#like idk should i have killed him he sounds like hes having the worst time all the time

[lpsgirl109]

Im actually never forgiving Descendants: The Royal Wedding for being all silly goofy happy cartoon and then out of fucking NOWHERE just dropping "I really miss Carlos guys" HEY DISNEY WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM

[sieglinde-freud]

anyways one thing about me in every run of houses or hopes i play, i cannot kill ashe. its a rule i set for myself in 2019 because at the time, he was my little blorbo bingus fav whatever the hell and even if hes not my SUPER fav anymore, i take him everywhere with me like im a small child with a worn stuffed animal. this works out ok in houses, but everytime i play hopes i save him and my god he sounds like he’d be better off dead. every time i chat with the guy hes like “oh god im a traitor i hate myself dimitri should kill me dead and spit on my grave oh god now ingrids dead and its my fault (he didnt come to that battle)” like BUDDY… im sorry 😭😭😭😭

[mariasont]

SMILING LIKE A FOOL - A.H

a/n: heyyyy home slices it's me back from the dead! finals are killing me, and this was my procrastination piece. needed to write about my bombshell baby! but surprise she's the one getting flustered this time! gasp!

(for those of you who saw me spell write like right NO YOU DIDNT!!!)

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: um none i think idk friends its been too long since i've done this

wc: 1.8k

The knock was more a formality as you nudged the door open with your hip, juggling a stack of neatly organized files and a coffee cup with a pink heart sticker on the lid (discreet enough that only Hotch should see). Your gaze naturally gravitated to Hotch first, as it often did, lingering just a moment longer than necessary as you offered him a subtle wink. He cleared his throat awkwardly, adjusting his tie as he muttered something inaudible under his breath, his hand half-covering his mouth, though the slight color rising to his cheeks did not go unnoticed by you.

"Hi, good morning!"

You rounded the table, a sway in your step as you approached Hotch's chair. Setting the stack of items in front of him, you leaned in--closer than strictly necessary--your fingertips brushing his shoulder lightly. Your hair, delicately scented with roses, grazed his jawline as you shifted. His posture stiffened, his expression unreadable, though you caught the subtle flare of his nostrils as he inhaled sharply. 

"Sorry for interrupting," you said with a sweet smile that didn't match the glint in your eyes.

You weren't sorry, and the way Hotch's lips pressed into a thin line told you he saw right through the fib.  When he leaned back, almost imperceptibly into your space, his shoulder brushed against your stomach. His muttered thank you was low and gruff, and it almost felt like an admission of defeat. You smirked, basking in the victory of knowing how effortless you could unravel the infamous Aaron Hotchner with just a touch and a perfectly polished smile.

You smiled warmly at the team before straightening, your perfectly styled hair bouncing as you rolled up the sleeves of your sparkly sweater. The conference room was always too warm, and today was no exception. 

"Oh honey, you could never interrupt." Garcia was the first to butt in, followed by a few other sounds of agreement.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Well, hey there, good looking." It was then that Morgan stepped into the room. His eyes sparkled as they landed on you, smile growing wider as he crossed the room. Without missing a beat, he slung an arm over your shoulder like it was second nature. "You feeling better?"

The past week had been a miserable blur of you twisting into every position imaginable to appease a stomachache that refused to budge. The first morning had been the worst--waking up suddenly, barely making it to the bathroom, and sparing Aaron's freshly washed sheets from catastrophe. For a brief, terrifying moment, your mind had spiraled to the possibility of pregnancy. But the nine-dollar test from Rite Aid had quickly put that fear to rest.

Before you could respond, Hotch cut in, "I told her she need to take more time off."

You gave him an exaggerated huff, placing a hand over your heart. "I'm totally fine, pinky promise."

Spencer, frowning slightly, chimed in, "When I asked for more time off to complete my latest paper on cognitive psychology, I had to justify every hour in writing."

Hotch ignored Spencer's grumble of favoritism (that was definitely true), clearly uninterested in entertaining the complaint. His gaze fixed squarely on you, his eyebrow raising as if to say, Go ahead, lie to me.

You edged closer, letting your smile grow sugary sweet. "Oh, don't worry about me, boss man! I have this weird ability to recover from sicknesses super quickly, like magic."

The blatant lie hung between you, and you could see in his eyes that he wasn't buying a word of it. That was part of the fun, honestly. He knew better; after all, he'd been there every step of the way through your so-called recovery. But still, his gaze lingered on you, jaw tightening as he swallowed back his words. He knew that saying too much would tip the scales, and he wasn't about to risk exposing what was to stay hidden. 

In truth, you weren't exactly quick to bounce back from illness--autoimmune disease problems and all--but you didn't mind too much. Not when it meant you got the full Hotch Care Package. You savored the attention and coddling. He held your hair, made you soup, rubbed your feet--all without a single complaint. The man was practically a saint, and honestly, you were tempted to milk it just a little bit longer.

"Hotch can say what he wants, but the rest of us are just glad to have you back, princess." Morgan released your shoulder with a tight squeeze before nodding toward the others. "Hendrick found something on the Anderson case in the lab, wants us to come check it out."

You lingered by the table, watching them file out one by one, leaving behind a trail of disorganized files and lukewarm coffee in their wake. Aaron stayed behind, turning his chair toward you as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment. Once the coast was clear, you hopped up on the table, swinging your legs slightly.

You flashed him a smile, pressing your palms onto the table and leaning in just a little, coking your head to the side as if studying him like a puzzle. He was watching you, of course--he always was. His lips twitched in that way you loved, forming the smallest smile, something that was becoming more and more common these days (which you proudly took credit for).

With a dramatic sigh that was probably a little over the top, you swung your legs around and plopped your high-heeled feet right in his lap.

"You know, Mr. Hotchner," you began, batting your lashes like it was second nature, "skipping the goodbye kiss this morning almost made me forget how much I really love your adorably grumpy face. Are you willing to have that on your conscience?"

Aaron let out a long sigh, gently easing your feet out of his lap, leaving them to swing idly. "You are going to get me in trouble."

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest, the motion making his gaze linger on your tits before quickly returning to your face. "Well, you're already in trouble with someone."

He raised his eyebrows, pretending to be clueless. "And who might that be?"

You blinked innocently, not aware that it was a rhetorical question. "With me, duh!"

Hotch stood, closing the small space between you, and just like that, your pulse was racing like you were in high school all over again. How did he still have this effect on you? 

"Duh." He was teasing you now. You tried to glare at him, but it wasn't convincing--not with the way you were fighting the urge to grin like an idiot.

"So, are you going to make it up to me, or do I need to find someone else to keep my bed warm tonight?"

You arched a perfectly shaped brow, watching with barely concealed glee as Aaron's jaw tightened and his gaze darkened. He opened his mouth, ready to fire back, but you smirked and pushed further.

"Well, I'm sure Spencer or Morgan would be happy to—,"

You didn't even get to finish before his lips slammed into yours, silencing you with a kiss that made your heart flutter, and your mind go blank--forgetting every word you just said. The kiss was firm, yet urgent, as if he was trying to prove a point. You melted without hesitation, a giggle bubbling from your chest as your arms looped around his neck. His hands steadied you at your waist, and he pulled back, his expression had softened in that way that made him look ten years younger.

Still smiling, you pinched his side. "Mr. Hotchner! We're at work! Tsk tsk!"

Aaron exhaled a deep breath, pressing a fleeting kiss to your cheek. "I'll see you at home."

He straightened up and turned towards the door. You admired the view for just a moment, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling--who gave him the right to look that hot while walking away? Determined not to be left behind, you quickly clattered after him, heels clicking (and probably echoing obnoxiously) across the floor.

"Also, can we order Chinese tonight?" You called out, pitching your voice a little louder as Aaron's annoyingly long strides widened the gap between you. 

Aaron response was a familiar, low grunt--one of the many unspoken agreements in your relationship that you'd grown to understand. Translation? Yes, dear.

"Oh, wait!" you blurted out, fumbling with your phone as you tried to type out your thoughts before they disappeared like soap bubbles. "And face masks! Can we do face masks? And--wait, wait, wait--The Holiday! Can we watch The Holiday?" 

You were juggling your phone, purse, and wild ideas all at once, scribbling your mental to-do list into your Notes app with one hand while the other flailed in an effort to keep balance. Aaron, still unbothered and impossibly composed, moved ahead like some well-dressed gazelle.

"Wait! I just had another idea--"

Aaron came to abrupt stop. You let out a squeak as you barely avoided plowing straight into his back, his forearm shooting out to steady you just in time. 

"Can we table this conversation for later?" he asked, that stoic voice doing absolutely nothing to hide his fondness for you.

You opened your mouth the protest that this was important, but he cut you off. "But yes--to all of the questions."

You gasped like you'd just won the lottery. "All of them? Even The Holiday?" You wiggled your eyebrows, grinning ear-to-ear. "I knew you loved that movie."

Aaron stopped you before you could say another word, his hand settling lightly on your arm as he leaned just a fraction closer. "No," he murmured, voice dropping low enough to send a shiver through you, "I just love you."

Your cheeks flared instantly, warmth blooming across your face as you blinked at him. "Oh."

Aaron watched you squirm for a moment, clearly enjoying your flustered state, far too smug for someone who'd just dropped the L word at work.

"I've told you I love you, haven't I?" He was teasing, knowing he had said it more times than you could count.

"Yeah, but you've never said it so... so loudly. And at work," you hissed, glancing over your shoulder as if someone might pop out of a closet and catch you.

He arched a brow. "That's loud?"

"For you it is!"

Aaron shook his head, laughing softly as he turned back towards the direction of the lab. "You're too easy to fluster. Go back to work before I decide to really embarrass you."

You were sure you had landed in a different dimension. You? Easy to fluster? 

"Ugh, you're the worst." You pressed your palms to your warm cheeks as you turned on your heel to head back to your desk.

But you were still grinning like an absolute fool the whole way.

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[heavenbarnes]

your can’t get it up piece STOPPPP THE WORMS IN MY BRAIN ARE GOING FERAL HELP! i have noooo clue what this is called or if it’s an official thing but i loveeee when a guy cums too quickly, can’t get it up, is so pent up they’re blushing blubbering etc and all of these are such older boyfriend simon like he is old and sometimes his body doesn’t work the way he wants it to. i love it like yesss blush and get all embarrassed because you just came in your pants simply because we were making out or because you came as soon as you put your cock in and thrusted like twice…yum!

JESUS idk what it’s called either but it drives me fucking batty 🫶🏼

there’s this line older bf!simon walks with you of either feeling like a dirty old man or a fucking teenager- often there’s no in between.

when he’s got you on your back and you’re looking up at him with those starry eyes like he hung the fucking moon and you’re biting on the tip of your finger as you fucking giggle for him.

“mmm si, you’re so fucking handsome”

and you’re dragging a hand up his abs and pushing your hips closer to him as he’s trying to clear his mind enough to sink just the tip in.

fucking focus, stupid git.

it’s no use when you’re touching him like that and you sound so fucking sweet and your eyes are crossing when he’s only just notched in the head of his cock.

done for.

you’re tight- practically choking him on entry and it’s all falling to pieces. strangled moan breaking out his chest as his hips are stuttering and he’s flooded you with cum.

you gasp, fingers moving to spread yourself a little to watch the way it spills out of you. the blush is already creeping up simon’s neck and he’s burying his face in your chest.

“m’so fuckin’ sorry, sweet’art”

rubbing his back and gently cooing in his ear, you’re pulling him on top of you to let him curl into your side.

“sorry f’what? thinking that highly of me?”

he feels like a fucking loser with this pretty little thing, he should be able to fuck you within an inch of your life. and he can! he does!

but not all the time.

not when you’ve been perched in his lap kissing on him for the better part of an hour and your hips roll into his when his hands move just right.

the little noises you make when the meeting of your thighs move over the hard line of his cock, simon’s head is fucking spinning.

he wants to tell you he needs a breather, he knows you’d understand but he also doesn’t want you to move. he doesn’t want to take a hand off you.

but when you’re leaning back and pulling your shirt over your head, taking his hands and placing them right on your chest- he’s done for.

simon’s hips lift off the couch and there’s a breathy little whimper and he doesn’t even know where the fuck it came from. but he’s cumming.

and he’s cumming hard.

he’s embarrassed, feeling like if anyone else knew that’d just happened- he’d probably have to kill them.

not you though, not you who looks at him with that heady little smile and starts kissing up the column of his throat.

“fuck, si- you sound so fucking sexy when you cum for me”

but when he’s feeling like a dirty old man, already getting on at himself for not being young enough for you. then his cock goes soft on him and he actually might break something.

you don’t even look bothered, when he’s sitting on the edge of the bed feeling sorry for himself and you’re wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

nuzzling your face in the crown of his head, pressing kisses to his scalp as you bring a hand down to stroke it soft.

“that feel good?”

simon’s chest stutters as he breathes out an affirmative, sinking back into your chest as your other hand comes to play with his balls.

“you’ve had a long week, yeah?”

and he remembers that yeah, he has actually. maybe his body isn’t giving up, maybe he isn’t the worst man to ever walk the planet, maybe- just maybe he does deserve you.

so he lets himself relax into you as your teeth gently scrape the shell of his ear while you stroke him. never firming, but still making that heat thunder away in his stomach.

“let me take care of you, like you always do f’me”

[lady-ashfade]

A Son For A Son

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Deamons Bastard!Reader x Yan!Team black. Pt.2

╰･ﾟ✧☽ first fic here.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen has given a order, and craving revenge you expect.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison, I just needed to make this.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DONT READ IF YOU WANNA BE SPOILED: reader does in fact kill aemond in this and idk if you are happy about it, I want his head to take to my queen.

“I want Aemond Targaryen.” she stood before the council covered in dirt and who knows what.

It had been two weeks since the letter about the death of Lucaerys had arrived and you all had been the worst for it. and ever since she searched and searched for a sign of truth, desperate to be wrong. that her sweet boy was alive. you knew he was dead and you wanted everyone to pay for taking luke. you wanted aemond targaryen to pay. you took anger out on the ones you could, or roamed the sky’s to get your mind off of things. you would not act without her orders.

The resemblance you shared to daemon was close and terrifying for your foes. just as you had the idea to fulfill her wishes, your father did too.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the sound of your voice made his shoulders fall and a smirk appear on his face, one you couldn’t see. a dark cloak draped over his shoulders and matched the same one across your frame. “but I have a better one.”

“No.” you glare at the back of his head. again denied something worth your talents.

“You can’t tell me what do to this time father.” standing your ground as his eyes turn around, a look he uses when he’s serious. and for him it was like looking into a mirror, you carved blood just like he did and loved getting to spill it. even for no reason at all.

“I have waited around for a task, and she has said she wants Aemond. I mourn the loss of my brother too, and you can not keep me from whatever it is that you think you’re protecting me from.”

Hundreds of men died at the end of your blade at night as you slip throughout the shadows. you were a slayer, a assassin who followed your own roles but loved coin and the game. a story to tell children to make them weep and fear the dark. so how could he still think you are not ready.

“I have let you do what you needed, patrol the blockade against my wishes. or fly alone when our enemies wait to make us weaker” he lectures, “and I will not let them take you.” for a moment you saw a regular father begging for his daughter to stay safe. you aren’t just a daughter now but a soldier in war.

“I would never let them take me,” you step closer and give him a smug look, “I am your daughter after all.”

Instead of going himself, daemon sends you, for the head of the copycat prince.

the castle gates are easy to slip passed with the help of a guard who shares your hatred for the hightowers. and many times, you slip into the keep without getting caught.

“Something told me you’d be here,” his eye glanced at you amused from the cough as his fingertips spin a coin. “It’s as if the gods made me stay here.” aemond unfolded his legs and leaned forward on his knees. many years you hated the way he spoke to you like a interest of his to be claimed like his bitch dragon.

“Then the gods agree you’ll die tonight.”

aemond waited for this moment to finally fight you. he wanted to win and keep you forever as a trophy, a wife who was like him and everyone feared without a doubt. he wasn’t a fool, you are a skilled killer and he needed to bring his all. and some skills stayed in the dark.

a slice in his chest, in his leg and cheek aren’t as bad as he thought when he had you pinned down onto the table. the cold feeling of metal as his hands wrapped around your throat was refreshing. you didn’t try and fight back as he took your breath because the fight was won as soon as it started.

And he should have known you couldn’t be this sloppy.

curling lips up into a devil’s smirk, looking into his eye he feels himself weakened and his grip loosen. the power of letting a man win and wiping all power from beneath their feet was riveting and a hobby. Aemond leaned back and placed his weight onto the couch while trying to keep composure. “You honestly think i wouldn’t have a plan? Make my own rules?” you raise a brow and rub the sore skin of your neck, inching closer while standing up yourself.

“Silent reaper is the name they whisper about me, come in quickly without notice. I always kill my enemies without them awake, but you,” you point and lean down as his eyes become bloodshot, “I want to feel the most pain. And I will enjoy it.” within a few minutes his body starts to leak its own blood. he was quickly taken to death of course, you couldn’t hear his pleads but you’ll satisfy with his death.

guards fall silent when they watch you walk through the halls they don’t even announce your name. white locks lace your fingers and the weight of his head was little and you look like your father with the proud eyes of what you did. the sounds of your footsteps cause the council to glance over but stay with shock. non of them expected to see that and much less out of no where. though, your father seemed pleased and chuckled at the sight.

“The head of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your Grace.” Walking past Jace you set the bloody head on the table as people gawk and flinch. “the poison was my idea, hope you don’t mind.” a second later you yawn of exhaustion and boredom. you look at rhaenrya as her eyes glossed with the revenge you took for her.

“If you’ll excuse me, the ride back was tiring and I wish to get back to my book.” bowing down you flash a “polite” smile and walk away to your chambers with pride and a hand rested on your blade. with everyone wondering what else you would do for the queen,

Your mother.

[anomaliex]

Collection of headcanons not elaborate enough for own word vomit post:

- I don't think Kristen can swim. She has the vibes of someone who never learned as a kid and now it's too late to bring up without being embarrassed. (Also I thought about what would happen if she fell in water — mechanically she's wearing heavy armor, would Brennan just let her swim since she's in universe only in a tracksuit or would she sink without a sufficient strength check? Idk, but that's how I got to the no swimming conclusion.)

- insanely weird hc to have but i think Fabian shaves his arm hair. Also like legs and arm pits i guess but the way more unusual and therefore notable thing is arms. This guy kills any body and facial hair on sight. Like no one has ever seen him with as much as stubble outside of Cathilda or the Bad Kids when they were sleeping over. Why? Idk he just prefers that, no deeper reason. I do think elves generally have less body hair but here his human genes come through so he has to shave. Or get it lasered away I guess. You can do that right?? He's rich. Maybe he'd do it.

- also Fabian's depth perception is dog shit. Using his crossbow is less impressive because Fandrangor is simply a better weapon and his flourishes and manoeuvres rely on melee combat, I know, but to me it's also just that he's better at hitting things real close to him.

- Riz is the kinda guy to have chronic migraines and think it's fine. "Everyone has headaches sometimes and I do sleep a lot less than I should ahaha" (the amount of coffee he drinks is barely saving him from the horrors.)

- Adaine also gets a lot of migraines in what I think are more. Passive non specific visions? Like a gut feeling that's always correct and also makes her body hate her. The proper visions are comparable to absence seizures I think? Like I don't wanna say it's that because it's magic but the process is kind of the same in the sense that she's out for like ten to thirty seconds and it can really suck

- I also think Adaine has synaesthesia! I can't really put this into words well so I'm not even gonna try, but she perceives certain sounds and/or colours at times where there shouldn't be sounds and/or colours. I think those associations also to an extend help in drawing connections between less specific visions and real life.

- we know Gorgug has a drumset in his room I think it's electronic. But like not in a normal way like we have them irl it's some insane artificer shit that would justify so much more noise complaints than a regular one and also could probably have its own pyrotechnics idfk. It's fully a safety hazard but it doesn't even rank on the top 10 of worst things to have in your house that is a TREE that the Thistlesprings casually own.

- I think either Fig or Kristen would be the shortest medium creature type Bad Kid. Like obviously Riz is four feet tall max but he's in a whole different category lmao

- Fig sometimes puts little braids in Jawbone's fur and he happily lets her. He only properly adopted Adaine and Fig has more than enough dads, but he does still act as sort of a paternal figure to her (and every other kid ((which in this case includes Ragh but maybe not Aelwyn)) in mordred manor because he's just a caring guy and it's hard not to grow attached) so that's their pseudo daddy-daughter bonding

- Fabian doesn't like, hate Gilear as much as he used to? Like he still has his moments but overall he thinks he's a good guy and absolutely has the "well I can shit on him but I'm gonna kill this other guy who did. How dare you make fun of my Mama's beloved??" mindset. But uhm he tries to make Gilear work out with him so he can "stop being death fodder". Gilear is a commoner and everyone else in Seacaster Manor absolutely is not and like he likes it and he loves these people but he does kind of live in hell. His wife? Could kill him. His step son? Could kill him. The maid? Could kill him. The dog slash motor cycle?? Could kill him. One hit. Also the entire current Seacaster household are dexterity based fighters they're all so graceful and skilled he's fully just a guy that spills every drink ever on himself

- I think the Hangman loves Cathilda because she gives good chin scritchies (hound form obviously lol) Generally he tends to mirror Fabian's attitude towards people anyway so he's always liked her, but once he started being a hound more she started petting him and giving him treats and he is smitten

- Gorgug (and sometimes Ragh or Ayda) play extreme fetch with the Hangman. Like I need to stress that he's not just a big dog he's large enough to be a mount, which means he'd have to be the size of a horse. Maybe a small horse sure but that's still a horse-sized dog. I think his mini looks fairly big but in my heart he's bigger. So yeah fetch with him (which they mainly do because they want him to feel comfortable in both forms because he's so good) is really big sticks. Like not logs or anything but sticks the average person can't huck all that far. Fabian casts enhance ability on himself so he can also do it, lol. The wonders of multiclassing into bard.

- I think the only Bad Kids who never use makeup are Riz and Kristen. Gorgug doesn't do it every day and not that much but he uses eyeliner sometimes. Fig's makeup is the most noticeable and usually very fun.

- Gorgug has kissed Ragh at least twice. So at least one time after the prom thing. I don't mean this in a ship way I mean this in I look at Gorgug and then I look at Ragh and I go yeah these guys have shared at least one tender bro kiss. I mean I think Gorgug is the kinda guy that would kiss all of his friends if they wanted to because it's not that big of a deal to him and he loves them but not everyone is comfortable w/ that lol. He and Kristen kiss each other on the cheek though, I think (this does not mean he wants to see her naked in public please put your clothes back on Kristen??)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (6)

Author's Note: This came out angstyyyyyyyyyy, I'm sorry idk what happened. It's gotta get worse before it gets better, I guess.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Azriel using Truth-Teller, Mentions of Abuse/Death

Chapter 5/ Masterlist

-------------------------------

I can’t breathe. The walls of the tent close in, the dark leather pressing in closer and closer. If the ground were to open up and swallow me right now, I wouldn’t even have the presence of mind to scream. The fall would be a welcome reprieve from the roaring of my heart in my own ears.

What does he mean our fathers killed each other?  

It’s wrong. He’s wrong! He’s lying. He has to be lying!

I roll over so I can face him, so close on this small mat that our noses brush. His violet eyes glow in the darkness of the tent. “What do you mean?” The panic that edges my voice makes me sound shrill, even in my own ears.

I don’t want him to answer, but I desperately need him to tell me everything all at once. The wine threatens to come back up in a rush as his hand skims up my side to cup my cheek, “Tamlin didn’t tell you?”

How dare him touch me while we have this conversation; what is so broken and wrong inside of me that I let him? I know that I am shaking in his grip and when he starts rubbing calming circles into my cheek with his thumb I lean into that touch like it might give me one last life line to cling to.

“He said you killed my father.”

He stills, wings fluttering; I feel it pass through him like its own little draft, skittering across his wings. A dark mist follows, seeping from his skin. 

I know we’re not supposed to be talking about this, but the words are already out, whether from the wine or by the sheer desperation I feel crawling beneath my skin. I need to know! I need to know that everything I had believed was true. That all that I was doing this for was not based on a lie. 

He brushes his nose over mine, lips ghosting over my forehead. “When I see what they have done to you, I wish I had killed them both.”

My stomach twists. No. No. This can’t be happening!

“But no, it was my father, in retribution for what they had done.”

But I saw him holding the sword! I saw him leave the tent! I never saw his father’s body and Tamlin had always said he arrived too late to save any of them, that all he could do was fend Rhys off to keep him from slaughtering what was left of us. 

The confusion must be evident on my face, because he asks, “You really don’t know, do you?”

It’s more than a little patronizing but I don’t even have the energy to be angry about it, because my whole life is a lie! I’ve spent decades hating him. I just offered up my body and possibly my future to destroy him for nothing? For something his father, who’s long dead, did?

“Maybe we should talk about this in the morning,” he suggests and it’s definitely because I’m crying now and not because he’s trying to avoid it. 

My throat feels like it;s closing. “No!” And it’s then that I feel the faintest prick of fangs growing behind my lips. “Please just tell me.”

His thumb soothes over my cheek again, like he can feel the sudden shift in my being. I don’t know where that rush of power comes from. Maybe it is some sort of effect of being so close to him while he repairs the wards. 

“Rhys!” It’s always Azriel that interrupts us somehow, the shadowy male hurtling into the tent with that wicked looking dagger in hand. “We’ve got movement in the hills.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Now? Of all the Cauldron damned times for Amarantha to show herself, it has to be right now?!

Rhysand is on his feet in an instant, reaching for my discarded chest piece and ushering me into it, our conversation forgotten. “How many?”

I wish I could say I possess his ability to compartmentalize tasks, but despite the worst possible danger knocking on our unguarded and unwarded doors, all I can think about is how desperately we need to finish this conversation. 

“Five, a scout and four chargers. I’ve got Nox and Avos on their trail, but I don’t see any marks yet.” Azriel continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

Rhysand slings my quiver and bow over my shoulders again, checking all the straps to ensure they’re in place. He’d never taken his own armor off, only the belt for his sword, he uses a tendril of shadowy darkness to strap it into place while he finishes with me. “Stay with her.”

Azriel eyes me like I’m a pile of shit he accidentally stepped in, but I’m too busy trying to wipe my eyes on my sleeves to care. “You might need me out there,” he protests.

“Might,” Rhysand counters, stalking out of the tent in search of his horse. “But I definitely need you here more.” He grabs the reins on his horse, the mount still saddled, just in case we’d needed to leave in a hurry. Dinner threatens to come back up as I watch him slide into his cloak. I’ve spent my life hating that triple star pattern that will sit over his eyes, cursing his existence, wishing him every pain and misery imaginable for ruining my life and it wasn’t even his fault?

The ground is unsteady beneath my feet, I feel myself stumble and sway and I can’t tell if it’s the wine or the reality of the situation that makes my legs feel like jelly. 

I want to go home! I want this to be a bad dream. 

For a moment, I think he might simply toss the cowl over his head and mount up, leaving me to sit here in the misery of our half finished conversation, but he comes back a moment later, hand sliding into my hair as he tilts my head back and kisses me swiftly.

He should taste as bitter as the wine we’d shared. I should feel nothing but misery when he slips his tongue behind my teeth, but when he has me like this, nothing else matters. There doesn’t have to be anything between us. I do not feel like some broken, wretched thing.

“Don’t leave Azriel’s side,” he says as he pulls away. “We’ll finish our conversation when I return, I promise.” Then he mounts up, calling for half of the men as he goes. The thundering sound of the horses hooves as they race down into the grassy hills beneath us makes it feel like we’re standing in the center of an earthquake.

There’s enough moonlight to watch them go, their mounts and flowing capes in the wind making them appear like wraiths racing towards the enemy. 

With half of the men gone, and two scouting, that leaves Azriel and four other men to guard camp. None of them look too happy about it, least of all Azriel, who keeps watching me out of the corner of his eye like he thinks I might disappear at a moment’s notice. I remain next to him, anxiously shifting my weight from foot to foot, hoping the chill on the wind might wake my dull senses up.

Shadows drift off Azriel’s shoulders, but unlike Rhysand’s that always stay curled around his body, Azriel’s drift off like inky tendrils, testing the wind around him. Some slither along the ground like snakes, searching through patches of grass for an unwanted scent, others drift away, testing the wind for him. One remains perched over his ear, and I hear the faint sound of whispering like the shadows are reporting what they find. 

We can no longer see the others, and I spin slowly around in a circle, taking stock of my surroundings. We’re a little higher than the base of the mountain, perched on a cleft in the rock for a better vantage point. The ward remains behind us, I think, without the trail of Rhysand’s magic, I still can’t see or feel this one. To the left and right, the rocky base of the mountain is dotted with ancient trees, some thicker than a house, but the coming winter has stolen their leaves, no vantage point for archers to be had there without being sitting ducks. Beneath us, the rolling hills of grass stretch far out of sight. If Amarantha brought an army behind those first five riders, she’s hidden it well. Still, the thought makes a chill run up my spine and I keep a hand around the hilt of my dagger, just in case.

Azriel does nothing to quell my nerves, just stands there, still as a statue, listening to his shadows, eyes glued to the horizon. I can’t help but wonder if his shadows show him things as much as they tell him. Can he see Rhysand right now?

My stomach twists at the thought. I can’t see him. I can’t hear if he’s ok. There’s nothing in my arsenal to tell me that he’s coming back. And Cauldron boil me, I want him to come back. If he dies without finishing our conversation, I might never learn what happened. Whether it’s the truth or not is yet to be seen, but Tamlin’s account and his account are different, and I will be damned if I don’t get some answers from someone. 

The hand not holding my dagger reaches up to rub at the scar above my ear, hidden under my hair. Tam and I had been fighting that day, he’d been on edge about something and when I’d pushed too hard he’d shoved me right into the corner of a table. I’d been in the healer’s tent getting stitches; all these years I’d thought it was the Mother looking out for me, that little accident might have just saved my life. But looking at it now, I can’t help but wonder if it kept me from seeing the truth. 

I shift my weight again and Azriel’s gaze flicks back to me once more, irritated, like I’m somehow distracting him. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, locking my knees.

I can stand still, it’s fine. I force myself to focus on my breathing, but in the silence there’s one nagging thought that eats at me: Do I really believe Rhysand is telling the truth? I take him to bed one time, accept a couple gifts from him, and what? Believe everything he says as truth? Are claims of a mating bond really enough to make me believe he’d be open and honest with me? A mating bond certainly hadn’t saved my mother.

I close my eyes at the thought of her, chest aching. Did I believe Rhysand was right about that too? That my father had used her powers to try and breed powerful sons, not because he’d loved her? I’d certainly never seen my parents be affectionate towards each other, not even in the way Rhysand was with me. They’d never held hands, never ridden out together. He’d kept her clothed and fed, sure, and entertained her obsession with fairytales when it suited him. My mother told me, on one of her days of clarity, that he’d carved her rocking chair for her when he’d found out she was pregnant with Tam. But I never saw him be warm with her. I’m not even sure I ever saw them kiss, even on the cheek. But a lack of affection in public didn’t mean he cared so little about her he let her, supposed, powers drive her insane, did it?

“A scout’s coming back,” Azriel says, breaking me out of my thoughts. 

My eyes snap open as the rider crests the hillside and comes into view. Illyrian mounts really are beautiful, all sleek muscle and rippling midnight black manes. Together they make a lot of noise, but alone, they’re pretty damn quiet until their hooves hit rock.

Azriel motions me to follow him as he goes to the edge of the cleft in the rocks and waits as the scout approaches. “Well?”

“Not Amarantha,” the scout says and I let out a breath of relief. 

“Who the fuck would come out here then?” Someone behind me challenges. 

“Spring,” the scout says and all the blood drains from my face.

Azriel glances at me, but there’s pity in his hazel gaze this time. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. Not now, I’m not ready to see them yet! 

“What do they want?” I’m having a hard time processing that Tam would waste resources looking for me, especially when we’ve barely had horses to spare to move camp, let alone ride all the way out here.

“Proof you’re alive,” the scout says, holding out his hand.

It’s Azriel that smacks his hand away. “She only rides with me or Rhys.”

The mount shifts beneath the scout, his hood falling even lower down his face. Something feels off about it and I glance at Azriel for confirmation I’m not alone. He nods at me as he steps closer, hand on the small of my back as he leads me to where his own mount chews on a dying patch of grass. 

“Be ready,” he says in my ear.

The scout fidgets in his seat like he’s not used to riding in one and it’s that more than anything that has Azriel’s shadows flying off his shoulders to grab the rider by the wrist and yank him out of the saddle. He slams into the ground with a scream, the sound of bones crunching against rock so loud I wince as Azriel hoists me up into his saddle. 

I grab the reins to keep the horse steady, trying desperately to remember where Rhysand had held his hands when I rode with him. 

Azriel stalks over to the male, wings flaring as he knocks the back of the hood back with the tip of his dagger. Even in the moonlight, I know what swatch of dark hair and golden eyes. One of Tamlin’s Wolves, Andras. Of course he wouldn’t know how to ride, we’d survived a lot of skirmishes over the years because Tam had used his shapeshifting powers to change the men into beasts to fight. 

Azriel crouches in front of him as Andras grips his clearly broken shoulder. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Andras’ gaze flicks to me first. Thankfully, Azriel’s horse is a lot more patient than the others and my own nervous energy hasn’t caused it to run off. If anything, I think the animal cares less about my presence than its usual rider, because it goes back to eating.

“Your whore of a warlord-” that’s as far as Andras gets before Azriel slams the hilt of his dagger into the other male’s throat.

“Start like that again and I’ll make sure you never use that shoulder,” Azriel threatens with so much venom, I shiver. 

Andras coughs, good hand reaching for his throat and Azriel slams the blade clean through his forearm, pinning him in place.

I look away as Andras screams. He is not my friend, I can do nothing. I have always done nothing. The males have their fights and their quarrels and I have always stood on the sidelines waiting for the violence to pass like a good girl. 

“Ok! Ok!” Andras rasps. “I had orders to get into the camp and get Y/N, that’s it!”

But wasn’t being tired of standing on the sidelines that prompted me to stay here in the first place? Wasn’t I trying to make things better for my people? How was sitting here helping them?

“What about the others?” Azriel questions. 

“I don’t know! Lucien was supposed to handle that.” Andras replies through gritted teeth.

Do I even want to help them? If Rhysand was telling the truth, whose side am I even on? My head hurts from the questions, my stomach still churning end over end. I don’t know what to do.

“Where’s Tamlin?” Azriel asks as he rips the dagger out. 

Andras screams, the sound echoing off the rocks. “There’s only five of us! Tamlin never left camp.”

Of course he would send Lucien and not risk coming out here himself. That would put him face to face with Rhysand and he’d lose. And looking at it now, I realize that he knows it. He’s always known it. I rub a hand over the scar on my hand. Did he know about the bond too? Had that been why he was always so sure that I knew Rhysand was the enemy?

Azriel raises the dagger to make another cut and Andras screams, “I swear I’m telling the truth!”

“Azriel,” my voice is steadier than I feel and all eyes suddenly turn to me. I need to get answers. I need to do something. “Take me out there please.” 

“No.”

I tighten my grip on the reins. I’ll go out there myself if I have to. “If it’s Lucien, then it’s not a fight they’re having. Let me diffuse this.” I’m not sure I mean those words; I’m not sure I have the power to do anything but watch horror after horror unfold around me, but I know that I have to try. I have to attempt to put my life back together. I have to find some bit of order or I’ll go insane. Besides, this is Lucien we’re talking about! Surely he could see reason, right?

Andras is looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. 

“Tie him up,” Azriel says to one of the others as he stands and wipes his blade on a cloth that hangs from his belt. “I’m not done with him.”

“But I don’t know anything!” Andras protests as two men haul him to his feet, wrenching his broken shoulder in the process. Blood drips from his forearm, down his fingers. Regardless of the confusion I feel swirling around inside me, he’s still a part of my people. Lucien is still family. If I can keep any more bloodshed from happening between our two people I will. 

“I can work this out. Not everything has to be a bloodbath.”

Azriel swings himself into the saddle behind me and steals the reins. “If I so much as hear an arrow being fired, we’re turning back around.” He snarls.

“Fine,” I concede, because at least it meant I tried. 

“Rhys is gonna kill me for this.”

----

I’m not convinced Azriel’s horse isn’t a wraith. It’s almost completely silent, save for the softest hint of breathing imaginable. When it breathes, little wisps of shadows escape out its nose. I wish I had time to ask him about it, but there’s none, not as we race over the hills, fast as the wind. 

No arrows rise up to meet us, so at least I’ve been, so far, correct about Lucien not leading an ambush. Their scout must have taken down one of Rhysand’s and stolen his mount and cloak to look presentable. At least, I tell myself it was just that and not that Lucien ordered a man killed to try and get to me. Lucien, who would sneak me snacks and who secretly taught me how to fish; Lucien who used to braid my hair for me while we sat on the creek bed, making jokes. Lucien who had always been a spot of sunlight in my world, who looked after me like a brother, and promised to scare away any suitors who made me uncomfortable. Lucien was a good male; the best of us, even, the thought that he might be capable of such violence makes me nauseous. I have had too many life changing questions hurled my way tonight, I cannot bear another one, especially not about him.

We crest a particularly large hill and finally get a glimpse of the Illyrian riders. They’re not fighting. In fact, they’re just standing there, in formation behind Rhysand’s horse. The warlord himself stands in front of it, shrouded in that heavy cloak, facing off against Lucien and his three dismounted riders. They’re all armed, but no one is actively fighting each other, I take that as a good sign.

Though Lucien doesn’t look particularly pleased to see me riding with Azriel, nothing but unbridled horror crossing his scarred face as we approach. 

When we get to the bottom of the hill, I jump off the horse, much to Azriel’s dismay. 

Lucien takes a step towards me, but growling, Rhysand steps in front of him. “Touch her and you’re dead, Vanserra.”

The men move to let me pass through and I focus all my energy on breathing evenly as I walk towards them. Does Lucien know? Did he hide this from me too? Or was he just as blind as I was?

“Y/N, are you all right?” Lucien asks, his metal eye whirring as he looks me over. 

My chest feels like it’s gonna rip right down the middle and spill my heart right out onto the floor. I don’t know who to believe. I don’t know who I want to believe. This is Lucien we’re talking about, he would never willingly hurt me. He comforted me when my entire world fell apart, he helped Tam and I bury them. I want so desperately for all these onlookers to leave, so it’s just the three of us and the truth, but the way they all stand there, armed and ready tells me that’s not happening. There hasn’t already been bloodshed here, because Lucien was waiting for Andras to give him some sort of signal that it wasn’t necessary. Because he was expecting to be able to just kidnap me.

Why do all these males constantly treat me like I’m just an object to be snatched up on their whims?

Rhysand’s hooded head is angled in my direction, watching my approach through the stars in his cowl. I don’t like that I can’t see his eyes. He doesn’t look like the Rhysand who’d just been holding me. He looks like the male I remember from my nightmares.

And Lucien looks like someone I don’t recognize at all.

How am I supposed to make sense out of any of this? Seeing them doesn’t make it easier. 

The Illyrians shift behind me, horses snuffing in agitation, kicking up loose strands of grass. I feel their unease as easily as I can see it in the males behind Lucien. Maybe this isn’t the time for answers, maybe all I can do right now is keep them from killing each other. Regardless of who’s right here, I don’t want to see either males hurt.

“I’m fine,” I lie as I come to a stop at Rhysand’s side. His gloved fingers brush mine like he might take my hand, but he doesn’t. 

Lucien stares back and forth between us. “I wouldn’t call being kidnapped fine.”

Rhys growls again, the sound skittering over my spine, “But you’d call letting her starve to death on a solo hunt fine?”

Lucien’s mouth pulls back in a grimace. “Tam made a mistake, he admits it-”

“He admits it?” His wings shake behind him, darkness drifting in waves from beneath them until it shrouds him more than the cloak. There’s so much of it Lucien retreats a step. “How brave of him to admit he fucked up and yet he still let it go on this long before someone came looking.”

Lucien keeps his gaze on me. “It won’t happen again. We’ve talked about it. Trust me, next time-”

“There is no next time,” Rhysand snarls. “She’s not going back with you!”

Lucien’s hand falls to his sword hilt, but his gaze remains on me. “Let her come home. Let this be settled and done. Tamlin sent money-”

A whip made of starlight appears in Rhysand’s hand, knocking the bag of coins Lucien pulls off his belt from his hand and scattering it across the grass. All of the men with Lucien draw their swords, even as the redhead tightly grips his own. Rhysand can easily kill him here and he will if Lucien keeps talking. I need to diffuse this, I need them all to leave each other alone. I’m not done here, and even if Lucien won’t understand it, I can’t bear to see him get hurt.

“He’s my mate,” I say and the words taste like a betrayal.

Lucien’s face twists in a mixture of horror and disgust.

“No one is keeping me here against my will.” Well, mostly. It’s not like I’ve put that to the test, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“That can’t be true,” it comes out like a whisper, as if he doesn’t want to believe it. I suppose, if our places were switched, I wouldn’t want to either. “You did something to her.”

Rhysand huffs, “I didn’t and I wouldn’t.”

“Like you didn’t slaughter thousands for Amarantha?” Lucien snarls.

Rhysand freezes, still as death beside me.

Azriel, silent in the grass, has come up behind me, his presence a steadying energy amidst the chaos I feel swirling around us. What does he mean he killed for Amarantha? Isn’t he trying to kill her?

“That’s enough,” Azriel hisses. “The lady told you she doesn’t want to go back with you. Respect that and go.”

Lucien doesn’t move. “He didn’t tell you that, did he, Y/N?”

“Leave!” Azriel snarls.

“I’m sure he didn’t tell you how he whored himself out to her either. Why do you think the Illyrians have so much land?”

Azriel steps around me, shadows swirling, dagger in hand, but it’s Rhysand, who’s now almost wholly surrounded by a dark mist, that puts out a hand to stop him. “Everything I did, I did for my people,” he says in a voice that’s so low I almost can’t hear it over the wind. “Everything Tamlin is doing now is for himself.”

“How noble,” Lucien snarls. “If your intentions are so pure, let her go.”

Rhysand turns to look at me, pushing the cowl off his head so I can see his face. The moonlight doesn’t hide the shadows under his eyes, or the weight I see crushing down on his shoulders. It’s impossible to miss the way his wings droop behind him. My chest aches at the sight of him, something clawing in desperation beneath my skin begging me to find a way to take that burden from him. 

“Do you want to go back with him?” He asks.

I don’t know if what he’s said tonight is true or a lie, but I know here and now that if I said yes he’d let me walk away. No strings attached, if I took Lucien’s hand and got on that horse, he wouldn’t fight me.

I don’t know what I want any more. I don’t know who I am anymore. Everything I have built my life on feels like it's crumbling beneath my feet. And everyone is just standing there watching it happen. 

No one has ever offered me a choice like this before. My whole life I have been told where to go and who to be and given one taste of freedom I had still followed exactly what was expected of me, hoping that it would finally make me feel at peace. But I haven’t felt a moment of peace in all of it, except when I was in Rhysand’s arms. It’s impossible that he of all people could make me feel like that. It shouldn’t be this way. 

And Lucien, who I always considered another brother, who shared food at my table and always made me feel like I wasn’t a waste of space, was now someone I didn’t recognize. There is no sign of Rhysand’s missing rider among them. I don’t know if he’s dead or not, probably, judging by the way Lucien keeps looking at Rhys like he’s an animal. 

It’s a startling sight, not because I would have looked at him like that myself a couple days ago, but because that’s how Tam always looked at me. Like I was some thing that was so inherently wrong; some creature that needed to be tamed and bridled. Those pointed tips of the fangs I felt try to make an appearance earlier have come back, poking into my lower lip. I feel something shifting beneath my skin, a beast awakening from some deep slumber. My hands open and close reflexively at my side. The stirring feeling is strongest in my chest, right where I sometimes feel that weird pressure that’s somehow tied to Rhys.

“No, I don’t want to go back with him,” the words are steadier than I feel, my chin raised. I do not cower from them, or the fact that I mean them. Even though Lucien looks like I’ve punched him in the gut. I can’t go back. Not until I have the truth. Not until I can make sense of all this mess I feel in my head and in my heart. 

“Tamlin won’t take me back anyway,” I pull the gaps in the arms of my sweater down, so he can see the stars inked across my skin. “Nor do I feel like being tossed out again.”

“Y/N…” Lucien shakes his head, auburn hair flying around his tan face. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Rhysand won’t stop staring at me. I think he’s waiting for me to change my mind. 

“Please leave, Lucien,” I say, only looking at Rhys. I’m a terrible person, because there is so much unbridled hope in his eyes, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, waiting for me to take my chance and run; I’d been playing games this whole time, he hadn’t.

He hadn’t been playing games. 

I’d used him, taken what I needed, and had planned to throw him out when I was done. Even if he had killed me father, I was still… I was still just like my own father. The realization nearly knocks me off my feet. What have I done?

“This isn’t the end of this,” Lucien hisses as he backs up, never leaving himself exposed, even as he reaches for his mount. The horse is old, it’s mane patchy and unkept, I’m not sure how it carried Lucien here, let alone how he expected it to carry the both of us. “Tamlin will consider this a breach of your agreement.”

“We agreed not to kill each other,” Rhysand returns. “If he comes at me now, then he’s the one that broke that agreement, not me.” 

Lucien swings into the saddle with ease, mount shifting slightly beneath him. “What of my scout?”

“What of mine?” Azriel returns.

“Food for the vultures,” Lucien snarls and my heart sinks even further. What if I’ve been wrong about everybody, not just Rhys?

“Then so is yours,” Azriel returns.

Lucien leaves with the remainder of his men, no further fight for Andras life to be had. Rhysand watches them go, wings still drooped behind them like they are impossibly heavy. I should try and comfort him, as that thing in my chest demands, but I can’t. My limbs refuse to move, feet rooted in the grass. What have I done? Where did I go wrong in all of this? I was just trying to do what I thought was right, but I’m not sure I know what that looks like anymore.

“Are you all right?” Rhysand asks once they’re gone. On instinct, he’s throwing his cloak around my shoulders again, cocooning me in that blissful pocket of warmth that smells like him. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of his kindness. 

“I don’t know,” the words slip out of me. I can’t think past the roaring in my ears. What have I done?

His hand falls to my back, gently leading me back to his horse. 

“For the record-” Azriel starts, but Rhysand cuts him off, “I know, Az. Thank you for staying with her.”

I think, even as we mount back up to return to camp, we would have all been better off tonight if this had been a fight with Amarantha.

------------------------------

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[huuuuughes]

Mine. - Jeremy Swayman

Summary: Jeremy comes over to beg for your forgiveness, and things quickly take a turn... but not for the worst.

Word count: 3.3k (its short ik im sorry)

WARNINGS: Daddy kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, bad writing??? idk this is porn OKAY READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. pls dont read if you're under 18 thank u!!

Note: i wrote this awhile ago for goalie week and then a bunch of stuff happened and i kept forgetting to post it bc i started my first full time job a month ago and its kicking my BUTT. anyways thanks for reading :)

You could hear your phone going off from across the room. It was Friday night and the end of a very long work week. Your boss was driving you up the wall and your personal life didn’t seem to be going much better. Your friends were good, you just didn’t get to see them as often as you wanted due to just being adults and everyone having their own full time jobs. 

The one person who was supposed to make your life easier, better even, was the one currently blowing up your phone. You knew exactly who it was, but he deserved to sit there and stew for a while. But as you looked around your apartment while trying to decide what show to numb your mind with, you noticed things of his strewn everywhere. You didn’t live together, not yet anyway, but based on the amount of things you had at each others’ places, you may as well have. 

Your work involved working with many different clients, and making their dreams come true. You were a travel agent, and your boss didn't exactly adhere to the typical 9-5 schedule like a normal job. If you were awake, she expected you to be able to take care of the problem. 

You had already decided long ago that men didn’t always think with their brains. Jeremy was jealous, but of what you had no idea. Did you have a lot of clients who were men who wanted to surprise the lady in their lives? Yes. Did those scumbags also try and make a move on you sometimes? Also yes. But you were a professional, and always conducted yourself as such. As much as you wanted to, it wasn’t your job to fix someone else’s insecurities. You could tell Jeremy that he didn’t need to be jealous until you were blue in the face, but you didn’t know when he was going to get it. You weren’t broken up, but you’d told him you needed a minute for him to calm down. It had been a few days at that point, and you couldn’t deny you were also getting antsy. He may be a stupid guy sometimes, but he was yours.

After what had to be the millionth time of your phone going off with a DING of a text, you made yourself get up off the couch. The last message you had read:

Sway❤️: I know I’m stupid. I need you to know I’m sorry. Can I see you, please? 

After the stressful week you’d had, you wanted nothing more than to feel his familiar warmth around you. The moment he was near you it was like the noise around you calmed down to its lowest level. 

Y/N: I’m at home, you know where to find me. 

Sway❤️: I’m on my way, be there in 20. I love you. 

The next twenty minutes were going to kill you. Your apartment was already cleaned, because you liked to clean when you got anxious as mess only made you more anxious. Your doorman would recognize Jeremy and send him up when he arrived, so you didn’t need to even get up to let him in. He had his key, he knew exactly where to find you. 

After an eternity, at least what felt like one, you heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock. He quietly took off his shoes by the door, and locked it behind him. 

“Babe?” He called out, already walking toward the living room where you sat. 

“I’m in here!” You called back. Relief washed over you when you saw him, but you didn’t get up and go to him. He had to earn you back the way you deserved. 

“Where should I start?” He asked, sitting down in a chair only a few feet away from you. 

“How about how you shouldn’t act jealous of my stupid clients? Or any man that I’m ever with that isn’t you? Do you really think I’m that crappy of a person that I would EVER cheat on you?”

“I know I shouldn’t, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that because you’re the best person I’ve ever known, but-“

“BUT WHAT JEREMY?” You screamed, and you know it came out louder and meaner than you wanted it to. He recoiled a little bit but didn’t lose his energy. 

“I’m stupid. I’m a stupid guy, who knows you are way out of my league. It sounds like a dumb excuse, but I’m so scared of losing you. I want you, I want to love you, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. But you’ve seen the league, you’ve seen what this life can do to relationships and what it turns people into. I don’t want anything bad to happen to us. I know this isn’t the life you signed on for. I think about you being at home alone and I hate it.” He looked defeated and like he meant every word he’d said. 

“You can’t lose something you already have.” You wanted to close the space between you so badly. 

“You still want to be with me?” You got up and walked to the kitchen as he asked, putting away the wine you’d gotten out so it wouldn’t spoil. He followed closely, less than a few steps away. One giant step and he’d be able to close that space. 

“I wouldn’t have told you to come if I didn’t. You just needed to listen, and you weren’t hearing me. You don’t have to be jealous of anyone, that isn’t who I am.”

“I hear you loud and clear now. And I’m not jealous, you’re just mine.” The tone in his voice shifted to another one you recognized. 

“I’m yours huh?” You said it like you were challenging him because it sounded like he thought he already won. He should be fighting for you and showing you what that means. 

“Do you need a reminder?” He closed the space, so his forehead rested against yours. You could feel his hot breath on your face, breathing in time with you. Without warning, you pressed your lips against his with a new hunger behind you. You’d missed this heat between you, the raw need to have each other right in that moment. 

His hands explored your body, finding their way to your ass and lifting you up onto the counter. It was cold against your legs, the shorts you had on weren’t very long and you felt every inch of cold countertop but you didn’t care. His lips left yours with a moan and began making their way down your neck. You could feel how wet you were already getting, responding to his touch so quickly. You reached for the hem of his shirt and motioned for him to take it off. He complied in earnest, his mouth immediately returning to you.

Lifting your shirt up and over your head, your breasts became exposed for him to devour. He licked around your nipple, biting it and chasing you to arch off the counter while letting out a scream. Your nails were digging into every spot on him that he could reach. Momentarily he kissed your mouth again, bringing his still covered cock against your center. You could feel it hard against you, the friction only giving you the slightest relief. 

“Please daddy, please I need-“ You tried not to beg but the torture was killing you. 

“Tell me you’re mine and I’ll give you exactly what you want. Tell daddy who you belong to princess.” He whispered in your ear, continuing to kiss around your neck in the spot he knew you liked. 

“YOURS. I’M YOURS!” You needed relief or you were going to go insane. 

“Now was that so hard baby?” He asked. You didn’t even have the time or energy to reply as he pulled off your shorts in one big motion. 

“No underwear? Even better.” You attempted to push his head toward your swollen clit, but he wouldn’t go faster than he wanted to. He kissed and bit your thighs, leaving marks where he knew no one could see. You’d have those marks there for weeks. Each kiss he got closer until you finally felt his tongue brush against your clit. You shivered as he began to devour you, your thighs clenching around his head not wanting him to escape.

He pulled back but only for a moment, instructing you to lick the fingers he was putting in front of your face. You did as he asked, and he resumed going after your pussy. In a new move, he inserted his fingers into you as he continued eating. His tongue was licking in time with his fingers as they pumped in and out of you. He was hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know was there.

“Holy shit don’t stop, don’t stop PLEASE.” You were writhing on top of the counter as he struggled to hold you in place. He knew you were so close to your high, edging you just along that fine line. You’re burning up and he knows it. His other hand reaches up and pinches your nipple before grabbing onto your breasts like they were his lifeline. 

You cursed him silently for having hair you couldn’t grab onto, but you pressed his head as if it could go further into you. His tongue quickened its pace, matching his fingers. You could feel your orgasm building and it was right there, all you needed to do was let go. 

“Let go baby girl, cum on my face for me..” He whispered against your clit,  and what came out of yours was a series of expletives that you didn’t care to understand. He could taste everything you were giving him, not stopping as you started to come down. Every nerve ending was on overdrive and he held you down against the counter. The wave of your orgasm rolled over you, your heart pounding in your chest. He didn’t let a single drop of you miss his mouth, and you saw his smile looking up at you as you tried to catch your breath. 

He stood up without breaking eye contact, and undid his own pants. He made sure all remaining clothes of yours were off, nibbling on your ears and down your neck as he did so. In a move of complete trust, he picked you up off of the counter and carried you down to where he knew your room was. His lips found yours again and suddenly your lungs were struggling for air but you didn’t care. Your arms were hooked around his neck as he walked, kissing him like your life depended on it. 

Setting you down on the bed, he laid you down on your back, and stood back to marvel at the sight of you. 

“You look… “ his brain was struggling to find the right word, “fucking stunning.” 

“And you have too many clothes on… sir.” You put yourself up on your elbows, looking down at his boxers that for some reason, had remained on. You didn’t need to let him finish what he was going to say, you needed him to do something more than speak. 

“Sir?” He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you. 

“Did you like that?”  You knew he did but it was your way of teasing. His mouth was on yours before you could process his next movements, placing one hand to your side to balance himself and the other knotted in your hair, pulling your head back so you were looking up at him when he pulled apart. You didn’t even realize that his boxers were already off, as you felt his cock brush against your leg and pussy. 

His hand left your hair and explored your leg, getting closer to its destination. His face was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face and his fingers glided over your folds, but so lightly it sent a shiver up your spine. You could hardly catch your breath but you were dying for him to touch you, to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You wanted him to hear you. His hand remained on your pussy, his fingers becoming soaked.

“So fucking wet for me baby.. did you miss me?” He quickened his fingers and began pumping them inside you. The feeling of his fingers wasn’t enough, you needed more and a whine-like moan escaped you. You whispered a response to him, and it spurred him on. 

“Please Jeremy please, please I need you inside me..” 

“That’s not my fucking name, not in here. In here I own you, isn't that right princess? Do you want me to be gentle?” You nod no, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Use your words princess.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“Don’t be gentle!” You tried pushing his head towards your core again, but he remained looking at you with his fingers teasing you. He added another, stretching you from the inside. You gasped and scratched your nails up his back. 

You gasp again, as you feel him part you with two fingers and put his tongue against you again. He wasn’t done tasting you yet.

“Please baby, I need your cock. Please!” Your mouth couldn’t move fast enough and you didn’t even care that he had reduced you to a begging mess beneath him. Your hips wanted to grind, needing more friction. You could feel your release building again as he sucks on your clit. It was right there, you could feel it as you clawed at your sheets trying to grab onto something but there was nothing. 

Your legs spasmed around his head as your release flooded over you and he ate you once again. 

“So fucking wet for me, you’re so stunning baby girl.” He kissed his way up your body and aligned himself with your entrance. He isn’t gentle as he slams into you as he kisses your mouth like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. 

You’re left begging for air as his head drops down, ducking your nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh god, oh fuck..” you cry out as he wasn’t holding back. He slammed into you over and over, bringing his hand up to find your clit. As he fucked you he was playing with your clit again, causing your wetness to pool onto the bed. Every single nerve you had was on fire, and only he could put it out. 

“Tell me you need it, tell me how bad you want you want my cum.” The hand not on your clit slowly moves up your body to the bottom of your throat and locking his hand around it. Not putting too much pressure, but enough to lightly choke you. Both of your hands gripped his arm as  you felt his cock filling you and his thighs slapping against yours. His speed was increasing and so was the hunger in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, fuck daddy please I need your cum I need you so bad..!” 

“You are mine, your orgasms are mine, everything about you is mine.” Without warning he withdrew from you, earning a desperate moan. Quickly he flipped you over into your stomach, pulling your hips back so you were on your hands and knees facing away from him with your ass in the air waving him in like an invitation. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He whispers into your ear from behind you. He places kisses on the spot in your neck he knows drives you crazy, running his cock along your folds at the same time. He pushes into you again and holds back nothing. Jeremy grips both of your hips with his hands and brings your hips back to meet each one of his thrusts. The sound of his thighs hitting your ass echoes throughout the room, reaching spots inside you that you didn’t know he could. 

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, you collapsed into the bed as he fucked into you. 

“So fucking tight princess, this pussy was made for me.” His nails scratch down your back eliciting a loud string of moans. His thrusts become more erratic and he brings his hand up, then down to smack your ass as hard as he could. The scream you made encouraged him more, and you could feel a third orgasm building.

“Fuck daddy, please I’m right there I need to cum daddy please..” You didn’t know how he had gotten that many out of you, but you could already tell he was determined for more. 

“That’s it baby, cum for me, cum all over my cock..” He brought his hand around as he leaned into you to tease your clit some more. You were right there, you pushed back to meet his thrusts to get yourself over the hill and the relief washed over you. You moaned out his name, begging for him to fuck you harder and faster. 

He loved seeing his length go in and out of you, taking all of him so well. Spreading your legs to give him a better angle, his cock continued hitting that spot inside you. He slaps your ass again, and again. You cry out, knowing his release was close behind. His hands wrap in your hair and pull you back, making you arch towards him. 

“Fuck yes baby, you like it when I fuck you like this? You ready for my cum?” He chases his release just as badly as you want it from him, feeling him trying to reach his high. You nodded in response to him, not being able to form any more words. The only sounds coming from you were moans of encouragement, it felt like you could be on cloud nine. 

“FUCK!” He screamed as he pulled almost all the way out, slamming back in and releasing his load into you. Jeremy almost collapsed onto you, but he brought you into his arms as he pulled out of you as his cum slowly leaked back out. You knew he thought it was the hottest thing ever. Both trying to catch your breath and come back down to earth, he pulled you in once you laid down so that you were on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat going a million miles a minute inside his chest, but it brought you a sense of calm. Your person was back where he belonged, he had finally heard you. 

“I love you.” He finally spoke but he still sounded out of breath.

“I love you too.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you, I really love you. THIS is what I want. This body, your perfect fucking curves. Every minute of every hour of every day, I want you. Not just your body, I want all of you. I’m sorry I was so stupid. I can’t promise you that I won’t make stupid choices sometimes, but I can promise to be better for you every day.”

“Jer-“ You attempted to stop him, you knew he was it too. 

“Please let me finish. I want to make you feel good, I want to be the person you want to come home to every day, I want to be the person who pushes you to be the best version of yourself and make you feel like the queen of the world. You’re it for me, there is no one else. I’ve spent my whole life doubting myself and chasing this dream I couldn’t even describe. But I can see it so clearly now, and I know that dream is you. And I want to be able to have forever with you, if you’ll have me.” You took a moment to absorb his words. 

“You have to make me a promise okay?” His eyes gleamed at you, like you were holding up the moon just for him. 

“Anything, you name it.”

“Promise me forever. There is no past anymore, there is only us and the future we make together. I want us to help each other be better. Okay?”

“Okay. How about we start forever now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva

[shinakazami1]

Transcript of IGN Handsome Jack QnA

This thing doesn't have the whole text but - questions and some of my fav Meg-Jack interactions :^] I tried to write their speech patterns as close as possible

Transcript under the cut:

0:30: Question: Is Buttstallion the best horse ever Jack : Well it’s my horse. That I made her ( <- FACT CHECK: he bought her) out-out of diamonds, so…

0:45 Q: What it’s like wearing a face (mask - though in video it's funnily shown) J: It’s not a mask, it’s a freaking face! Do people think I’m wearing a freaking mask on my face? MEG!! I’m kidding. You’re cute tho. You know what it’s like—do you ever put a onesie on right out of the dryer? (whisper) it’s like that. (normal volume) It’s cosy. It just feels right. And a cool thing about wearing a face is – you can swap them out with however many people you kill in course of an afternoon or a week or whatever. You get off that face – you put on another one! (laughs mid-sentence) It’s fantastic. I can look at whoever. I could look like you Meg if I wanted to. I might later. Wear your face.

1:43 Q: Boxers or briefs? J: Commando!

1:50 Q: What dead celebrity would you bring back? J: Tom Cruise. (learning he is still alive) He’s not dead. Oh. Well-well let’s kill him and then I can bring him back to life or whatever.

2:10 -2:52 (Off top) J: Where did you get these pretzels Meg: From the Hyperion vending machine J: They’re delicious. (long silence) They’re good. (longer) I promise someone will clean it up – my God that’s what happens If you drink beer at lunch, people!

(….) J: Pandorian, people are dumb but loyal. M: I’m loyal sir. I’m very, very very- J: Nah, so much of this. M: Oh yes, sir.

2:15 (Answer 3:25) Q: Do people recognise your voice in public? J: I’m all over the fucking place. I’m in megaphones, I’m in-in like convenience store, vending machines so—yeah. Yeah uh, I have to say. Yeah.

3:48 Q: Favourite type of weapon? J: What do you think, Meg? M: Uhh-anything that kills, sir. J: Well, I would say Hyperion would be a good start, wouldn’t you. M: (louder, nervously) That would be a very good start. J: There you go. Smart… uh. (Awkward horrible silence he prob wanted to say ‘smart girl’ and im glad he didn’t say it cus Jesus Christ man how much cringe can you spout out of your mouth). Anything made by Hyperion and anything that and anything that inflicts, like you said. Fairness to you. The most damage possible.

4:09 Q: (person wanted a greeting for her cat Tunses) J: Hey Tunses.

4:30 Q: Which Vault Hunter do you hate the least and which the most? J: I try not to play favourites. I hate them all the same. M: They’re all pretty terribl- J: (growling) They’re all equally hateable. M: They’re all pretty terrible. (you go girl say your lines) J: Each and every one of them. M: They all want to kill you, sir. J: God I hate them so much.

(Off top) J: (soft laugh) I enjoy your company M: You would make a great voice actor, sir. J: You know I’ve heard that! Yeah yeah yeah – people tell me sh# t all the time. You know. Like : , uh- I (chuckles) get that you, babe- M: You can cook, sir?! J: I- uh, um, I, uh – yeah. I'm really quite handy in the kitchen. M: Yeah? J: Yeah. M: What do you like to make sir. J: I find it- I find it z-zens me out after coming home and washing all the blood out of my clothes.

5:25 Q: Why are you so perfect? J: I don’t know, ask my mom. (pause) You can’t – you can’t because she’s dead, I killed her – but if she was alive, you could ask my mom.

(offtop) J: (playing the game) Where is my oxygen level? M: So, your oxygen level isssss – where the hell is it? J; Come on Meg – I cannot with your (Meg breaks out laughing) you stupid little sh#t like this (they both laugh) and you’re letting me dooown. M: Oh my God I’m the worst!! J: No it’s right over (chin upfront sounding voice idk how else to call him becoming a goblin) it’s right over there, did your little brain fall out of your head, Meg? M: Sorry, should be on your map. J: (genuine soft sounding) Why am I so mean to you? M: I don’t know, sir. J: (still soft, but cool persona) AAA that’s cus of what- that’s what I do.

J: How does Handsome Jack butt slam? M: I think youuuu- J: Anyway he likes (laughs) M: (chuckles) Yes, yes, exactly- J: Joke right there. Welcome

(…) J: That’s what the hip kid say. Instead of , they say (he becomes sonic and laughs like him). Did you know that? M: No, sir J: Yeah. That’s what they do.

(…) M: (after Jack killed a few monsters) Good job! J: Thank you Meg! Thank you for being such a loyal supporter. M: Absolutely sir: J: Really appreciate you, Meg. M: You do sir??? J: Claptrap (HEEEELP THE TIMING??? WHY DOES HE SAY THIS) M: That’s great. Oh- J: I appreciate you Claptrap.

(…) J: Gotta get some things- M: Yes. J: Gotta get some uh- hopefully some grenades. I love- I love the grenades! I got to say, I’m a huge fan (starts chuckling) blowing sh#t up.

7:25 Q: Is Handsome Jack happy? J: (laughs) That’s a great question. It’s deep, isn’t it? Um, there’s a lot of smiling going on here (chuckle) but really, I’m dead inside. It seems like everything I say has just a weird connotation to it. Some kind of inappropriate connotation to it. (sincere) Did you- did you ever noticed that? M: No, sir. J: Good answer! (laughs)

(Offtop) J: Ah for f#ck sake (kills a skag) M: That’s where you’re supposed to go. J: That’s – so I got to go outside. M: Yeah, you have to go outside. J: So you were right. Before. First time for everything, Claptrap. M: Yes. Yes sir. J: Yes siiiir.

(…) M: You’re doing great, sir. J: Atta girl. (pause) I got- I got to stop saying that. (laughs) Okay (nervous chuckles continue) M: And you got another badass rank so you can use that as well. J: Oh, okay – that’s see- now that is some useful information. M: (joyful and surprised) Really?? J: Yeah!

(…) J: (Asks about a game feature. Ben, someone out of the mic, answers before Meg in a monotone voice) Why is Ben so much smarter than you. Ummm- (nervous chuckle turning into silent cry-laugh between Meg and him) M: I’m doing my best sir. J: Ay-ay.

(…) J: What the f that just happened here. That just- I just picked that and now I can-okay. M: You have- you have- you have multiple. So it-do-does it— J: Oh, you’re God, how do you make so much sense when you say things. (…) J: (talking about enemy name pronounciation) Had to do an r-roll with that criiiticic crrrretin (??? im sorry I cant hear it well 9:15 pls help ) M: That’s very – that’s very fancy, sir. J: Mmm. You know what I am? M: What are you? J: I’m so fancy. M: You’re- J: I’m schmancy. (Meg snickers) You cut that one out too, Ben. That was- that was some bullsh#t (laughs) M: You’re so fancy, we already know.

(…) J: (About game dialogue) I don’t know who that is but I find them (emphasis) extrrrRRREMELY annoying. M: Oh they are the Vault Hunters si- J: (immediately) God they’re f#cking annoying, aren’t they. M: They are really, really annoyin- J: I feel like they’re trying too hard, that’s the thing. That’s the thing that’s standing out for me here. M: Yes, I think you should kill them. J: It’s one thing to be naturally funny and then there’s another – it’s another thing to- to be like – you know what I mean like – put yourself out there too much, feel like you’re overcompensating is the world I’m looking for. M: Don’t think you have to worry about that at all. J: (smooth convo swap) You know what I’m liking the most about this game? M: What do you like- J: The lack of Claptrap. M: Oh-uh, well, he is, he’s in here, if you want to- J: Listen, that’s fine – I’m in a good mood run right now, you don’t have to ruin it byyy talking about how I’m going to run into Claptrap. M: (silence) Okay sir. I’ll be quiet, sir. (pause) Yes. (pause) OH!! There’s Claptrap (in-game) Claptrap: HELLOOO- J: Oh you little son of a b#tch. Welcome to the pit of pseudo-solid sorrows, that is some alliteration. That’s a literary term for (long sign) all you people that didn’t finish school. Meg. Arena – of, partially see-through Triumph, the Hippodrome of marginally tangible everything else. (quieter) Do that make any sense to you? M: (joyful) No sir.

(…) Axton (in-game): Is it going to be a LONG story? Gaige (in-game): Yeah, just give us the Bluff’s Notes. J: (Jack is mimicking Axton’s voice) Wait, is it going to be a loooooong story? M: Yeah, they just keep talking- J: Axton is a handsome guy. M: Kinda looks like you sir- J: A little TOO handsome, if you ask me. M: He’s not as handsome as you. J: Well- I mean (chuckles) good luck with that, right. M: I mean, he might sort of be but- J: Oi! (pause) Slow your roll, sister. All right – wait, I was too busy talking, cus I love the sound of my own voice, now the f#ck am I doing? Am I loaded for bear? (Meg is trying to talk) Oh wait- M: I feel you are. No, you’re full (on amo), oh- J: Oh yeah, okay. That’s what she said. (immediately quickly nervously) Joking there. Okay if you want to, TAKE IT MAG feel free take it. M: No, that’s- J: (forceful) TAKE the joke, MAAG. M: I-I- J: Take the joke or you’re fired, Mag – or wait actually – take the joke or I’ll set you on fire, Meg. M: (playful) That’s what she said, yeah? J: God it just-it just sounds so much better coming from you for some reason.

(…) J: I think living on the moon would kind of suck. M: Why? J: I mean uh- I mean if you had to run like this all the time, you’d think it would be more advantageous or better than uhh, running –uh, say with like, uh, gravity? M: (smacks lips) Yeah, but you can do- J: Yeah but gravity Meg, is something it’s-it’s a force of energy that keeps the- it’s the Earth and the moon create, and it keeps things on the… neverm- ff, M: That was a great explanation, sir. J: (defeated) That’s fine. M: I have no idea what the hell you just said. J: (chuckles) It’s really – it was really scientific, wasn’t it? - M: It’s a thing! J: It’s a thing with the… M: I think it’s a good place to wrap this up.

(….) J: You want to do another-another thing? M: Uhh, I don’t, I don’t think we have time to do another thing, sir. J: Is that because I’m so busy and important that I have to go do stuff that is, I have people to do, and places to see- M: You’re- J: Places to see and people- I mean, places to go, people to see, things to do. M: All that. J: Yeah. M: All that more. J: Correct (laugh) Well listen, kids, first of all – you’re welcome, because this has been a real treat. Sorry about- what was your name again? M: Meg. J: Yeah, she tries real hard but uhh- let’s face it. Uhhh I don’t know. We will see. M: Thanks. J: You still might get a retirement package out of this. M: Oh- that’s great. That’s uhh- J: But it’s been a lot of fun, will go to build homeless shelters, and, (pause and rapid speech) dig wells. M: In Africa. J: Yep. M: And by Africa, we mean Africa on Pandora. J: (giggle) Yes.

[sorinethemastermind]

Trick or treat!

You pick all!

Well then... I suppose I'll reward you with a trick 😈 (idk if I'd call this a reward, actually. It's pretty angsty)

──────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───────────

Rayla fought against her bindings, the unyielding metal rubbing her wrists raw. "Come... on!" she growled, yanking desperately one last time before slumping back against the wall.

"You're only going to hurt yourself." Soren said from his place beside her.

"We can't do nothing."

"They'll find us." Soren said, voice sure. But when she turned to argue with him she could see the worry in his eyes. Rayla sighed. Snapping at Soren wouldn't make anything better.

"That's what I'm worried about." she admitted. "That they'll come for us, and he'll use us against them. That... that I'll have to do something I don't want to do."

"Hey." Soren bumped her with his foot. It was all he could do. "You're Rayla. He can't make you do anything."

"Not... Aaravos." Rayla muttered, the name like poison on her tongue. "I- I promised Callum I would-"

Her voice died in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, not even wanting to imagine. She could feel Soren's worried gaze on her, but she couldn't meet his eyes as she continued;

"I promised I would kill him."

She heard the sharp intake of breath at her words, the confusion and horror in Soren's stare. And it all tumbled out;

"I promised that, if Aaravos took control somehow, I would stop him. I would make sure he couldn't be used to hurt anyone he loved. Except... except he's someone I love, Soren!" Rayla exclaimed, all the weeks of fear boiling to the surface now that she couldn't ignore it anymore; couldn't pretend it wasn't a possibility. "I don't think I could live with myself if I did that to him, but... how could I live with myself knowing I broke my one promise to him?"

Her voice died off into a broken whisper, and for a long moment Soren didn't say anything. Then she heard the sound of metal clanking against stone as he stretched over to her, straining against the cuffs to press his shoulder against her's. She leaned into him, grateful for any semblance of comfort.

"It won't come to that." he said softly. "I promise."

They stayed like that until they heard the sound of someone coming, at which point Soren quickly moved back to where he'd been. But the footsteps didn't belong to Aaravos.

"Callum!" Rayla exclaimed, forgetting the chains in her haste to reach him. They pulled her back to the ground as quickly as she shot to her feet, throwing her down again to the cold stone of the floor. "Callum, is it really you?"

He tried to smile at her, but something was wrong, she could tell as soon as he set foot through the doorway and into the flickering torchlight of the dungeon.

"Callum?"

He staggered towards her, fists clenched, knuckles white. There was blood on him and for a moment she feared the worst, but she couldn't see any wounds. Not his blood, she realized, relief giving way to horror. But there's so much of it.

"Rayla. It's going to be okay." he whispered as he reached towards her, voice hoarse. And that was when she saw his eyes. Solid black, with just a pinprick of white where the pupil should have been. She gasped.

"Callum! What did you do?"

"You're going to be okay." he said again. "That's all.. that's all that matters."

He fumbled in the pouch on his belt and withdrew a key, his hands shaking as he used it to unlock first her cuffs, and then Soren's. As soon as he was done she went to him, taking his face in her hands and looking deep into his eyes. The inky blackness stared back, unfeeling. A tear slipped down his cheek and she wiped it away.

"Oh, Callum." she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and burying her face in his neck. Her grip tightened, but it wasn't enough, she could feel him slipping away.

"Ez..." he said, voice thick, as though his words were wading through deep water. "Ez is upstairs. He'll.. he'll get you out."

"You're coming with me." Rayla said, lifting her head up to look at him, tears rolling freely down her face. "I'm not leaving you. Never again. We'll figure this out-"

"He's-" Callum stopped, his hand clenching where it clasped her own. He fought through it. "He's still out there. I only... I only wounded him."

"No-"

"You promised, Rayla."

"Callum, please." her voice broke, anything else she might have wanted to say devolving into uncontrollable sobs. She felt his hands spasm again, nails digging into her skin, and he broke away from her; staggered back against the wall.

"No. No, you're not going to win. Not this time, not ever." Callum spat, clutching at his head. "You're not going to use me ever again!"

There was a hand on Rayla's shoulder and she spun, reaching instinctively for blades that were no longer there. But it was Soren, his face a mask of pain. As their eyes met it melted away, replaced by a sad smile.

"Rayla." he said, and his smile wobbled. But he kept it there anyway, trying to stay strong for her. "You should go."

"Soren, I-"

"You should go." he said again, more forcefully this time. "You... you don't want to be here for this."

Callum's voice cut through the momentary silence before Rayla could say anything, his words like little daggers being pushed into her chest, one after the other. "He really would do anything for you, wouldn't he?"

Rayla shivered. She hated the sound of his words in Callum's mouth; mocking and vile. The man she loved would never sound like that. She turned to try and face him, but Soren's grip tightened on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Don't. This shouldn't be the last way you see him."

"But Callum-" she sobbed, seething with anger and frustration and fear. That aching helplessness welling up inside her, threatening to swallow her whole.

"You should go." Soren said again, his words simple, his meaning plain. "It's what he'd want."

He released her then, leaving the decision in her hands. She staggered away from them both, bitter tears running down her face as she ran for the stairs. She could hear Callum laughing behind her, his voice twisted and strange.

She could practically hear his voice in her ears. The Moonshadow Assassin who, can this be right? Is incapable of killing. And then she did hear it, following her up the stairs;

"Ah, the Failed Son. Come to finish what you started?"

Rayla ran, away from the man she loved, and away from the promise she couldn't keep. She ran and she didn't look back.

[drunk-on-dk]

im here.. again. i heard you were asking 4 thoughts on mr boo so here i go >:3

have i expressed how badly i want to ride this man? no? well i am now. i just KNOW that while riding kwannie you’d get the blessing of the neediest, sloppiest, longest kisses :((( and you can’t even tell who’s feeling better in terms of pleasure bcuz of how freaking LOUD hes groaning and whimpering, he’d just be so overwhelmed with the feeling of your tight n greedy lil’ whole swallowing whole — AND NOT JUST THAT! the way that his bangs would stick on his forehead w/ sweat >< and him being so troubled as to whether he should rest his hands on your ass or jst grip your hips AHHH. mr boo is killing me sobs

please this is so true, you are hitting the bullseye with this one... i've been plagued with kwan hard thots so here we go... (pls enjoy and thank u for sharing your hard thots, lmk if you you like this lee <3)

pairing: boo seungkwan x fem!reader

genre: literally just smut (minors don't u dare read or interact or else i will cry and block u)

w/c: ~1.1k words (i'm trying to drabble, it's hard)

c/w: unprotected sex; riding; whiney kwan; groping; he's an ass man in this ig; messy and passionate love making i guess lol; idk pls let me know if there is anything else this is nothing crazy

Seungkwan couldn't tell if he was love drunk or pussy drunk anymore. You had him wrapped around your little finger, just like how you were wrapped so tightly around his cock.

Seungkwan hadn't seen you for weeks now, his work travel and schedule had taken up most of his time and he sparingly saw you over sporadic late night, 10-minute video calls. Your sweet texts throughout the days weren't enough to satiate his neediness, nor were the dirty images that you'd send at the worst of times, which usually required Seungkwan to take care of himself at the oddest hours of the day. Now that he was home, he needed you to take care of him.

Which you sure did, quick to prioritize it if anything, you had welcomed Seungkwan home by pulling him into a deep kiss that led straight to your bed that had lacked his scent for a little too long.

He could barely get a word in, whining profusely against your lips as you clumsily guided him to the bed, his grabby hands running wildly over your curves as if he almost forgot each little dip and crevice. Rest assured - he didn't forget a thing - you were just as perfect and warm as he remembered.

There was no need for foreplay, not when you both had missed each other this much, nor when he kissed you with such desire that it made everything in you turn to jello. You both were quick to undress between heated kisses, pushing him down on the plush mattress that pulled a whine so wanton from him that you couldn't restrain yourself from straddling his hips and caging him against the bed.

It was perfect just like this, sat atop him like a noble on their throne and swollen, messy lips chasing each other. You couldn't get enough of him, not when he sounded so pathetic with each nibble of his bottom lip, being sure to drink in his sounds as your kisses deepened and deepened.

It could have been hours for all you know just losing yourself in his kisses and little noises. However, you knew Seungkwan was growing needier by the second, the hard length jutting between your thighs proving more than enough, and his hands once wonderous hands now finding home on your hips, only digging into your plush skin even harsher with each desperate mewl of his.

You were sure he'd leave marks from his fingers alone, his nails were dug so deeply into the muscle of your ass in an attempt to coerce some movement of your hips. The feeling alone had coaxed a loud moan from you, finally breaking your lips from his to sharply inhale from the shock of arousal that ran through your core.

Seungkwan was so lost in his own lusty haze that he wasn't even sure what to feel, the sound of your own cry pulling another loud moan from him when you finally grind your dripping cunt against his painfully hard cock.

Seungkwan really doesn't know what to do with himself when you finally line up your core with the tip of his shaft, sinking down onto him and making him question how your tiny, little hole takes him so perfectly.

He's dizzy from the warmth of your pussy, hands no longer finding purchase on your ass as they continue to run up the front of your body, splaying out against your torso until he runs over the mounds of your breasts, only to run back down to your hips.

He surely doesn't know what to do with himself when you slowly lift your hips, tight walls tugging so perfectly at his cock and beckoning another whiney cry from his lips that has your jaw falling slack at how beautiful he sounds. It's enough to make your walls flutter, only driving Seungkwan closer to insanity when you drop back down on his length.

You can tell he's at a loss, his hands gripping the bed sheets and no longer on you. He misses your pout because he's so lost in the feeling of how perfectly you're riding him, you're so wet, so perfect, so tight - and oh god, you're placing his hand back on your hips and now he can't stop himself from guiding you to roll against him a bit faster, harder now. Each delicious grind of your hips into his has you sucking him in deeper, making your moans just as loud as his when you feel your clit rub even harsher against his pelvic bone.

You're not sure if his breathing is steady at this point, his fingers are now gripping your ass so tight it has you collapsing into him. You're craving to be as close to him as possible as he begins to buck his hips up into yours, working you closer and closer to your demise.

Seungkwan has worked himself up so much at this point, his whines become incoherent babbles as you press into him, brushing his matted bangs out of his face before molding your lips against his once again. The bittersweet taste of mint and coffee that forever stains Seungkwan's lips is enough to push you closer to the edge, especially when he kisses you with such desire that you almost forget to keep riding him.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed against one another has you clamping around him, only adding to his fervor as he continues to meet each rolls of your hips. Originally, you thought you were greedy, but the way Seungkwan bucks into you has you questioning who needed each other more.

The tidal wave of ecstasy is about to crash at any moment, you're both long gone at this point, but you know each others bodies all too well. Even though Seungkwan has been in a drunken, dreamlike state the entire time, he can tell by the way your hips circle with more fervor and the way your thighs shiver that you are falling apart.

You're only breaking the kiss so you can moan loudly against his lips, sweaty foreheads pressed against each other as your walls convulse uncontrollably around his brooding length, tip nuzzled deep inside you as the hot rubber band of arousal inside of you finally snaps. Seungkwan follows suit, groaning as you pull him into another kiss and releasing his hot, sticky load inside of you.

It's messy and it's desperate, but there was no time to waste when you finally had Seungkwan back in your grasp, especially when he's this needy for you.

[venusvity]

정윤아 … …  (  THE STARS AND HER SEVEN MOONS.  )

❝ If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are. ❞                         ―  Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale

CHARACTERS :   KIM SENA …   ELLIOT SON  …   HWANG YEOJUN

WORDS : 4.3K

WARNINGS / NOTES : Crying. She's upset in the beginning. IDK how to tag this but her father is in jail for killing her mom and that's mentioned. Mentions of past parental abuse, toxic households, and substance abuse but none are descriptive. Toxic relationships. Cheating kinda idk I'm on her side but! Suggestive content. It's def not smut but sex is implied and discussed within this piece! Kissing. Arguments. Smoking. If I missed anything, please let me know! Barely proofread btw! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

Sena wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, standing in front of Yeojun’s front door as she waits for him to answer the door. She feels like she looks stupid just standing there with a red envelope in one hand and the other constantly wiping at her face to keep any tear droplets from resting on her skin for too long.

A small sob bubbles up from her chest and out her lips, prompting her to knock on the door again, this time with more urgency.

It’s dark out. Sena doesn’t know what time it is but she knows it’s not that late. Yeojun said she could come over, he said he’d be there for her, he told her he loved her and he’d be there when she gets there. Can that much change in an hour?

When the door finally opens, Sena isn’t met with the sight of Yeojun but someone taller and less familiar looking.

“Sena?” Elliot questions, looking around behind her before down at her. “What are you doing here?”

Sena has to ask herself that question too. She sniffles, looking at the envelope in her hand. The red stands out in the worst way, making her face crumble and her bottom lip tremble. She sniffles as she wipes her face again, shaking her head. Elliot furrows his brows at her, stepping closer to put a hand on her arm gently.

“Are you–”

“Where’s Yeojun? He-He said I could come over,” She tells Elliot, wiping her eyes harshly. “I-I’m fine. I just had a bad day.” Sena answers when she realizes she interrupted his question. She doesn’t want to worry him. She doesn’t want to worry anyone.

Elliot looks down at the letter in her hand, not knowing what it is or what it means to Sena but he’s not stupid. He knows whatever that letter is, it upsets her. Elliot hates when girls are upset. He hates when anyone is upset but something about a girl like Sena being upset makes his chest ache.

“He’s not…He’s not here,” Elliot answers slowly. Sena lifts her head to look at him, clearly confused.

“What?” She sounds so small and defeated it makes Elliot frown. He nods, giving her arm a squeeze when he sees her brows knit up at him.

“He left, like, 30 minutes ago.”

“Where’d he go?” Sena asks, her voice cracking slightly. Elliot sighs softly not knowing if he should give Yeojun up that easily.

He went to The Blue Room again. Elliot knows that probably won’t shock Sena if he tells her. Yeojun is always there. It’s like a second home to him at this point.

“He, um, he went out. ‘Didn’t tell me where.” It’s vague but not vague enough for Sena to put the pieces together. Sena shakes her head as another sob spills from her lips.

“But he said I could come over,” Sena whimpers, covering her eyes with her palm when she feels her control slipping away. Tears pool down her cheeks and her neck as she’s given up on wiping them away. Elliot mumbles a quiet “Alright,” as he puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her inside, shutting the door behind her.

Elliot guides her to the couch, sitting her down before sitting next to her. He keeps his hands to himself, setting them on his lap and against his thighs as Sena sobs beside him. She keeps her face covered, bent over so her hair is in front of her like a curtain. She doesn’t want Elliot to see her cry—She doesn’t want anyone to see her cry. Sena hates when people see her cry.

Elliot looks around the room as he thinks of something to do before slowly reaching over and resting his hand on her back, rubbing circles into the muscles. Sena instantly falls into Elliot’s chest, pressing her face into his shirt and letting out a loud muffled sob. Naturally, Elliot’s arms wrap around Sena, holding her to his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head like they’ve been friends their whole lives.

Elliot and Sena know each other but he wouldn’t consider her anything more than a friend. Just a friend. Not even a close friend, just a mutual friend who he enjoys seeing but has never had a real conversation with. Despite their lack of conversations, Elliot has a soft spot for her. Everyone has a soft spot for Sena. Elliot figures he isn’t that special.

He eyes the envelope in her hand again, continuing to rub her back as he does so.

“Is that letter what upset you?” Elliot asks, feeling her nod against his chest with another harrowing sob. Elliot tries to see what’s written on it but Sena’s hand is covering most of it. He can see English letters on it though. He knows Sena is from the states but that’s about it. He assumes she’s from somewhere nice like California or New York.

Sena hasn’t even opened the envelope in her hand, too upset to do so. She doesn’t know how her father got her address or why he’s writing her from where he is but it makes her feel six years old again. It feels like she’s in that tight space between her bed and the floor again. When she’d crawl under her bed with her stuffed rabbit to try and quiet the yelling of her father and mother but it never worked. It makes her sob, holding onto Elliot’s torso tighter.

“I don’t want to open it. I-I-I don’t even know how it got here,” Sena sobs, feeling Elliot lift his head from hers to lift his hand and soothe her hair down. Slowly, he reaches down and takes the letter from her hand, lifting it to read it.

Harlowe. Elliot’s heard Yeojun call her that once or twice. Elliot puts the letter out of her sight, wrapping both his arms around her again.

“Then you don’t have to read it. We can just pretend it never happened.” Elliot soothes, giving her a smile that she can’t see. Sena nods between her sobs, pulling herself closer to Elliot until she’s practically in his lap. Elliot doesn’t mind, he loves feeling like he’s helping. That’s all he’s doing. He’s helping Sena.

Elliot holds Sena to his chest until her cries slow down, turning from sobs to quiet sniffles. She lifts her head with a deep breath, swallowing her spit as she takes a deep breath through her nose. It helps to not be looking at the letter, she lifts her hand to wipe her tears but Elliot beats her to it. His thumb swiped under her eye, watching himself brush her tears away as she looks into his eyes with slightly parted lips.

Elliot’s palm splays against Sena’s cheek, holding her face in his hand as his eyes flick from her tear-stained cheeks to her eyes. Sena stares into Elliot’s eyes long enough to realize that they’re not just brown but closer to a deep honey shade she’s never seen before. Sena sniffles, blinking her wet eyes at him.

“Where did Yeojun really go?” Sena asks, voice deep yet quiet. She’s clearly worn from the crying she’s been doing but Elliot isn’t phased. His thumb strokes the skin of her cheek even though there are no tears left to wipe.

“He went to The Blue Room,” Elliot tells her in a whisper. He’s sure the girls are home but they’re asleep. It’s just him and Sena.

Sena moves closer to the other, their faces just inches from each other. Elliot lets her. He has no reason not to. Sena’s hands go to his chest, taking his t-shirt in her hands and playing with the collar.

“Do you think he’s fucking someone there?” Sena wonders, her hands slowly moving from his shirt to his neck. Elliot can feel his skin prickle, his breath catching slightly because of how cold her hands are against his warm skin. 

Elliot loves Yeojun. Yeojun is a brother to him. Neither one of them would be where they are without the other but Elliot won’t deny the truth: Yeojun is a wreck. He fucks up anything good in his life like he can’t help it. Elliot believes that he really can’t help it. He knows how his childhood was, how his parents never paid attention to him, how his dad would take him to the hotels he’d meet his mistresses at, and how his mother hasn’t spoken to him since he was 13. Yeojun had it rough, Elliot knows that, but he wishes he grew stronger from it but instead, he let it destroy him. 

“Yeah,” Elliot whispers, nodding. “Yeah. I’m 100% sure he is.”

Sena swallows at the honesty but nods in agreement. She knows it’s true. No matter how hard she ignores it, it’s happening. Sena scans over Elliot’s face, eyes landing on his lips once again. Sena lifts her hand to rest on Elliot’s cheek, mirroring how he holds her. Her thumb runs over his bottom lip, testing the waters as she keeps her eyes locked with his.

“Do you want to fuck me, Elliot?”

Elliot’s eyes jerk around her face, blinking a few times at Sena’s brashness. He doesn’t have a definitive answer for her.

“I want to kiss you,” Elliot tells her honestly. 

Sena looks slightly taken aback by his answer but she’s not disappointed. A small smile grows on her lips, leaning in to collide her lips with Elliot’s. Elliot pulls her in without missing a beat, both his hands taking her face into them to deepen the kiss instantly. Sena moans softly into his mouth, dropping her hands onto his shirt again, holding tightly onto the fabric to keep him as close as possible.

Sena can feel her mind start to turn to static, making her moan into his mouth. She presses her chest against his, pushing against him to try and be on top of him but Elliot doesn’t budge. He’s never liked having people be on top of him, he’s always needed control no matter what he’s doing. He pushes against her, making her fall back against the couch with a quiet gasp as he crawls on top of her.

The weight of Elliot’s chest against hers is grounding but in a way that makes her feel like she’s floating. Sena has never been high, she’s never even been drunk, but she imagines that this is what it feels like. Elliot is much bigger than Yeojun, blanketing her completely as he rests on top of her. His forearms cage her head between them as he moves his lips against hers without missing a beat. 

Sena remembers the first time she kissed Yeojun. It was sloppy and offbeat enough to make Sena laugh into the kiss but this kiss with Elliot is different, really different. They move in perfect unison with one another, Sena knows exactly where her hands go. One rests on the back of his neck and the other holds onto his bicep. Elliot pulls back with a deep breath, resting his forehead against hers.

Sena nuzzles her nose against his, watching a smile grow on his pink lips. Elliot stares down at her, gaze gentle and kind before he leans in and kisses her cheek. Sena hums sweetly, guiding his lips back to hers to collide them in another deep kiss. Elliot moans quietly into her mouth, Sena’s nails dig into his shoulders as their lips move against each other. Sena can feel Elliot’s hands drag down her sides to her hips, squeezing the flesh tightly as his lips drag away from hers.

“Can I eat you out?” Elliot whimpers against Sena’s lips. Sena thinks she doesn’t hear him right, swallowing thickly as she blinks up at him.

“Eat me out?”

“Yeah,” Elliot confirms with a nod, “I want to go down on you.” He’s looking into her eyes seriously, waiting for her answer. It’s not like Sena hasn’t had someone go down on her before. Before she and Yeojun were official, she had Finn’s head between her legs as he lived there. Sena doesn’t like to think about her time with Finn not because it was a bad time but because if she thinks about it too long, she can feel regret seeping in through her skin and into her bloodstream, poisoning her and leaving her filled with a paralyzing sense of sorrow.

She misses Finn. She wishes she choose him but she’ll never say that out loud.

“Like, right here? On the couch?” Sena wonders, blinking up at him. Elliot chuckles, looking around before shrugging.

“I could eat you out in the kitchen if you want. I could do it any–”

“I was thinking your room, maybe. So, you know, we’re behind a closed door and my pussy isn’t just out in your living room?” Sena laughs up at him, making Elliot laugh as well, nodding in understanding between laughs.

“Fair point.” Elliot pushes himself up and off of her. He pulls her away from the couch before she can look at it. The red envelope that started this all still sits on the end of the couch, untouched and in the back of Sena’s racing mind as Elliot drags her through the dark and cold dorm. Her mind is too busy thinking of how his hands swallow her’s so easily and how warm they are against hers.

To say Elliot distracted her would be an understatement. Sena feels like static in the best way, still panting from her orgasm as Elliot crawls up from between her legs and crashes their lips together in a fiery kiss that she struggles to keep up with. Her arms wrap around him tightly, fingers twisting in his dark brown hair before they drop to his hips, pushing his sweatpants down only a bit before he stops her with a shake of his head.

“No, it’s okay.”

“But you–”

“I came in my pants,” Elliot tells her honestly and bluntly, causing Sena to blink up at him in slight surprise before laughing softly. Elliot smiles at her, catching her lips in a quick kiss before shrugging. “You’re really hot when you feel good. I just couldn’t help it.”

“You’re too much,” Sena laughs, turning her head away from him and towards his bedside table. Elliot’s room is clean and tidy, something she wasn’t expecting. Everything seems to have a place. She likes that.

Sena turns her head back towards him.

“Do you have a cigarette?” She asks sweetly. Elliot looks a bit surprised that Sena smokes. Most people are. She’s grown accustomed to the reaction. Elliot nods.

“Yeah. They’re on the windowsill. Just open it when you do it. I don’t like it getting in my carpet and shit.” Elliot kisses her cheek one last time before he pushes himself up and off of her, going to his closet to get a new set of sweatpants presumably. Sena gets up as well, trailing over to the window where the carton of cigarettes lies along with a bright green light.

Sena started smoking when she was around sixteen. Her mother had just died and it seemed like the perfect time to pick up a destructive habit that everyone in Korea could look past. Everyone around her smoked when she was a trainee and when she got to Venus it was the same thing. Yoonah smokes, Aki smokes, Jiah smokes, the only one who doesn’t is Chloe and even then Sena has seen her take a drag or two from Jiah’s cigarette when they would smoke outside their old dorm.

As Sena places the cigarette between her lips, she looks out Elliot’s now opened window. She leans out slightly so the night air hits her, warm and still, the click of the lighter the only thing to be heard in the otherwise silent Angelico neighborhood. It’s weird not living here anymore, she thinks as the cigarette ignites, prompting her to take her first drag. She spots their red-painted dorm, seeing the lights on in two of the windows.

“Who’s in the Venus dorm? Do you know?” Sena asks with furrowed brows, stunned their prized dorm had been filled so fast. Elliot looks back at her as he steps into a new pair of black sweatpants.

“Ah, I think it’s those angel girls. The new group he’s debuting.”

“Already?”

“He stopped doing the gold plague shit after y’alls contracts got sold. I guess he gave up on the ranks when his moneymakers left.”

Sena grunts at that, taking another drag of her cigarette. She tilts her head at the dorm in the distance.

“Is he fucking one of them?”

“Oh yeah,” Elliot answers without missing a beat, collapsing back on his bed. “Jinae AKA Angel. She’s been a trainee for, like, ten years. She’s kinda fucked up so I’m not shocked he picked her to add to his harem.”

Sena knows she shouldn’t laugh. It’s fucked up what Jinhwa does but she can’t help but chuckle softly at how Elliot words it so casually. The next drag she takes is longer than usual, blowing some out of her mouth and into the air.

“How’s she fucked up?” Sena doesn’t really care but she’s nosey. She likes to know everything about everyone even strangers like Angel.

“Ah, she’s just got, like, trauma and shit. ‘Had a fucked up boyfriend or something. She got left for dead in some guy’s basement.” 

Sena’s head snaps towards him so fast she gets dizzy.

“Excuse me?” Sena leans back in the room while keeping her arms out the window to keep the cigarette smoke from coming inside. She looks stupid but she’s trying to be respectful to Elliot’s rules. Elliot nods, eyes wide as he leans against his headboard, grabbing an Xbox controller that sat neatly on his bedside table.

“Oh yeah, she got, like, fucked up. I think he thought he killed her or something and left her bleeding out on the floor and she made a run for it. Apparently, she had been missing for days and no one reported her missing. Not even her parents,” Elliot pauses, the startup sound of his Xbox filling the room as Sena stares at him in utter shock. He nods.

“Crazy shit.”

“Yeah,” Sena agrees, “crazy shit.”

Sena finishes three cigarettes before she decides to wait in Yeojun’s room for him. Elliot told her that she could just hang out with him until he got back but Sena rejected the offer. 

She came here to see Yeojun. She’s going to see Yeojun.

It’s probably around 3 AM when he finally shuffles into his room, eyes heavy and reeking of smoke. Sena doesn’t help. She’s smoked at least four more cigarettes since she got to Yeojun’s room, the fifth one between her slender fingers as she sits on the edge of his bed, smiling.

“Hi, baby,” Sena greets, making Yeojun jump slightly. He blinks his heavy eyes at her as if she a mirage before clearing his throat.

“Hey Lowe,” Yeojun replies, looking her over wearily before taking a step towards her. He doesn’t say anything as Sena takes a drag of her cigarette, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward clear of his throat.

“How long have you–”

“Hours. Elliot let me in,” Sena snaps pointedly. Yeojun gets it instantly, sighing through his nose with a nod. His understanding only makes her madder. “And he helped me feel better. You know, the thing you said you’d do.”

“I know, I know,” Yeojun sighs, defeat clear in his voice as he walks over to his closet to change out of his dirty clothes. “I just got caught up. I’m sorry. I got so busy so quick I couldn't–”

“Busy doing what?” Sena interjects with a tilt of her head. Yeojun doesn’t have a lie ready for that question so he just gives her an annoyed look, tonguing at his cheek before going back to digging through his dresser for a new shirt. Sena raises her brows, still waiting for an answer. 

“Were you busy with Evie?”

“Evie is just my friend, Sena.”

“Oh like Chinsun was your friend?” She seems to just have a comeback for everything out of Yeojun’s mouth. The mention of Chinsun is a strike into an infected wound that won’t heal, making Yeojun hit the wood of his dresser before whipping around and pointing at Sena but she’s unphased, bringing the cigarette to her lips again.

“That was one time–”

“Like Niky was one time?” She’s like a viper striking her prey, giving him no time to retreat or run away. “It’s never one time. You don’t know how to do one-time things, Yeojun. I know how you are..”

“You sure about that?” He snaps, raising his voice just an octave but it’s enough to get Sena’s heart pounding and walls to go up.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sena isn’t sure she wants to know the answer but she’s already asked. Yeojun shrugs, crossing his arms with a theatrical confused expression on his face. He’s mocking her and it makes her blood boil.

“Do you really know me that well, Sena?” Yeojun counters, leaving Sena the one confused now. Does she know him? Of course, she knows Yeojun and Yeojun knows her. They know each other.

“Of course, I fucking know you.”

“What’s my mom’s name?”

“Elizabeth,” Sena answers without missing a beat, blinking at Yeojun with an unclear look in her eyes when he stares at her in slight shock that she got it right. Sena looks him over, brows knit slightly as she tilts her up.

“What’s my mom’s name?” She’s mentioned her mother plenty of times and said her name to him more times than she can count. He should know this. It should be easy.

But it’s not easy for him. The silence tells her that. Sena lets the silence inflates until she can feel it about to burst. There’s a knot in her throat that makes her eyes hot, causing her to laugh quietly.

“Yeah,” Sena nods, taking a drag of her cigarette before standing from his bed, putting it out in the ashtray beside his bed. “Exactly what I thought.”

Yeojun sighs, quickly moving in front of the doorway to block Sena from exiting. Sena rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the useless gesture. She doesn’t know why he’s putting up a fight now. He always puts up a fight at the end, making it harder for both of them.

“Move, Yeojun.”

“Baby, don’t leave mad,” Yeojun pleads with her in that pathetically soft voice that goes straight to her heart. He tries to hold her face in his hands but she twists and turns to keep him away, making sounds of protest every time he tries to touch her. “I can’t let you leave mad. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Sena simply tells him, shoving harshly at his chest so he gives her some fucking space. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s fucking embarrassing being your girlfriend. If I can even call myself that,” Sena rants, figuring this is her one chance to get all her grievances out before she leaves seemingly for the last time.

Her eyes water more when she begins to wish that this isn’t how they end. Sena never put much thought into their breakup, focusing her energy on other things like how their children would look and what their house would look like. She never thought about the end. She tries to avoid the ending of things.

“You don’t love me like I love you.”

“That’s not–”

“It is. It is,” Sena laments sadly, taking his face into her hands and staring into his deep brown eyes. He resembles a helpless doe when all she looks at is his eyes. She knows he’s more than that. Sena rubs her lips together, forcing a thin smile on her lips to stop herself from crying.

“One day, you’re going to wake up and realize you have no one left. Just cheap hookups from the shithole club you’ll never leave,” She whispers to him, shaking his face slightly as his face falls with each word that leaves her lips. “You’ll die there, Yeojun…And you’ll be alone because you’ve chased everyone who’s ever really loved you away. I feel so bad for you.”

Yeojun doesn’t break eye contact with her even when his eyes get glossy, jaw tightening as he tries to keep himself together. Sena swallows the lump in her throat, pulling his head down to kiss his forehead so gently. She pushes him away from the door gently, watching him move with no protest.

When she steps out into the hallway, she doesn’t feel anything. She’s pretty much numb to everything that just happened, sighing to herself as she makes her way back to the living room so she can leave and go home. She needs to shower and sleep for a year after tonight.

Then she sees it. Sitting untouched on the couch is the red envelope that started this all. It’s in stark contrast to the cream leather of the couch, making its presence undeniable. 

Sena just stares at it for a moment, blinking at it as if it would come to life and walk over to her. It’s just a piece of paper, she tells herself as she steps back into the living room. 

It can’t hurt you, she reminds herself as she picks the envelope up.

It doesn’t weigh one thousand pounds anymore. It’s light like a feather now. Sena flips it around between her fingers, observing every detail of the envelope before she makes her exit.

There’s a trash bin next to the door. Sena looks at it for a moment, tossing the letter inside it as if it meant nothing.

Because it does. It means absolutely nothing.

[twig-gy]

here's the stupid fucking murder-suicide wip enjoy. or don't

tw: murder suicide. obviously. if there's a gore scale and 1 is a trigger warning, 7 is "your eyes drip down your face", and 10 is 777, this is probably 6? if that makes any sense to you. or 7 ig idk

also solar eclipse li lon

also also i may or may not reuse part of this in an ao3 thing so if you see this on my ao3 don't get mad it's ok that's why i'm posting it here

That night, at the exact time of too late, Heart opens his door without permission and slips into Mind’s bed as if it’s his own.

Casually, Heart presses his lips to Mind’s neck. “(You want this, right?)”

Mind should say no, but that would be one of the worst lies Mind has ever told. 

“[Yes.]” Somehow he can keep the “please,” trapped in his mouth, but the word still sounds like a plea.

Heart doesn’t hesitate before he bites. That sentence sums up Heart as a whole - Mind would think, if he were capable of thinking much at all.

“[Why do you want this?]” Why do you want me? After everything I’ve done?

Heart just hums. His mouth is occupied.

When Heart lifts his head, Mind’s color on his lips, he responds. “(I’m a violent person.)”

“[That doesn’t mean you have to do this.]”

Heart drops his head back down to the junction of Mind’s neck and shoulder. “(What if I’m just hungry, if you want an explanation so much?)”

“[Why do you want me?]” Mind immediately regrets the question. It was genuine, so genuine it scalds.

Heart sighs. “(Listen, there are some emotions that can’t be explained, and some things you are never meant to know, and this is both.)”

“[Try for me.]”

“(There was never any option, with you. I could never have not loved you if I had tried. We will live together until we die together.)” Heart tilted Mind’s head forward. “(Kiss me?)”

Heart’s lips were just as soft on Mind’s as they were on Mind’s neck. Mind could taste nothing but his blood. It was appropriate, for Heart. Exactly as he would’ve imagined.

“(Do you love me?)”

“[It’s as you said. There was never any other option.]”

“(Do you want to die?)”

Mind hesitates. “[Of course not.]” He needs to be sure about this. One of them needs to want life, after all. 

Would his death be pretty? It would be, if Heart did it. Blood pouring down like rain from the sky, like something natural, something right. Heart’s love and its endpoint. All of a sudden, Mind’s mouth is dry. [All of a sudden. Has he never lied awake and wished to learn how to tie a rope? Has he never made chocolate milk for Heart expecting the other to summon his gun without even wiping away the remnant of it?]

“(That’s a shame.)”

Heart lies down and Mind encircles his arms around him.

“(‘Cause I want to. Wouldn’t it be great? Don’t you want to die with me? I can bite you open until you’re unrecognizable. Or you could take out your knife, plunge it into my heart. It’d be great.)” Heart’s words run together, manic. Unhealthy.

“[Do you think it’d be pretty?]” 

And Mind enables him. Because he itches for it. Now that Heart mentions it, it’s as if something Mind had never noticed was there has been opened. Mind never should’ve started imagining his death, never should’ve started wanting it more than anything he’s ever wanted before, never should’ve-

He can’t stop. Heart has whittled a hole in him. It isn’t big. Mind shouldn’t even notice it. But it’s there, and everything Mind is is spilling out. Mind widens the hole, anticipation rising in his gut. To lose himself. To die. To stick his hand in.

Has some wire been crossed in his brain? Why is Mind like this?

Heart hums agreement against him. “(Summon your knife. Please. Cut me open.)”

Ruin me, Juno. Please. Please. Please-

Mind summons his knife. Heart is already ruining him.

To widen the hole. 

“[Do you want me to tear through your hoodie, or-]”

Heart lifts his hoodie and throws it.

“(Are you actually going to. Kill me.)”

“[We’ll see. Unless you don’t want me to?]”

Heart pauses, perhaps really, actually considering the idea. 

“(It’s not like there’s much to live for here anyway.)”

Mind presses the tip of the knife to Heart’s chest, the skin tearing open easier than it should, avoiding ruminating on Heart’s sentence.

Heart relaxes under him. “(Do you think Soul will be mad?)”

Mind laughs. It strikes him this is going to be one of his last laughs. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, he smiles, purposefully. “[He might be glad. It’s finally an excuse to kill himself.]”

“(…God, we’re fucked up, aren’t we?)”

Mind sticks his hand into Heart’s wound, opening it further. Blood seeps into every one of his joints, he can tell by the way his hand isn’t quite following his whims, unable to open or close properly. 

Still, Mind flexes it. He is going to get into Heart’s ribcage. He will pry away each rib, until it’s just him and the culmination of all Heart is. And, well - 

Is Mind happy, really, about killing Heart? He should be.

[Mind wants to harmonize their tones-]

Mind is happy. Somewhat. He wants to cover his hands with Heart’s blood.

“[This is always how it was going to end up.]” 

Mind is the only one speaking. Even now, Heart is pathetic, unable to string a sentence together. 

There’s something to be made of how only now he appreciates how utterly useless Heart is at living. There is always something to be made of everything. Can’t Mind just irrationally enjoy his crime scene?

He doesn’t even have to consider Heart’s death, because he will be dying right after, so it isn’t important. It isn’t.

Mind drags his hand out, painstakingly. Heart’s wings twitch as if to curl in, to protect himself from the fate he brought on. 

Without reason, he tastes Heart’s blood. It’s iron and warm and real and more than he deserves.

They were always destined to die. This is one of the better ways to go.

Mind can be irrational, this once. 

Heart’s wings are soft. They stain so easily, like this was meant to be. Heart whimpers, his feathers shifting as if he’s trying to both run away and lean in closer. 

“[Do you like this, Juno?]”

“(I-)” Heart’s voice breaks, and he doesn’t restart. The syllable just hangs there, like vindication. 

Mind pulls Heart close. Blood seeps into his shirt. “[You know I love you, right?]”

Heart hums agreement, wiping at his eyes as if he could cry. “(I love you too.)”

All Mind can hear is Heart’s ragged breathing. Mind loves Heart.

This is all he could want.

Mind digs into Heart’s wound, still holding onto him. 

Heart shakes as Mind snaps away his ribs. Touching flesh that should never have been exposed.

Heart’s pulse thrums through his body. His breath quickens, like he’s having a panic attack.

Mind shushes him, running through his curls, bloodying them. Imagine if they were simply dyeing each other’s hair, right now.

Mind laughs because there isn’t anything else he can do.

For someone who can’t, Heart sounds awfully like he’s crying, like tears are running down his face and he just can’t stop himself, just can’t shut himself up, like it’s all too much for him.

As Mind invades more and more of his ribcage, he whines like he’s about to break down crying, like there’s nothing else he can do, like a dog.

It’s beautiful.

“[Are you sure?]”

Heart nods.

“[Say it.]”

“(Yes.)”

Mind finds Heart’s heart and cradles it in his hand, lifting it from Heart’s chest, gently. 

Something oddly like despair joins the thrill in his chest.

Mind doesn’t want to kill himself. He wants Heart to touch him in the same way he has touched Heart.

“[Juno. Summon your gun for me.]”

Heart does so, pressing it to Mind’s temple without needing to be told.

Heart tries to laugh, but it comes out without any mirth at all. “(On the count of three?)”

“[One, two-]”

Heart fires.

[kitthenameless]

I finished my BG3 "Worst Selves" run with a tav (Ciren) who was very manipulative and self-serving and liked getting close to people with power. I'd done an evil run before, but this was my first time with Ascended Astarion, Sharran Shadowheart, and Vlaakith-Loyal Lae'zel (all of which had such dark and disturbing scenes). Also my first time letting Wyll kill Karlach and giving the crown to Raphael.

Ciren isn't much of a fighter (modded College of Eloquence bard, with one level of draconic sorcerer using fire magic), but with 24 charisma and proficiency/expertise in persuasion, performance, and deception, he can make almost anyone believe or do almost anything. He even got Lorroakan's projection to pay him taxes. (And that's without gear, he could've had even more if the game allowed it.) I'd never played such a high charisma character before, it was fun!

Wyll was the disappointed dad of the group.

Poor Jaheira's to-do list just kept getting longer and longer.

As for romance, Ciren quickly decided a vampire (even a spawn) and a god's chosen wizard would be the most potentially powerful people and started seducing them both. Upon further revelations, he chose Astarion. But then Ciren didn't want to become a spawn himself, so he broke that off and set his sights higher... or lower, so to speak.

He made a deal with Raphael with his own plans to seduce the devil upon handing over the crown, because a king of hell sounds pretty powerful. And I think they've both met their match in terms of manipulation. And they're both awful. And they both enjoy having sex with Haarlep while he looks like them. (Meanwhile, I'm terrified of Haarlep now that I've seen that scene, including the game over option.) Should be an interesting relationship lol. Anyway, Ciren truly doesn't want to be the one in charge, he just wants to look pretty and manipulate people and live in decadence, so I think he's going to make a great consort to the King of Hell!

Maybe I should've waited for photo mode, but I am impatient. Also, Ciren is still besties with Astarion, even though they broke up. (Even though they're both evil, I'm legit glad they can stay friends lol.) Also also, I love that Raphael's ending is a whole ass dramatic monologue with camera angle changes and everything.

And that's it! Well, that's it for the stuff worth mentioning. I mostly skipped combat with mods, but I saw quite a bit of new content, since I actually made some different decisions this time 😅 It's still wild to me how many different reactions and dialogues and whatnot there are in this game.

Ok one more pic because I had fun playing dress-up, and Ciren's Wavemother Robe + Woe look was on point ✨

Mods: Some Heads For Bodytype 2. Horns of Faerun. Scantily Camp Outfit. Allandra's Makeup and Tattoos. Colorful Woe. Better Raphael Outfits. Happy facial expressions for Ascended Astarion kisses (for that look in the 2nd pic lol). Idk where earrings or boots are from.

[fuutaenjoyer]

watched it’s not my fault again and was compelled to ramble because i am muu’s number one defender. and then i decided that youtube wasn’t enough, and i had to put my ramblings on tumblr, so here they are. if i said anything stupid please don’t make fun of me i am stupid

i’m gonna say it, i’m a muu defender and i think voting her guilty this time was one of the worst decisions we’ve made when it comes to verdicts. yeah, we fucked up a lot in the first trial, but because of the way everything was interlocked it all feels salvageable, and like we actually made the right choices in a couple of places, but i am convinced that voting muu guilty is gonna be awful for us for multiple reasons.

number one, haruka. this boy literally said he’d kill himself if muu got guilty, and though i don’t think he’ll actually kill himself (though i won’t put it past him) i do think it’ll make him super emotionally unstable and someone else may get hurt because of it. also, giving both of them a guilty verdict 100% is just gonna make their codependency get way worse. haruka needed to be voted guilty for obvious reasons (he literally said that he would kill again, or something along those lines) which kinda means that our only other choice would be voting muu innocent, which i stand by we should have done

bringing me onto reason two, i don’t think a guilty verdict will do anything for muu. yes, she is morally grey, and after pain was 100% nor the full story. but, and i am stealing this point from someone else that i cannot remember, is she truly believes herself to be so good, then why does she perceive herself as some sort of insect monster? herself, and everyone around her, aside from the girl she killed (rei? i think her name is rei?) muu speaks to the trope of someone who did something bad, and deep down knows it’s bad, so they just have to commit to it until they stop feeling guilty, because that’s the only way they know how to deal with it. yes, after pain isn’t as cut and dry as it initially appeared, but this isn’t either! like, the vocals when she kills rei(?), she sounds unstable, distraught even, as if she was actually screaming. she doesn’t sound like someone who believes herself to be in the right, she sounds like someone desperately repeating what she thought she believed. and then it goes straight into her questioning ‘hey, what if i’m a bad girl?’ etc. etc. and first off, as someone who doesn’t speak jp i don’t know if this is just the translation, but the wording of it feels very childish, because, news flash, mu is childish. she isn’t some master manipulator, she is someone naive, who’s cultivated toxic relationships her entire life because yeah, she’s spoiled. being spoiled isn’t a crime, and being flawed isn’t unforgivable. yeah, the bullying is really bad, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be bullied, and notice how pretty much the only thing that is the same in this video as after pain is her desperation when she actually commits the murder? even if we ignore everything in after pain and take everything in this as face value, that desperation is still there. she was still pushed to the brink. muu wants to be innocent, and she wants to be right, because of course she does. she’s a 16 year old who was bullied and killed someone. she was spoiled and doesn’t have any amount of self awareness, and because of it did bad things, but muu is not an evil villain who is solely responsible for all of these bad things. just because she was the ring leader doesn’t mean she has to bear the weight of the bullying that was done, because when she was being bullied, her ‘friends’ were still doing the bullying, aka she was in a really toxic environment. idk i’m kinda just rambling but i have so many thoughts, and this is also something i saw someone else say on tumblr, but i firmly believe that if we continued to vote muu innocent she would eventually break under the pressure of knowing that she wasn’t