going up early to get settled.” 

“oh, cool,” inhaling sharply, a long, drawn-out exhale immediately after, “i still got a few months left with you then,” offering a grimacing smile as his words register in his brain, “obviously i mean that we all do.” 

“i knew what you meant,” convincing yourself that he had just misspoke and that the obvious undertones to everything he had said this evening weren’t actually there. 

“actually i don’t think you do,” steve sighs, no longer the suave sweet talker he once was, now just some old guy that drive kids to and from their dnd meetings. 

“oh?” you remark, sitting back in shock. 

he leans forward, over the overflowing bowl of popcorn, “i’m trying to hit on you, i’ve been trying all night,” allowing a glimpse of his former playboy interior to resurface, his eyes trailing from yours to your lips. 

you stare back with what only you can assume is a puzzled expression as steve moves back once again, “sorry- i’m not very good at this anymore, i-i thought you were interested but obviously- shit,” slapping his palm to his face, hiding in sheer despair. 

“no! nonono steve i am,” sputtering rather quickly, “i’m sorry, i’m just.. shocked. i didn’t know you felt like that too, y’know?” amazed that both of you could single handedly fumble this. 

“‘course i do,” shrinking into a bashful shadow of himself, “thought that was pretty obvious,” fiddling with his fingers, too shy for someone who had just admitted to having feelings for you. 

“not to me,” slightly offended that you had apparently been the last to know. 

he exhales, a sigh of relief, “fuck, i thought i’d read that totally wrong then.”

you stop, furrowing your brow, “what? you knew i liked you?” 

“i mean, kinda yeah.”

“did dustin tell you?”

“he-,” steve sighs, doing a terrible job of hiding his smile, “i might have told him how sad i was that you were leaving and he just told me that you might feel the same way too,” holding his hands up with all intentions of owning up, “he just wanted to help me out, i think,” a quiet sadness in his voice. 

any other time you’d strangle the little blabber mouth but only this time you can’t be too mad, without him, the two of you would’ve never had the guts to just say it. 

“now i’ve been dyin’ to kiss you for too long now so if you’ll forgive me,” leaning in once more, carefully cupping your chin in his palm and so gently kissing your lips that it almost feels like air. 

your eyes fluttering shut as the sparks fizzle behind your eyelids, the butterflies in your stomach flap so hard you’re almost nauseous.   

years and years of hopeless pining had lead to this, a syrupy sweet kiss on his couch as the guttural screams of alice hardy play on the background.

it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of and more, steve suddenly so real and malleable in your grasp.

[pankowperfection]

Taking what's mine

Summary: JJ gets tired of your teasing, taking matters into his own hands

Warnings: smut, bondage, CNC, dub-con, JJ's dirty mouth, slight degradation, spanking, choking, oral (male & fem receiving), orgasm denial, rough sex, 18+

Another summer night, another bonfire party filled with drunk girls throwing themselves at me. But the only girl I'm interest in is y/n. She's been teasing me for weeks, eyeing me like a predator watching its prey at every single party.

She's wearing those shorts that she knows drive me crazy, barely covering her delicious ass. She makes her way over to me, throwing her legs over my lap as she leans in to kiss my cheek.

"Hi J. You look so good in this green shirt, just thought you should know." She pulls back and god I want to wipe that smirk off her face. Her manicured nails rake down over my chest to my abs, my dick stirring to life in my shorts at her proximity and her touch.

"Is that right princess? Good enough for you to finally make a move?"

What she does next surprises me, positioning herself on my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. Before I can question what she's doing she's kissing me, her perfect lips moving against mine and making my head spin.

I circle one arm around her waist, pulling her tighter against me as the other winds into her hair, angling her head so I can deepen the kiss. When my tongue pushes into her mouth she moans, tugging on my hair roughly and making me even harder than before.

It's over as quick as it starts. She pulls away, climbing off of me and straightening out her hair. "Come on y/n, enough with the teasing. Let me take you home." I push to my feet, trying to grab a hold of her hand but she slips through my fingers once again, just like the sand on the beach.

"Sorry J, not tonight. Gotta get home before my parents do." She blows me a kiss, turning and walking up the beach towards her car. Little does show know I'm tired of this cat and mouse game. If she wants me to chase her, I will. Let's just hope she likes what happens when I catch her.

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

I wait in my truck until all the lights are out in the house, wanting to make sure I won't be interrupted. I quietly climb the tree outside of her window, grinning to myself when I find it already open to let the cool ocean breeze blow inside.

She looks so pretty, sprawled out mostly on her stomach with her legs spread wide, silently inviting me to come closer. I slip my bandana off my neck, tip toeing to the edge of her bed and praying she's not a light sleeper. I wrap the material around her wrists, securing them together behind her back.

"Oh you're mine now sweetheart."

Excitement floods through me at all the possibilities. She shifts onto her back, giving me the perfect view of her barely covered tits and I can't help the rush of blood below my belt. I make myself comfortable between her thighs, dragging my fingers over her smooth skin. She stirs slightly, shifting to try to get closer to my hand and I know I'm in for a fun night.

My hands make their way under her poor excuse of a tank top, massaging each breast before starting to tease her nipples. My lips press softly against her upper thigh and she moans, eyes starting to open as I make my way closer to her soaking pussy.

Before she has time to process I lean down, pulling her shorts to the side and licking a stripe from her hole to her clit. Her hips buck but I force them down, holding them open with my hands as I start to run my tongue through her folds as slowly as I can.

"JJ? What are you doing? Why am I tied up?" She starts to thrash around, trying to get free but its no use. I easily hold her down, sponging kisses all around her pussy but not quite where she wants it.

"You see princess, I'm really tired of you of you getting me all hot and bothered then slipping away. So now I'm gonna take what I want."

I sit up on my knees, pulling of the green shirt she apparently loves so much and throwing it behind me. Her eyes rake down over my body, pupils blown with lust as she gets an up close look at me. My shorts and boxers follow after, her gaze locked on my hard on as I start to stroke myself.

"Wait J, please, no. I don't want this. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea."

I crawl back over her body, settling between her pretty thighs once again as I drag my fingers through her slit.

"Is that so? Then why are you so wet for me baby? Pussy doesn't lie, and yours is begging for me right now."

When I tap her glistening hole with my tip she shivers, trying hard not to look like she wants it even though her body is screaming for me to fill her.

"J please," she pleads and it just makes me want her more.

"Shhh. This isn't the part where you beg me. Not yet."

I just barely press inside, only giving her the tip and loving how her eyes roll into the back of her head.

"Try to be quiet. Wouldn't want your parents to find me in your bed and see what a kinky little slut you are, would you?"

I can't wait anymore. I snap my hips forward, filling her to the brim in one go, forcing me to bite my own lip hard to hold in the loud moan from feeling her hot walls wrapped around me.

She's squeezing me like a fucking vice grip, my abs tensing as I struggle to control myself. The idea was to torture her like she's tortured me, not go crazy in the first few minutes and fuck her into oblivion.

"Feel what you do to me sweetheart?"

I rock forward slightly, grazing her sweet spot and making her groan, her walls clenching down on me even tighter.

My hand finds her throat and I squeeze lightly, her eyes flying open to meet mine as I start to fuck her slow and deep.

"This is for all those times you teased me but didn't do anything to help. All those times I had to make myself cum with my own hand to the thought of you."

My pace gets faster, her tits bouncing deliciously in front of me as I fill her again and again. My free hand toys with her nipples, twisting each one as she arches her back under me. When I feel her walls fluttering I force myself to stop, pulling out and watching the frustration wash over her features at being denied her high.

"What the hell J? I was almost there."

I chuckle, rolling her to her stomach and pulling her hips up until her ass is high in the air for me. I can't resist the temptation, landing a sharp smack to her left cheek that instantly starts to redden.

"You think after weeks of torturing me I'm gonna let you cum that easily? No princess. You wanna cum, you're gonna have to beg me."

I push in slowly this time, watching closely as each inch disappears. She moans so loud the neighbors probably hear her, forcing me to wrap my hand over her mouth as her back meets my chest. "What did I say about being quiet?"

This angle is deeper, her moans growing in frequency as she works to meet my thrusts. I start kissing her neck, quickly finding her sweet spot and sucking a deep bruise into her flawless skin, claiming my territory.

My other hand finds her clit, rubbing in soft circles that have her trembling in my arms. "J please, I need to cum." I feel her tensing, her wetness seeping down her thighs, forcing me to slow my thrusts down to once again deny her.

"Sorry princess, only good girls get to cum and I don't think you've learned your lesson yet."

I reposition us once again, laying down on my back and pulling her to sit over my face. As I drag my fingers up her inner thigh she leans forward, coming to rest on my abs with my cock in her face. She takes the lead, sticking out her tongue and flicking it over the tip.

"Jesus baby. That's it, suck my cock and maybe I'll let you cum this time."

She makes quick work of my length, sucking me deep into the back of her throat and humming around me. God her mouth is like heaven, my balls already tightening at the feeling of her tongue tracing my shaft.

When my fingers tease her entrance once again she moans, the vibrations making my toes curl. I plunge two inside, setting a fast pace as my tongue works over her clit. The more of me she takes the more I give her, sucking her clit into my mouth and rolling it with my tongue.

She grows more desperate, throwing her hips back into my face as I replace my fingers with my tongue. Her head bobs faster, sucking me as hard as she can while her tongue massages my dick. She hollows her cheeks, giving me all she's got and earning what she wants. My balls tighten before I release, coating her tongue with my cum.

My moans push her over the edge, her thighs clamping down on my head as I continue to tongue fuck her through it. She lets me go with a pop, pressing kisses to my v lines as we both come down. I reach up to untie her wrists, rolling her off of me before leaning down to kiss her again.

This time is softer, my anger and annoyance gone after getting to take my frustrations out on her body. She wraps herself around me, pulling me on top of her while her hands push into my hair. "Fuck y/n, you'll be the death of me." She smirks, rolling her hips up to nudge at my already half hard dick. "Shut up and fuck me again JJ, I want to touch you this time."

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @paradisehamilton @ailee-celeste @pankhoeforlife @outerbankspov @houseofperfecttaste @drewbooooo @maybankslover @maybanks-luver @blueicequeen19 @toystory2wasjustokay @onmykneesforrafe @penny4yourthoughts @maddie-routledge @ilovetheavenger143

[trulytiredhermit]

Alright, hear me out on this one.

So i was thinking, what if the reader still wore their uniform? Like the uniform that they use to go to school? Like a PE uniform or still the normal Monday to Thursday uniform.

And then while they wore their uniform, they still had their ID ( assuming that they have one ) and their bag.

..and I'm silently hoping that none of them would go through-- alright i just jinxed it didn't i.

Hmm I had to think about this one.

Because I for one never had to deal with wearing a uniform when going to school. And I’m assuming since Reader has a school uniform then they probably went to a private school of some kind.

So I’m gonna assume Reader’s uniform is the typical white button down shirt, vest, blazer, and a pair of nice pants, white socks, nice shoes.

And as you said they’d have their student ID (most likely on a lanyard of some kind) and their school bag that definitely has their textbooks, notebooks, laptop in it.

Aka all things that probably aren’t built to really be running around a forest/over land with.

So when the Reader meets the Chain things are probably gonna be a little weird.

Given how Reader is dressed the Chain’s going to be quite curious about Reader. They wouldn’t have seen clothes such as theirs before.

Likewise Reader is thinking they’ve somehow been throw into a Ren fair or something.

Their first meeting would probably go something like:

“What are you wearing?”

“What are you wearing?”

After things get explained and everyone gets over their internal panic (aka mainly Reader, bestie is NOT gonna be sound of mind for a few days while dealing with everything) I feel like Sky and Warriors would be the most understanding of Reader going to school and wearing a uniform.

Y’know since Sky went to the Knight academy and Warriors I’m sure went to some form of a Knight academy too (I’ve really gotta check out a play through of his game). And in then they probably had to deal with wearing the academy uniforms.

Every member of the Chain would find the modern school system really interesting, but many would point out the impracticality of Reader clothes 😂

“How are you supposed to fight or travel great distances in this?”

“You don’t. I’m only supposed to travel the length to my classes and pray to god it doesn’t rip because this shit’s expensive.”

The Chain be baffled. These clothes are expensive!? They aren’t even magical!

And we haven’t even gotten to what’s in Reader’s bag.

Y’all ever seen Lord of The Rings with Gollum and the one ring? His precious? Yeah, that’s Reader with their bag.

Their textbooks? Fricken expensive, Reader isn’t gonna lose them to some stupid pig demon because the dude got a little stabby.

Their laptop? Over Reader’s cold dead body. You know expensive that is? Not to mention all the essays and homework they have on it.

Their notebooks? Those are filled to the brim with notes and things they need to know for upcoming tests. Handwritten notes that Reader has had to scramble to write down because the professors flips through the slides so fast.

Yeah, Reader is gonna go ape shit on ANYONE or ANYTHING that gets near their stuff.

Needles to say if the Chain is curious about anything of Reader’s they’ve got to have Reader’s supervision when looking at things.

Reader is like a hawk with their possessions. If they had to bring their stuff with them, they’re sleeping with that stuff tucked into their arms like they’re cuddling a giant teddy bear.

Their uniform has been neatly put into a separate bag (because let’s be honest, their uniform isn’t made for the Links’s worlds and Reader isn’t going to want to get it dirty or ripped).

Over time Reader would probably trust Legend the most with their stuff. And sad to say, but they’d probably trust Wild and Wind the least.

“I can look after your stuff too [Name]!”

“Wild I just watched you break that sword and shield.”

“I was fighting bokoblins! It was bound to break!”

“It was a new sword and you broke it cause you slipped and smashed it against a rock.”

“… well that one wasn’t technically my fault. Technically it was the rock that broke it.”

“… you broke your shield by shield surfing over a spikey rock that I warned you about.”

“…”

[divinemare]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮

ACOTAR ONE SHOTS: Azriel

summary: inspired by lost on you by lp

warnings: none

✧. ┊   

The Inner Circle was conflicted. On one side, they knew they couldn’t sneak out of the House of Wind without him finding out, but for the other, that seemed like a much easier option than to tell Azriel the truth. Morrigan insisted she’d be the one to tell him the truth, maybe that way he wouldn’t take everything so harshly, Feyre wanted to go tell him as well, for Azriel wouldn’t lose it with his High Lady. Cassian argued it should be him and Rhys to go speak with him, since they were his brothers and they had been by his side when all had went down. Amren and Nesta were absolutely over it, Nesta just wanted to go at once, get a good drunk night. Elain…well, Elain had already fallen asleep in a couch with Nyx in her arms, the little winged baby drooled over his aunts arm.

“Rhys! We’re gonna miss it, can we please get over this and we all go tell to him,” Morrigan complained, stressed they would miss the show.

“Tell who what?” As if called upon, Azriel came down the stairs with furrowed eyebrows, surveying all his friends ones he reached the bottom. “You’re all dressed up, where are you going?”

They all looked at each other, before Mor took the advantage of word and took a step closer to him, her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Az we…uhm, we were just thinking how to tell you, don’t think we wouldn’t have done so, but…”

“But, she’s here,” Rhysand said when his cousin ran out of words.

Azriel’s face paled, tightening, they all saw his throat swallow harshly and took a deep breath in.

“She…she?” He asked, his voice trying hard not to shake.

“Yes, Az, she. She came to me a couple of days ago, asked me if she could come back, work at Rita’s again. I couldn’t say no, Az, I’m sorry,” Rhysand had been feeling a huge guilt all those couple of days, thinking he should have spoken with his brother first, but the female had done nothing wrong, she was still his friend, a member of his family, and seeing her again had made him really happy.

“No it’s…ok. She’s singing at Rita’s tonight, isn’t she?” That would explain why they were all dressed up, and why Nesta and Amren looked like they wanted to throw themselves over the stairs to get out as fast as possible.

“Yes,” the High Lord nodded.

“I’ll go,” without another word, before any of them could try to stop him, he disappeared into his shadows, and minutes later, came back in better leathers.

They would not try to stop him, so they could only pray the night wouldn’t turn out to be a mess while they winnowed and flew away their favorite place in Velaris.

Azriel’s heart beat rapidly all the way, thinking that, after nearly a century, he would see her again. He thought about her constantly, he regretted everything constantly, he blamed himself constantly. It had been his fault, he had ruined everything, why had he even thought of coming? That she would forgive him?

𓆩♡𓆪

Celesta looked at everyone gathered around the stage from behind the curtains. There were so many people, drinking laughing and gambling. The place filled her with an underwhelming feeling of melancholy, but security, too. It had been so long since she performed on a stage, for this many people, in this very place.

She was infinitely grateful to Rhysand for letting her come back, even after everything that had happened, Celesta wouldn’t had been surprised if he decided to take sides, even if it would have hurt her deeply, after all, he had been her friend, close friends for centuries, but Azriel was his brother. Azriel, the Spymaster of Night Court. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him in all those 70 years, of course she had, a thousand songs were witness of that. Then again, after all those decades, she still couldn’t say she hated him. She could never hate him, that’s what hurt her the most.

She was happy, still, that she at least had her friends back, Rhysand had promised to go see her in her first performance with Cassian and Mor and Amren, he told her Morrigan had cried a river when he told her she was back, Cassian had started singing for hours “practicing to be the loudest fan in all her crowd”, he had said, and Amren, well, Amren had tried not to smile, but that he knew she was glad to have her back, too. He wanted to introduce her to the female that “had saved his life”, in the very literal sense. Celesta had heard about Feyre Cursebreaker, of course, who hadn’t at this point? And she was more than excited to meet the female that had saved not only her world, but her family, too. And of course, meet the sister that had captured Cassian’s big heart. Lady Death was certainly an interesting title. But they weren’t there, and she was merely minutes away from getting out on stage, and she wondered if maybe, thinking about having her friends there in her first night had been too much, considering the fact that their situations weren’t the easiest or most comfortable, even if she knew they still loved her and she loved them too. There was too much history behind them.

“Are you ready, dear?” Rita adverted her attention from the crowd and her thoughts out of the dark hole they were getting into.

She smiled tightly, she had come back here, to Velaris, knowing perfectly fine it was going to be difficult, but she did it nonetheless, so it was time to take a deep breath and claim her decisions.

“Yes, I think I am,” Rita smiled wildly, and hugged her with a happy sob.

When Rhys had come with her to ask Rita if she could take her back, the female had not giving it one thought before saying yes. “How could I ever say no to the most beautiful voice in all Prythian,” had been her exact words.

“Go out there, my dear, and remind all of them who’s the queen of melodies,” Celesta laughed at the nickname, and took a deep breath in.

“I will,” she smiled when they stoped holding each other.

Rita went out again to give her her last minutes alone before getting out on stage, she heard the instruments being prepared, and then, Rita’s voice announcing her. She closed her eyes, absorbed all those applauses and screams of yearning, and so she took a last deep breath, and opened her eyes with a wide grin on her lips to move the curtains and be spotted by blinding lights. Fae screamed and clapped, making her smile grow wider. Oh, how she had missed the feeling of being the center of the world, everyone jumping on their feet, holding on their seats to hear her sing.

“Well, well, it looks like you have missed me very much,” the public screamed in agreement, and she laughed charmingly. “I’ve missed you too! So why don’t we celebrate this reunion the way only we know how to party!” More and more screams filled her ears with pleasure.

The instruments then started playing, she knew every member of the band, they had played for centuries together, and it had taken only a few rehearsals to connect with each other again. She started moving at the rhythm of the music, absorbing every melody into her very veins, her entire body responded to the sounds with pleasure, almost trembling at the anticipation of the words coming out of her mouth. She closed her eyes, and let the music take everything else away.

“When you get older, plainer, saner,

Will you remember all the danger we came from?

Burning like embers, falling tender,

Long before the days of no surrender, years ago.

And will you know?”

She had wrote that song at least 6 decades ago, it had been of the ones to hurt her the most, so she had buried it deep in a box full of other heartbreaking letters and never touched it again.

Until a week ago, when the song had called to her, burned in her tongue to be sang for the first time. So she complied, and there she was, putting every feeling she had felt buried out in the world.

“So smoke 'em if you got 'em

'Cause it's going down.

All I ever wanted was you.”

When she opened her eyes, she saw her friends in a corner, Cassian and Mor screamed harder than anyone else while dancing with drinks in their hands, and Rhysand smiled warmly and proudly at her with a female besides him that moved hypnotized by her voice. Amren was sat besides another female who looked very similar to the one besides Rhys, Cassian pulled her in his arms to start dancing with her, and they moved together. She smiled wildly, looking directly at them and winking before returning her attention to the rest of the public.

“I'll never get to heaven

'Cause I don't know how.

Let's raise a glass or two.”

She got her lungs ready for the explosion, closed her eyes and felt the burning in her chest of emotions and pain that amplified every word she sang out.

“To all the things I've lost on you, ooh-oh,

Tell me: Are they lost on you? Ooh-oh,

Just that you could cut me loose, ooh-oh

After everything I've lost on you,

Is that lost on you?”

She brought back all the feelings that had destroyed her 70 years ago, making sure to pierce every listening heart, and when she opened her eyes and saw all the pained, understanding, and emotive faces, she knew she was accomplishing just that.

“Ooh-oh, ooh

Is that lost on you?

Ooh-oh

Baby, is that lost on you?

Is that lost on you?”

She felt it then, a look so deep and dark it made her whole body feel like liquide. She looked around the place desperately, looking for whatever was making her feel like her very insides were about to explode but found nothing more than darkness. She swallowed hard, and focused those burning feelings in her every words.

“Wish that I could see the machinations

Understand the toil of expectations in your mind.

Hold me like you never lost your patience

Tell me that you love me more than hate me all the time,

And you're still mine.”

The feeling intensified, and she focused hardly in the darkness of every corner, she knew the feeling perfectly, she just wasn’t ready to admit, not until she truly saw it.

“So smoke 'em if you got 'em

'Cause it's going down.

All I ever wanted was you,”

As she sang those words, the shadows twisted in one corner near where her friends were dancing, crying and singing. Her heart sank in itself and she felt all the air in the room vanish when the shadows took the form of a male, a winged male. With hazel, troubled eyes and a harsh expression.

“Let's take a drink of heaven

This can turn around.

Let's raise a glass or two,”

She looked at him directly, her head raising just a little bit and her expression shifting with pain and harshness. Why had he come here tonight? Was he just trying to torture her? She moved through the stage, her every movements synchronized with her every feelings and heartbreaking words. And then her voice erupted, a beautiful, melodic sound of harsh melancholy.

“To all the things I've lost on you, ooh-oh,

Tell me: Are they lost on you? Ooh-oh.

Just that you could cut me loose, ooh-oh

After everything I've lost on you,

Is that lost on you?”

Her eyes never left those of the Shadowsinger while she sang with deep affliction. His face contracted, his jaw tightened, the rest of the world stoped its tracks, everything became dark, and all there was, was her, the piercing coldness of pain in her words, and him, the responsable for all of them.

“Ooh-oh, ooh,

Is that lost on you?

Ooh-oh.

Baby, is that lost on you?

Is that lost on you?”

He didn’t looked away from her, either, only came into more visibility, not hiding away in his shadows.

“Lost on you,

Lost on you

(Oh-oh, ooh-oh)”

The band sang behind as second voices. Her eyes watered, and she had to swallow the burning feeling in her throat as the melodies sounded in the background. When it was time for her to sing again, she let it all out, all those years of uncertainty, those 70 years of loneliness.

“Let's raise a glass or two,”

She saw Azriel swallow hard as she threw her head back and closed her eyes, taking in every bit of energy and power in her voice for the big final.

“To all the things I've lost on you, ooh-oh,

Tell me: Are they lost on you? Ooh-oh.

Just that you could cut me loose, ooh-oh,

After everything I've lost on you,

Is that lost on you?

Is that lost on you?”

For the last seconds, the band’s instruments were everything that sounded, while she let her body move free with their every note, her eyes still closed, until applauses and screams erupted from every corner of the establishment. Tears slipped from many faces, sobs combined with applauses and screams. She heard Mor and Cassian screaming at the top of their lungs “That’s our girl!”. She laughed with tears in her eyes, of happiness and uncertainty and melancholy. So much mixed feelings that it was hard to contain them all. She looked at Azriel one last time, and after a curtsy to the crowd, she disappeared into the back of the stage, the curtains hiding her trembling and sobbing body.

“You were sensational,” the dark voice stoped her sobs, the applauses still sounding outside were silenced by his presence.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice harsh, still giving him her back.

“It’s been a long time since I heard your voice. I had almost forgotten how it made me feel,” she felt him getting closer, her body tensed, straighten up until her back ached.

“Yeah? And how is that.”

He stayed quiet for some time, if it weren’t for his irregular breathing, she would’ve thought he was gone. But she knew better, his shadows caressed her as old lovers, the familiarity in them made her shiver.

“Like I could drown forever in it, like it’s my only source of energy, like it twists everything in me and pulls me towards you with a burning force.”

She left a sob escape her again, she covered her face with her hands and turned around finally, facing him with red and teary eyes.

“Stop it, Azriel, don’t you dare be this selfish.”

“Celesta…”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But I need to say it,” he got a little bit more closer, extending his hands to reach for her, but didn’t touch her. She knew perfectly he wouldn’t do it without her permission.

“Are you even aware of how you hurt me?” She questioned, pain slipping in her soft voice.

“With that song, now I fully do,” he closed his eyes and drew away his hands, closing them and opening them again, as if they burned and ached to touch her. “I’m so sorry, Celesta. Of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, hurting you has to be the worst of them.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks even tho she tried to cleaned them up with her hands, his words ached her heart in a way she though it would never be possible again since that last time 70 years ago.

“Please, please let me touch you,” he begged, actually begged her to allowed him to come closer. His eyes shined with desperation, a kind of desperation she herself felt burning her whole body up.

“I am not a second option, Azriel. What? Did you finally realized you were after something impossible with Mor?” She loved, truly and deeply loved Morrigan, they had been friends since…well, it wasn’t an overestimation to say that since forever. But she would be lying if she said she never felt jealous of the love Azriel had for her.

“I should’ve known that the moment you stepped into my life.”

“Yes, you should’ve known,” she snapped angrily at him, his eyes fell from her face only for a second, and Celesta hated the fact she felt bad for it.

“I do know now,” his voice was a murmured, but even as the loud noice at the other side, she heard him perfectly.

“I’m not a second choice, Azriel, I can’t be your consolation price because Mor doesn’t want you. You were always, always my first choice. And I lost everything on you.”

Azriel wanted to say something else, wanted to get closer, he took a step, but when she took one back, he stoped dead, his eyes flared with hurt, but he did not said anything. He lowered his head and slowly nodded. She had taken a step away from him, he wouldn’t push it, not if he knew she wanted him far away, so he turned around, with his heart falling apart.

“You were amazing, as always. Congratulations, this town needed your light back,” and so he disappeared, in shadows and sorrow.



[eowyn-igneelcheshire]

I spent about two hours answering these questions as best I could, so here's my answers:

Picture a wedding. Any wedding even in a fantasy context.

Arwen in a long lilac dress and Aragorn in the exact same clothes he wore at his coronation crown and all standing hand in hand in front of a beautiful overgrown archway.

What does someone mean when they say “The Bible”? 

I usually imagine the Mormon Bible first but I have no idea what’s actually in it. I just picture a black book with “The Bible” in gold letters on the cover.

When is New Year’s? 

Everyone around me celebrates on January 1st but I keep forgetting it exists. I don’t know when New Year’s is for other cultures. When I start living on my own and therefore don’t have people to remind me of holidays I’m probably just gonna go with the first bloom in spring signifying the new year because time and dates don’t entirely register in my brain.

What does a religious service look like? 

I first pictured a mosque, then a Mormon church but specifically one with a low ceiling and weird lighting, then I pictured a group of people around a bonfire.

What do people look like when they’re praying on their own? 

I first pictured someone kneeling with their forehead pressed against the ground, then someone clasping their hands and kneeling, then myself laying on my back in bed with my hands balled in fists and pressing against my forehead in an attempt to get my thoughts to focus so I can figure out what the fuck to say while I’m crying because I’m having a meltdown and desperately trying to ask either Hypnos or Thanatos to help me.

Do you find the concept of being culturally a member of a religion you don’t, as far as you can tell, practice or believe in, weird?

Sort of? Mainly because it’s not a culture I’ve strongly identified with anyways. I wouldn’t really mind celebrating a religious holiday if I was invited by friends or family who are part of that culture, but I’m not going to celebrate something like Easter or Hanukkah on my own.

Is there fundamentally a good-evil dichotomy? 

No.

What does repentance/atonement entail -and what requires it? 

I honestly have no idea.

What does the word “religion” mean to you? 

I don’t know the answer to this either. I guess whatever a person says (genuinely, not as a “____ is my religion” kind of joke) is their religion then that’s their religion.

What is the opposite of religion? 

I don’t even have a solid definition for religion… When a person says they don’t have a religion I guess?

Do you assume that your definition is universal and applicable to others?

Universal? Probably not. Applicable to others? Well it’s incredibly vague so maybe????

Do your ideas and concepts about religion exist in English, or do they only really exist in another language?

I’m honestly not entirely sure what this question is supposed to mean. It’s my idea on religion and English is the only language I speak.

What is the honorable and good way to bury someone who has died, and to mourn their passing? What is the language of death? What makes a death good or bad? How is the body treated? What are the ritual, sacred, cultural, practical, ethical traditions around death?

I mean I personally would preserve the heart and bones (especially the skull), because I think it would help me to have some part of that person I can hold when I miss them, then burn the rest and either throw the ashes into the wind or make something out of them. I’m not entirely sure what they mean by the language of death. I don’t think there’s such a thing as a “good death” or a “bad death,” I think there’s a tragic death, but that’s entirely subjective and depends things like if they were happy when they died, if they had major goals left unfinished, if they were depressed, if they died lonely, if they died doing something they loved, etc.. I’ve already described what I’d do with the body, I haven’t figured out the ritual part yet.

What are the legal particulars that evolved into the marriage ceremony you imagine as the default? How is that marriage celebrated? What IS marriage, and who has authority over it?

Marriage is a mutual bond between two (or more, if people would just let poly couples get married!!!) legal adults. I don’t really have a default ceremony in mind, just whatever the people getting married want to do. Marriage is celebrated however the people involved want to celebrate it. Legally it’s whatever the law says is a marriage, socially if two (or more) people have what they consider to be a wedding and then say they’re married, then they’re married.

How does someone come into this world? How is their coming celebrated, before and after the actual birth? How is their name chosen? What names are off limits? How many names do they get? When are the names used? What do they mean?How do they honor family?How do they become a part of the community?

A person comes into this world by exiting a uterus. I’m sure they meant the religious explanation but I don’t have one so that’s what I’ve got. I don’t know much about how the people around me celebrate births. I know some people have baby showers before the birth, but I have no idea what kind of celebrations happen after aside from the child’s first birthday. The parent(s) usually pick the name as far as I’m aware? I don’t know of any names being off limits, I know numbers aren’t allowed in names (Elon Musk….). They get as many names as the parent’s give them? Usually only the first and last names are used day-to-day unless they go by something else like their middle name, but sometimes people full-name their kids when they’re in trouble. I don’t fully understand the “what do they mean” question. I don’t think people exist to honor anybody except themselves. Children are automatically part of the community until they get old enough to consciously separate themselves from it. 

As someone ages, how will they pass through meaningful, institutionalized rites of passage? When are they responsible? When are they an adult?

I don’t understand the rites of passage part… The only thing I can think of is starting school, moving from elementary to middle school, from middle school to high school, and from high school to either a job or college or both. I don’t fully understand the “when are they responsible” part either. Legally 18 is when you become an adult in America, but personally I think it should be 20 both because being a teenager AND an adult is weird to me and because I am 18 now and I do not feel ready for adulthood.

What is the relationship between humanity and nature? The relationship between humanity and the earth? What is our position in the natural world? What rights do we have or not have, what duties do we have or not have?

Humans are animals, we are and always will be part of nature. The sooner we recognize that the sooner we can get our shit together and stop destroying the one place we can survive. We’re like deer but worse because deer have wolves to keep them in check. I don’t understand the rights part but our duty to the planet is to not fucking destroy the planet.

What is your view about the occult? Your concept of angels, demons, and the devil? What do magic, divination, and astrology look like to you?

I’m a pagan witch. I think all things from all religions (including angels, demons, and the devil) exist just maybe not in the way certain religions think they do, like the Abrahamic God does exist but isn’t the only god. “Magic” is incredibly vague, it doesn’t work the way different movies, games, or book series depict it (you can’t cast fireball irl), but it does exist and it takes many different forms. Divination is something I haven’t explored in my practice yet so I can’t say what it looks like, but astrology is mostly bullshit except as like a basic guide or something. Your zodiac sign doesn’t determine what kind of person you’re going to be, but if you do fit some of the boxes it can help you figure out where to start looking in terms of what people or jobs you’re likely to be compatible with (AGAIN!! DOES NOT DETERMINE ANYTHING ABOUT YOU OR OTHERS!!! IT’S JUST A SORT OF DECENT TOOL!!! LET ME REPEAT THAT. IT IS A TOOL!!!!!).

What ubiquitous symbols exist in your culture? What phrases and idioms do you use to convey meaning beyond the explicit? Do you use these without thinking about their origin?

I don’t understand what any of this means.

How is the year celebrated? What seasons are given special honor, and why? What themes are strong enough to provoke holidays and observances? What ARE those holidays and observances? 

I don’t understand any of this either… I know spring, autumn, and winter are full of holidays here in the US, I’m not entirely sure about spring or winter but autumn is harvest season for a lot of crops so I can understand there being holidays around then. I don’t fully understand the last two questions.

What holidays do you consider “religious,” “secular,” or “national?” How do you observe them? What rights do you feel you have around them - do you have the right not to work on certain days, and why those days? Do you have the right to celebrate them publicly, even in a government supposedly separated from religion, and what gives you that right?

Religious holidays I know of right of the top of my head are Easter, Christmas, Hanukkah, and I think Halloween though I don’t remember what exactly it was for and it seems to have been rejected by many Christians for being a pagan holiday despite the fact that it is in fact Christian, it just shares roots with a Celtic pagan (or wiccan, not entirely sure which, people are still using the two interchangeably) holiday. Samhain, I believe, is what the holiday is called. It’s still celebrated by pagans and/or wiccans today. I think everyone should have the right to publicly celebrate their religious holidays, especially if the government is separate from religion (not sure why the question was worded like that?? Having a government separate from religion just means the government can’t celebrate religious holidays, not that the people can’t). As for having the right to not work on holidays, if it’s a holiday you’re religiously not supposed to work during then fuck yeah you should have the right not to work.

What IS prayer? How does one do it? Does it matter or make a difference? What is it’s intention? 

I personally don’t have a specific definition of prayer or how to do it, though I know plenty of religions do. I’m not sure what the third question means. The intention is dependent on the situation as far as I know.

How much do you know about the culture, beliefs, history, traditions, and oppressions of different religious groups? How much do you know about your own group, or the dominant group in your country? 

I don’t know how much I don’t know about anything until I learn something new, so I can’t say exactly how much I know about other religions. I know I haven’t bothered to learn much about the Mormon religion since I decided to leave it, and I know I still have more to learn about paganism since I’ve only fairly recently adopted those beliefs. An older witch and fellow pagan once told me that we create our own practices and our own mythologies, so I know that even if I come to know my own beliefs perfectly inside and out, that doesn’t mean I know everything about the beliefs of others.

Looking at the entire list, do you expect other people to have similar answers as you? Why?

I know not everyone thinks the same thing as me, but I imagine there’s at least one person in the world who shares some of my answers. Even if my view is one in a million, there’s still far more than a million people in the world.

Here's the blank version of the google doc I typed this up in if anyone's interested in doing this themselves: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZFxylYPIPok37W4RlZrGYRiI01VtKjHBNkPn87nFcQU/pub

the thing folks living in Christian dominant cultures gotta realize is that even if you’re not Christian, your basic understanding of religion and spirituality and morality is still being filtered through a Christian lens. your very concept of what religion is and does is filtered through that lens.

[sagesparrow394]

BUSTS OPEN YOUR DOOR OH MY GOSH DUDE!!! THIS CHAPTER EEEEEE THE DRAMA THE TEA IS PIPING FUCKING HOT FOR REAL...... the whole band figured it out but not that that's his ex and therefore juanaflippa's other parent... mans gonna fucking DIE when they find out im so rfreaking nervous to see how mariana reacts but ngl i think he'll be elated to know shes a mom (and therefore charlie will throw up again)... the shenanigans of charlie's acid reflux issues. i guess winding up in the hospital is genetic or something - HE WAS TEARING UP AUGHHHH SHAKING AND CRYING!!!!! your writing is so good dude! also sorry to be a bug but do you have any suggestions for keeping up writing motivation? gods know i lack it haha

Heheheeee writing this chapter for me was like

Hm, it feels like not a lot has actually happened in it. But it’s very important for setting up a lot of little important details :) some throw away bits of dialogue and narration that may suddenly have more relevance later :))) and that’s all I’ll say :)))))

V excited for the next chapter, my daughter will finally be there 💚🩷💛 I have a very sweet scene with Flippa and Charlie planned already

As for motivation… I wish I could offer advice. Fun fact about me, I have only ever finished one multi chapter fic I’ve ever written, which is a very old one on an abandoned fanfiction.net account. Praying that my fixation on this fic lasts long for me to finish-

Tbh tho my best advice is to find that idea that you just get so excited over you can’t stop thinking about it, and make a plan. Planning can be boring, but having even a rough mental map of how it’s going to go makes it so much easier to write. There’s been too many times I’ve rushed in with just ideas for the universe/characters and not the actual plot. Shocker, I got writers block and gave up lmao

I honestly do think I’ll finish igilyfts because I have all the main plot points planned already, and I’m really excited for a lot of the later ones. If I never got to them, I would be sad. I guess that’s what it boils down to. Plan late stage stuff that it would frustrate you to never share, so you push through the rest of the fic out of spite lmao

[kshira]

— BLACK LICORICE

SUMMARY: flashing back to where sanzu had gave you an orgasm, love and a broken heart

TW. fem!reader, cursing, fingering, angsty

WC. 897

AN. this is the first installment of my writing series, i’ve never wrote one before so hey, enjoy <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

CHAPTER ONE — SALTY TAFFY 

[5 YEARS EARLIER]

“you didn’t show up to graduation haru” you mention sitting down beside your boyfriend and knocking the candy he has from his hands.

sanzu disregards your attempts to annoy him by grabbing another piece of taffy and popping it in his mouth, he ignores you again, looking out into the distance of the bustling city echoing noises of a forever life—the sweetness dissolves around his tongue.

the rooftop was where you’d met sanzu, nothing more than a sheltered child you were and discovering a tattered boy standing atop the edge, he looked invincible—sanzu could fall down the three story building and god himself would throw him back to earth.

sanzu turns to you, pulling you from a distant memory, long lashes fluttering close with a sly grin “what’re you going to do now that you’re legally smart?” he snorts when you softly hit his shoulder, sanzu erupts into another laugh but he’s nervous, he knows what he wants to do and what you’re about to tell him don’t line up.

“i’m going to college” you avoid his searing gaze, staring off to watch the sun dipping down into the clouds, orange slices radiate the sky as sanzu inches closer—the silence is like a ticking time bomb, you want to ignore the way he’s trailing his fingers up your skirt, lips attaching to your neck, you want to forget what will happen in the upcoming weeks and you pray to a god it doesn’t ruin what you have with sanzu.

“you don’t need to do that” sanzu pulls your shirt down to expose more of you, his lips sucking on the skin and fingers growing agonizingly close between your legs.

“w-what do you mean?” you question, shakily ripping your voice from your throat, lungs being flooded by pleasure as sanzu slips past the sheen fabric and slowly teasing your folds “you could be my housewife” he presses his finger through your slit, curling through till he’s met with your spongy walls “i do the gang shit, get money and come home to a pretty wife.”

“easier said than done” your voice is quiet now, sanzu attempts to block off this conversation and focus on something—anything besides the cold hard truth.

“it took me barely five minutes to be inside you, i think i can manage” sanzu motions his other hand to look at him, his orbs flickering waves of violets “if i have you, i can do anything.”

a dark swell tugs at your heart, looking up at sanzu—tears rimming your eyes and he thinks it’s the pleasure overflowing but really, it just hurts so fucking bad; to know reality is tasted sour on your tongue.

your hand cards through his hair, pushing him into your mouth while sanzu pumps his fingers inside you, he groans into the kiss feeling your walls clamp down on him and like another day spent on this ledge your voice carrying on with the wind, moans catching with the air into the abyss.

“every day i could do this, come home to you—take you to those expensive restaurants you always wanna go to, fuck you anywhere, especially on every single fuckin’ room of our house” sanzu moans, curling his fingers to find that deep spot that drives you over the edge.

“h-haru— i’m gonna, fuck” you gasp feeling your orgasm near its head, washing through your legs and creaming around his fingers, small whimpers leaving your lips when sanzu teases your senstive clit, he chuckles at your teary eyed expression.

silence draws to an end as he finally stops playing with your fidgeting cunt, releasing an uneasy breath at the short time of tranquility.

sanzu pulls away from you, slinking the hand to his side he lays his head down on your shoulder, kicking his feet to the pace of his heart “what’re you going to do?” you question, sanzu exhales a shaky breath—it hurts, he doesn’t understand why it hurts so fucking bad, “same ole shit i’ve been doing, you know that.”

“right” your voice croaks in your throat, tears rolling down your cheeks, sanzu rises to his feet bouncing from the ledge and towards the exit or more importantly just out of this pain.

“we can—we can still be together, i’ll see you as much as i can haru, i’ll come every wee—”

“stop” sanzu interrupts, turning to watch you crawl from the ledge and walk closer to him, a weak hand tugging at his sleeves, he looks down at you darkness replacing his eyes “if i can’t have you here, i don’t want you.”

a sob chokes from your throat at his words, it burns—a fire clawing at your throat, vision so blurred from the tears tainting your sight of someone you’ve loved, had given everything to is just shutting it all away in a five minute gap.

sanzu cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, his lips move slow, fingers rubbing the wetness away as he depends the kiss and it feels like time has froze and if anything you’d wish it was always like this but fuck, nothing works this way.

“this is goodbye princess, be good for me” he whispers, pulling away and without another word sanzu walks out of your life.

and all you can stomach is agony and the salty taste of his taffy lingering on your lips.

tagging— @wakasagurl @sanzudopeamine

[apolyian-alluvial]

n o c t u a r y {five}

n o c t u a r y {linked universe x demi-god reader}

Your target sat in a tree, unmoving, unknowing. By your side, Wind watches on anxiously, his mouth drawn down in his squiggly frown. You wait with bated breath. The smooth rock in your hand lost its coolness a while ago, warmed by the heat of your palm. Slowly, you stretch your arm back, eyes still trained on your target. You snap your arm forward and the rock goes flying through the air. 

The projectile hits the tree branch right between two talons gripping the bark. The bird sitting right above the spot squawks loudly, wings flapping as it flies off in a frenzy. You grin to yourself. Hitting as close to the bird without hitting it was a baby challenge to you, quite literally. It’s one of the first exercises you went through before you could start shooting with a bow at camp. 

Wild whistles appreciatively. “You’re a good shot.” He was the one who suggested to “throw rocks at animals without hitting them, and if we do, we get fresh dinner tonight”. 

“There’s no way!” Wind cries. “You have to be cheating!” 

“How can I cheat by throwing a rock?” you ask, smirking down at him. 

Wind crosses his arm, his squiggly frown still prominent. “The rock is magic.” 

“And pray tell, how did I get a magic rock?”

“You enchanted it, of course. This time, I’m going to choose the rock so you can’t enchant it.” 

Twilight sighs, but it’s not exasperated in the way it should be. “Guys, please stop bothering the wildlife.” 

“We’re not hurting the birds,” Wind defends. “We’re just having fun.” 

You place a hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder. “Let’s resume our game later, okay? Then, you can check for sure that I’m not using any spells.” The short break Time called for is bound to be over soon, and you’d rather not get scolded for holding the group up for throwing rocks at trees.

Wind is slow to lose his frown, but reluctantly agrees. He goes to sulk beside Warriors who does nothing to soothe his disappointment, only adding fuel to the fire by ruffling the boy’s hair roughly. 

Twilight takes Wind’s place beside you. “We should reach Castle Town by the end of the night at the current pace we’re going. There, Zelda might be able to help find a way to send you home.” 

You smile slightly. “Thank you.” 

Twilight rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “It’s what we do.” He gives you a charming  half smile

Time claps his hands and announces for everyone to get ready to move once more. There’s a collective groan from Wind, Sky, and Four, but they all gather themselves obediently. 

Four lags behind a little bit, more focused on rubbing his temples than keeping up with the front of the group. 

“You good?” you ask the shorter boy. 

“Fine,” Four answers quietly. “Just a headache. I think we’re gonna shift soon.” 

“Shift?” 

Four goes very still. “It’s nothing.” He hurries ahead, deciding to walk beside Sky instead. You raise an eyebrow at his backside. Best not to disturb him anymore then. 

You walk alone for a few minutes, not minding the lose of your companion. It’s almost refreshing in a sense. Ever since you’ve arrived in this new universe, someone has been hanging out by your side. With Four and Wind, it’s not malicious, they seem genuinely curious nad you would be lying if you weren’t curious about them as well. The others though, Warriors’ sharp gaze, Legend’s distrusting glares, and Time’s stern watch makes the back of your neck itch and your shoulders hunch. You don’t blame them for their distrust, but you can’t say it’s something you exactly welcome. 

Wind, seemingly tired of Warriors’ teasing, goes to join you by your elbow. “Are you excited to go home?” 

“Of course,” you respond immediately. “I love Camp Half-Blood, I’ve been there ever since I was six. I’m- well, I was, one of the year-round campers. And this was supposed to be my last week there before I went off to university. I’ll be the first one of my siblings…” to survive past eighteen, “to go to university.” 

You’re ready to go home. Twilight’s world may be full of beautiful, undisturbed nature, but it’s unfamiliar. You hate how the trees look similar to the ones at camp, but there are no dryads living inside. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west of course, but it doesn’t feel as warm. In each of the heroes you’re travelling with, you see glimpses of your friends, you see a weariness you understand far too well. 

“Do you like it at camp?”

“I love it there. Outside of our daily schedules, the Apollo Cabin is responsible for volunteering in the infirmary, teaching archery, and singing at the Friday night campfire, but it never grows boring.” There’s always something new at camp, a new face, a new song to learn, a new injury to treat. 

Hyrule slows his pace a little. He looks over his shoulder. “You know how to heal?” 

You press your lips into a thin line, trying not to let a grimace show. “I can’t heal any injuries like my siblings can, but I can treat them.” 

“Do you miss your siblings?” Wind asks, voice quiet. 

You glance down at the young teen. His eyes are downcast on his boots. He should be at his island home with his younger sister, feeding the seagulls and playing in the waves like a normal child, not on another adventure to save the world. He should not be thinking of his home as something he yearns to return to in the deepest desires of his heart. “I’ll think of this as a nice vacation away from them. Half the time they act like their five and I’m the one forced to take care of them.” 

“I’d imagine they’re still a better-behaved lot than this one,” Time calls out from the front, his one eye sparkling mischievously. Wild and Hyrule immediately begin to protest in unison, claiming they haven’t started any forest fires recently and they’re being quite good actually. 

Heat spreads across your face. You didn’t know the others were listening in. It was only natural you suppose, that your voice could be heard by those in front of you, but you wagered on them having their own conversations and not paying attention to yours. 

“You may not have started any forest fires Champion, but how many rocks did you put in your mouth since we’ve arrived in Twilight’s home?” Warriors prompts, grinning handsomely as though he knows he’s right. 

Wild frowns lopsidedly. “Only four. And it was just because they looked tasty!” 

“It was five,” Hyrule corrected, counting them on his figners. “Remember the small, orange one we found at the river?” 

Wild eyes go round at the memory. “Oh yeah, that one tasted kinda sweet, like a hydromelon.” 

You take it back, this is not a vacation. You’d rather deal with six over-dramatic, pubescent siblings that all own sharp weapons than deal with the biological hazard that is Wild. It’s a miracle beyond your comprehension that you haven’t gotten a disease just from being near him yet. 

“You’re an absolute menace, Wild,” Legend says, but the edges of his lips are curling upward. 

“A true threat to polite society,” Warriors agrees. 

Twilight suddenly halts. “Stop.” 

“Oh come on, rancher.” Legend places a hand on his hip. “We’re just having a bit of fun, there’s no need to be overprotective.” 

“Mama bear will always defend his cub,” Warriors smirks, sharing amused expressions with Legend.

“No, stop and be quiet.” Twilight’s voice is hard and leaves no room for argument. 

Everyone pauses. The woods have gone quiet. There are no more birds singing, leaves rustling with the wind, or animals creeping through the underbrush. Time places one hand on the hilt of his sword. “Twilight?” 

“I think there’s monsters near,” the brown-haired boy whispers. His eyes are frantically darting around, searching for something hidden in the leaves. 

Numerous hands dart for their weapons. You slid your laurel ring off of your finger and throw it into the air. You catch your bow and quiver, hastily knocking an arrow. From the foliage right behind Time, a flash of red catches your eye. You stand up straight, pulling your bowstring taut. The end of your arrow aims at a space just past Time’s shoulder. 

“You witch,” Legend hisses. He draws his sword as he steps toward your direction. “Waiting until we’re far away from civilizations to try and attack us.” 

Without warning, you let your arrow fly. At the same moment, a strange lizard creature jumps from the trees. The arrow passes by Time and lands in the creature’s throat. It makes a pitiful choking sound as it crumples to the ground. For good measure, you shoot another arrow that lands in the middle of its forehead. You would aim for the heart, but the lizard is wearing leather armor including a red, spiky pauldron. 

“Black blood,” Time says, looking down at the body. “Be on your guard. There’s bound to be more.” 

Hyrule’s shout pierces the silence. “There! To the left!” He points with the tip of his sword towards a rustling bush. Several more of the lizard creatures emerge from the treeline. With no hesitation, he and Wild rush forward, swords poised to attack. 

“Those two,” Warriors mutters under his breath. He glances over at you. “Stay where you are and watch for any more incoming lizalfos. Sailor, stay with our guest.” He storms into battle, blue scarf billowing behind him and for a moment, you truly see a hero, someone passed down for generations through myths. 

Wind scowls. He lets go of his defensive stance but holds his blade in front of him. “Of course, he would put me on defense duty.” After a beat, he addresses you, “No offense.” 

“None taken,” you say faintly as you watch Time spin attack, mutilating three lizards at once. You’ve been taught swordsmanship for most of your life but nothing like that. Legend parries an attack and then stabs his sword through the bottom of a lizard’s jaw, the tip coming out the top of its snout. 

The battle is a flurry of motion, but off to the distance is one stagnant figure. Another lizard, this one a little larger than the rest and with black skin stands amidst the trees, barely hidden by leaves and branches. Its red eyes are hauntingly familiar. 

“Wind.” You nudge him, not taking your eyes off the black lizard. “What’s up with that one.” 

The boy follows your gaze. He curses explicitly under his breath. “That’s the Shadow!” 

You narrow your eyes. So the thing that dragged you into this new world, tore you away from your family and home, is now a lizard. Unfortunately for it, you’ve always been good at hunting. You nock an arrow and draw your bowstring back. An arrow between the eyes should do the trick. 

“What are you doing?!” Wind tries to lower your arm. “We have to tell the others!”

You release your arrow. Confidence swells in you. The Shadow’s too distracted by the battle in front of it to pay attention to a lone arrow. At the last moment though, red eyes snap towards yours. It jumps out of the way and the arrow lands on a tree trunk. The Shadow takes off into the woods. 

“It’s getting away!” You run after it, paying no mind to the battle that’s finishing up. Through the dense woods, you can see the tip of a black tail darting between trees. You hastily nock another arrow. It lands just a few centimeters shy of the tail. You’re pulling an arrow from your quiver when you see the tail stop. 

A portal of dark purple light appears. The Shadow turns around, red eyes boring into your soul as it sinks into the darkness. You feel yourself flush angrily. It gets to run away so easily while you’re stuck relying on strangers. You shoot another arrow, but it just bounces off armor. 

“You coward! I hope your tail gets chopped off and doesn’t regrow! Stupid ass lizard!” 

The Shadow disappears silently into the purple light. Slowly, that begins to fade too. You snatch up a handful of rocks and dirt and throw it in the direction the monster escaped. You wish you had Wild with you so he could set the forest on fire. You could burn down thousands of forests but that still wouldn’t be enough to quell your anger. 

The leaves behind you rustle loudly. You turn around to see the chain of Links burst forth. Warriors marches up to you. “What was that?” His tone is calm, but you can see how white his knuckles are around his sword hilt. 

“I saw the Shadow.” 

“And why didn’t you tell us?” he asks. Cold anger burns in his lapis blue eyes. 

“I almost had it,” you say, avoiding the question. “It jumped into a portal at the last moment.” 

Legend scoffs. He flicks black blood from his blade. “Convenient.” 

“Easy, Veteran.” Time places a brief hand on the boy’s shoulder. He directs his one eye on you. “Next time you see the Shadow, you will tell us so we can deal with it.” It’s clear he’s leaving no room for argument. 

You can count on one hand how many times you’ve been scolded by an adult in your life. Chiron, the camp activities director makes everything into a teaching opportunity, he doesn’t enjoy telling off the campers. Dionysus however, the head director, loves making fun of the campers but doesn’t care enough to actually engage with them most of the time. So naturally, you don’t handle it well. “Next time, I’ll shoot it dead.” 

Time straightens up. The markings on his face, the scar over his eye, and polished armor make him look threatening. “It is our duty to rid the Shadow of our lands, not yours. He is our responsibility.” 

“It became my problem the moment it dragged me away from my universe into this one,” you spit out, refusing to back down. The two of you stare each other down. 

“...Guys,” Four hesitantly speaks up. He rubs the side of his head. “...I think we have more pressing matters to deal with.” 

Warriors inhales deeply. He runs a hand through his blond curls, yet not a single one falls out of place. “And what might that be, dear Smithy?” 

Four points off to the side. “That.” A new portal manifests itself. This one, a more rounded triangle of red and purple light. 

“Already?” Sky sighs. “We just arrived in this world.” 

Time steels you with one last look. “We’ll continue this later.” He goes to stand in front of the portal. “Is everyone ready?” 

Swords are sheathed and shields are strapped to backs. Sky and Four line up behind Time, the latter looking miserable at the sight of the portal. Warriors stands off to the side, watching everyone with a critical eye. 

Twilight grimaces apologetically. “Your help might be delayed.” 

“What?” You don’t get an answer or any explanation. 

Legend shoves you into line and you find yourself trapped between him and Twilight. Time steps through the portal first, vanishing into the light. Sky and Four follow and soon you find yourself next to step through. After a moment of hesitation, Legend gives you another push and you find yourself falling through. 

The portal is cold. It steals the breath from your lungs, it squeezes your organs. Too many thoughts race through your mind yet you can’t think of a single thing, can’t concentrate on anything but the cold, biting pain. You close your eyes, wishing for it all to be over. For a few seconds, you feel as though you’ve dissolved into nothingness. Your feet land on a hard surface and you fall to a heap on the ground. Sensation slowly comes back to you. Familiar warmth spreads through your body. When you open your eyes, you recognize the site. You’re in the Apollo cabin at Camp-Half Blood. You’re home.

-----

thank you all so much for reading!!💖💖

[chocoenvy]

"i hate that i still care for you" part 2

part one part three

please i was listening to a song and it was such bomb inspiration for this. i just NEED this kind of angst in my life okay? It's fun. it highkey doesn't feel like a part two but it's set in the same timeline, universe, etc. so it fits it's fine

Warnings: Gore (not that hardcore or in-depth but g o r e), cult behaviors, slight platonic yandere behavior, cursing, angst

"I thought I loved you but then I saw the rain. I blinked, you were not the same."

You had caught wind of something odd happening. The sky was odd, darker than usual in the bright Mondstat. The birds worriedly fluttered around you before flying away. Young animals sought sanctuary around you. The wind had picked up speed, and the earth was worried (it was an odd thing to say but when you had described the feeling to Zhongli he seemed to understand).

You followed the wind and asked the animals where the problem was, "I'll take care of it." You comfortingly pet the young boars and foxes.

You rushed there, the worry from the passing wildlife making you nervous. You could hear the commotion from afar and you ran to find out what was happening. You arrived and found three angry archons standing over a poor soul on the ground.

"Imposter!" Zhongli rumbled, the earth shaking with him. His shout made you flinch hard. Covering your head with your hands and ducking under cover. "How dare you impersonate our god!"

"I'm not-!"

"Quiet!" Venti shouted.

That's not my windborne bard. You shivered, That's not the archon of freedom.

"You will not defame our god this way." The sky blackened with Ei's voice.

The anger, the fury in their voices sent shivers down your spine. You were frozen behind your cover, hiding from the archons like you had to do so many times before. Your breathing and heart rate rapidly picked up pace, begging you to run, but you were frozen.

They're going to kill me. They're gonna find me. They're gonna kill me. Run run run run run! Your legs were useless though, you merely gripped onto your head desperately. Wishing you would just dissapear.

"Stop-!" A voice cried desperately, a sob choking them.

This isn't about me. You whipped your head around, peaking out to see red blood staining the ground. The poor person clutching an arm they no longer had. Their eyes were wild with fear and the same color as yours.

Zhongli's spear was coated in blood.

Anger sparked in your chest, quickly catching fire and spreading to every corner of your body until you were shaking from rage.

You stood up, confidence in your godly abilites making you unafriad (how quick you could open up the character screen and yoink their five star weapons and artifacts for yourself).

"Stop!" You screamed. They froze. Their eyes almost as afraid as the poor writhing person on the ground.

You immediately ran to their side, you frankly didn't know jack shit about healing but your inventory was stock full of healing items. You opened it up and pulled out what you could, praying it would be enough.

"Shh, shh," You cooed, "It's hard but can you please eat this for me? It'll make you feel better, I promise."

They sniffled, taking a hesitant bite out of it. They didn't look in the mood to eat, in fact they looked ready to throw up, but they obeyed you anyways.

They immediately looked relieved, and their bleeding slowed down a bit.

"Can you take another bite? Please?" You pratically begged, holding it up to their lips.

They shakily did so.

"Your-"

"Shut. Up." You growled, refusing to look at them, "I'll deal with you three later."

It took all of your will to not tighten your grip on the food or the poor person, but you continued to feed them until the food was gone and they were completely healed. Sadly, you didn't think you'd be able to get them their left arm back.

"You're-" They hiccuped, "Thank-thank you." They sniffled, their breathing so erratic they could barely speak, "I'm- so-sorry-"

"No, you have nothing to apologize for." Your gaze softened, "I'm sorry I let this happen to you. Please. Breath with me okay?"

"O-okay."

You used all the techniques you knew and could think of the calm the person down, ordering the archons to go away, you'd talk to them later.

Once they were calm, they pratically passed out in your arms. You sighed in relief, they seemed okay to you at least but you needed to get them a doctor. You pursed your lips and closed your eyes, holding onto the person tight. When you opened your eyes, you were at your teapot realm, Albedo and Sucrose sitting near where you had teleported to.

"Albedo!" You called, "Sucrose!" The two perked up and looked at you, "Come here I need your help!" At the panic in your tone, the two rushed as quickly as they could to your side.

"Your grace? What's-?"

"They're hurt! Bad! They didn't do anything wrong and need help please!" You passed the person to Albedo, who cautiously carried them.

"Your grace, we don't have all the supplies here-" Albedo muttered.

"I can get us to your lab, please, we just need to make sure they're okay."

They couldn't say no to you, especially with how desperate you looked. You left the person with Albedo and Sucrose, albeit reluctently, but they were loyal. They would listen to you.

Your fists clenched.

The archons didn't.

You summoned the archons to your throne room where Khaenri'ah was being rebuilt as extra salt in the wound. You had dissmissed everyone else, so it was only the four of you.

They begged immediately. Squabbling words like fucking rats.

"What had I told you?" You gritted your teeth.

They hesitated, and you wanted to throw something.

"To not hurt someone that looked like you." They muttered.

It made your stomach squirm and heart palpitate in rage at how much they looked like children being scolded. They weren't children, they had almost murdered someone for looking like you.

You opened your mouth but then it hit you.

They weren't scared of you.

You should've been glad, you wanted to be glad.

They were supposed to be your lovely friends. Softly playing the lyre, amazing tea reccomendations, beautiful jewelery, flowers, gliding together, stories from centuries ago, calming rain, playing in the rain, trips to the sacred sakura.

They were supposed to be how the game depicted. When you were just friends with them and not a god, they were amazing. But their devotion was too powerful.

They weren't friends anymore, they were out of line worshipers.

"I had told you that if there was somebody purposefully trying to impersonate me then I would deal with it." You growled, "Does my word mean nothing to you?"

"No! Your grace it's just..." Venti protested, "We didn't want them to have any priveledge of seeing you. Of being in your presence. We wanted them to be hurt so they'd never even think of doing it again."

There was a sadistic gleam in Venti's eyes. You couldn't shake it. There was no sign of that in the game, or whenever he talked to or about anyone else.

You glared down at them, "The amount of faith the three of you have in me is disspointing and damn near insulting. I can take care of this problem without nearly murdering someone. It shouldn't even be a problem!" You threw your hands in the air, your vision colored red, "You treated me the same way! I never wanted to see that again and yet you refused to listen to me!" Tears pricked the back of your eyes threateningly, "That person now has to live with the same fear I do for something they can't change! I have the power to stop unecessary violence and yet when I tell you to do something! You refused to listen!"

You were breathing heavily, your vision and fists shaking. The three archons were on their knees, their tears dripping on the floor, and their limbs shaking from fear and shame.

No, not fear. They still don't fear me.

The anger dissipated, just a bit, replaced with indifference and dissapointment. "How many chances have I given you three? With how much you've hurt me." You muttered more to yourself, but they still heard.

They stayed silent.

You sighed, leanded back in your throne, and hummed, "Do you archons have regeneration abilities?" You smiled. It was empty and didn't reach your eyes.

[countrymusiclover]

3 - Who Wears The Key?

Part 4

A God Worthy Soulmate

@queenieala thank you for helping me write this

Ken's POV

I need to meet that girl. There's something that draws me to her. And I don't know why. It must be that she's strong like me or some sort of light…the only thing I know is I must have her as mine.

I made my way through my daughter's worship and stared at the sarcophagus that held my other children. Jen was munching down on her second burger when she noticed her father beginning to look around her workshop.

"Where's the key? "  I demanded, turning to stare at my daughter.

"Give me one good reason I should give you the key." She scoffed, making me growl at her question.

"Give me the key now or perhaps you would like to find yourself in a torture chamber " I threatened.

My daughter slumped her shoulders walking over to a secret compartment opening it and pulling out the key. She holds it in front of me where I reach for it but as soon as I touch it. The key suddenly disappeared in the air.

"What is the meaning of this, if this is another trick of yours dear daughter you better pray to another god for I will not put up with any more of your foolishness" I growled.

"Dad, I swear I had nothing to do with this… the key just vanished " Jen defended

"Enough with your lie daughter, where is the key " I demanded.

"I don't know " Jen yelled out throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

"Watch your tone " I warned.

She throws her hands up walking away from me. "If you're so powerful, find it yourself. But I didn't do anything!" Running a hand through my hair I needed to find that key before someone else found it.

Clarisse's POV

Running through the school I saw my best friend talking with Hope where I looked down at the necklace hanging around my neck. Lizzie sneaks out the back while I waited behind one of the pillars seeing a guy wearing golden armor. He's wearing a flower crown on his head made of gold. Sucking in a breath I felt my heart skip a beat cheeks turning red. He looks exactly like the picture I drew and saw in my dreams. Meaning Lizzie was right that he is in fact Ken the God. Hope slowly walked forward carrying a sword in her right hand. "My father stood for family above everything. This school is my family, so if you want to hurt them, you're gonna have to go through me." Her tribrid eyes glow gold.

"They sent a little girl to challenge a god? I'm almost insulted." He replied in a taunting manner his eyes turned gold for a second too.

She raised her freehand creating a ball of fire throwing it at him. "Maybe you'll feel better once you see what I can do."

"Magic doesn't work on a god." He spoke not affected by it at all.

Hope pointed out with a slight smirk. "No, but it can be very distracting." Lizzie appears behind Ken her hands turning red as she grabs the sides of his head. In an attempt to siphon his god magic from his body to weakon him. But the wind blew throwing her backwards alongside Hope.

"Be careful what you wish for, child. It took me a lifetime to control all of my power." Ken slowly walked forward choking her by the neck holding her off the ground. He then threw her where she gets impaired with a metal fence pole but thankfully it didn't hit her heart.

Hope and I both cried in unison. "Lizzie!"

She got to her feet swinging her sword but he raises his hand throwing her backwards into the dirt again. Rushing forward I quickly transformed into my werewolf form having a light brown fur coat. Growling up at Ken I stand in front of Hope who lays on the ground behind me. He slowly walks up a smirk on his face. "Now you are impressive. What's your name, girl?"

I growled at him annoyed and started to run towards him. Leaping off my back legs I managed to knock him flat on his back. I began to claw at him, He grabbed me shoving me off where I rolled getting some bruises so I transformed back into my human form. "What are you going to do - kill me to show how powerful you are, dickhead!"

He walked over toward me and bent down in front of me, his eyes began to glaze up and down at my naked body in lust and hunger…I soon delivered a slap across his face and pushed him away from me. "You'll pay for that child -" He cut himself short eyes locking onto the necklace around my neck. "You have the key!"

"Key, what are you talking about?" I spat watching him remove his cap throwing it over me. He picked me up waving his right hand knocking me out into his arms before I could fight against him.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[mackenzielovee]

hiiiii angel!

I have a request for rafe x reader x jj.

In which Barry uses the reader as a collateral after rafe accumulates late payments for the substances he consumed and jj steals the 25K from him. The reader has been hanging out with both boys since she has a strong connection with both. Barry has been watching them all three interact over the last month and finds the reader as the perfect way to make them pay for their mistakes. Barry confronts both boys and right when he’s aiming to shoot the reader either JJ or Rafe get in the way and take the shot instead ( you can choose who) and the other boy promises to take care of the reader and protect her from all dangers. Meanwhile the other one is bleeding himself to death while giving his life for reader. This idea was so random but I’m so obsessed!!! Please please please! I’m so excited it would mean the world to me<3

a/n: hey baby! thank you so much for this request. I actually loved writing this and i hope i did it just the way you wanted! please let me know if you enjoyed it! ily<3

Warnings: swearing, talk of drug abuse, gun play, gun fire, blood, mentions of death,

Word Count: 5.5k

my writing

protection - rafe cameron

It's a warm day out on the Cut. As you walk through the tall grass and slap away a mosquito that landed on your arm, you think about how JJ is going to want to swim once you get the boat out into the water, and you forgot your bathing suit. You hope Kie has one that she left over at John B's, maybe you could steal it.

Faintly, you hear the hum of a dirt bike as it gets closer to you, but you think nothing of it. You're holding a six pack of JJ's favorite beer in your hand, excited to get the day started. You, JJ, John B, and Sarah all planned to take the boat out for a joyride and a day on the water. Kiara's working and Pope is preparing for his scholarship interview, an excuse that made JJ call him a nerd.

You hear the bike start to approach you, so you turn to see who it is. You've never seen anyone with a bike this close to John B's house. You don't recognize the guy under the helmet, but you don't really have time, because he pulls the bike in front of you and stops, scaring the shit out of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you hear, and immediately know the voice of the slimy drug dealer himself.

Barry removes his helmet and smirks at you, eyeing you up and down. You look disgusted with him, not sure what he wants with you but knowing you want no part of it.

"Get out of my way, Barry," you snap.

Barry's an asshole, always has been. One of your other good friends, Rafe Cameron, buys coke from him on the regular. You've been trying to get Rafe off of it and even went so far as to see Barry to get him to stop selling to Rafe, but it didn't work out. Barry just called you 'princess' a lot and then told you he'd lose a fuck ton of money if Rafe ever gets clean.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Barry laughs, but it's sarcastic, "Are those beers up for grabs?"

You instinctively pull your occupied hand back, away from him so he can't grab it.

"No," you say, trying to side step him. He hops off his bike and walks in front of you, quickly boxing you in.

"Listen, sweetheart, it's nothing against you. But I'm gonna need you to get on the bike," Barry's voice is thick, making you swallow your anxiety.

You wonder if you screamed for JJ, would he hear you? Or would Barry rip your throat out before any noise even came out?"

"Not a chance," you reply, trying to keep yourself calm.

Barry snickers, then brings his beady eyes back up to yours. He steps closer, making you step back, until your back hits the bike and you had no way of getting away from him.

"I'm gonna say it one more time," he tells you, "And then it might have to get ugly. Get on the fuckin' bike."

Your heart is beating a mile a minute with no idea what this man wants with you or where he's taking you, but you know better than to go anywhere with him. You shake your head, sure words will fail you right now. Barry just sighs, then reaches up to his back and pulls a gun out from his pants. The beers fall from your hand to the ground, splitting open and spilling out on the ground.

"Oh, now, that's just a big waste," Barry uses the gun to point down at the beers, "Get on the goddamn bike. Now."

You don't see any other option; essentially it's live and get on the bike, or die right here, less than half a mile from John B's. You can already imagine the memorial JJ will build for you when they find out this is the spot you died in. Somehow, it comforts you. Only a little.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask him quietly as you turn to face the bike.

Barry watches as you sit down on the back of his bike, then uses the gun to slowly stroke up your bare thigh. You can smell his breath as he leans in to speak to you.

"Your boys both owe me. Big time. So, I'm taking the one thing I know they'll pay good money for," he smirks, then hands you his helmet, "Don't want you to get hurt, sweetheart."

You want to throw up every time he calls you that, but instead, you grab the helmet from him and put it on. You look back, hoping maybe, for some reason, JJ had wandered out and would just so happen to see you. All you see is trees. Barry hops on and starts up the bike, then turns back to you again.

"Now, you're supposed to hold on here," he tells you, wrapping your arms around his waist, "But if you feel so inclined to move your hand a little south of that, well, I don't mind at all."

You gag and loosen your grip on him as much as you can, not wanting to touch him any more than you have to. He starts up the bike just as his words sink into your mind. Your boys both owe me. What does that even mean?

Barry takes off, not bothering to go any slower with you. It's a pretty short ride back to his place, but feels longer to you because of how sick you feel. Every thought goes through your mind; he's taking you back here so he can kill you in private, he's going to rape you, sell you to some old Kook who will keep you in the basement. All sorts of things you think of, none of them good.

When you get back to his house, he stops the bike and you immediately jump off. So does Barry, who winds up just throwing the bike down in the grass. You throw the helmet down too, not caring if he wanted you to do that or not.

"What are you talking about?" you snap, watching Barry act surprised by your outburst, "Who owes you money? What boys? Why me?"

Barry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then reaches over and grabs onto your wrist. You try to pull away, but his grip is firm.

"Don't fucking start that shit with me," he snaps at you, "Get in the house."

His tone scares you, and even though you know you shouldn't, you obey. You just want to know why you're here and what the hell is going on.

You walk up the stairs to the porch and sit down on the couch, the same one Rafe sits on every time he buys from Barry.

"Tell me what's going on," you say once you're seated.

Barry picks up a blunt from the table and lights it up, silently holding it out to offer you some. You shake your head and scrunch your nose up, disgusted with it. That makes Barry grin.

"Rafe owes me money," Barry states simply.

You raise your eyebrow, "So?"

Barry looks over at you, giving you the 'are you serious?' look. He sits down in the chair beside the couch, taking a long drag off his blunt before he speaks again.

"So," he says, "Did you know JJ stole 25k from my house?"

Your expression falters and your jaw drops, telling Barry you know nothing of it. That almost makes him feel guilty for scaring you so bad back there, if you were totally innocent. But he needs his money, and you're his one way ticket to it.

"JJ wouldn't do that," you say, not being able to stop the hesitation in your voice.

"Really?" Barry snickers, "Well, he did. And since both of them boys seem to be wrapped around your little finger, you and I are gonna become best friends until I get my money. Understand, sweetheart?"

You glare at him, now understanding what he wants with you.

"So, I'm just collateral," you confirm, watching Barry's lips turn up around his blunt when you speak.

"Exactly," he smiles, "Now. Do you have your phone with you, or did you drop it when you spilled my beers?"

You huff at him and roll your eyes, then lean over in your bag and pull it out of the front pocket. Barry snatches it quickly, then asks you what your code is. You tell him, knowing if he can just get the boys here fast, you won't have to be alone with him anymore.

"Should I send them a picture of you holding up a newspaper? Don't they do that in all the hostage shows on TV?" Barry laughs to himself, looking up at you for confirmation.

You shrug, not wanting to speak to him any more than you have to. Barry rolls his eyes.

"Them boys really put up with that attitude?" he snaps at you, "Goddamn, I could never. You better straighten up, honey."

You just stare at him, deciding it's best if the two of you don't speak. Barry hits send and then tucks your phone in his pocket.

"That should send those two idiots running," Barry laughs, taking another hit from his blunt and then looking over to you again, "You sure you don't wanna try this? Might help you fucking relax."

You glare at him once again and then shake your head, looking away from him. You can tell out of the corner of your eye that he stands up, but when he grabs your chin and forces you to look over at him, you gasp.

"Straighten out, or I'll do it for you," he says, then roughly releases you.

You sigh and sit back on the couch, praying that at least one of the boys will arrive soon. Barry sits back down in his seat and tries to strike up a conversation, pretending he hadn't just manhandled you.

"So, which one are you gonna choose?"

Your head snaps over as you stare at him, trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about.

"What?" you ask, your voice giving away your confusion.

"You know," Barry shrugs, "They're both, like, crazy in love with you. So, if I have to shoot one to teach the other a lesson, which one would you pick?"

You roll your eyes, "You're fucking crazy."

Barry leans forward and stares at you, blunt hanging from his lips. He slams his hand down on the table in front of you, trying to get your attention.

"They stole from me," he shouts now, "Both of them. Someone's going to fuckin' pay for that."

You just nod your head, hoping he'll just shut up now. You don't want to talk about how they stole or Barry teaching either of them a lesson. You just want to go home. You should've never been walking by yourself in the first place. Then again, you never dreamed some psycho with a gun would come along.

"I think it'll be JJ," Barry continues, "You seemed pretty bummed on Cameron when he refused to quit his shit. But, you know, take your pick. Drug addict or thief. Man, it's like the Bachelor or some shit up in here."

Your eyes roll so far back into your head that you swear you can see your brain. When you look over at him, he's still laughing at his own joke.

"They're going to pay you back, and then you're never going to see any of us again," you say confidently. Barry just laughs.

"Yeah, okay, sweetheart."

You look over form the porch when you hear a noise, then sigh with relief when you see Rafe's truck pull up. He's driving fast, too fast, and he hops out of the truck the second he gets within running range of the porch. He doesn't even bother to close the door behind him.

You try to stand and go out to him, but Barry grabs your arm and keeps you down on the couch.

"Easy," he tells you, reaching behind him and pulling out his gun. He sets it down on the table in front of him, and you take note of how his expression changes from laughing to pissed off.

Rafe runs up to the porch and swings open the door, and that's when Barry releases you. You stand and rush to him, feeling Rafe sigh in relief as he wraps his strong arms around your little body. All of your anxiety melts away as you know you're safe now. Rafe would never let anything happen to you.

"Please tell me you're okay," Rafe whispers against your head, squeezing you tight.

"I'm okay," you confirm.

He pulls back from the hug and starts checking all over your body for injuries anyway. He holds up your arms and scans those, stopping his finger over a bruise you already had. It happened on the boat with JJ.

"I'm fine," you repeat to him, laying your head back on his chest. You really just don't want him to let go of you.

"What the fuck, Barry?" Rafe yells, his voice echoing through your ear as you have your head pressed on his chest.

"Afternoon, Country Club," Barry stands and smirks, watching the way you cling to Rafe.

You don't look at him, you just close your eyes and breathe Rafe in, not wanting to remember where you are. In your mind, the two of you are hanging out and eating lunch at the club. You always love going, especially on windy days when his scent travels from across the table. You love the way he smells.

"I'd like to change my answer, sweetheart," Barry tells you, ignoring Rafe's confused glance, "I think this one might love you back, Rafe. How sweet."

Rafe instinctually tightens his arm up around you, keeping you pressed up against him.

"I swear to God," Rafe starts, "If you laid one hand on her-"

"I didn't, Jesus," Barry groans, "I wish you cared about getting me my money the same way you care about saving this bitch."

You don't react, not even slightly. You don't care what Barry thinks of you. You just never want his slimy hands to touch you. Ever again.

"She's not a bitch, man," Rafe's voice goes quiet, "And I'm going to get you your money."

Barry laughs and then pretends to cry, "Boo who, she's not a bitch. I don't care, bro. I gave you shit on two separate occasions-"

"And I gave you my bike as collateral!" Rafe shouts back.

"That piece of shit ain't worth half what you owe me," Barry spits, "Your girl liked riding on it, though."

Rafe's chest tenses against you, and then you feel him bring his hand up to stroke your hair. He's trying to keep you as relaxed as possible.

"Y/N, go wait in my truck," Rafe tells you quietly, pulling the keys out of his pocket.

"Oh, no, no," Barry smirks, reaching out and snatching the keys from Rafe, "You think you're the only person I called here?"

As if on cue, the porch door swings open again and JJ walks in. Your eyes open and you see him, his expression worse than you've ever seen him.

"You got her?" JJ points to you, but he's talking to Rafe.

Rafe just nods, tightening his grip around you again. You open your mouth to speak, but watch as JJ charges toward Barry and punches him square in the nose.

"What the fuck did you do?" JJ shouts, watching Barry tumble to the floor, "If I find out you fucking hurt her-"

Barry laughs from the floor, wiping blood from his nose, "Easy, bro. You two are so damn worried about this chick."

JJ's chest is expanding and then contracting every five seconds, telling you his adrenaline is going crazy. You know he's ready to punch him again. Barry stands and picks up his gun from the coffee table, pointing it directly at JJ. You try to push forward to stop it, but Rafe keeps his grip tight.

"Now," Barry says, spitting his blood onto the floor, "You bitches are gonna pay up."

"Barry, I'll get you your money, man," Rafe promises. When Barry moves and points the gun at Rafe, he quickly tucks you behind him. He gives you one of his hands to hold onto, while the other one goes up to stop Barry from shooting.

"Yeah, when?" Barry yells, "I told you, Cameron. It's not just me you're screwing with."

Rafe nods his head, doing his best to try and calm Barry down. JJ looks over at you, mouthing 'are you okay?'

You nod at him, your expression clearly giving you away. You're scared, and he knows it.

"I know, bro," Rafe says, "Some people still owe me from the party Friday night. I'm going to get it, I just need some time."

Barry laughs sarcastically and lowers the gun, "Oh, yeah, for sure, man. You know what, take your time, Rafe."

Rafe's expression changes, knowing Barry doesn't mean it. He just wonders what that means for getting you out of here.

"The girl stays with me until both of you are paid up," Barry tells both of them.

"Like hell," JJ mutters.

Barry, who is still pissed about his nose, turns around and hits JJ in the head with the stock of the gun. You watch JJ stumble back, and without hesitation, break from Rafe's grasp and rush over to him. Rafe reaches out to try and grab you, but his grip isn't good enough.

"JJ!" you say, grabbing onto him as he stumbles. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, allowing you to help him stand.

"Shit," JJ mumbles, gripping his forehead. He pulls his fingers back and sees blood.

"Damn, darlin'," Barry grins at you, "You really do love them both."

You glare at Barry for the millionth time today as you set your arm around JJ's waist and lead him over to sit down. He sits in the chair Barry had been sitting in and you stand in between his legs, moving his hand away to see his wound.

Barry looks over at Rafe, who has his jaw clenched as he watches you stand in between JJ's legs and clean him up. He watches as JJ's hand lingers on the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing your skin ever so slightly.

"That's gotta hurt," Barry says to Rafe, getting a lot of amusement out of watching the boys squirm over you.

You ignore whatever Barry says as you use the bottom of your shirt to wipe off some of the blood on JJ's forehead. It's not bleeding badly, which you're thankful for. You're almost sure Barry doesn't own a first aid kit.

"Now, JJ," Barry steps over to you two, "Let's talk about how you stole twenty-five thousand dollars out of my house, yeah?"

Barry presses the gun to the back of JJ's neck, making JJ tense up. You watch Barry, bringing your hands to JJ's shoulders and holding onto him, as if to comfort him somehow.

"I'll get it back," JJ says, his voice hoarse.

"You bet your ass you will," Barry tells him, "When will that be, exactly?"

JJ sighs, knowing it won't be any time soon. That money is long gone.

"Can we set up a payment plan?" JJ asks sarcastically.

He regrets it when Barry grabs onto your arm and pulls you away, pressing the gun into your stomach as he holds onto you. JJ stands quickly and Rafe starts to rush over, but stops when he sees the look in Barry's eyes.

"You know, I'm getting real sick of being treated like a bitch," Barry tells them, pressing the gun into you harder, "I want my money. Now."

You let out an involuntary groan at the pain, watching Rafe as he tries to figure out what to do.

"Let her go, Barry," Rafe finally speaks, "Let her sit down and I'll go get your money."

"All of it?" Barry confirms.

Rafe nods, "All of it. Just let her sit down over there."

Barry looks at both boys, noting how pathetic they are. He's glad, though, knowing all he has to do is threaten your life to get what he wants. He just doesn't understand what's so damn special about you.

He releases your arm and shoves you in the direction of the couch, Rafe stepping forward to grab you. He pulls you into him again, leading you over to sit down.

"You all right?" he asks you, taking a seat beside you and bringing his hands up to your cheeks.

"Yes," you reply, nodding feverishly as if to try and convince him.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers as he pulls you into him.

Your breath catches in your throat as he calls you 'baby'. He's never done that before. Your mind wanders back to Barry telling you that both boys are crazy in love with you. You now sit there in Rafe's arms, wondering if Barry's right.

Rafe pulls back and looks at you in the eyes again, "Just sit right here for me, okay? I'm gonna go get the money. I'll be right back."

You nod again, silently promising him that you'll be here when he gets back. As if you could leave. He rubs the base of his thumb on your cheek and gives you a small smile, then stands up. He curses, knowing he doesn't want to leave you here.

JJ steps over to Rafe as he walks toward the door, grabbing his arm.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get twenty six thousand bucks right now, man?" JJ hisses, keeping his voice down for your sake.

"I don't know, JJ, I was thinking I'd walk into the bank and ask nicely," Rafe snaps, "I have no fucking idea. But I have to figure something out, right?"

JJ runs his hands through his hair and exhales loudly, then looks over and smiles quickly at you. Barry watches the boys, trying to figure out what's going on.

"Dude-"

"Just," Rafe starts, already annoyed with JJ, "Stay with her. I'm going to figure it out."

Rafe hates telling JJ to comfort you and be there for you, but it's the way it has to be. No way JJ could get his dirty hands on that kind of money right now. Or ever. JJ nods and starts walking over to you as Rafe thinks about how much money his dad might have in his safe right now.

"You know," Barry starts, standing up again with the gun in his hand, "I'm starting to think you don't really have my money, Country Club."

"Chill out, Barry," Rafe sighs, stepping toward the door once more. The safety of the gun being turned off is what makes Rafe stop dead in his tracks.

"Tell me the truth, Rafe," Barry says.

Rafe slowly turns around with his hands up, swallowing quickly.

"I'm going to get it," Rafe states again.

Barry shakes his head, "You're lying."

Before Rafe can process it, Barry moves the gun in your direction. He looks at you for a second, the horror on your face, and you know your body is frozen. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see it happen. At least you'll die with the boys.

The shot fires fast, but you don't feel anything. You hear a yell, then Rafe scream out, and when you open your eyes, JJ's lying on the ground. Your jaw falls open as you tumble onto the floor beside him, setting your hand on his bleeding stomach. Your hand is soaked instantly, but you don't know what else to do.

"JJ," you cry out, watching his eyes find yours, "JJ, oh, my God."

Tears fall down your face as you stare at him, his eyes glazing over. He's just watching you panic. Rafe comes over and sinks down beside you, not knowing how to help.

"Towels, Rafe," you order, "Hurry."

You spot a random shirt laying on the ground, one you're sure is Barry's and use it for the time being to soak up some of the blood.

"Hey, JJ, I'm right here," you tell him, watching your tears fall onto his shirt. They become invisible immediately, the blood stains swallowing them up.

"Are you okay?" JJ chokes out, spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor when he finishes speaking. You shake your head and try to swallow your tears, but you can't.

"I'm fine, JJ, just relax," you tell him, then look up, "Rafe!"

Rafe comes out of Barry's and onto the porch with towels in his hand, stopping only when Barry grabs onto his arm.

"I was aiming for her, remember that," Barry tells him.

Rafe just yanks his arm away and comes to you, placing one of the towels over JJ's wound.

"Rafe, what do we do?" you ask frantically, trying to ignore the blood that now seeps onto the floor.

Rafe shakes his head, having absolutely no idea what to do. He brings his hands over yours and puts more pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You have to call 911," you tell Rafe, "Go."

Rafe stares at you for a second, still stunned, when JJ starts to speak from the floor.

"Rafe," JJ chokes, "You gotta get her out of here, man."

"Not a chance, JJ," you say, trying your best to smile at him.

JJ looks over at Rafe again, "Rafe."

His voice is serious, and Rafe knows exactly what he's telling him. He's a goner, and he knows it. But he doesn't want you to watch him die. Rafe nods to JJ, telling him he understands. He watches JJ relax and lay his head back down, then stands up. JJ brings his hand down to yours and wraps his fingers around you. You squeeze, trying to tell him it's going to be okay.

"Go call," you remind him.

Rafe steps across JJ's body and, without speaking, tucks his arm around your waist and picks you up. He knows this won't be easy, and he can already feel his emotions coming up.

"Rafe, put me down!" you shout, your blood soaked hands going down to try and peel his arm off of you, "Rafe, stop! JJ!"

He carries you over to the door of the porch, doing his best to keep his grip tight as you fight with every ounce of strength you have.

"Let me go, Rafe! I have to help him!" you're screaming your head off, and Rafe hates it, but he knows he has to do what's best for you.

He glances back only for a second and sees JJ's shallow breathing, knowing he doesn't have much time left.

"Rafe!" you scream, kicking and thrashing around to try and get away.

"I have to make sure you're safe," Rafe tells you as the two of you reach the truck, "It's what he wants me to do."

"He's going to die!" you scream, "Let go of me! I'll never forgive you for this!"

Rafe opens the passenger door of the truck and puts you inside, using all of his strength to keep you there.

"You'll be alive, though!" Rafe raises his voice at you, making you stop. He's never yelled at you, not once.

You choke on your sobs as you see the blood all over Rafe's shirt, then all over your own. He buckles you in and closes your door, then rushes around the truck.

"Don't think this makes us even, Rafe Cameron!" Barry yells from the porch. Rafe flips Barry off and then gets into the truck, starting it and speeding off without buckling himself.

"Rafe, stop!" you yell, "I can't leave him there! He's all alone!"

"This is what he wanted!" Rafe yells back at you, stepping further down on the gas pedal.

"I don't care, I don't want him to be alone!" you cry, reaching for the door handle.

Rafe locks the doors and puts child lock on, preventing you from flinging out of the truck. You bang your fist on the window as he does, leaving a blood stain there.

"Rafe!" you look over and scream at him again.

He gets so frustrated he pulls the truck off the path and sets it in park, then turns to you. He grabs onto both of your wrists and holds them down.

"Calm the fuck down, right now," he demands, "Calm down."

You sit back in the seat and do as you're told, but your tears still fall. JJ just gave his life up to save yours, and Rafe doesn't seem to care at all.

"You need to understand that my only priority back there was to keep you safe. I'm sorry about JJ, baby, I am, but staying would've only put you in more danger."

You shake your head at him, almost as if you're disgusted. You let out a sob and then try to wipe your eyes, only smearing JJ's blood on your face. He reaches over and grabs your cheek, pulling you to look at him.

"I'm going to go back there and get his body. You can say goodbye to him. I'm gonna pay off Barry and never go back there. But I'm going to protect you first, do you understand?"

You nod your head under his touch, letting out another sob as soon as you try to breathe in. Rafe brings his hands down to your hips and pulls you toward him, over the console and into his lap.

"Come here," he whispers gently, tucking his arms around you and holding you close.

He knows you're a mess right now and there's blood all over his truck, but he doesn't care. He just wants you to calm down.

"Rafe," you sob, not knowing what else to say. His shirt becomes soaked with tears quickly.

"I know," he tells you softly, "I know."

"He saved me," you say, more just processing what happened, "Oh, my God, he's dead because of me."

"Shh," Rafe hushes you, his heart feeling like it's breaking in two as he listens to you, "It's not your fault. None of this is. Just calm down for me, baby."

Your hands come up and wrap around the back of Rafe's neck as you nuzzle your nose into the front of it. He brings one hand up to stroke through your hair, trying to relax you.

"We're okay," he soothes, his other hand rubbing your back, "Everything's okay."

You two sit there for a while, Rafe just rubbing on you and calming you down, until eventually, you start to come to terms with what happened. He's thankful you're no longer hysterical.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Rafe whispers against your head once he feels you relax against him.

You pull back and look him in the eyes, feeling his hand come up to wipe blood from your cheek.

"You'll go back and get him?" you confirm.

Rafe nods, "Yes, of course."

You nod your head and then bring your hand up to his cheek the same way he had on yours, observing how soft his skin is. You think about what Barry told you about them both loving you, and how he later told you that you love them both.

"Rafe?" you ask, your voice nasally from all the crying and screaming, "Can I ask you a question?"

Rafe nods, loving the feeling of your skin on his. It relaxes him, makes him feel complete.

"Barry told me he thinks you're in love with me," you say quietly, leaving out the part about JJ.

You watch as Rafe nervously swallows, and then nods his head ever so slightly. You feel your heart swell, not knowing Rafe Cameron could ever make you feel that way.

"It's true?" you ask him, searching around in his eyes for any kind of doubt. There is none.

"Yeah," Rafe barely whispers.

"Oh," you say, watching Rafe's expression change to hurt as you glance away.

He's sure you don't feel the same. When you look up at him again, he's staring intensely at you.

"Is it okay that I love you, too?" you ask him, voice fragile.

Rafe smiles slightly, then watches as you smile too.

"Yeah," he repeats, but with more authority this time.

He leans his head down and then hesitates, making you hesitate as well. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you. His lips make yours feel like they're on fire as they move together. He reaches up and grabs your cheeks, holding you to him. He pulls away after about a minute, staring at you in full adoration.

"I'm so sorry about today," he tells you, keeping his grip on your face, "I will never put you in any danger like that ever again."

You nod your head slowly, "I know that."

Rafe smiles down at you, bringing one hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"Let's go get you a shower," he says softly.

He doesn't make you get back in your seat, however. He just tightens his grip around you and puts the car in drive again, allowing you to hold onto him while he drives. It almost reminds you of being on the bike with Barry this morning. But instead of being completely disgusted, you're completely in love.

[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[larksthighs]

don’t go - jj maybank

OBX SEASON 2 SPOILERS AHEAD

tw: mentions of death, throwing up, a few curse words

word count: 3636

“Holy shit it worked… we got the fuckin’ cross baby! Let’s go!”

“JJ shut up, now isn’t exactly the time to be yelling,” you hissed back, trying to keep him quiet. With all of The Coastal Venture’s crew and a very psychotic Rafe Cameron on the hunt for stowaways, the best thing you can do right now is be discreet and get to the lifeboat.

“Right, right, stowaways on a boat where the crew is out to kill, forgot about that,” he says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. You roll your eyes at him and start to speed walk around a corner, hoping to find it clear so you can get your asses off of the boat before you get captured. JJ starts to walk towards the edge of the boat as you round the corner, but you take a step back as you're faced with one of the crew members who has a knife strapped to his hip.

“I don’t see him,” JJ says before turning around, quickly seeing the problem that you two are facing.

“J!”

JJ plants himself between you and the crew member, who orders him to get down on his knees. Before you know what’s happening, the crew member takes a swing a JJ, who ducks it, which gives you the opportunity to pin his hand holding the machete against the wall, hoping that JJ can take him down without facing major injuries. JJ throws a few punches to the guy’s face before you slam one of the metal doors open, hitting him in the head.

You look over the side of the boat, hoping to see John B and Sarah on the lifeboat coming your way, but all you’re met with is the vastness of the open ocean. Fuck.

“Where’s John B?” JJ asks, breathing heavily as he continues fighting.

“I don’t know!” you yell, exasperated and feeling the panic creeping into your chest. This whole trip has been an adrenaline rush, shit, this whole year, but the crew member isn’t going down without a fight and both you and JJ are tired from being trapped in a hot storage container with no food or water. You’re not sure how much energy you have saved up, you just hope it’s enough to fend off the crew member and escape to the lifeboat.

You hear the grunts of the men fighting behind you as you look over the edge of the ship, praying that John B will come around the back and you can finally escape. You hear a loud clang of a body hitting metal before you hear JJ call your name in a panic. You turn around just in time to see the crew member swing his machete towards you. You manage to duck twice before JJ stands up to help, grabbing the man’s arm. He elbows JJ hard in the ribs, effectively knocking the air out of him, before focusing his gaze on you. You duck just as the machete comes flying towards you, but the power of the man’s swing causes his body to circle around, hitting JJ in the head with the butt of the machete.

It feels like slow motion as you watch JJs body go flying backward, over the railing, and into the water. You hear the sound of the splash and can faintly hear yourself scream his name as you watch his body rise, face down. You turn around and use all of your force to kick the man in the stomach before standing on the railing and jumping into the water.

You hear the wind rushing past your ears and feel your clothing lifting with the wind. Your adrenaline is causing it to sound like there is water rushing through your ears before you submerge into the water, where everything goes completely silent for a split second. When you emerge from the water, you reach for JJ, spinning him onto his back and leaning yourself back so he is able to stay afloat.

“JJ? JJ! You gotta stay with me baby, okay? John B’s almost here, it’s okay, he’s almost here,” you say to him frantically. You’re treading the water with your arms wrapped around JJ’s stomach and you move his head to rest on your shoulder, hoping it will help him remain afloat.

“It’s okay JJ, we’re gonna be okay. Remember the surfing trip? We’re gonna go to South Africa and South America and cook fish on the fire and catch perfect waves all day, and then wake up and do it again. You gotta stay with me okay? I can’t do that without the best surfer in the Outer Banks with me,” you say in a joking way, hoping that he somehow hears you.

This past year has been a shipwreck, so to speak, but he’s been with you every step of the way. Every time you would come across an angry security guard or a square grouper or even the Limbrey’s, he always made sure to put himself between you and the harm. He never let anything happen to you, risking himself to make sure you came out safe and sound. And you would do that exact same for him.

Shit, you are going to do the exact same for him. There’s no way you’re going to let anything happen to him, you would die for him, and you know he would die for you.

You start to get panicked thinking of that. He took the blunt end of the machete because he stood up to protect you and now you’re holding his unconscious body in the water, unsure if he’s alive or not. You can’t feel his pulse because your arms are wrapped around him and you can’t let go to try to reach it because you don’t want him to end up off-balance with his face underwater.

That’s the reason you give yourself for not trying to find his pulse. You try to convince yourself that that’s why when in reality, you won’t be able to bear it if you’re holding your soulmate’s dead body in your arms.

“JJ, you can’t die on me, please don’t die on me, please, please…” you mumble as you feel yourself start to cry. John B is taking too long to get to you and you feel your energy running out, your legs starting to cramp the longer you tread. “Please JJ, you got this, I’m sure John B is on the way, we’re gonna be just fine baby, just hang on for a few more minutes.”

The waves are splashing into your body and causing water to spit into your face. You try to lift up your right shoulder to keep JJ’s head up but you can’t lean too far back or you start to sink. The waves mixed with the adrenaline running through your body sound deafening in your ears, your brain feeling cloudy and panicked. You’re out of breath and the treading is getting harder, your mouth going underwater every once in a while due to your efforts trying to keep JJ’s head up. The water splashing in your nose and mouth mixed with your heavy breathing makes your lungs feel tight, like you aren’t receiving enough air. You feel yourself running out of energy as the seconds go by, your adrenaline slowly starting to wear out with every minute.

“John B! John B! Help! Please…” you yell, before trailing off into a whisper, your voice breaking as you feel the tears run down your face. Your body is too exhausted from the grueling minutes you’ve spent in the water to be able to go on any longer.

“I love you JJ, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you cry, knowing that you have to give up, that your body can’t take it anymore. “I’m not leaving you.”

You tighten your grip on JJ’s body before leaning back further and closing your eyes, feeling yourself give up. You think about your mom and dad back home and how much they’ll miss you and how they’ll never know what happened to their baby. You wish that you had your dad there to save you. You wish that you were in better shape and were able to save JJ. You wish that JJ didn’t have such a big heart and would’ve never gone on the trip. You know it’s selfish, but at least he would be safe and sound right now instead of unconscious in your arms.

You continue sobbing, feeling a weight in your chest that’s so heavy it starts to physically pain you. You can’t handle the thought of JJ dying because of you, and the fear of yourself dying is coming onto you quickly. You never got to live out your dreams or live a long life with JJ filled with surf trips and bleach blonde surfer babies. You guys had plans for the future and right now they seem like they’re unreachable.

“JJ! JJ!” you hear multiple voices shouting as the sound of an engine comes closer. You open your eyes and see the lifeboat coming towards you, feeling relief as the weight lifts off of your chest.

“Oh my god, oh my god, holy fuck. John B! Help!” you yell, starting to kick your legs harder as the adrenaline comes back. You still feel tears coming down, but this time they’re tears of relief rather than grief. You were going to be okay, everything was going to be okay. You turn your head, pressing a kiss to the top of JJ’s. “We’re gonna be okay babe, they’re right here, we’re gonna be okay, just wait a few seconds.”

“JJ! No, no, no, no, no,” you hear John B say, obvious panic in his voice.

John B pulls the boat up to you and JJ, immediately reaching to grab JJ from your arms. People reach out to grab you, but you aren’t sure who grabs your arms, your attention all on JJ. You crawl to his side the second your body hits the bottom of the lifeboat.

“C’mon JJ, wake up, wake up,” you say to him, stroking his face. You hear the engine start as John B starts driving away but you’re only focused on JJ, not worried about anything else but him. You grab his shoulders and try to shake him awake. “JJ, please.”

Your voice is breaking as you talk to him and the tears are coming down your face rapidly. You can feel everyone watching you, hoping that their best friend makes it through. You’re still trying to wake him up when you feel the boat shake before the motor stops.

“What’s happening? We have to go!” you yell at John B, panic filling your voice.

“I know! I’m trying!”

You turn back towards JJ, putting a hand on his chest and shaking him roughly.

“Please, wake up,” you plead with a shaky voice. You start hitting his shoulder, yelling at him to wake up. You’re overrun with panic as the minutes go by, knowing that it means there’s less of a chance of him coming to. John B is yelling at JJ as you shake him when you feel his body jerk and see water come out of his mouth.

“That’s it baby, you’re okay,” you say, pushing his shoulder so his body is tilted to the side, making it easier for him to cough the water out.

When he lays back down, you cradle his head to your chest, giving him a tight hug. You pull back slightly and listen to him start to joke with John B before you get up and walk towards the front of the boat, feeling your chest constricting again.

You get on your knees at the front of the boat, resting your hands on them and hanging your head while trying to control your breathing, your stomach feeling nauseous. You lean over the side of the lifeboat and throw up into the water until you’re left dry heaving due to an empty stomach. You sit up and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before turning around to face everyone again, giving them a sheepish smile. Everyone is silent and looking at you with pity in their eyes as you make your way back to JJ’s side. Cleo cracks a joke that has everyone falling back into their normal chatter, leaving you and JJ in your own little world.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning into you as you wrap your arms around his head again, pulling him into your chest. You try to wipe some of the blood off of his injury before planting a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just tired,” you nod against his head, your voice crack giving away the fact that you aren’t really okay.

JJ lets it go for now knowing that you’re tired and he wants to keep his talking to a minimum as he feels the effects of a concussion sinking in. He pulls his head from your chest and sits up before pulling you into him, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. The relief of you and JJ being safe and alive mixed with the calm of the boat ride has you falling asleep quickly, your body needing the rest after fighting so hard in the ocean.

You’re shaken awake later by JJ and when you open your eyes you notice that the lifeboat is beached.

“Where are we?” you question, confused.

“Some deserted island, lucky for us I’ve watched a shit ton of Bear Grylls,” JJ says with a cocky smirk, jumping onto the sand.

“Great, we’re all doomed,” you say sarcastically as JJ extends a hand to help you jump out of the boat.

“Hey! Have a little faith in me would ya?” he says back, giving your shoulder a shove as you two start walking towards the others. You wrap your arm around his waist as you walk, leaning your head on his shoulder.

After John B gives a speech about living the ultimate pogue life on a deserted island with amazing waves and JJ decides to name the island Poguelandia, everyone splits up to start finding food, water, and firewood. You decide to walk with Sarah to try to find water as John B and JJ are searching for pieces of driftwood for the fire with Pope. Kie and Cleo are trying to find an area that’ll be a good place to set up a shelter for however long the group is stuck on the island.

“Are you okay? I know today was rough on you, emotionally and physically, how are you holding up?” Sarah asks as you guys are walking through the trees, stepping over random logs that are in the way.

“Besides the fact that my legs feel like jelly and I could probably sleep for the next 48 hours, I’m doing okay physically. Mentally though… I don’t know. I mean, I thought I was holding my boyfriend's dead body in my arms. I didn’t think we were gonna make it and now I feel guilty because I gave up and it would’ve been my fault if JJ died,” you tell her with tears in your eyes. She pulls you into a hug, letting you cry on her shoulder for a minute. “I thought we were gonna die Sarah. I couldn’t hang on any longer, if you didn’t show up when you did we’d probably both be dead. When he finally woke up I was so relieved but threw up because it all hit me, we both could’ve been dead and you guys would’ve found our bodies. I know we’ve all been through some pretty shitty and scary stuff this past year, but that was the closest I’ve ever come to death and it’s just a lot to process.”

“I know, I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s scary seeing the person you love get hurt, just the thought of John B possibly getting the death penalty had me so sick I could barely eat. And you shouldn’t feel guilty, you did everything you could. You never let JJ go, even when you were ready to give up you still held onto him. You know that if you let him go you would’ve had a better chance at surviving but you still held on, that was really brave of you. Trust me, he wouldn’t want you to feel guilty. It was a bad situation but you handled it the best you could and everything worked out in the end.”

You give her a nod while wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, giving her a quick thank you before you guys continue searching.

Later that night, everyone was sitting around the fire telling stories and having a good time. It was the most free you guys have felt in a long time, finally being able to feel like normal teenagers. Looking around at everyone’s smiling faces, you’re super grateful that these are the people you get to call your best friends.

As it gets late and the fire starts to get smaller, everyone starts to head to bed. You and JJ sit around the fire a little longer, savoring the warmth before you have to go sleep on makeshift beds on the cold ground.

“So, you’re my savior huh,” JJ says with a nudge to your shoulder, pulling you out of your trance of staring into the fire.

“Huh?” you ask, slowing drawing your line of sight from the fire to focus on his face. Half of his face is lit up by the fire, his blue eyes shining and staring straight into yours.

“I said you’re my savior, I’m alive because of you. Who knew my girlfriend was such a heroic badass?” he asks with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it that…” you say, you’re voice trailing off.

“What do you mean? You were totally a hero, you jumped after me and made sure I didn’t drown, if that isn’t heroic then I don't know what is. I mean seriously babe, that was totally ba-”

“I gave up JJ! I gave up, okay? I stopped kicking and was ready to just give up. You would be dead if it wasn’t for John B coming at the perfect time. You should be calling him the hero. I wasn’t even strong enough to try to keep us afloat, I almost let us die. Don’t thank me for that.”

There’s a tense moment of silence as you look to your left, facing away from JJ. You feel your chin start to wobble so you take a few deep breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay. You feel JJ put his hand on your right knee and you turn to face him, tears making your eyes glossy. He grabs your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re both here right now and that’s what matters. If you hadn’t been so strong, we wouldn’t have made it. But you were strong, and you did fight for us. YOU are the reason we are both alive, not John B. You kept me safe baby, you’re the reason I’m alive.”

His words hit you hard and you start to cry harder, sobs making your body shake as he pulls you onto his lap, you sitting sideways. He wraps his arms around you, one hand cradling your head as you cry into the crook of his neck.

“I was so scared,” you say between sobs, “you were dead weight in my arms. I thought you were dead JJ. I refused to check your pulse because I couldn’t stand the thought of holding my dead boyfriend in my arms. I treaded for as long as I can but it got too hard. I thought we were both gonna die. I thought our friends were gonna find our dead bodies floating. I just kept thinking that I didn’t want to die but I knew my body didn’t have enough energy to hold the both of us up and there’s no way in hell that I was gonna let you go.”

He squeezes you tighter against his chest before you pull back and look him in the eyes, noticing his are glassy. A tear falls from his eye and you wipe it away.

“Thank you. I know you would’ve been able to save energy if you let me go, but thank you for holding on. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, I wish I could’ve traded spots with you. Obviously I don’t want you to get hit in the head with a machete,” he says with a small laugh, “but it would’ve saved you from a lot of stress and trauma. I love you so much, thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I would never give up on you, you’re stuck with me ‘til the end,” you joke. He gives a little laugh before hugging you close to his chest again. You both sit and watch the fire die down for another half an hour before you decide to get up and walk over to the makeshift bed JJ made earlier.

“This is about to be the best sleep of my life,” you say with a groan, feeling the emotional day taking its toll on your body.

You both lay down, you resting your head on JJ’s chest and snuggling close to him. He looks down at you and you lean up, planting a few soft kisses on his lips before laying back down on his chest, his heartbeat and steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

“Sleep tight princess.”

[artzee-bee]

End of all things [2] | Chat Noir x witch!reader

Fandom: MIraculous Ladybug (Adrien Agreste/ Chat Noir)

Request:”Hello good evening, could you please do where a witch!Reader who always tries to comfort Chat/Adrian when he is feeling down. Cuz you know in season 4 I noticed he’s getting sadder and sadder. The reader doesn’t like to get involved in all these weird happenings and just lay low. Whenever Chat/Adrian comes to the reader’s house they always make him feel at home. That's when things go off, at the final battle where Hawkmoth got the Miraculouses and the heroes thought they would lose. (Y/n) just landed in front of them looking so done with Hawkmoth.Hawkmoth thinks that (y/n) was just a weakling, but he was wrong. (Y/n) is far stronger than Hawkmoth even he will use the all Miraculouses he’ll still lose.”

Genre: Angst

Warnings: canon typical violence

A/N: It is incredibly late right now, I hope this piece makes sense and that you like it! It was a cool request, but complicated for sure :))

Part 1

~~~

You could have sworn that time stopped altogether at that moment. Somehow, even though the disappointment of having lost and the worry you felt for your best friend, you found a little power to look at Hawkmoth. You expected him to be joyful, restless! You expected him to have already put on both the miraculouses and yet, they were resting in his palm. His eyes weren’t even on them.

“Adrien?” he looked at the broken boy on the ground

“We’re not over yet!” he yelled, running towards Hawkmoth as fast as he could, but it didn’t matter how much will to fight he had anymore! Adrien’s body was going numb. It was giving up on him. And Hawkmoth was gaining more power and energy with every second that went by. The villain grabbed the boy by the shoulder, immobilizing him to his chest, the same way you had done with Marinette

“You are weak and powerless without your ring, boy. Stop it at once!”

“No!” the desperation in his voice made your heart crumble

You felt Marinette stir in your hold. You knew she must have been awake and watching by now, but you didn’t let go. You had been unable to protect Chat from losing his powers, from wasting his energy by squirming in the arms of the enemy. You’ll be damned if you let anything happen to Ladybug now! Because even if this was the end, even if they’d never get their powers back, Marinette and Adrien will always be Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

Tears fell from your face as you watched your friend kick and scream in fear and frustration. His hair was sticking to his forehead with beads of sweat

You weren’t sure what you could read within Hawkmoth’s facial expression, but you could tell it wasn’t the confidence from a minute ago. Neither the focus. You could still do something! Under your breath, you began to mutter a chant. You had never tried this specific spell before, but there was nothing left to lose. It was supposed to attract an object of your choosing, to you. Focusing on the image of the miraculouses, held captive in Hawkmoth’s iron grip, you prayed it’d work.

“I don’t want to have to kill you Adrien!” finally, the boy managed to escape and take a few steps back

“What do you care? Just a moment ago you would have done anything it took to get rid of me and Marinette!” 

Hawkmoth turned around to face you almost instantly, noticing the movement of your lips. 

“Stop that!”

You saw his fist tighten and shake slightly. His fear was all the motivation you needed! Your chants grew louder and louder, more confident and powerful. Hawkmoth placed both his hands around the jewelry in an attempt to prevent it from reaching you. Finally, there was a chance you could still win this!

And then there was a hand on your mouth.

And a kick on the inside of your knee.

You fell to the ground in pain, as the person behind you pushed you harder against the concrete. Right then, was the first time you heard Marinette say anything that day. 

“Rena?” her voice broken with despair

“I've never akumatized a hero before” you heard Hawkmoth’s taunting laugh “Can you imagine the possibilities Y/N?”

Tears were brimming in your eyes. Rena was forcing you to the ground with all her force. You heard Adrien call out your name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You had to find a way out of this but exhaustion was catching up to you quickly. You weren’t used to fights! You weren’t used to such powerful spells within such a short period of time!

With all the strength in your body, you focused again on an imaginary spot, in the middle of it all. You closed your eyes and imagined the ball of energy growing bigger and bigger, somewhere between you and Hawkmoth. Winds picked up speed around you. You opened your eyes slightly, and all you could see was Marinette’s horrified look, but you didn’t care. Not anymore. As long as you were still conscious, the fight would go on. The ball of energy went off again, creating the same bomb effect as in the beginning of the fight. Rena flew off of you, allowing you to move just in time to see Hawkmoth fly into a tree, and drop not only the black cat and ladybug miraculouses, but the butterfly one as well.

It seemed like the magic brooch had come undone from the impact. All 3 jewels fell to the ground and Hawkmoth was swallowed by a purple light. As the detransformation came to an end, all that was left was an unconscious Gabriel Agreste

“Dad?” Adrien’s voice felt like a punch in the heart. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. His eyes turned almost red and he took off running after his father, but you were faster and caught up to him before he could reach Gabriel. You tackled him to the ground to prevent him from waking up the villain and possibly causing more chaos.

“Wait, Adrien, we need the miraculouses!”

“No, what I need is to talk to my DAD!”

“Adrien please!” you could barely manage to keep him from squirming underneath you

“Of course” Marinette replied slowly before holding out her hand. You let go of Adrien, but he didn’t get up. He just placed his right hand on top of Marinette’s, as she carefully slipped the ring on his finger, back where it belonged. 

You heard rapid footsteps come your way and saw Marinette run towards the miraculouses, picking all of them in her hand and hugging them to her chest.You couldn’t even imagine the relief she must have felt! She looked like finally, everything in the world was right again. It gave you hope! Adrien visibly relaxed as he watched her too.

“Can I have Plagg back?” he sobbed

Plagg flew out, looking sacred and in distress, but he tried to smile for his boy.

“I’m sorry Plagg.'' the kwami didn’t say anything, choosing instead to nuzzle himself in the crook of Adrien’s neck, in a hug. The boy placed his hand on top of him and began to sob quietly. Your heart sank at the sight and you couldn’t help but let yourself fall on top of Adrien again and wrapping him in another hug. You could hear every beat of his heart and every sorrowful tear rolling down his cheeks. The noise was so loud, you almost didn’t hear Marinette transform back into her heroine self.

You opened your eyes to see her tying up Gabriel, alongside Rena. She gave you a nod, letting you know they got it from here.

“Adrien?” Gabriel whispered slowly. It seemed like he had finally woken up. The boy beneath you slowly raised his head to meet the glance of his dad. Immediately, he pushed you off in order to run to him

“Father. It’s ok! It’s gonna be ok! It’s a misunderstanding, isn’t it?” Adrien ran to him, hopefulness in his voice like he didn’t know he was merely kidding himself

“I did it for a good cause Adrien…”

“No...you didn’t” he insisted

“One day you’ll understand”

Adrien stepped away from the weak body of his father, suddenly horrified at the realisation that Hawkmoth was, indeed, no one other than his own dad. He turned around to see you and Plagg still on the ground where he left you. Tears were quickly making their way back into his eyes as he rushed to you, throwing himself into your open arms. Ladybug picked Gabriel up, and dragged him away, with Rena right on her tail.

Adrien’s cries were muffled by your hair, but his words were still audible, at least to you

“He was my father! All this time”

“I failed everyone”

“No you didn’t Adrien”

“You didn’t know”

“I let myself be vulnerable and gave him the opportunity to take away my miraculous! I could have lost Plagg forever! I let Ladybug down! She lost her earrings and got akumatized and I couldn’t do anything about it!”

“Stop Adrien. It’s ok. It’s all gonna be ok” you tightened your grip around his body “eventually…”