#lmk if it should be tagged for anything else specific!

[notasapleasure]

Saga AU, before the beginning for Cass maybe?

Askbox writing meme

ooof ooh boy, you asked for it!

This 'before the beginning' is how saga AU Cassian was taken from his home during the wars between the Nonoalca and the Chichimecha in Toltec Mexico (mid-tenth century). In canon I suppose it's equivalent to the mining/ecological disaster on Kenari we don't see, that leaves the scar on the land and the children without any adults.

It's not seeking to make any judgement on the way the societies vary in their attitude to human sacrifice, more just following the (pre-)historic record that the Chichimecha came out on top. Also exploring the idea of Cassian's journey from someone who feels angry that unjust things happen to him into someone who feels angry that injustice happens to anyone at all.

I called him Cahuan here, thinking the pronunciation could shift enough via interactions with speakers of other languages to sound more like 'Cassian' by the time he finally reaches Maine/Norse Vínland. Kerri is Quauhtli.

Apologies for any egregious inaccuracies - I'm grateful to Kay for help with the research into this setting, but any mistakes or misunderstandings are my own!

CW for children caught up in a slave raid.

Notes at the end

Before the beginning

When the jaguars descended on them they were with their mother in the fields of amaranth. Cahuan heard her scream his name - she told him to protect his sister. Quauhtli was a few rows over, barely tall enough to be seen behind the weeping plumes of golden-red seed. She wailed for her mother, and Cahuan told her to be quiet.

He was meant to go to her, to protect her, but he froze, trying to count the figures prowling through the crop: big, broad-shouldered warriors with obsidian blades on th edges of their macuahuitl, glinting green-gold under the sun. Cahuan couldn't see their faces with the bright blue sky behind them. They were just dark monoliths circling the women and children in the field, a net closing in with arms extended, stretching like evening shadows made solid.

"Cahuan! Take your sister! Run!" his mother called again, and he made a confused scrabble for the blade his father had given him. It was only as long as his small hand, black and smooth as lakewater, and so far he'd only used it for killing chickens and skinning game. He understood now that he had to be the one to protect his family though, he had lived through fourteen rounds of the tzolkin and his father had trusted him with this knife.

Cahuan set his thin lips into a grimace and spoke a prayer to the feathered serpent. He squeezed the leather grip of his knife and dropped into a crouch. His little sister called for him and he told her to stay put, ignoring his mother's plea for them to run. A jaguar was approaching her and Cahuan saw a glint of teeth, saw the loops of rope at its belt.

The slave raids had grown more frequent as the war heated up, but they'd never expected the Chichimecha to raid so close to the boundaries of Tollan.

Cahuan ran at the jaguar, head down, his childish bellow of rage mingling with the shrieks and cries of the other Nonoalca who'd been working the field. As he approached, trampling the dry stalks of the amaranth, scattering its grain and cutting across the neat rows, the ocelotl seemed to grow taller. It seemed to Cahuan that the jaguar's great head moved in front of the sun to block his warmth, and the warrior's bare, muscled arms with their paint and tattoos swung wide as a snare to catch Cahuan.

He jabbed with his knife and the warrior deflected his blow easily. The strength of his parry appalled Cahuan, but he couldn't back down now. He felt the hilt of his knife dig sharply into his palm and he changed his grip to stab at the ocelotl's forearm as it swung after him.

This time he connected, and the warrior snarled in fury. The sound of his voice made Cahuan's hair stand on end, it made his heart quake and his ribs ache. The ocelotl struck him in the jaw with one empty paw, then kicked Cahuan in the chest so that he fell back on the hard ground.

The sky was so very high above his face and the ground was hard, rain-thirsty, the dry crop of amaranth whispering crisply beneath his shoulders. Cahuan tried to draw a breath but his ribcage spasmed in pain; he tried to raise the hand holding the knife but the jaguar put a foot over his wrist. He didn't press down with all his weight, just enough for Cahuan to know he would do so if there was a struggle.

He couldn't unclench his fist though. The knife was held tightly in it, so tight its stone hilt cut his palm through the leather and reed grip. Cahuan whimpered as the ocelotl moved his sandalled foot off his wrist and brought it down on the knife his father had given him.

The obsidian blade crunched like bone beneath the ocelotl's weight and then the warrior crouched down, his own knife pointing at Cahuan's throat. The face of the jaguar he wore was moulded into a fierce snarl. Polished white fangs framed his eagle-beaked nose and black paint around his eyes made them seem sunken into his face: clear water sparkling a threat from deep in a well.

"You are brave, boy," he snarled. "Are you brave enough for Tezcatlipoca?"

Cahuan felt his heart thump against his breastbone, responding to this call from the gods. But he was afraid - he wasn't ready to give that up yet. Didn't he deserve to enjoy the gifts of the gods first, before he gave back to them?

The ocelotl took a fistful of his hair and pulled him to his feet, and Cahuan screamed as his scalp burned. He clawed at the jaguar's paw but the grip didn't loosen, and the warrior wrenched his head back so Cahuan had to look up into his monstrous twin snarls.

"The rope. Take it and tie her well," the ocelotl nodded at Cahuan's mother. Her face was wet with tears and her teeth shone white as the grimaced. She held her hands to her neck and shook her head and Cahuan tried to shake his head too. He tried to kick at his captor, but the claws in his hair tightened and the ocelotl shook him by his scalp.

"You'll get your reward, boy! Now do as I tell you!"

To his other side, Cahuan heard his sister screaming. Another warrior strode over to them with Quauhtli gripped under one arm and a second child bundled under the other, like turkeys ready for market.

Quauhtli's face was red from crying and she squirmed and wriggled. She called for her mother and she called for her brother, and in the tone of her desperate shrieks, all Cahuan's bravery evaporated. The stream of pain in his head and his chest met the stream of pain from his family's cries and as they mingled, Cahuan burst into furious, terrified tears.

The ocelotl holding him laughed a booming laugh. "Only fit for the rains. Here boy," he swiped the thumb of the hand holding his macuahuitl across Cahuan's cheek and tasted the tears he'd collected. "Take responsibility for your women!"

He released Cahuan and took the rope from his belt, handing it to the sobbing boy. "Tie her well!"

Cahuan's hands shook and so did his mother's as he wound the rope around her wrists, the obsidian bladed macuahuitl of the ocelotl held to his mother's neck. When he was made to do the same to his desperate little sister, who sat in the dirt and howled at the sky as he approached her, one warrior spoke to the other: "He hasn't the pride to go for Tezcatlipoca. Keep him with these two, though, and you'll have a strong and obedient slave."

--

Notes:

ocelotl/jaguar - the Chichimecha warriors wearing jaguar skin, followers of Tezcatlipoca, big fans of the old human sacrifice.

Nonoalca - followers of Quetzalcoatl. Under the rule of priest-king Ce Atl Topiltzil (mid-tenth century) human sacrifice was reduced, as it was believed not to please Quetzalcoatl. These guys lost the religious war, after lots of slave raids and guerilla attacks from the Chichimecha.

macuahuitl - hand held weapon with barbs of obsidian set into the wood (like a small baseball bat with razor blades in it...)

Tzolkin - 260 day basic calendar (from Mayan sources). So Cahuan isn't fourteen, he's ten (14 × 260).

Tlaloc - god of the rains. Tears, especially children's tears, featured in sacrifices to him to encourage the rains.

[zaacoy]

That one dumb tweet has put this outfit that HE ONLY EVER APPEARS IN ONCE IN THE ENTIRE SHOW into the forefocus of my brain for like 3 days now so have this

[almightyhamslice]

Hellish Nabnab redesign! I accidentally skipped over him n drew all my naughtified character designs first, but since I procrastinated on posting those it all works out anyway LOL.

In this drawing I primarily wanted to explore the abject misery Nabnab is going through. My depiction of him is half human, though I'm actually unsure if he's human at all in canon-- his case logs only list his genomes as Heteropoda Venatoria n Givanium so, that might literally be it. I think his treatment by the Resort staff and by Banban are made significantly more horrifying if viewing him as a human though, so it's what I stuck with. He is NOT an animal, he is HUMAN, but he has never been treated as such for his inability to speak, his isolation, and his unwillingness to cooperate with his so-called caretakers.

I view his transformation into Hellish form as a sort of 'culmination' of all his prior mistreatment, it's his breaking point. Banban literally backstabs him after apologizing to him for once instead of attacking him, and Nabnab is overcome with uncontainable frustration. As the new givanium solution runs through his veins, he thinks no one he has ever known values him as a person, and he decides to give them what they asked for. He will show the other mascots just how scary of a monster he can be, and make them miss the person he used to be.

Bonus horrid little drawing from when I was brainstorming under the cut:

I dunno if I'll pursue it but I will say I think it's rlly freaky when normally rigid insects shed their skin and fucking,,, squirm,,, it's rlly creepy lol. Like have you ever seen a stickbug hatch? Don't look it up if you don't like squirmy bugs. Maybe he can be a little squirmy when he first attempts to fight Sir Dadadoo?

[outragedslime]

growing up

[rodismancave]

Rodimus has exactly two options before Prowl hits him: Dodge, or hit him while he stumbles. He thinks about it, over and over again: possible points of contact, sensitive spots near his back, his neck, his doorwings. He does neither, because Rodimus is angry, and he wants to feel that anger boil over, for it to have somewhere to go.

If the pot gets burned along with the surroundings, Rodimus knows he deserves it.

So when he feels Prowl's knuckles make contact, he can't help but wheeze out a laugh. Prowl isn't made for this, even after four million years of war. He was not made for it in the same way he was, was not born with the distinct instict of violent survival as he had, but he's never been one to complain or opt out of a fight. Not when his opponent has as much guilt as Prowl, not when he finds himself in an arena where he stands, the failed leader, against Prowl, the disposable strategist.

The blow makes him bite his tongue and Rodimus forces his optics off for a necessary moment to let himself feel it, forces his breathing to steady as he recovers. It wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, or cause him a tremendous amount of pain-- but its been too long since he's had a proper one-on-one, especially since Drift left; and since the killswitch.

It probably doesn’t help that Prowl hits his bad side, a gross echo coming across his frame in a full shudder as he is intimately reminded of the parts missing there.

He hunches over, but does not grab at his side, where it hurts most. Weakness is a disadvantage, and vulnerability is a weakness. He’s not sure wether Prowl knows about the procedures and the failed attempts at fixing the damage Megatron (and by extension, the Matrix) left on him, but at this point in the game he really doesn’t care. All he wants, all he asks for, is a good brawl that makes him feel sore, against someone who’s had it coming for a really, really long time.

It takes several seconds for him to process the cumulating Energon in his mouth, dripping to the floor, and for him to realize he’s been laughing. It probably sounds like a taunt, but fuck it, let it sound like one.

His voice is held together by static, but he sounds almost deliriously delighted. “Yeah. Thought so.” When he looks back at Prowl, that same flame finds itself lodged in his optics. Blue like the Matrix’ core, hot and dangerous like a forest fire. When he finds his footing, Rodimus takes a step forward, raises his foot, and kicks Prowl back with enough strength that he hopes it knocks him off-balance. His form is almost perfect, if not a little clumsy and impatient as he refuses to keep a steady footing. "Probably gonn' have to clean this mess later by yourself, though. I'm sure you'll find the familiarity calmin'." He could kick Prowl again, reach down to his level and hit him until he's grown tired. He doesn't, because this isn't about him. Not entirely, anyway.

So Rodimus takes a step back, waits for Prowl to hit him again.

Prowl knew it was coming the moment he'd stopped talking. Before Rodimus had even raised his fist in the nanoklik it took him to do so.

It should not have been that satisfying to see the very moment where Rodimus' slag-eating grin slide off his face. It should be less so, or not at all when Rodimus hits him. By all means, the flash of vicious satisfaction should die right then and there, all in time for Prowl's processor to catch up with the sickening pit in his tank.

It doesn't. CLANG! Prowl splits the inside of his cheek with a gasp and cough. He falls back against his desk- it screeches back a good few meters as he catches himself on it with a hand, the surface of it digging into his back kibble. His internal systems floor it straight into high-alert protocols, flooding his vision with lovely statistics in numbers telling Prowl what he already knows in words- Rodimus hits hard. He'd expected it. Because Prowl is Prowl, and he expects everything twice as bad as it should be for the off chance it is. He breathes in. That wasn't enough so he breathes in again. In his daze, Prowl commits to the most logical of emotions to be experiencing. That is, the thrill of having Rodimus punch him exactly as hard as he'd hoped. Proof he'd hit the other where it hurts- proof his argument held truth, at least- enough of it to push Rodimus to respond with violence for the lack of words. Proving him right. Of course- he's furious. It simply did not need to be said. Though maybe- maybe how much the ex-CO's actually pissed off is self-surprising. Prowl's working theory is that he'd spent far too long bickering with the Lost Light's captain that he'd irradiated something from the other. Or maybe- maybe Prowl's just mad. In the long, long list of attributors to Prowl's reasons for ire, Rodimus is just one of many names. The red-and-gold mech was an epitome of utter lunacy, of both himself and the maverick-composed system that let him aboard a cruiser to fly away at the first sign of hardship, taking two hundred along with him. The mech burned a city down and suddenly it had been something noble, it had been hard, and it had been necessary, and Prowl had- Prowl hadn't known what to think of it at the time. He knows what he thinks of it now. Prowl grits his teeth, feeling energon trickle down his chin. It's familiar. He doesn't fight close-up for a reason, but now- he pushes himself off the desk, sudden and hostile. Balls a servo into a fist so the knuckle ridges are extending out, and aims for the tank.

-------

[hwaightme]

Dawn

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, PRINCE'S ORDERS (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

👑 pairing: exiled!prince!seonghwa x afab!reader 👑 genre: smut, fluff/angst, pwp but make it royaltycore 👑 summary: remember, remember this day, do remember, the treason and gunpowder plot. i see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot. as the preparations for a new era are complete, you find paradise and praise in the arms of the prince who had fallen, the prince who will be your king. 👑 wordcount: 6k 👑 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of 'sins', exile/royal family drama, revolution/uprising, muddled feelings, explicit mention of bombs, treason, park dynasty, royaltycore with modern elements, in love or in lust, lmk if anything else 👑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 👑 a/n: it all started with a devious hwa smirk; @nebulousbrainsoup thank you for hyping over this with me <3 always, any reblogs appreciated. much love!

👑 nsfw tags: cunnilingus, overstim, teasing, pet names (love, darling...), begging, unprotected sex (wrap. it. up), creampie, nipple play (f receiving), implied aftercare

“It has been done,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the heavy cloak that adorned your frame. Despite being in a secluded chamber, you did not have the heart, at least not yet, to reveal your surprise, instead keeping discussion and action to strictly business.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, as though he was visualising the impact of your unspeakable actions. A pang of fear struck your heart as you cast a glance at the flickering orange flame of the torch – currently, the sole source of light in the chamber that he had made his quarters and headquarters, given the timidness of the moon as it hid behind thick clouds. The ornate window stood dormant, reflecting the light and the fiery man. Prior stoicism and cool resolve evaporated, and he turned towards you. In the blink of an eye he was setting the maps of the kingdom and of the locations that served as bases of operation of the new regime down on the desk, and he could not hold back on anxious praise.

“How did you- but that was a risk- you, my angel… my sweet, precious angel you are changing the world, light of my life-” stopping you from picking at your cloak, he took one of your hands in his, lips ghosting over the knuckles. He pressed your hand against his chest, as though in a miniature embrace.

It was easy to see the relief in his features. The hints of dark circles under his eyes, the misery being replaced with a shining hope and a boyish vivacity – this was why you had abandoned your own morals in favour of his, convincing yourself that what you had done was ‘the right’, and that there was an objective evil in the world that just so happened to align with your specific target. It could be the case; it could be that because Seonghwa was your personal ‘right’ and was the path you never wanted to stray from, you could not care less for any other misdeeds. When his grip on you weakened, you moved your arm back, and placed both hands on his shoulders, pretending to smooth out the fabric of his perfectly tailored black coat.

Not much had changed in his heart for as long as you knew him. Seonghwa was always there for you, and even in the midst of the crumbling of the Park dynasty, he was the one to tell you that it was going to be alright. Despite being publicly labelled a traitor and having a witch hunt launched to find and execute him, he was here, standing before you, with a gentle smile on his face. You wondered what was unfolding and being formulated in his beautiful mind. What tears was he suppressing, what curses was he refining for the day that he would look the revolutionaries in the face and deliver the final blow to reclaim the royal title and the kingdom. Perhaps his shoulders had gotten broader, perhaps his hair had gotten longer, gaze sharper and the sword that he would wield in his hand more lethal and merciless, but he was the same Seonghwa to you. The same boy who you had played in the royal gardens with, the same young man with whom you had danced in the quietude of empty halls. You did not know anyone except him, and that was how you wanted your life to stay. So, when Seonghwa offhandedly mentioned a ‘mission’ that he was due to complete – a critical step in the leadup to the uprising by him and his loyal army, you did not just volunteer, you swore to dedicate yourself wholly to his plan and did not experience a single droplet of regret.

Perhaps he was your sin. Like some suffered from Pride, or Lust, or Sloth, you were a devotee to His Royal Highness, until your very downfall. And this is why no other act, no matter how devious, meant anything to you – it was merely a step in the direction towards securing your one certain joy in what was otherwise a bleak, barren dystopia. His eyes contained a universe, and that was more than enough for you, even if your days were numbered. This was ringing particularly true after the act you had committed, and the cause for which you stood. You were frozen in time, regarding Seonghwa with the adoration of a person parting ways with the world. As though he was your last breath of air and last ray of sun before it set for eternity. It appeared that this dismissal of your internal turmoil did not go unnoticed, and the prince was quick to reach for your arms, pulling them down so that your fingers could intertwine.

“You mustn’t look back alone. It is a chasm,” he began, studying you. A bitter smile graced your lips as you bit back the long-chronic worries you possessed due to his unwavering kindness. Your precious little prince. You squeezed his hands, mumbling:

“What use is there in focusing on the past anyways, right?” when you sensed suspicion, you elaborated, “the future is bound to be brighter? Isn’t that right, sweet star of mine?”

An overwhelming pause. The question was meant to be rhetorical, potentially comedic, and yet it left a tinge of sourness. Nothing was for certain, even though you carried everything out to a tee and disappeared from the party-occupied castle unnoticed thanks to your knowledge of secret passages that ran between rooms and underground. Seonghwa’s voice accompanied you as you planted detonators, deafening devices and something one of the prince’s followers had kindly dubbed a ‘sleeping mist’ in predetermined locations. Turn, leave, you could do it, you were strong, there was reason behind your actions. Evidence of this was behind the elegantly dressed, albeit emotionally worn-down man. The maps – a myriad of scriptures, plans, strategies; some doomed to fail, others a brave but evaluated risk.

“Mm… that’s right,” you did not want to believe that it was a lie, so you settled on indulging in his deep timbre, tone so mellifluous that you wanted for it to be the only thing you could ever hear, “just you wait, the future is made for us. A world of ripest fruits for us to reap, for us alone…”

He moved once more, letting go of you. You could guess his musings almost word for word – a little planet. Starry night sky. Having the luxury of knowing what would happen when, so he would know when he could see you again, and you did not have to turn into a creature of darkness to creep inside the shadows to his hideout for a few hours, only to risk yourself all over again afterwards. Freedom and utopia were his forbidden fruit – an eternal temptation explicit in his gorgeous irises.

He was a dreamer with very consistent and persistent fantasies, as well as an eloquent way of feeding them into your soul with such finesse that with time you almost always considered any thought to be your own in its origins. Both the little prince and the serpent, Seonghwa was your definition of the world. He had given you a lens through which to see everything. Including him. To you, he was the definition of perfect. A fallen angel more than deserving to return to the heavens. He was outcast by evil, afterall. 

Your body acted on its own accord, stepping back to give yourself at least some room to breathe, but you should have known better than to expect such a thing to happen in Seonghwa’s presence. He caught you - a long time ago. Unreadable expressions graced him as he hooked you back in with the slightest tug at the dark formless material hanging over your body. 

“Did it take you long? Were you in danger?” he asked, spotting the absence of the pouch that had carried the discreet explosive animatronics for your distribution.

“N-no. Not at all. They did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Besides, I did not try to improvise outside of your instruction.”

“Good. More than good,” it was as if he was talking to himself, undoubtedly reviewing the preparations, now accounting for the success of a major element of the operation. “I wonder if anyone would be able to spot the butterflies prematurely. Would the alarm be rung then? Would we-”

“Are you doubting my skills to hide the tech, Your Highness?” you jest, imitating frustration.

“Hm, no. I think I am merely excited for what is to come. We’ve been preparing night…” he sneaked a glance at your neck, trying to guess what you were hiding under black wool, “...and day. I want to see it all come to life, and have you with me.”

With him - that was all you could hear. You were not one for bloodshed, however given the possibility of redemption, it was appealing. You did your part for him, and he was proud. Now, you could close your eyes. Something in the way Seonghwa approached you was akin to the way a predator follows an unsuspecting beast in a grove. Eyes that were neither hostile nor forgiving, foresight so powerful that he was confident you would never leave. The two of you had too much history, too many memories from which detangling oneself would be virtually impossible. You tried, however your attempts had been in vain. When you had first caught the rumours of exile flying around the castle, and then the extensive discussions about familial rivalry and planned ‘changes of crown’ to fit a new ideology, you tried to get away deeming the path of ignorance safer. All it took was one whisper of your name to vow that if Seonghwa were to be sent to hell, you would loyally follow him there. Should he be executed, you would weep at his side and depart with him, heart already in a million pieces. You were irrevocably, foolishly in love with Park Seonghwa, the former prince of Aurora, willing to settle for being a favourite pawn, should he want you to be one. But even that title you would never be able to fish out of him. Forever enigmatic, you were never confident in assuming you were his only star despite the sweet nothings and the adoring gazes, but even if you were part of a big universe for this ambitious, high and mighty man, you did not mind. No one could fight against power. No one could fight against the greed for supremacy. 

He was so close. An angel glowing in the torch light. The gold and red detail on his clothing turned to holy markings in his grace. You were stunned, a pliable doll in his arms, entranced by his slowed blinking as the ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. There was always reason to reward you and your undying commitment to his cause. A token of appreciation, some could say. Seonghwa could also retain some form of humanity and call it for what it was - a long-standing obsession, but given who he wanted to become, he needed to contain himself and possess at least a sliver of civility before inevitably breaking apart for you, and only you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” music to your ears, the final straw before your internal chaos overwhelmed you and you had to hold on to Seonghwa’s voice for guidance. Your reaction was easy to detect, as the prince moved to have his fingers just barely touch your face.

”So… so beautiful, my love,” his hand traced your jawline, pausing when a shudder passed over your body. Seonghwa chuckled, admiring how responsive you were, how attuned you were to him despite remaining mostly unperturbed by the world that surrounded you.

There was something spectacular in how you carried yourself – feigned obliviousness, a façade of perfect innocence that had been the main reason for your survival under the new regime. Pretty precious little bird that knew how to keep quiet, and in turn were destined to sing the loudest when the time would come. Your eyes, widened as you devoured him, were enchanting pools that he would not hesitate to dive into and drown. Perhaps one could argue that no one liked a dead man, but Seonghwa was one of the lucky ones; your taboo rendezvous were evidence enough that you did not mind a character in your life who was as good as a ghost.

Your slightly parted lips, rosy, moistened by the darting of your delicate, delectable tongue were a sinful fruit that he desired to own. Running a thumb over your lower lip, the sparks of an uncontrollable lust burst in his chest, tainting his bloodstream like the most potent wine. He could see the edges of your dress under the black cloak that you used to move undetected in the night. To visit him, of all people. To risk your life for him and him alone. For him to be the only one who could even spot the royal crimson fabric underneath – a material tailors would fight over, material that he had gifted to you once upon a time despite barely having any network whilst in the chasm of being an outlaw, a traitor of the state. Enemy number one, who had made it a mission to dress you up. He did not regret a thing. Not when you gasped as he toyed with the clasp of the cloak. Not when he felt your hands land right above his heart, fingers toying with the leather harness and golden embroidery of his long military coat - another echo of the past that he would never be able to shed away. In addition, as the days approaching the uprising were being reduced to nil, he could not help but be drawn to the fine material as a form of mockery. He wanted those who have wronged him to see themselves in his form, to hear him have the final laugh.

Muscles tensing under your fluttering caresses, Seonghwa was giving into a domineering restlessness. Unhooking the clasp, he admired the way the black fabric pooled around you, as though the night sky was bowing before your grace. He tried to catch his breath, but it proved to be impossible as the dress occupied his vision. Nothing remained, only your impeccable handiwork, the perfection that was the fit of the garment on your body. You were supreme, the symbol of victory and glory. Clad in red, he saw the future in your form, both in spirit and in the battle cries that would accompany the painting of the lands in the colour of the wondrous silk.

You retracted your hands, and almost regretted it when you heard Seonghwa’s staggered inhale. He was looking you up and down, memorising every detail, undoubtedly thinking of anything and everything that he could do to you, or what you could do to him. Despite the urge to act, to step towards him and greedily steal away what he had left of precious oxygen, you did what you did best, and batted your eyelashes, pretending to be unaware. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, in trepidation to accept the guilt of inducing a small death. Serial murder, unforgivable, manic, addictive, reviving.

“I-“ he tried to form a sentence but it seemed as though every word he could think of wilted before escaping his throat.

Darkened irises darting back and forth, in awe of you – your favourite sight. You could not help but to reach out to him, moving to push an escaping tiny strand of inky hair from his stunning, timeless face. Fingers inadvertently ran further, carding through the slicked back locks and tempting Seonghwa to come closer. Biting his lower lip, he stepped closer to you, hands finding purchase on your hips and giving them a warning squeeze. You tugged lightly, making his previously lowered head rise to face you directly. You could see nothing in his eyes except what you yourself could reflect. The most beautiful and inextinguishable hellfire.

“You have good taste, Seonghwa,” you smiled softly, though the action was clouded over with a deeper intent.

“I am blessed to say I have a muse,” snaking over to your waist, you were suddenly being pulled into a yearning embrace. His racing heart reverberated and echoed in your body, the rising heat of his thighs and hips against yours grew ever more prominent. Seonghwa occupied your every sense, making you forget where you were, when, and what the consequences of your star-crossed union could be.

“Mm is that so?” you suppressed a giggle, brushing his wavy tresses back once more, while your other hand on the side of his face. You could feel him lean into the touch, eyes shutting for a moment before meeting yours once more.

It was in such moments that you found you knew Seonghwa best. Uninhibited and entirely himself, he bared his soul to you in every glance and longing grasp of cloth or exposed skin. Stars in his deep mahogany orbs, the exiled prince was silently asking you for permission. For what? You were about to find out; not once did you not trust him enough to let go of your inner voice and soar into pleasure – those who plotted uprisings together, were meant to be bound together, body and mind. It did not take long before Seonghwa’s lips were on yours, intoxicating, the pace of your elaborate dance so dizzyingly slow that a minute more and you would be the one clawing for more. Overwhelming, he pressed himself against you, and you could only hold on tight, thanking every deity who could unabashedly observe your physical confession for the existence of such moments in your life.

Fingers digging into his scalp, you evoked a muffled groan from your royal lover, who nipped at your lower lip and tentatively ran over it with his tongue, asking for access. Who were you to not oblige, especially when he asked so nicely? In no time, he dipped into a deeper kiss, exploring you, memorising you all over again as though you did not visit him both when he was awake and in his dreams. He was feverish, erratic, his plush reddened lips were leaving trails over your cheeks, the crook right before your shoulder and moved back to evoke a quiet moan out of you by paying special attention to the sensitive spots on your neck.

The red dress was a rose, a promise, divine dedication to him - the same material as that of his own clothes, the colour of the details on the coat which in a joint effort you and him were practically ripping away - the body harness already long gone, to reveal a flowing black shirt. Resting your arms on his strong shoulders you gave into every sensation, fingers instinctively finding their place carding through his locks, you followed his lead and stumbled backwards until an unexpected fabric hit the back of your head, making you gasp into another kiss. With a low growl and unprecedented annoyance, Seonghwa pushed the curtain that served as a divider between the office and meeting area of his chambers and the segment he used as his bedroom. Not quite the same as what his quarters used to be in the castle, but thanks to his military precision and tidiness, went above and beyond what one would expect from a rebel hellbent on chaos. 

It was dizzying - his hands travelling across your body, his hot breath against your skin as he battled the same dress he had implored you to craft and wear, his simultaneously sultry and threatening glare that immediately subdued you as soon as you tried to remove yourself from him to help. No words, only a muted command, and in a matter of moments, you felt a coldness crawl up your spine as Seonghwa expertly undid the buttons on your dress. Goosebumps involuntarily appeared on your skin, erased by your lover’s quick hand.

“Is my darling cold?” he rubbed your back, the intensity and affection forming a combination excruciating for your heart. You shook your head, not wanting for him to worry, though the decision resulted in quite the opposite, “You know it is not good to lie, right?”

“I’m sorry-”

“I suppose it is a little… these damned stone walls. Sorry, love, this is far from welcoming.”

“No, please don’t worry…”

“Mm. Then stop me from worrying. Are you cold?”

You were burning up. The contrast between your flesh and the air was stark, and you bit your lower lip in an attempt to suppress another shudder. Seonghwa stepped forward, making your knees buckle as your lower legs hit the edge of the bed. He let you sit, though himself remained hovering above you, casting a shadow. You turned and studied anything and everything in your immediate surroundings, a wave of embarrassment washing over you despite having been with him so many times before. You stopped at the coat that was lying discarded on the floor. The brooches and badges, marking his titles - or at least past titles, in the Royal Military, glistened and induced a pang of anxiety. Were you living in an illusion by hoping for the past to return? A hand under your chin returned you to the present, and your misty eyes were forced to meet Seonghwa. What was a vexed, darkened expression melted away, revealing a tinge of concern uncharacteristic of his regal image.

“Talk to me,” crouching down to your level, you felt blush rising on your cheeks.

“...A bit…”

“There, see. Easy. Now, do you trust me?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

“So, burn with me, my love,” purposefully implying, he gave space. But if he was the flame, then you were the air, quickly disintegrating as the orange and red blaze consumed the vital essence. You had no chance, or choice, your only answer was his name, repeated over and over and over again until you knew nothing else.

--

Every single one of your senses was consumed by him and the near unbearable warmth shared between two bodies connected under heavy sheets. Brain turned to cotton, much like the blanket that was currently muffling your cries of pleasure, you were being kept from writhing only by Seonghwa’s iron grip. Thighs pinned to your upper body, he had you folded in half as he licked strips up your soaked folds, toying with your abused clit before sliding his tongue deeper, relishing in how your walls clenched around him, begging for more. Pathetic whines were music to his ears, prompting him to move until his nose was almost pressed against the overstimulated bundle of nerves and he could relentlessly fuck into you.

Addicted to the scent and taste of your arousal, he was not giving you any room to breathe, nor to recover from your first orgasm, and instead launched directly into building you up for another. You were a masterpiece, giving up to salacious ecstasy for him so easily, adoring words spilling out of you even though you were barely capable of constructing a proper sentence. The sheer notion of having such impressive power, and you giving up ownership of your personal euphoria to him made him want to stay in this position together. 

“Mine-” he muttered, barely audible as he coated his tongue in your nectar and rolled it over your clit. 

You yelped and threw your head back as a sensation resembling an electric shock hurried through you. Grasping at the bedsheets until your knuckles were turning white, the last image of your lover before he immersed you in artificial darkness was haunting you - his devilish smirk when you shyly nodded in agreement, his virtually lewd scrutiny as he studied your reactions to him ridding you of the dress, to him immediately disposing of your bra, and to him playing with your thin panties, occasionally dipping into your dripping heat to tease you. And then, when he deemed you ready enough, you were in a world where nothing and no one existed except Seonghwa.

The knot that was building in your core was ready to snap at any moment. You could not breathe. You were seeing stars and you were mewling for Seonghwa despite him being right there between your legs, taking you apart. Sensing your oncoming climax, your prince braved letting go of one of your quivering thighs in favour of pressing down on both with one arm, while the other landed directly on your bud, fingers masterfully flicking it while he curled into your hole, pulsating motion inciting wanton squelching from your heat, amplified by the confined space under the duvet.

“Hwa- I-” the nickname spilled out of your mouth by accident, though it seemed that the prince did not mind. Instead he hummed and sped up once more, only to send you over the edge.

Lapping up your release, he guided you through your high and greeted you on your way down, his hands acting as a stabilising force that kept your shaking limbs, and you safe. Seonghwa nipped at your inner thighs, exhaling sharply in amusement when upon teasingly dragging a finger across your pussy you gasped, thighs instinctively trying to bring themselves together. But your lover was quicker than that, lifting himself up until he was hovering over your fragile frame with a knee pressed against your heat. The sheets slid down his form, stopping just past the middle of his back - enough to reveal the glistening orgasm on his face, his half lidded eyes and parted, gorgeous lips. He flicked his tongue - a habit occasionally turned into intentional provocation. Pupils blown, expression animalistic, ravenous, he needed more. To bear the scalding hot oasis that you shared, he had torn off his clothing. Though now, he could no longer bear the aching of his erection that was rubbing against your stomach, rapidly coating it in pearly translucent beads of precum. Hips moving on their own accord, he started to rut against you to gain at least some form of friction.

“Still hmph- cold?” he asked, unfiltered mockery clear in his voice.

“Please, Seonghwa- need you in-”

“So fucked out you can’t even - ah, answer my question?” he cut you off, keeping the teasing demeanour all the while his dick was throbbing painfully against you, “I s-said, a-are you cold? Finally catching on, you agreed with him.

“Yes, I… need more. Please,”

“How do you need more, my greedy darling? Hm?” stopping his rocking, he took to rolling one of your hard nipples between his fingers, taking in your every breath, sigh, and the rolling of the eyes as you felt a tug shoot straight to your core.

“-want you to fuck me,”

“Mhm-”

“-want your cock inside me-”

“Yes-”

“-want you to fill me up ple-”

“Say that again,” in less than a second, his nose was against yours and you were peering straight into his soul, finding an inexhaustible danger. His breathing had gotten considerably shallower, and you swore you felt his cock twitch.

“Fill me up, Hwa, I- please-”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he pushed your legs further apart before tapping you on your hip to adjust your positioning. Eagerly, you followed his request hissing at the sensation of his tip teasing your burning heat before Seonghwa bottomed out, the mixture of slick and precum offering a delicious glide. 

He leaned forwards, his bare chest against yours as he shared your state of enchantment awestruck as the torchlight gave up its final battle, only to be replaced by the beginnings of a full moon. You were a goddess in blue and silver that gleamed around the thick curtain, your glassy eyes so innocently sharing feelings he had never dared to express openly that he could not help but plant one peck after another over your cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally, the lips. The scalding friction of skin against skin started to resemble a prolonged embrace, and when Seonghwa slowly dragged his length against your clenching walls, he mused if in another life, you could be connected like this for all of eternity. 

You offered him the true meaning of ‘unconditional’. You trusted him without a second thought, and were ready to throw away the stability you had within the castle walls in favour of a probability. Your optimism intrigued Seonghwa, and he knew he was in danger of falling in love. In fact, he had been this way since long before finding out his enemies were all beside him at the dinner table every evening, and that only in the most critical moments could he discover his real allies. If he were any more free of the burdens permanently clinging onto his shoulders, the prince would have confessed to you. For now, however, he had the freedom how you fell apart beneath him, so deliciously gullible, drunk in lust.

With each languid thrust into your weeping cunt, he was silently singing your praises, thanking you for every day that you had shared with him, for every night that you had proved that you did not abandon him. As he picked up the rhythm, your melodic pants and whines accentuated the lewd squelching and at the same time sent his mind into overdrive. He loved the time he had with you, the time when nothing existed except instinct and what he could only call a union written in the stars. Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip as his pumping grew erratic and you tightened around him as you reached your high. He let out a whimper, vision impossibly blurry and growing darker as he could barely fight the weight of his eyelids. As he moaned your name, Seonghwa, accepted his violent addiction to your pleasure and your pain as you clambered for the remnants of your sanity in the midst of an overdriven climax. Thick ropes of cum coated your spongy walls and Seonghwa stilled his hips, unable to maintain even a frantic, stuttering pace any longer. Your arms collapsed to your sides, leaving behind marks where you had driven your nails into his perfectly tan skin. The fullness made you impossibly weak, and you fell back onto the pillows, taking Seonghwa with you. Having collapsed under the weight of ecstasy, your lover rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delectable scent of sex and desire.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the secluded chamber where Prince Seonghwa had found temporary solace and transformed it into the cradle of a new world to come. You, his loyal companion and confidante, or at least that was how you decisively wished to name yourself in the midst of uncertainty, nestled against him, your fingers intertwined. The weight of Seonghwa's destiny bore down on his shoulders, and the weight of you in his arms offered a fleeting respite. 

Seonghwa's eyes traced the delicate features of your face, bathed in the gentle moonlight. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and determination. "I can no longer bear the burden of this false exile,” he was returning to the present, the only remnants of the beautifully turbulent night being his slightly swollen lips, gravelly voice and dishevelled sweaty hair which had just begun to curl. “The time has come to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I just… I just hope it all comes together."

Your sleepy gaze met Seonghwa's, understanding and unwavering support evident even in the semi-darkness. "I'll stand by your side, Seonghwa, no matter the peril that awaits us. Together, we'll face the storm and emerge stronger.” It was easy to hope and easy to pass the tasks to the next person in the relay, so you wondered if your words held any meaning to your lover. When it was just the two of you, it was easy to worship the art of hedonism and forget impending doom. If only you could erase his own thoughts from his mind. Be selfish. With a soft shake of the head you dismiss the impending sourness, choosing instead to focus on the heavenly fatigue, like cotton, enveloping your and Seonghwa’s bodies.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Seonghwa pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of your connection was a stark contrast to the cold reality awaiting you outside the chamber walls. For a moment, you existed in your own sanctuary, shielded. The room echoed with the soft rustle of fabric as Seonghwa shifted to hold you even closer. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a silent reassurance that he cherished this stolen moment of peace. In the midst of the impending uprising, Seonghwa found a panacea in your arms, a haven that anchored him and convinced him that what he was doing was a necessary evil. You nestled into Seonghwa's chest, feeling the steady cadence of his heartbeat. 

"Promise me we'll make it through this," You whispered, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Seonghwa's chest. You knew that no matter how he would answer, it would be hollow, for only fate could be aware and decide the outcome.

Seonghwa pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "I promise, my love. We'll face the challenges together, and when the dust settles, we'll build a kingdom. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

“My queen.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Today, these are words. Tomorrow, the world can be ours,” you succumbed to his cruel hypnosis, not daring to ask for his methods, nor for his confessions. The less questions you asked Seonghwa, the happier you could pretend to be, and the grander was the castle in your sky. 

The weight of your shared destiny hung heavily in the air, yet in the quiet cocoon of your embrace, the two of you had found your own religion. As the first light of dawn approached, you remained entwined, drawing strength from each other to face the tumultuous path that awaited you - a path that would lead you to a ferocious battle, deciding centuries to come in the timespan of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. 

“Will I ever be forgiven?”

“Who is there to forgive you?” After some deliberation, you dared to query. In one reckless sweep, you ignited every shadow of hesitation, leaving you only with unconditional, pure love that would carry you through any hardship. The one thing you had left, unfortunately unbreakable.

In the faint light of the rising sun, crawling into the room and coating it in magnificent gold, the man who you so adored and was devoted to was in every form a soul condemned to eternal hellfire; you were fully aware of that. A tarnished being marked as dead before he could even begin to spread his wings. Feathers strewn across what used to be a kingdom meant for him to rule being the only remnant of the brutal betrayal. The devilishly handsome traitor or trailblazer sharing his bed with you was not supposed to exist. And yet, it was his voice, his touch, his scent that occupied your every pore and thought, the owner’s name being carved into you over and over again until you forgot the bigger picture, focusing only on what Seonghwa could envision and how you could achieve that priceless peaceful kingdom.

“Now that is a question I would be interested in figuring out the answer to…”

“Both of us are unforgivable. Cannot repent, cannot start again,” you turned to face him, captivated by the way the sun highlighted his features, “but we can go forward. Until the hands of time stop us.”

As the two of you drifted into a dreamless slumber - a luxury serving as a calm before the storm, you comforted yourself with the fact that in some sense, nothing was going to change just like the darkness that came with your dozing. One fallen leaf, or soldier, would replace another, one snowflake would twirl in pursuit of its partner, one Park would return his crown from the other. In the grand scheme of things, it was still the neverending winter, a late dawn, and the same dynasty, the embodiment of which you prayed was in your adoring and calculating embrace.

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ask to be added to the taglist <3

any reblogs and comments appreciated <3

[asclexe]

haii….intro post…..about me……

click (this is a reminder more for me because i’ll see it easiest this way, feel free to click) / i do not answer donation asks and i cannot donate

haiiii :3 i go bye cameron which is very nicknameable so have fun with that. also call me whatever 🔥🔥

i am a boy-adjacent i think and i ONLY use he/him pronouns!!!!!! please and thank you!

aromantic aplatonic lesbian faggot thing. i think girls r pretty. women are soo awesome 😍

minor!!!!!!!!! im ageless online 4 my safety so B cool im literally 5 years old :3

american :/ + a mixed pot of european ethnically as most american white boy people are (EST)

im Literally a 🪼. btw

currently matching layouts with the awesome @magicmarkerz give it up for the coolest boygirl ever. our backgrounds are like owen and maddy from isttvg. awesome.

interest wise, im pathetically multifandom and im really interested in doctor who (nine and martha and donna and rory and eleven sometimes my beautiful gay wives 😍) but i also enjoy house md, yellowjackets, moral orel, warrior cats (on arc 5 and no intention of reading more), dungeon meshi, six feet under, fnaf, thg, a series of unfortunate events, doogie howser md, i saw the tv glow, good omens (FUCK neil gaiman. 😐), will wood, mouthwashing, and theatrical stuff and anything really and soso many many more.. (i watch a lot of shows and have soo many more to watch. lol)

currently watchinf!! : doctor who (capaldi, s8), the good place (s4), broadchurch (s2), torchwood (s1), and hannibal (s1)

i run @ask-the-ducklings and @ppth-obgyn-dept-head-real for my house md oc and i’m 1/2 of @meanwhile-on-the-road :3

i use #asclexeposting for all original posts + more

trying to figure out my ao3 situation but im on pinterest and discord under assclexe if you wanna hmu (B cool) and roblox as asclexe and my airbuds

so yeah below the cut are just like. boundaries whatever lame. but feel free to follow me, ill likely follow back and we’ll be bestest friends forever ^_^

ughh sum things you should know be4 you follow or follow/unfollow or moot/unmoot me/boundaries

i am a very morbid (i think abt death literally all the time. lol), negative, cynical person and i always have been and i will not absorb those positive vibes. im a hater. im also opinionated like everyone else and im obviously going to have bad takes. B nice. sometimes the fun and joyous whimsy comes out. i can and will be really nice i promise just sometimes im mean

i use a lot of profanity and i say the ONE. one slur i can reclaim.

i will not go to therapy or get help. i’ve been in therapy and it does not help me and i do not like it. i do not want help. i’m fine. please do not tell me “go to therapy u need it” because i do not need it

i say “im going to kill myself” a lot and these are all fruitless, meaningless statements. i am not committing suicide yet, and when i do, you’ll have long forgotten me. hopefully.

pls tell me via ask box! (or dm if i follow you) if i say something offensive or wrong or are overcrossing your boundaries, im sorry, im bound to make mistakes or misjudge a post.

i do not tag my reblogs with the media or characters, only little comments. i also do not spoiler tag my posts. i try to trigger tag things when i can but if you want something trigger tagged specifically pls lmk!!

i do not have a dni, because the block button (which i use pretty often ill be honest) is easier, so instead i’d say go away!!!!! bigots (because you suck) and zionists (because i’m pro-palestine) and pedos/zoos (because you’re #gross) and nsfw/mdni/kink blogs and most people over 21 (unless im comfortable with it) (because i’m a minor) .

:3

[uceyliyahh]

SOMETHING BOUT’ US

Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3708

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Yasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @xbriexx

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @lov3rla03 @simpin4pixels @nbanenefrmdao

5.

OMNISCIENT

Yasmine had an interview with Bryson regarding her impending debut on the blue brand, so she was at work today for tonight's Smackdown. Following that incident, she and Jey have been growing closer over the past few weeks.

Taking her on these "best friend" dates, Jey has been nothing but kind to her. Late at night, they would stroll and discuss personal matters. Naturally, Montez was aware of it, and since Jey was his dawg, he trusted him. He was aware that Jey would not harm her in any way.

She felt someone put their arms around her shoulders as she sat in the makeup chair applying makeup. She opened her eyes to see Bianca standing behind her. 

"Hey, girlfriend! I've missed you, girl. Paul needs to hurry up and make your debut quickly," Bianca said jokingly.

"I know, man, but I'm so nervous about it, too. What if I mess up, B?" Yasmine replied.

Bianca shook her head, "Girl, you're going to do great out there when you debut." That made Yasmine smile, knowing that she had perfect, supportive friends who always reassured her.

"But enough of that. How are you and Jey?" Once she bought up Jey, Yasmine couldn't help but smile whenever she heard his name from anyone else; it just made her heart flutter.

While they were talking on Jey, Bianca could see that Yasmine was cheesing really hard and getting really geeked out. She updated Bianca, stating that Jey has been taking her on "best friend" dates and late-night walks as part of their overall effort to get to know one another better.

"Oh my gosh, girl yall are so cute like literally." She said.

Yes, there is something specific about him. Yasmine looked at herself in the mirror that the makeup artist had given her and said, "He's different, B, but I can't be sure yet." "Yasmine, I know what you mean, but I also told everyone that I was hosting a small gathering at the crib so that we could all enjoy ourselves after work." A gathering? It sounds fine to me. I hope Jey will be present as well. Why wouldn't he?

Bianca hugged her before heading to her locker room, and Yasmine nodded her head. As she made her way to Montez's locker room, she thanked the makeup artist for doing her makeup. 

She felt a powerful force tugging at her arm as she was doing that. She turned to see Carmelo snatching her up in this manner. She gave him a severe look as she stood there with her arms folded after yanking her arm away from him.

"Why the fuck am I hearing about you and Jey being all close and shit now when I should be the one staring at you like that?" Carmelo asked her a question. "Because we are, right? Why am I unable to have a male best friend at this time? "Yasmine said." 

"All of that is not what I'm saying. I simply want to know what's happening between you two. Bro, this nigga is right here. Why is he asking her questions? They weren't even together once more? As if she were free to do as she pleased. Feeling angry at this man for failing to notice that they were no longer together, Yasmine started massaging her temple.

What Jey and I are doing is none of your business, Melo. "Hell," she said sharply, "we're not even together." 

Her response didn't sit well with him, so he took her by the throat, drew her in, and put his lips to her ear. "I'm not sure why you're acting this way toward me, but if it's because of his ass, Minks, I won't think twice about beating his ass." She was slightly alarmed by his threats to harm Jey, but she was aware that Jey could easily beat him up. She rubbed her throat and pushed him away. When he didn't like something that he didn't want to hear, he would grab her up like that, and she got so sick of it.

"Nigga, please stop interfering with my life; you're fucking crazy." His facial expressions were readable by her. Her response made him angry because he felt like he was losing control of her. "It would be best for all of you to break up this friendship." Yasmine cocked her head threateningly.

"The fuck, I'm not doing that? He is unquestionably superior to you. He grabbed her by the hair after she had said that, which made her scream at the pain she was feeling. 

She looked into his eyes and raised her head. She wasn't going to break up with Jey because he's been giving her the mental support she needed, which Carmelo was unable to give her, even though this man was being completely serious. She felt her hair behind come loose before he could do anything else, looked up, and saw Jonathan choking him. Yasmine couldn't understand. Where the fuck did he come from?

"Yasmine, are you okay?" "What?" Jonathan inquired. 

As she watched Carmelo struggle to escape Jon's chokehold, she nodded her head and said, "Yo' ass want to keep putting hands on her, don't you, Melo? When will you discover that she is protected? She followed Jon's instructions to go to Montez's locker room while he handled Carmelo's ass, and she had planned to do so until this incident. As Yasmine entered his locker room, she noticed Trinity and Bianca seated there, staring at her. In order to check on her and give her a hug, they both approached her.

"Girl, you good?" Trinity asked.

"Yes, I'm alright. I guess Melo learned that Jey and I were best friends and wanted me to cut him off, so I had to deal with him once more." Trinity and Bianca both let out deep sighs as Yasmine explained. "Yasmine, have you been talking to Trick? I'm so sick of his ass." As soon as he believed his own best friend over her and blocked him on everything, Yasmine shook her head, refusing to even consider his ass.

In the locker room, Bianca nodded her head as everyone sat down to watch an Iyo vs. Bayley match on the TV. Yasmine, meanwhile, could feel her phone buzzing. Upon taking it out, she discovered that Jey had sent her a text. 

Joshua🤍 sent 2+ messages IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua🤍: hey, I heard what happened you good minks? Joshua🤍: lemme' know okay?

She awe at the messages knowing that Jey cared for her so much she began to text him back.

Yasmine🩵: I'm fine Joshua your brother came in the nick of time before anything could happen. Joshua🤍: that's good minks, where yo' pretty ass at? Yasmine🩵: I'm in my brother's locker room with the girls watching a match between Iyo and Bayley why? Joshua🤍: come holla at me for a second Yasmine🩵: 🤨🤨 boy what'chu tryna do? Joshua🤍: girl bring yo' ass here and stop playing with me Yasmine🩵: you can wait bestie 💁🏼‍♀️ Joshua🤍: bring. yo'. ass. here. now. do I have to repeat myself? Yasmine🩵: 🙄 god you're so annoying worse than Montez ass I'm coming. Joshua🤍: good Yasmine🩵: 🖕🏼🖕🏼

Yasmine promised the girls that she would return, but she quickly informed them that she was going to the restroom. As she walked out of the room, they both nodded. She and Jey have been touchy lately; did she forget to mention that to you? Most likely, it didn't matter. She made her way to Jey's locker room, which he shared with his brother. Standing there like a young child heading over to their friend's house, Yasmine knocked on the door and waited for Jey to come open it.

The door flew open as she heard footsteps approaching. Jey was standing there with his silver chain, grills, and piercings on, all part of his Yeet Gear. He always manages to look good. He gave her a smile while displaying his golden grills, which gleamed in the natural light. After grabbing her by the thighs, he closed the door after them.

As she straddled his lap, her hands held her in place while touching every part of his face and feeling every hair on his beard. 

Jey put his powerful arms around her waist and squeezed her ass while rubbing his hands on both of her cheeks.

"Is this what'chu wanted me to come in for?" She said, running her fingers through his mullet.

While she was whining, he made her up by kissing her neck, sending chills down her spine.

"You know I miss yo' fine ass mama." Jey said, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"I missed you too, bestie. Do you have a match tonight?" He shook his head, rubbing all over her warm body, which made her feel wet inside of her panties.

"Joshhhh..."

With that damn smug look on his face as he did what he was doing to her, he arched an eyebrow at her. "What? Girl, I'm not doing anything. Yasmine rolled her eyes and smacked her teeth as she looked down at him.

"Josh, you're being touchy." Gently, she said, and he sat up, taking her chin and bringing her face to his. "Lemme' do that you know you like it." Without hesitation, Yasmine put her lips to his, and he did the same.

Yes, ever since they started hanging out, she and Jey have been touchy, but not to the extent that it made Yasmine feel uneasy. Perhaps Jonathan is the only person close to them who is aware of the small things they do that best friends don't really do. As they made out passionately in his and Jon's locker room, Jey stuck his tongue in her mouth and rubbed all over her ass. Although he was aware that he needed to maintain his composure around Yasmine, he felt himself becoming hard.

As their foreheads touched, she sensed it too and withdrew from the kiss. 

"Shit, you me getting all bricked up girl." He said.

"Well, that's what happens when we are doing things like this together, Josh." He chuckled, telling her to sit up real quick so he could fix himself.

His print was visible through his gear, indicating to her that he was large and most likely incapable of enduring all of that if they went far. He noticed her grinning as she gazed at his print.

"You wanna suck it since you keep staring mad hard at it." Yasmine punched him in his chest as her face felt flushed at his bold statement.

"Shut up Joshua like deadass." Yasmine said while straddling back on his lap.

"Don't you need to get back to girls before they start to worry?" As she got up from his lap and fixed herself, she nearly forgot about that, but she missed the hickey he had given her earlier. It wasn't bad, but from a distance it was obvious, so she thought she would cover it up with makeup to hide it from the girls, but Jey stopped her.

"Let people see; don't cover it up." She put her makeup brush back in her bag, and Jey placed a soft kiss on her neck and then on her lips.

But the kiss once again got intense as Yasmine wrapped her arms around his neck while his hands were resting on her ass cheeks. He was yearning more from her as she did the same, but they both knew their limits. Yasmine marked him up just like how he did her, hearing him moaning softly in her ear, causing him to scoop her up by her thighs. Once again, it's like he lost control of his senses.

Unhooking her bra as his breast popped out, he grabbed it in the process, swirling his tongue around her nipple. She threw her head back while moaning his name.

"J-Josh...fuck..." he gazed up at her watching her fold at his touch.

"I can stop...we don't have to continue this...lemme' know mama.." He said softly, reassuring her.

"Let's stop for now before we get caught..." he nodded in agreement as Yasmine got up from his lap fixing herself as he did the same.

Before she could leave, she gave him one last kiss before heading out the door and returning to Montez's locker room. Opening the door, she saw Bianca and Trinity staring at her.

"Damn, girl what took you so long?" Bianca asked.

"My tummy started to hurt and it took me longer than expected." Yasmine lied as she sat down on the couch.

Trinity noticed a mark on her neck. She smirked, shaking her head, and then she knew that Yasmine had been with Jey all that time.

✧˚° After work, Yasmine was upstairs in her room watching her favorite show on Netflix, Bridgerton. She stopped watching it at first because of the sex scenes but went right back to it after hearing that they had a new season out, so she had to catch up on everything.

While she was doing that, she heard her knocking and Bianca coming into her room.

"What's up B?" Yasmine asked.

"Everyone is here and wants to see you, girl. C'mon, " she said as Yasmine nodded her head while getting up from her bed.

In order to have some privacy and change her clothes, Bianca closed the door. During that time, Yasmine dressed comfortably and styled her hair before heading downstairs to greet everyone. She went downstairs, hoping to see someone she knew, but she didn't see them. She sighed, knowing that since his brother and sister-in-law were present, he would most likely arrive on his own schedule.

She approached them, grinning and giving them both hugs. "Jon, is my best friend coming?" Jonathan rolled his eyes amusingly and nodded his head. 

"Yes, but he's coming a little later, so be patient. He's not going anywhere, girl." Jonathan said as Yasmine hit him in the chest Him being dramatic, started to winch in pain; meanwhile, Trinity popped him upside the head.

Yasmine laughed, covering her mouth in the process before Trinity pulled her to the side, leaving Jon in actual pain.

"Girl, what's going on between you and Jey?" Trinity asked Yasmine. Knowing that she couldn't hide this from her best friend, she decided to tell her everything.

Trinity covered her mouth shockingly as she hit Yasmine in her arm, hearing all of the tea that she was spilling on her. "Girl! Shut the fuck up, are you serious right now?" Yasmine nodded her head while feeling her face getting flushed.

"I'm not lying. It's been like that for a few weeks now. We don't really go too far with it, but honestly, I'm yearning for more. Trin, is that bad?" Yasmine said, fiddling with her fingers, as Trinity shook her head.

"Nah, girl, it's not bad, but I also want you to take it slow and need to heal, even if it's with Jey and he's helping you. I just don't want you to get hurt; that's all that matters to me."

"Yeah, of course, I know my limit, and so does he." She nodded her head as she and Yasmine went back with everyone else out back while Montez was cooking some BBQ.

Meanwhile, Yasmine was sitting near the pool on her phone, scrolling through her social media, and saw that Carmelo had posted about his story.

When she saw it; it was him and trick out to the club together along with lash having a good time she shrugged her shoulders moving past his story while watching someone else's story.

As she was doing that, she heard the door opening. She didn't pay attention at first since she was on her phone, but she heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen.

Yasmine turned around and saw Jey dabbing up his brother and Montez before glancing in her direction and grinning while flaunting his grills. Raising herself, she approached him and put her arms around his neck. Everyone, including her brother, watched them as he grabbed her by the thighs.

"Oh my gosh, I thought you weren't going to come." Yasmine said.

"I mean I am a foodie so when I heard yo' brother was making some bbq I had to come." Jey replied as he put Yasmine down on her feet.

"Man, you're here for the food and not to see me rude." She pouted at him while walking away, and he chuckled at her for following her to everyone else out back.

Not even looking at Jey, she sat down by the pool and resumed using her phone. While preparing the food, Montez was conversing with Jey. Wondering what was going on between them, he brought up what he had seen earlier.

"So what's up with'chu and my little sister Josh?" Montez asked Jey, scratching the back of his head.

"Nothing, we are just chilling and vibing together. That's all nothing more." Montez gave him that face knowing that he was lying his ass off, causing Jey to sigh deeply.

"Don't kill Me A'ight? But we've been fucking around for like a couple of weeks but I do respect her wishes." Jey said, throwing his hands up in defense.

The sight of his homeboy raising his hands as if to strike him made Montez laugh at him. "Slow down, Dawg. You won't be killed by me. Regardless, I think you two look good together, and as I've previously stated, I have faith in you around my sister." With a sigh of relief, Jey rubbed his hand over his beard. When he noticed Yasmine sitting by herself in the pool using her phone, his gaze quickly went to her. After removing his shirt, he approached her and dove into the pool. He was swimming in the pool when she looked up, the water splashing in her face.

'This nigga did that shit on purpose oh my gosh so annoying bro.'

"Josh! You fucking dickhead!" Yasmine shouted as she wiped her phone, which had water on the screen, before swimming towards him.

He went under the water as she swam in his direction, making it impossible for her to find him. She looked around like a lost puppy until she felt him grab her by the thighs, frightening her. Giving her a Samoan drop in the water, he placed her on his back. Everyone laughed and gasped. Yasmine, meanwhile, flipped her hair back out of her face and swam back up to the top, rubbing her eyes.

Jey encircled her waist with his arms and pressed his face against her shoulder. She gave him an eye roll. 

"C'mon mama you can't be mad at me still look at me." He whispered softly.

She turned her head, realizing their faces were close together, pouting at him. "I am still mad at you nigga; leave me alone." Yasmine tried to get away from his grasp but forgetting the fact that he was stronger than her.

"What can I do to make it up to you? Ion' know why yo' little ass catching attitude with me when I did want to come and see you, but a man's gotta eat girl."

She stuck her tongue out at him, facing the opposite direction, grabbing her chin so that she could face him as they made intense contact.

"Fix it."

"Nigga fix what?" Yasmine questioned him as a smirk appeared on his face.

"Fix that damn attitude, or imma fuck it out of you upstairs in yo' bedroom bent the fuck over on that bed, little girl." She fixed her attitude quickly once he said all of that as he turned her body around, now facing him, keeping their bodies close to each other.

Jey pecked her on the lips, making sure nobody saw them do that. Then, they heard Montez calling everyone to come get their plates as the food was done.

✧˚°

After everyone had finished their meal, they spent the remainder of the evening in the living room watching a movie. On the couch, Jey and Yasmine were snuggling together. His hand was over her waist, her head resting on his chest as she straddled his lap. As he watched her drift in and out of sleep, he told Montez that he was going to take Yasmine upstairs to bed because he could see she was nodding off.

Taking her by the legs, he led her upstairs to her bedroom, opened the door with his free hand, and carried her to her bed. He set her down, moved her hair to the side, sat beside her, and gently covered her body with her blanket. Jey smiled as he observed her sleeping soundly and appreciated her features. He wanted to continue keeping her mentally and physically sane because he knew he was doing a good job of it. He wished for her happiness.

He got up from the bed double, checking to make sure that she was actually sleeping before heading downstairs with everyone else.

As he went back downstairs, he noticed that everyone was knocked out of sleep. He laughed quietly, heading back upstairs towards Yasmine's bedroom.

Opening the door, he could tell that Yasmine had shifted in her sleep from sleeping on her side to her stomach. He quietly took off his shorts before climbing into the bed with her.

Pulling her closer to his body, he heard her groan, sounding annoyed, but he didn't care as he placed a kiss on her forehead before drifting to sleep.

Something Bout' Us.

uceyjucey, tiffanywwe, biancabelairwwe, others liked your post.

minnieminks: he knows I'm his favorite 😩 uceyjucey: damn right minks 🤍 minnieminks: @ uceyjucey my favorite person like ever 🫶🏽 tiffanywwe: girl you're eating that up fr fr ♥️ biancabelairwwe: gurl is there something that ion' know about? minnieminks: @ biancabelairwwe ummm idkkk ask yo' fiancé 😭😭 im playing ill tell you later. MontezFordWWE: yk what...im not going to say anything 😭😭 jonathanfatu: that bathing suit is to much Yasmine minnieminks: @ jonathanfatu dont make me get Trinity leave me alone Jon 😭😭🙄 carmelohayes: @ uceyjucey tf you mean by that? Yasmine what does he mean by that? Are you cheating on me with him? uceyjucey: @ carmelohayes you should know what tf she meant gtfo 🙄

Read all Comments.

A/n: Lawd Yasmine and Jey are yearning more for each other right now but again Jey is respecting her but how long can they keep this up before he tear her shit up? 😭😭

Carmelo...ion have anything to say. 🙄

Anyways I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

Stay Ucey.

[unknown-limes]

"When you reach the bottom, we will cut the ropes. May God have mercy on your soul."

That was to be the last thing she heard. She did not respond. Instead, she watched the darkness below her come closer every time the workers above loosened the ropes, inch by inch. The bottom was still too far to see. Perhaps when she gets down there, there would be enough corpses and bones that she could survive for a few more days. After that... well, maybe if she can last a few days, she'll be able to figure a way to climb back up once all the looker-ons have gone home to their little beds.

They will die in those beds should all go well for her. Not that she dealt in vengeance. It was simply foretold that every soul in that village would die save for herself, and who was she to disobey God's will? She imagined how their screams would sound and smiled.

She felt the bottom of the well just as soon as she was enveloped by the total darkness. The ropes loosened and fell down around her, revealing a sear wherever they'd been hugging her body. She rubbed her poor wrists and looked up. The opening was like a bright moon against the hollow void of night. Altogether, not too far up, it seemed. She felt around her to try to locate the rope (maybe it could aid her escape).

Yet, grasp as she might, she couldn't feel a bit of it. Frowning, she looked into the darkness, willing herself to see where the lengths had disappeared to. The void didn't begin to reveal shapes as her eyes adjusted though. It just remained pitch black.

She felt with her hands until she found the wall, then leaned back against it. For now, she would let the ropes be. They weren't useful for any escape attempt so long as the damned people of this village were still above. Going about their lives, trading fish for bread and letting their nasty little children run around trying to catch hoops with sticks. They would all burn. If not for the great noise they make, for giving her a vegetable soup as her last meal. It was meant to be a final blessing before her condemnation was carried out, but at least they could've added a little bit of meat for her. She wasn't a vegetarian like the man who'd been lowered down the week before.

Speaking of him, she wondered where he'd gone to. She hadn't felt him under her heels when she'd touched the bottom of this well, though the ground was quite squishy. It seemed to be a very small well, too, so he probably wasn't hiding on the opposite side. She tried pushing herself off the wall to start groping around for him. Yet, it felt like something was holding her in place. Tug as she might, the back of her dress was stuck like the world's strongest glue had been painted onto the wall. She put her hands against the wall and pushed as hard as she could. Yet, she was not released.

She tried lifting her feet instead. But, they'd been entirely encased. In fact, the mud below her had swallowed up half her shin. Her hands were stuck up where she'd put them against the wall, too. No matter how much she wiggled or fought, not a bit of her could be pulled back out. In fact, she could no longer pull her back off the wall. And her fingers were engulfed just as she felt the mud squish up to her knees.

A panic blossomed in her chest as she kept fighting against it, trying desperately to free her legs, her back, a pinkie. She could no longer even wiggle her toes. She realized in horror that her head wasn't even able to turn. She looked upwards to the opening. A rounded shadow was peering over one side. She opened her mouth to scream for help, and the mud flooded in to muffle her.

Yet, as she chokde against it, she realized it didn't feel like she had any less air in her lungs. The mud filled her body through her mouth, and she could breath despite it. Any hunger she might've felt was gone.

There were legends about this well. She'd heard them all a thousands times growing up in this village. Nobody knew who'd dug it, but the water that was drawn up was the sweetest anyone had ever tasted. It was rumored that a sick woman could be made well by drinking it, too. But, this time of year was the dry season. If a bucket was lowered in during this time of year, it was impossible to draw it back up. It'd be weeks yet until the water came back.

She closed her eyes as the mud engulfed her and prayed for death to come. It was the first time she learned that not all prayers were meant to be answered.

As the ropes grew tighter, she wondered just how many intact skeletons laid at the bottom of the pit promised to be her punishment.

[hemipenal-system]

mechposting primer

at least for how i write it

so the mechposting and Pilot stuff is sort of a speculative fiction thing in which people are altered physically and mentally in order to epitomize their operating of a combat mech.

depending on the writer, this can involve anywhere from just brainwashing and conditioning to neurotransmitter injections and physical body modifications.

each Pilot has a Handler - someone whose job it is to control them while they’re Piloting. there’s a very dog/owner type relationship here. in most mech pilot stuff, the Pilot is entirely submissive to the Handler due to their conditioning. some writers have specifically one Handler for one Pilot but i tend to lean more towards “every Handler for every Pilot” type of thing.

note that being submissive doesn’t make them not dangerous. they are still weapons that can and will kill if their Handler orders it or if they feel something is a threat to them or their Handler.

these themes originate from Empty Spaces i think. you should google that one (warning for intense discussion of trauma if you do) because i can’t really explain it well here in one post, but it’s like kind of reclaiming the idea that you don’t necessarily need to be human.

(edit 1: AC6 did def get a lot of people into it because that game is apparently tailor-made for the kind of thing this is about. idk i haven’t played it though)

i do not consider myself an empty spaces writer.

when i write mechposting stuff, it’s less about being willing to abandon your humanity and more about reclaiming it. the joy and struggle of being human and also something else, neither of which diminish the other.

i think that’s everything i can think of. if you want reading recommendations for that stuff or anything lmk and i will be happy to provide. you can also find really good stuff by going through the attached #mech-pilot tag

[evilfrogcereal29]

Introduction + Rules + Taglist

Finally getting around to this since I'm starting to post more and more content under certain tags.

Hi! My name Is Lex/FrogCereal, I'm an 18 year old neurodivergent COD fan from California, USA, and this is my writing + art account, there WILL be nsfw themes on here so minors please be gone. My shitposting/main account is @frogcereal29 and for my SFW non-cod stuff and Agere content, that is on my @lexssmallspace blog. TWs are added before every fic, if there's something i missed on a piece that you think should be tw-ed lmk right away. Some of my fics are completely sfw, and some are very VERY nsfw, so I always want u to know what ur getting into :)!!

I will write for/draw Nikto, Krueger, Nikodim, Yegor, Gromsko, König, as well as Pyramid head who isn't in cod but is my bbg nonetheless. My drawing skills are also very low-intermediate! I'm still learning so my anatomy/art may not be top notch quality, hope you can still enjoy!

First and foremost my rules are: MDNI. Do not request anything with incest, ageplay, feeding kink, raceplay, piss/scat, politics, or underage. I only write for GN and Fem! Reader. Do not ask me to write for characters outside of my list above, I love TF 141 and others but they just aren't my absolute favorites, so I just don't feel confident writing for them! Apologies💔 i may sometimes lightly write for characters outside my list, but thats at my discretion. Please also be respectful and kind, to both me and others who interact with my content. I'm always open to critique, especially if It comes to writing in other languages or about cultures I'm outside of (ie: russia, austria, litteraly most places outside the US..) but please be kind!! Thank you <3

!!Also I work a full-time job so this gets in the way of regularly posting, I try to get out at least 1 thing per week!!

Requests are: CLOSED (Dealing with immense writers block and feelings of being a fraud or unskilled enough in my craft, until I finish the 3 big things in my drafts, including pizza guy nikto au part 2, I'm not taking anything else sorry..)

Full taglist below the cut, as to make it easier for people to navigate my content, will be updated as I post!:

All my writing can be found under lexwrites

All of my art can be found under lexdraws

All my cosplay can be found under lexcosplays

For character specific tags, Here's a list that I'll add as I write for more characters and write more sub-catagories for them as well:

König

- for König x reader go here

Nikto

- for Nikto x reader go here

- for werewolf!Nikto AU go here

- For NiktoKrueger go here

Krueger:

- I also use the tag Sebastian Krueger but it means the same thing

- for NiktoKrueger go here

Gromsko:

- for Gromsko x reader go here

Nikodim

- for nikodim x reader go here

Yegor

Non cod characters:

Pyramid Head

Thats all, please leave a reblog and a like if you enjoy the content! it means the world!!

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 4

Dew tries to protect his pack, but it's harder than he anticipated.

Rating: M Content: mild descriptions of violence and death, injury, peril, (wrongful) imprisonment Words: 4130

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Hello tag alert ghesties @revengeghoulette @everybodyshusband! If anyone wants to be added/removed from this list just lmk! 🥰

Read below, or on AO3!

Ghouls were functionally immortal creatures, even when they lived topside in clans or amongst humans. They were immune to most diseases and any accident or natural disaster would simply return them to the pit, unharmed. Ghouls who failed to care for their vessels through starvation and neglect would meet the same fate. Life was easier down below, albeit less enjoyable, with many elderly ghouls choosing to return voluntarily. Despite all of this when there was intent to kill, ghouls were just as mortal as humans.

~~~~~~~

Dew burst through the door to the cottage, almost ripping it off his hinges. Before he had a chance to warn his packmates of what he'd seen, he was met with an equally concerning sight: Swiss was sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands and whimpering in pain. Mountain was knelt in front of him trying to coax his hands away from his face, while Aether had returned and was hovering behind him looking lost and panicked.

"What's happened?” Dew almost shrieked, surprising himself at the pitch of his voice.

“Swiss had a vision,” Aether wrung his hands anxiously, “Nothing specific, but look how it's left him!”

Swiss let out a deep wail, like the mournful bellow of a whale. His tail curled around Aether's calf, constricting tightly and making the ghoul wince in pain.

“It hurts, Aeth! Make it stop!”

Aether frantically locked eyes with Mountain.

“I can't give him any more quintessence, he'll go mad!”

“Please calm down Snapdragon, try and breathe!” Mountain looked near tears himself.

Together, the huddle of terrified ghouls followed each other's shaky breaths until Swiss was able to speak clearly.

“Something's very wrong, all I can see is pain! But I don't know who's!”

“It's Rain,” Dew panted, “Something's wrong with Rain, I saw it. Dark clouds over Wilkins’ farm, his magic must have got out of control!”

The three larger ghouls looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean, lost control?” Mountain asked, “Rain's not got enough power to lose control of yet.” he looked at Dew sternly, “He's perfectly capable of moistening a field or two on his own, no matter what you think of him. This has to be something else.”

Dew shook his head furiously.

“There are storm clouds over Farmer Wilkins' that aren't natural, they've got to be from Rain!”

"Swiss' vision...” muttered Aether, “if it's all connected...”

“Then we have to get out of here.” finished Dewdrop, “Someone's got to go and find him before the humans do!”

"Maybe we should keep a low profile until we know what's happening?” Mountain suggested. “Swiss is in no state to move right now, it's probably just an unexpected summer storm.”

“If we rush over all guns blazing it will attract even more attention that a freak rainstorm, then we'd all be in danger.” Aether said, nodded slowly in agreement. “Rain won't be back for ages anyway, he only just left.”

Dew looked between his packmates, appalled. They were happy to just wait things out when their most vulnerable packmate could be in danger? Maybe it was residual guilt over his comments that morning, but Dewdrop felt he had a responsibility to ensure the young ghoul's safety. They were pack, after all.

“So you're just going to sit here?” the silence from the larger ghouls was all Dew needed to hear. If they were prepared to just sit and wait until Rain was due home before doing anything, he would have to fix this himself. Dew turned on his heel and bolted back out the door he had just entered through, his golden hair swinging behind him the only response to the upset shouts of his packmates.

Dewdrop set off into town, jogging along the hedgerows to stay hidden. The sun overhead taunted him, belying the icy fear in his veins. As he got closer to town Dew ducked into the shadows, creeping through alleyways to stay hidden. Nearer the centre, he picked up Rain’s scent. His normally sweet essence of kelp and lemongrass was acrid and burned, the smell of fear unmistakable.

Scaling a wall, Dew leapt lightly down into the courtyard behind the town hall which was thankfully empty. Rain's scent was strongest here. He followed his nose across the area, staring in confusion up at the seemingly blank wall next to the building where the wafting smell of terror was so strong it made him feel nauseous. Looking around, wondering what could be behind it and if Rain could be there, he noticed a small metal grill at floor level. Dew crouched down to peer into the darkness and the continued stench of fear combined with filth and decay coming from inside made him retch.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, until he could just make out the shapes inside. Curled up and chained to the far wall, was Rain. He was clutching his knees to his chest and gently rocking back and forth. Dew couldn't make out many details, but he could see the silhouette of Rain's unglamoured horns cast by the dim column of light from above.

“Rain!” Dew whispered. Rain made no sign of acknowledgement and continued his absent swaying.

"Rainy!” Dew hissed, louder this time. He saw Rain's ears twitch, and he turned his head to look at him. Even in the darkness, Rain's eyes were dim and blank. One clearly had a deep purple bruise around it, the eyelid swollen almost shut. He stared straight through Dew, without seeing him.

“Oh Rain, what have they done to you!” Dew whimpered instinctually at the sight of the broken and injured ghoul. “I'm going to get you out, okay? Hang in there, you're going to be alright!”

He pushed a soothing scent towards Rain, trying to comfort him. Rifling through his pockets, Dew found a small amount of dried fish wrapped in paper; his uneaten snack from that morning. He wriggled a hand through the iron bars, grateful for once that his arms were skinny enough to fit and tossed the little package towards Rain. It landed close to the water ghoul, his tail snaking out to prod at it when his chained arms couldn't reach.

“It's fish, eat it. I'll bring you more I promise!”

Getting to his feet, Dew brushed the dust from his knees while he considered his surroundings some more. The only way out of the courtyard was through the town hall itself, or back over the wall. He could melt the bars and get Rain out that way, he was just skinny enough to fit through the opening, but there was no way Rain had the strength to climb the wall alone in his state, and Dew wasn't capable of hauling them both up. He'd need to find another way out, or get the others to help.

Dew bent down again to whisper through the gap quickly, “I'm gonna find a way out Rain, I'll be back soon!” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging wave and jogged lightly over to the big oak door. It was tempting to try the main handle, but Dew knew that getting himself caught wouldn't help either of them. At least he would have the element of surprise though...

Forcing himself to consider other options before making the rashest, most impulsive decision, Dew spotted another small window, this one a floor higher up but without metal bars. The building thankfully had large gaps between bricks, just enough to form a few risky footholds. The rough edges of the stone were cold and foreboding under Dew's fingertips, but he eventually got hold of the windowsill. Dew pulled himself onto the narrow ledge, his skinny arms straining and his feet scrabbling against the rough stone, sighing in relief when he saw the inside of the room. It was a latrine, and even better it was unoccupied. Dew shimmied through the small opening and dropped to the floor below. He was in.

The tiny room was dark, the deep brown panelling on the walls and floor absorbing the small amount of light that filtered in the window behind Dew. He pressed his ear to the door and, hearing nothing, slipped into the corridor. The whitewashed walls stretched in both directions, a number of moulded arched alcoves thankfully providing him with some cover. The ceilings were high here, and the cold stone made every footstep echo.

Dew had only been in the large building once before, but he remembered where the main council room was, where he expected the townsfolk would be discussing Rain’s fate. He crept along the hallway, ears pricked like a guard dog, until the murmur of voices could be heard in the distance. Dew pressed himself into an alcove, behind a spindly plant that had seen better days. When it was clear the voices were not getting closer, he inched closer to them to try and pick out words.

Emerging from the long hallway, Dewdrop found himself in the open expanse of the staircase. The ceiling here was even higher, a peak in the centre supported by numerous crossing wooden beams. A vicious draft wafted up the cold stone stairs. Windows high in the wall cast beams of sunlight down onto the stairs, reflecting off the white lime walls in a way that made Dew feel very exposed where he stood.

The sound was clearly coming from the large chambers on the ground floor. He knew that the stairs led directly down into the main meeting hall, and walking down would be tantamount to the grand entrance of a bride at a wedding. He crouched out of sight at the top of the stairs and let the conversation drift to him.

“I always said they’d be trouble! How do you expect any of us to sleep soundly knowing these monsters live amongst us?”

“They’ve always been benevolent until now, maybe this was an accident?”

“Three people are dead Marcus, even if it was an accident he’s not safe to have around our children!”

Three people were dead? Well shit, thought Dewdrop, we really are fucked.

“What if this flood was just the start of it? We need to stamp out this witchcraft before they kill us all!”

“I say we hang him, and the rest too! Burn down the farm, and rid ourselves of these demons that walk the earth. If this is what the weakest one can do, what are the others capable of?”

“We owe it to ol’ Mr Wilkins after what that monster did to his daughter!”

“All in favour of hanging the demon?”

A chorus of ayes made Dew’s blood run cold.

A week. They'd given Rain a week. The mob had demanded time to plan their hanging day celebrations and to try and capture the rest of the ghouls too, or at least run them out of town first. They clearly didn't understand pack loyalty: once Aether, Mountain and Swiss finally realised Rain was directly threatened, pack instincts to protect would take over and they would fight to the death. Dew had to get back to the farm and tell the others; maybe now they would believe him.

The ruckus downstairs providing cover for his echoing footsteps, Dew turned and bolted back along the corridor. He debated squeezing back out the window he had entered through, but at the last moment he remembered he had meant to find Rain some food. And water: as a water ghoul he was especially susceptible to dehydration. Judging from the sounds echoing up the stairs, Dew expected all the building's occupants would be down there for a while longer. He started trying doors at random, hoping to find one with some supplies he could steal.

The first door Dew tried opened easily. Inside was a small library, the books mostly covered in a thick layer of dust as very few of the villagers were able to read. From a quick glance, it seemed most of the books pertained to the laws of the land, and historical records of the town. Dew spun back out of the room and tried the door opposite. It was locked, but that posed no issue to Dew as he effortlessly melted the latch.

This room contained haphazardly stacked ledgers of documents and a small writing desk, empty for now. The window was cracked open, letting the warm summer breeze in, but Dew could still smell the recent presence of a human. He scanned the room carefully, his eyes eventually landing on a small woven basket under the desk. Dew pounced for the basket, ripping the cloth covering off to reveal the bounty inside. Food: lots of it. Clearly clerical work was hungry business. Dew snatched up the fruit, meat pies and small wax-covered cheese, filling his pockets. He also grabbed the full waterskin and took off back out the door.

The noise from the main hall was beginning to quiet, the mass of intermingled voices separating into distinguishable conversations as the townsfolk dispersed. Dew made a break for it, before he was caught too. As he hurled himself from the office, back in the direction of the small bathroom, he heard one conversation becoming louder, two sets of footsteps echoing up the stone staircase at the end of the corridor. He slammed the door to the latrine shut not a moment too soon, and braced himself against it to hold it shut as he heard the men get closer and eventually pass by.

Dew let out a shaky breath and hoisted himself up to the window. He stuck his head out to check the courtyard was still empty, before wriggling back through it and letting himself fall to the ground. His ankle rolled as he landed, making Dew hiss out a stream of curses, but he knew he had to move fast to get out of here. Bending down to the small opening above Rain's jail cell, Dew saw him look up at the noise with more recognition in his eyes this time. Clearly the morsel of food had helped shake him from his shock. Dew fed the stolen lunch items through the window bars, tossing them in range of Rain as best as he could. Once again, the water ghoul's thick blue tail snaked around them to bring the food to him. Lastly, Dew lowered the waterskin down, desperately hoping it wouldn't burst as it landed. It didn't, and Dew was pleased to see Rain immediately open it and take a deep gulp.

“I'm going to get the others, Rain. We're gonna get you out of here!”  He didn't have the heart to tell him about the sentence the townsfolk had just decided on; it wasn't like the knowledge would make any difference anyway. Dew chose not to acknowledge the inherent selfishness of keeping Rain's proposed fate a secret from him, as dark eyes stared back up at him almost accusingly. The disconnect still present in them made it hard for Dew to tell if Rain was fully with him or not.

“Look after yourself Rainy, I'll be back as soon as possible.”

With a final encouraging smile, or at least that's what Dew was aiming for – it felt more like a grimace to him, he scurried back across the courtyard and over the wall, his ankle protesting the whole way. He was more cautious on his way back, and even more careful to stick to shadowy alleys and stay out of sight. As he finally reached the dirt road leading out of the village to their farm, he had to resist the urge to sprint headlong back to his pack. It was too exposed for comfort; he could be seen by anyone on the road for a mile in each direction, and the shooting pains lancing up his leg begged him to be careful until Aether could heal him.

An agonising half hour later, Dew limped up to the farm door. He had snapped a branch from one of the hedgerows he slunk behind to use as a makeshift crutch, but he could feel the swelling getting worse nonetheless.

“Dew! You're back,” Mountain exclaimed as he stumbled through the door, “I think you might be right – Rain still isn't back, and Swiss's visions are getting worse!”

Dew gritted his teeth against the urge to tell Mountain he told him so – that wouldn't help Rain right now. He didn't know what would.

“They've got Rain. We have a week to break him out before they kill him. Are you ready to listen to me now?” his voice broke into a snarl at the end as he tried to hold back his tears of helplessness tinged with guilt.

“Dewdrop?” Aether reappeared in the kitchen and paused as he saw Dew leaning against the doorframe in pain, and Mountain frozen in shock.

“Get Swiss.” growled Dew, “I'm not repeating myself again.”

Aether nodded quickly before vanishing back deeper into the house. He returned moments later with a drained-looking Swiss clutching his arm.

“Rain's in the town jail. They want to hang him next week.” Dew was struggling to keep his composure, every word shook.

Aether went as white as a ghost, staring at Dew like he had grown an extra head. He stumbled as Swiss collapsed against him with a howl.

"W-what happened?” Mountain asked.

“It's worse than I thought. He flooded Wilkins' field, it killed his daughter and two others. And then he went full gills-out ghoul on them all.”

“How? He can barely make a ripple in a puddle, let alone cause a deadly flood!” the earth ghoul looked to the others as though for confirmation that Dew must be exaggerating, but they were still staring at Dew in silent horror.

“I don't know! Something must've happened, and I think it broke his glamour – he's sat in a cell under the town hall with his tail and horns still out!”

“You spoke to him?” Swiss looked up with hopeful eyes, shining with unshed tears.

“I don't know if he heard me,” Dew sniffed back the beginnings of a sob, “he's completely out of it. I got him to eat a bit, but I don't know if he even recognised me. Something bad happened, something really bad, and the townsfolk are coming for us next!”

“We have to go and get him...” Aether finally murmured.

“That's what I've been trying to tell you!” frustrated, Dew almost yelled. “We don't have time to ask about the whys and hows, we're all in danger. We need to get Rain and get out, now!”

The slightly frantic nodding of his packmates told Dew that – finally – they realised the severity of the situation. Dew pushed off the doorframe to start gathering their belongings to leave and hissed in pain as he put weight through his bad ankle.

“You're hurt too?” Aether looked like his world was collapsing around his ears. Dew guessed it sort of was.

“Just my ankle,” he gave it a test wiggle, “I rolled it earlier, I think it's a sprain.”

Aether ushered him into a chair, picking his boot laces undone, before laying his cool hands onto the enflamed joint. Dew sighed at the relief, moaning as he felt the burning from the injury dissipate throughout his body and evaporate away until only a dull ache remained.

“Take it easy Dew,” he begged, still on his knees in front of Dewdrop, “I can't have you hurt too!”

Dew nodded noncommittally; he could take it easy when they were all safe. He looked around at his packmates and had a horrible realisation about the futility of their current situation. Aether and Mountain, the natural pack-leaders, sat shell-shocked and totally at odds with their normal calm and controlled personalities, Swiss was barely able to speak and still being rocked with aftershocks of his visions, and now Dew was slowed down by an injury. How on earth were they going to stage a rescue mission and escape unscathed? Someone was going to get hurt. If they all shared an element it would have been easier: they could have overwhelmed the town while remaining unaffected themselves. Sure, Dew could burn down the whole village, razing every building to the ground, but it would harm Rain in the process. They needed help.

Thinking on his feet, Dew knew who he could ask. He had sworn he'd never go back; his new life was a world away now, but he couldn't see any other solution where they didn't all end up dead.

“We have to get moving, before the village comes for us.” Dew declared, “Aeth, Mount, go and gather all the plants and herbs you need for basic potions, and some vegetables that will keep. Me and Swiss will sort stuff in here.”

The pair paused, not used to taking orders from Dew. They looked cautiously at Swiss, still zoning out at the table, until Dew made shooing motions outside with his hands, silently pleading with them to fall for his plan and leave.

“I'm gonna grab a few things from upstairs, you good to stay here for a moment?” Dew received only a small nod from Swiss in return, as he grabbed as his head and groaned from the onslaught of another wave of pain.

He took the stairs two at a time before bursting into his bedroom. He grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk and scrawled a quick note, addressing it to his packmates. Stuffing that into his pocket, Dew next set about prying up the loose floorboard on the far side of his bed. This was the only place he allowed himself to hold onto memories of his life before, and the small collection of items had been untouched since the day Dew put them there. He took the battered diary and the metal amulet from underneath it, and neatly placed them in the bottom of a knapsack. On top of them, he threw a change of clothes.

Dew cast one last look around the room he had called home, and closed the door. There was nothing left he couldn't replace; the most precious things in his life were his pack. As an afterthought, he ducked into Mountain's room and took a leatherbound notebook from his writing desk. Him and Aether had been collating an anthology of medicinal plants together over the last several years, it would be unforgivable to let that suffer whatever fate the townsfolk had planned for their house. It could also be a useful bargaining chip: where Dewdrop was headed, knowledge ruled far above gold.

Just before he went back downstairs, Dew saw Rain's door open at the end of the hallway. He'd barely been here a year, yet the whole room was so distinctly his. Shells and rocks he had collected dotted every available surface, the transparent ones thew rainbows across the walls from the sun that poured through the window. Dewdrop knew which one Rain would want saved; a pale stone with tiny fossils embedded in it, polished smooth by millennia of water flowing over it. He'd had it in his pocket when he'd arrived, his only material possession besides the clothes on his back. Dew didn't know what made it special, only that was. He tucked it carefully into the knapsack beside his own amulet.

He barrelled back down the stairs. Swiss was still at the table, and barely looked up when Dewdrop re-entered.

“Swiss? You in there?” the larger ghoul looked up through dark eyelashes. The mental pain from his visions swirled across his eyes, the normally deep amber colour muted and foggy.

“You need to remember your guitar, okay? Go and fetch it now.”

Like a puppet, Swiss lurched to his feet and in the direction of the living room. Dew snatched the last heel of Mountain's bread from that morning off the table, placing the brief letter he had written in its place. He quickly opened the pantry and threw as much dried meat and fruit as would fit into the top of his bag, maybe a day or two's supply if he was careful. Lastly, he filled a waterskin, shrugged on the knapsack, and headed out the door.

Dew could hear Mountain and Aether's voices from around the other side of the house by the herb garden. He walked quietly and quickly towards the gate, refusing to allow himself time to feel guilt for abandoning them like this; they could curse his name until the air turned blue, but if he could save them then that wouldn't matter. Once he was sure he was out of earshot and his footfalls wouldn't be heard, Dewdrop spared a single glance behind him at the place he had been proud to call home and broke into a run.

[herteitr-runar]

hi! idek how to introduce this so here we go

(genuinely so sorry if this is the weirdest ask you have gotten in your life or i sound like a crazy person or anything at all like that 😭 really i just admire your skill and creativity a lot)

so- when i was trying to find the art style i wanted to have there was this super specific appearance and like feeling i wanted it to have but i could not really conceptualize it or figure out how to do what i wanted to do. like i wanted it to be kinda dark in tone and like similar to a look that another artist i like has but more like realistic but still working with a cartoonish vibe sometimes. but very specifically with all of that i wanted it to be like a really old fairytale books illustrations feeling mixed with anime ish-ness

to my eyes at least, your art is the exact feeling i really wanted my art to have, like i saw it for the first time scrolling in the norway tag and kind of just stopped? it was like- actual out loud „Holy shit that is incredible“ moment. so! uh yeah! seeing your works is really really awesome and i really enjoy all of your different art styles and works

anyways i wanted to say all that because i think artists deserve a lot of appreciation and to know directly their work is appreciated, and also your art is like- one of my favourites ever so i thought i should let you know? anyways! i hope you always find enjoyment in making art and wish you the best :D!

i've only opened the app again to see this and i've been reading it over and over and over looking exactly like these

DON'T BE SORRY !!! THAT'S GENUINELY THE NICEST THING I'VE LIKE. EVER RECEIVED AND I'M AT SUCH A LOSS FOR WORDS ON HOW TO EVEN START TO THANK YOU ... 😭😭❤️❤️

just knowing that my art is something that had such an impact on you on these aspects ..... !!!!! I don't even know how to describe how astounded i am . seriously 🥲 astounded is far from the best word i'm like. feeling every feeling ever x10000 (i am very articulate with my thoughts as you can see)

from the bottom of my heart it's such an honour to read this 🫶 and i wish the exact same for you as well !! keep on drawing to achieve everything you must ❤️

(if you would ever want suggestions, some tips or anything else regarding art, art styles & artists please don't hesitate to lmk also! there's a lot i'd be happy to share if needed!! 🫶)

[panelshowsource]

Happy holidays!! Thank you so much for all that you do, you are a lifesaver for those of us abroad! If there is any way, could you please share the Brassic Christmas special with Greg Davies? I'm just a bit obsessed with the man 😄 Merry Christmas to you and yours!

hello happy holidays! thank you for the nice message :)

yes i put the brassic episode here for you! i'm not going to leave this up for more than a couple of weeks since it's not panel show content and i just don't have a ton of extra space atm, so please take a moment to stream or download it at your convenience sometime shortly :') if i delete it before you get it feel free to send another message!

yes! you can find it on the non-panel show masterpost here :)

my fave screenshot from the episode lmao

i do have quite a few but only for the people in the collections folder — so any episode featuring alex horne, david tennant, joe wilkinson, michael sheen, and/or victoria coren mitchell should be there! otherwise, i am not currently hosting more last leg, but check out r/panelshow & r/tv_bunny (i see the christmas special is there!), and lmk if you need more help finding anything specific :)

having something fun to watch is a tenant (see what i did there) of the holiday season 🥹 enjoy and happy christmas as well!

—

as well, you can find the new christmas episodes of qi, wilty, buzzcocks, late night lycett, and more updated on the masterposts :)

btw is anyone else PISSING that frankie boyle and lucy beaumont will be on the new year wilty?

hope everyone is having a lovely holiday season!

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

[wht-am-i-doin]

Thanks for the tag @blueberry-obsessed!!

Do you make your bed?

ehh sometimes, probably not as often as i should

favorite number?

14

what’s your job?

i work at the festival of the arts over summer, still need to find a job for during school

if you could go back to school, would you?

currently still in college, can’t wait to graduate but already planning on going back for grad school so 🤷‍♀️

can you parallel park?

yes

do you think aliens are real?

how could they not be, the universe is vast and we probably scare them into hiding

can you drive a manual car?

i’m still learning, so yes but not without stalling

guilty pleasure?

i don’t feel guilty about my pleasures

tattoos?

nope

favorite color?

green, specifically like a forest green but i’ll take any shade

favorite type of music?

idk man i like almost everything, but i would say pop and folk top the list with country right after

do you like puzzles?

yes, any type, jigsaw puzzles, brain puzzles, anything

favorite childhood sport?

hmmmm it’s a toss up between soccer and lacrosse

do you talk to yourself?

yes, absolutely, who else would entertain me like i entertain myself

tea or coffee?

….redbull

first thing you wanted to be when growing up?

spy

what movies do you adore?

i love really nostalgic movies! i was never super into movies as a kid (something something i didn’t like not knowing what was gonna happen) so i prefer to rewatch movies but i enjoy good movies now(good by my standards not critics) also if its gay (even if its not perfect) i usually enjoy it

no pressure tags: @orgasming-caterpillar @lescarbille @flyingcakeee @evangray-08

(if you’ve already been tagged sorry😬, if you don’t want to be tagged lmk)

[angieblogging]

Secret Santa

TW: knife (lmk if anything else should be added)

relationships: Yelena Belova & Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff/Maria Hill (mentioned), Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff & Yelena Belova, Maria Hill & Wanda Maximoff

additional tags: fluff, christmas fluff, domestic fluff, post-red room, christmas presents & shopping.

read on ao3

Yelena could say all she wanted how lame Christmas was, but that was a lie. She couldn’t wait for it all, for the presents, the food and the time she will get to spend with Natasha. It was a week till’ Christmas now, they decorated the tree - it was all going well. Until Natasha came up with another idea, so called “Secret Santa”.

This year the group was smaller, most went to their families or had other activities, leaving Natasha, Yelena, Wanda and Maria all to themselves.

“Okay, so…” Natasha started speaking, she sat on the floor in her red and black pyjama. “You have to draw a card, with a name. That’s who you’re buying the gift to and vice versa.” She explained, as Yelena was unfamiliar with the tradition.

“I go first!” Wanda jumped in her seat as her hand went into the small box, she drew a card and looked at it for a moment before speaking.

“Natasha! I have you, so I guess you have me…” Wanda was more uncertain now, she knew it would be tough if she drew Natasha’s name, as Yelena was unfamiliar with her or Maria, so the gift buying is harder.

Yelena just glanced at Natasha, unsure to what she is supposed to do now.

“I-I have you then?” Yelena turned to Maria.

“Yes…Don’t worry, it’s most important to have fun, I’m sure you’ll do your best.” Maria smiled lightly as she glanced at Natasha.

“Okay, so two days for gift hunt and I will get us matching hats!” Wanda clapped her hands as she tried to keep the atmosphere far from uncomfortable.

***

Yelena browsed in different shops in the area, she felt uneasy alone, but at the same time didn’t want Nat to intervene in her shopping, as she was literally dating Maria.

She walked into millions of clothing stores, food stores and ones that are a mix of everything. Until she found a place she actually enjoyed being in — a store full of weapons.

It felt close to what she knew — knifes, guns and even bows. She was familiar with most of the weapons, but her attention was caught by one specific object, a small knife, it handle was made specifically to be more comfortable, also it had a small heart carved in it.

Yelena’s eyes scanned it for a moment before she was rudely welcomed by the store employee.

“Hey there…” A middle aged man approached her, stood way too close with his hands on his hips. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

A small grin creeped up onto his face, Yelena scoffed. Entitled men was everything she had to deal with her whole life, not anymore.

“I don’t need help.” She mumbled, making her russian accent even more thick.

“Oh, come on! You like the knife? I can show you how to use it.” The stupid smirk did not leave his face for a second, Yelena just grabbed the knife and headed to buy it, losing the guy in the crowd.

She left the store happy, she finally had her gift, but it didn’t feel like enough. She felt as if Maria deserved better, she should buy more.

So she did. Yelena entered one of the clothing stores as she looked though the shirts, she didn’t quite know what Maria style was, so she just looked for something simple.

Her eyes got stuck on a plain shirt, with four letters on it — BAMF. What the hell is BAMF?

“Excuse me…” Yelena approached a short lady, a worker in the store, she looked harmless and kind, so Yelena picked her. “What does this mean?” Yelena pointed at the shirt she took.

“BAMF?” The woman smiled, she didn’t laugh or scold Yelena, she smiled as she had a sympathetic look on her face. “Bad Ass Mother Fucker.” The woman’s face turned slightly red as she spoke the vulgar words quietly.

“Thank you.” Yelena nodded and glanced at the sticker on the woman’s shirt. “Thank you, Olivia.”

***

It was the day of gift giving, Yelena was nervous, she barely slept and only coffee helped. So many scenarios crossed her mind — What if Maria hates her gift? What if it’s a terrible gift? What if they pull a prank on her and what if her box is empty?

But she had to shove all that aside and packed her gift, the four were seated in the living room, all in matching Santa’s hats, which Wanda had bought them.

“Alright, who opens their gift first?” Wanda glanced around, waiting for either Maria or Natasha to take the wheel and decide.

“How about us?” Natasha smiled and

glanced at Yelena, her and Wanda exchanged their boxes.

Natasha was eager to prove Yelena it was fine, the presents weren’t perfect and the boxes weren’t empty.

Both of the redheads opened their boxes as excitement grew on their faces. Natasha got a new leather jacket and a photo in a frame — a picture of her and Maria on their first date.

Wanda on the other hand was given socks, red ones with white stripes on them, like a candy cane. To that was a book, which Yelena was unfamiliar with, but the cover was colourful.

The two hugged, which made Yelena scream internally… Did she have to hug Maria too?

She just glanced at her box, now her gift doesn’t seem enough. She didn’t think twice about what she bought, maybe she should’ve asked Natasha for help after all.

“Yelena?” Natasha’s voice was warm and gentle as she encountered her sister to hand over the box to Maria. “Now it’s your turn.”

Yelena glanced at Maria, but she didn’t hand her the box, she instead got up with it and left the room.

How could she think that gift was good for even a second? It was embarrassing.

The three were left in silence for a moment, uncertain as to what they were supposed to do now. Natasha was planning on going, but as she got up, Maria stopped her.

“I got it, you guys can…make some popcorn?” Maria was improvising, but she felt bad for Yelena, like it was her fault that the girl got scared off.

“Masha—“ Natasha started, but seeing the look in Maria’s eyes she just nodded and went in silence to the kitchen with Wanda.

***

Yelena was alone, in her room. It was pretty small, she kept almost everything packed in boxes, she never unpacked in case Natasha got her own flat. In case she wanted to take her too. Besides the Tower never felt like home, she sat all day long in her room, didn’t know anyone that well, except her sister.

A gentle knock on her door made her jump as she slid the gift under her bed.

“Yelena? It’s me, Maria…” The door was still closed, Maria didn’t want to invade Yelena’s privacy, she had a choice to let her in or not.

“What do you want?” Yelena’s voice was low and cold, but it was all a facade, a facade Maria knew too well, she have seen it before, in Natasha.

“To talk, that’s all… You don’t have to let me in if you don’t want to, we can just talk though the door.”

The door opened soon after, Yelena looked up at Maria who was slightly taller. Maria gave her a reassuring smile as she walked in and the door was shut after her.

“What’s wrong?” Maria glanced at Yelena before sitting on the bed. “Why did you run?”

“Why do you care?” The blonde scoffed, almost mockingly.

“Yelena…You can talk to us, to me. I just want you to know that.” Maria sighed. “Natasha trusts me, you trust her, right?”

Yelena sat on the bed next to Maria as she breathed out loudly.

“I can’t give you my gift. It simply…sucks.”

“It…sucks?” Maria frowned.

“Yeah…I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, come on, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Yelena sighed, Maria had a determined look on her face, so she gave up, too tired to banter with her. The blinde pulled out the box from under the bed and handed it to Maria.

Maria looked at the box curiously and opened it slowly, as she took out a small black box - there was a small knife in there, that fits right into Maria’s fist.

“See? I told you.”

“What? The knife? It’s a great gift, very…”

“Practical.” Yelena finished her sentence.

“Yes, practical.”

Maria nodded with a smile as she took a notice of a folded material in the box. It was a folded shirt, with four letters on it, four letters she did not understand.

“What’s BAMF?” Maria glanced at Yelena.

“The lady in the store said it means Bad Ass Mother Fucker.” Yelena said with zero expression, even though she was giggling on the inside.

“I- You think I’m Badass?” Maria raised her brows as she looked amused at the blonde.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re the right hand of SHIELD.” Yelena smiled lightly.

Maria placed the shirt back into the box, she didn’t intend to make Yelena uncomfortable so she kept her distance. She remembered well how jumpy and anti-touching Natasha was.

“So, are you ready to open up my gift?”

Yelena glanced at Maria nervously as the woman handed her the box, smiling encouragingly.

Yelena took a deep breath in as she opened her box, inside was a green vest, similar to the one she owned and gave to Natasha.

The vest she was looking at had more black details in it, the green color was very much toned. Yelena couldn’t hold back her smile as she looked at the vest.

“I gotta say, Natasha helped me out a bit, she talked a lot about how the vest was the first thing you got yourself, but you were willing to give that up to her.” Maria smiles lightly at the memory. “So, you like it?”

Yelena nodded with a smile on her face, she tried to tone her emotions, but it was like a wave of excitement washing over her. She moved closer to Maria and wrapped her arms around the woman. Maria was slightly shocked at the sudden touch, but she hugged the blonde back.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”