#lonesome-fret

[ickadori]

cws for blood and injuries.

i think sukuna purposefully lets himself be injured in fights and refuses to heal himself because he likes the way you fret over him when he comes home to you.

you’re always there to greet him, and today is no different, the smile that had been on your face being replaced with a look of mild horror at seeing the blood coating his body — he’s never been one to dirty the both of you guys home with the blood of riffraff, so it’s clear that the dark liquid marring his skin is his own.

“ryomen!” you’re by his side in an instant, hands hovering as you try to discern where his injuries are. “you’re hurt. who did this?” there’s a fire in your eyes as you ask it, and sukuna can’t help the amused chuff that leaves him.

“do you plan on revenging me if i tell you?”

“yes!”

“that’d be a sight to see.” you tut, hands grabbing at his arm as you hurry him through the halls. “it’s a shame i’ve already killed them.”

“a shame indeed,” you agree, and he allows you to push him into a chair before you’re disappearing into the bathroom. you’re back in no time, a box full of medical supplies clutched in your hands, and sukuna hums to himself as he relaxes in his seat.

you clean him with gentle hands, frowning and sighing as you clear the blood away to see where his skin has been cut deeply. he nearly feels a twinge of guilt when he notices the gloss to your eyes and hears your sniffle, but it’s quickly overshadowed by something else as he sees just how much him being hurt affects you.

others would rejoice in knowing the king of curses had managed to be harmed, and here you were, teary eyed and mopey as you patched him up, touch as gentle and soft as feathers as you covered his wounds in gauzes and bandages, your lips pressing tender kisses to them afterwards.

you’re always content to rest by his feet, seemingly unable to leave him in his lonesome while he’s injured, and he always pulls you up into his lap, arms cocooning around you as you protest and try to free yourself, complaining about injuries that he’d healed the moment you fastened the bandages into place.

[miirohs]

no body, no crime [o.p.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways I’m continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition 💀

The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.

Oscar wasn’t home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.

You weren’t worried much about the call time, but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.

Whatever it was sounded important but he didn’t let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that he’d be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.

With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.

You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.

2:45 A.M. It read.

You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.

As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.

You didn’t see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasn’t just for nothing.

The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.

where are you rn? heard something outside, can’t see guards anywhere.

The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.

lmk when you’re on your way.

You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.

[Osc].

You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.

“Y/n? Is that you, baby?”

“Mmm, it is,” You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

“No, I thought i heard something,” You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, “And the guards aren’t here, they-”

“What do you mean not there?” You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid but…"

"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Don’t use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.

“What the…”

Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.

The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.

Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.

You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.

They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.

The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.

The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You’d stunned them, but you weren’t sure how long it’d last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.

Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.

The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.

That didn’t last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.

There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.

Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.

He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.

A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.

There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time you’d seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

You couldn’t really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.

You weren’t sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.

You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.

He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.

Both of you didn’t say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.

“Is she doing okay?” You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadn’t heard a peep in the hour he’d been there.

You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"

You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.

He didn’t complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Even when you didn’t answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.

“We’re going to increase security detail for you by the way. I won’t be leaving you on your own for a while…” He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. “Please talk to me, baby, I’m worried.”

You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to… I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."

Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. “No, you didn’t. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.”

“But then- then you’ll get in trouble,” You whispered, haunted by the thought, “they’ll arrest you.”

He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.

“Osc baby, what-“

“Whoever sent them,” He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasn’t at all the full gist of what he was feeling, “Started this trouble first. They can’t arrest me if there’s no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.”

You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.

“You’re…” You didn’t finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. “You’re strong, we all know that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, “Never when I’m here.”

[2-dsimp]

Ok so everyone and their mother has yandere CEO/ boss x a secretary/assistant/intern blah blah blah

BUT! Hear me out...what and a yandere assistant x boss darling??

Cw: slight blood/gore, obsessive/possessive tendencies, self-sabotage, lack of self worth,

Synopsis: 【You are the overseer in charge of the finance floor of the company SupeCo. And you happened to be issued a brand you employee who was albeit a greenhorn. But nonetheless passionate in preforming his duties as your assistant. You’ve in the short couple days you’ve grown a soft spot for him. And constantly prayed that he’d make it through his job, in one piece since you discovered that he tended to be accident prone.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Yandere assistant! That’s always in attention whenever his darling boss is ready to put him to work. He’s practically twitching from getting withdrawals of receiving less than the amount of orders he’d like to have from you.

Yandere Assistant! Whose mind is buzzing 24/7 and is utterly pathetic all by his lonesome. And craves for you to throw whatever tasks you’ve got at him, anything at all, to satisfy his dream of being your personal lap dog.

Yandere assistant! Who loves hearing your voice calling out for his support from across the office hall. He just cannot relate to how his other coworkers cower at their names being announced by their own superiors. Since you were the best in his humblest opinion. And the only one he’d deem to be of importance to be more precise.

Yandere Assistant! That subtly does self sabotage if only to hog your time, in making you giving him lengthy instructions. On what to do since he clearly couldn’t fathom how to print out a piece of paper.

Yandere Assistant! Who swears that he’s not incompetent on purpose. But it’s just that he adores the way you’re so kind with your words. And oh so patient when it comes to correcting a member of your staff. Even going as far as to touch him to show exactly how to maneuver the printer. In short all of your lovely gestures made him jumpy. As he was sweating bullets trying not to turn into a feral degenerate and bend you over the broke ass printer to properly “use it”.

“Tem? Temothy~? Hello? I’m sorry Am I going too fast for you or—“

“Ah nonono absolutely not! Y-you’re fine B-boss I c-could hear you j-just fine!”

Your new hire assistant, Temothy, stuttered as he blinked out of whatever daydream he got afflicted with. Fixing you a mousy smile as he haphazardly fixed his messy overgrown bangs which obscured half of his face from view. You noted that He always had a soft spoken voice along with his habitual stutter speech pattern. Whilst he fidgeted a bit underneath your explicit worrisome expression as you fretted over his wellbeing like a mother hen.

“I only need to cut these stacks of paper for y-you with this cutter r-right? I’ll get on T-that right a-away!”

He managed in a squirrelly tone as he shakily grabbed ahold of the paper cutter. Lining up some blank pieces alongside the dotted lines with an unsteady hand.

It was his first couple days on the job and you found him to be quite the ditzy klutz but an endearing one nonetheless. It was refreshing how eager he is to always lend a helping hand even after he had just gotten off his shift. Which made you feel bad to ask him to come in to work when it was his day off since some of your employees decided not to come in for their shift.

“Wait Temothy dear you’re holding it the wrong way—!”

“Ouch! Oh my stars I’m t-terribly sorry B-boss! I got it all fuckin b-bloody! Ah paper towels… where’s the paper towels?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes and what you were hearing. Was this man seriously worried about how he dirtied the cutter station to which he earnestly tried to clean. While the skin on his palm was sliced open from pinky to thumb. And was bleeding rapidly as bloody rivets ran down his inner wrist.

“Temothy forget about the cutter and papers okay? You don’t need to worry bout none of that. What we need to do is patch you up first and foremost”

You cooed as you briskly took his uninjured hand in yours and ushered him to your office where you always had a health kit stored underneath your desk. Completely missing how his breathing slowed and his wide eyes dilated into small heart pinpricks.

“Y-yes Boss…thank you for c-caring I’ll be sure to return this d-debt”

His usual timid expression darkened into something more depraved as a small fanged smile made its way onto his chapped lips. Of which he licked as he gave an experimental squeeze to your hand only to shiver in delight when you responded back in kind.

No one had ever been this kind to him, due to his bad luck he’s always the type to be scoffed at without as much as a second glance. Hell it was a miracle that he even landed this job as your assistant in the first place. But now that he was here he intended to stay permanently and serve you for the rest of your days as your loyal assistant. Whether you liked it or not, you couldn’t ever get rid of him not when you’ve already gave him your hand to hold near in dear to his heart.

[eightstarr]

baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

[enviedear]

A request throught for billy the kid.

He goes to a bar where a barmaid owns and works there, and they sleep together, and when he comes back, she has a little boy running around that looks a whole lot like him....

girl from the north country — billy bonney

request

i got this ask and my brain immediately went 'bob dylan rendition of girl from north country' because this trope has that song written all over it.

tw— allusions to the deed, hidden baby trope, use of, 'momma' as a pet name.

less than three years ago, you made the grave decision to bed an outlaw. he was sweet and soft with you, sweet talking his way into your britches. it had been a fun night, but despite your delighted evening, a sinking feeling took hold of you the minute he caught your eye.

his name was billy. or at least, he went by billy. he was a mess of dark brown hair, kind blue eyes, and honest nature. it felt like fate when you saw him. he had been sitting at the bar, quiet and lonesome. you found it easy to talk to him.

he had given you a bright smile, engaging you in casual conversation as the night turned to morning. slipping out with you when you closed down the bar, only to follow you up the road to your small homestead.

you had never seen him before, but after he left town, you soon learned exactly who he was. wanted posters with his likeness followed his trail, leaving you tight-lipped about the entire situation.

it was about six months after his visit that your lips finally began to move, coming up with fruitless excuses for the townspeople. by then, your stomach had already started to round, bulging into something plain and inescapable. at first, you were terrified and even considered fleeing to another town and opting to try and pass as a widow. even now, despite yourself, the thought lingers in the back of your mind.

you've been lucky though, the town is nice enough to not ask you questions. just watchful stares and a few upturned noses. you kept your job at the gin mill, working through the night while your married friend watched the baby.

you've found yourself a quiet life—a growing meadow of life hidden in the hellish and desolate west.

with a sigh, you turn your attention back to the clothesline, grabbing at the last of the dry garments and flinging them in your basket. there's a storm brewing close in the distance, and a loud crack of thunder has the small child at your feet fretting.

you pick up your fussy toddler, his pink lips curled into a frown, "c'mon bubba, s'just a little storm."

you glance at the darkening sky, feeling the first droplets of rain on your skin. the wind picks up, causing the clothesline to sway with a creak. cradling your son in your arms, you hurry inside, leaving the clothes in your haste of trying to beat the approaching storm.

inside the cozy warmth of your small homestead, you try to soothe the worried toddler in your arms. the distant rumble of thunder grows louder, and you decide it's best to stay cooped up, work be damned. as you settle into a rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby to the sweet boy in your arms, the rain begins to patter against the window.

the hours pass slowly, the storm raging outside, when a sudden knock on the door startles you. with caution, you approach and peer through the small window and see a tall figure drenched in rain, barely recognizable underneath his sopping hat.

you open the door, and the man looks up. his eyes are kind, and eerily familiar. looking like a drowned man, standing at your door, is billy. he looks apologetic and somewhat sheepish. rainwater drips from the brim of his hat as he mumbles, "m'sorry for showing up like this, i wasn't even sure if you were still here."

you eye him cautiously, memories of your night shared with him resurfacing, but the storm outside softens your resolve, "what brings you here, billy?" you inquire, staring up at the rain-soaked outlaw before you, taking in his genuine expression.

his voice trembles as he confesses that he never meant to stay away for so long— but life on the run has its cruel complications. now, drenched and shivering in the midst of a raging storm, he pleads for refuge in your home, desperation etched onto every word as he begs for forgiveness and a safe haven from his pursuers.

hesitating for a moment, you look back at your toddler playing on the floor. with a sigh, you relent, "alright, billy, you can come in, but just until the storm passes."

as he steps inside, you notice the surprise in his eyes when he sees the boy. he's donned in a darling little linen onesie, your own hands had worked tirelessly over the garment. his bright eyes look between you and billy, the hue of your own eyes evident and the blue of billy's scattered throughout. a perfect blend.

a silence hangs in the air as realization slowly dawns on him. his gaze shifts between you and your little one, and in that moment, he connects the dots.

his voice softens, "is he... is he mine?"

the question sends a shiver down your spine and all of your carefully constructed defenses slowly crumble around you. there's no denying it now, the truth of what had happened was laid bare for both of you to see, innocent face staring up at the both of you. you stand in place, your feet rooted to the ground. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the confession you're about to make. taking a deep breath, you finally relent.

a nod is all you can manage, the weight of the unspoken truth lingering in the room. billy takes a step closer to the little boy and you start. but his intentions are gentle as he reaches out to touch the top of his child's head, "i never knew." he murmurs, a mix of regret and wonder in his eyes.

you watch as billy kneels down to meet your son at eye level. the child looks up at him with innocent curiosity, and you can't help but feel a twinge of anger mixed in with the guilt that had been festering inside of you for so long. you had carried the weight of this secret for years, the fear of the townsfolk finding out and ostracizing you and your child from the community. but looking down at billy's face, you know that it's time to come clean.

"he's almost three now, billy," you say softly, the regret in your own voice almost palpable, "i didn't know how to find you...i didn't even know your name back then."

billy's expression softens as he turns to look at you, his eyes full of sorrow, "i understand," he says, his voice gentle. "m'sorry i wasn't there for you. for both o'you."

you nod, knowing his words are earnest, "you couldn't have known." you say quietly.

billy stands up and walks towards you, his arms open. his eyes are sad, but they hold a fierce longing that you can feel despite any attempt to deny it. his body radiates with a warmth that you can't help but feel drawn to, despite all of the fear and regret that fills your heart. you close your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close.

"i'm sorry," he whispers into your ear. "god, m'so sorry for everything."

you nod, unable to find your voice. the storm outside rages on, but inside, the atmosphere is one of acceptance and forgiveness. you have both been through so much, but now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. you look up into billy's eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

"i forgave you a long time ago," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "figure i can't keep hiding this little one away from his father. not now, wouldn't be right."

billy nods, his eyes now filled with hope, "i want to be a part of his life, if you'll let me," he says, his voice filled with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine.

you nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, "of course," you say, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and sadness. "he deserves to have his daddy."

billy smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, cupping your cheeks, "what about his momma? seems like she's been gettin' on fine without a man around."

you hum, trying to ignore how easy your heart skips for him, "i reckon she'll make him grovel 'fore she'll be his sweetheart again."

your outlaw lets out a soft chuckle, "then i best get to grovelin', momma."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[storydays]

Floyd X Male!Country! Pop! Troll

After coming back from the dead (a frightening experience to be honest,) while resting in Rhonda on the way to Pop Village, something sparkled in Floyd's peripheral vision. Glancing down, he looked at the ring on his hand. He smiled softly, thinking of the one who gave it to him.

"Woah, bro! That's some nice drip! Where'd you get it from?" Clay asked, flopping down next to the magenta haired Troll, catching the rest of the group's attention.

"I got it from someone special." Everyone ooh'ed seeing his light purple blush cover his cheeks and ears.Noticing where they were, he suddenly got a burst of energy. "Wait! We need to make a stop." Tiny Diamond yelped, as Floyd took a hard turn towards Lonesome Flats, aka the home of the Country Trolls.

As soon as they arrived at the entrance of Lonesome Flats, Floyd hopped out of Rhonda towards Delta Dawn's office, ignoring the calls of his brothers to slow down and wait.

He was actually stopped by the Sheriff herself, demanding to know where in the seven hells he'd been.

Floyd cut her off her, looking worried. "Where's (Y/N)?"

The Mayor raised a perfect eyebrow before gesturing to an (h/c) male Troll, wearing a flannel around his waist, blue jeans, and a big white hat resting next him who was sitting under a nearby tree, eyes focused on the journal in his lap, headphones over his ears, a grin on his lips.

Floyd smiled before walking over to the mysterious Troll. He sat next across from them, and took tapped his shoulder.

The Troll smiled looking up before freezing, eyes wide. He slowly took his headphones off, still wide eyed.

"Hey, beau."

"SUGARCUBE!" The other troll screamed, tackling Floyd into a great big hug, into the sun, before setting Floyd down, and moving quickly as he searched him for any injuries, while the sensitive Troll laughed, letting him fret over him.

"What is happening?" John Dory, asked the question they were all wondering.

Delta laughed softly, shaking her head, watching the two before turning to the group to talk to Poppy and Branch.

"(Y/N)...(Y/N)? Beau! I'm okay.....now. My brothers saved me." Floyd gestured to the group, holding (Y/N)'s hand, and leading him over to the others.

"Guys, this is (Y/N)....my fiance." Floyd smiled as (Y/N) waved shyly. For such an energetic Troll, he was still pretty shy.

"Your fiance?!" Everyone gasped looking at (Y/N), who upon closer inspection, was wearing a ring matching Floyd's.

"Yep! Now let me see if I remember whose who..."

----------------------------LINEBREAK------------------------------------

You and Floyd have been friends since he'd stumbled into Lonesome Flats.

You are the town's architect, and try to find new ways to make the town safe and functional for everyone, while leaving space for the town's weekly square dancing.

You are the mix of a country troll (Mama) and a pop Troll (Daddy) and strangely enough are one of the shyest Trolls in Lonesome Flats but everyone knows you and is super kind.

Lonesome Flats is the type of place where everyone knows everyone, so....

Floyd calls you Beau as a nickname bc your daddy ;) and you call him Sugarcube bc this dude has a serious sweet tooth and is incredibly sensitive.

@vacayisland

[gay-dorito-dust]

Okay, since you’re rereading the books and your up for this request, can I request headcanons with the same hades reader you wrote earlier where she meets Nico di angolo when he arrives to camp and from the moment they met, they hit it of instantly and Nico clings to the reader his entire time there, and even hangs out with Luke cause Luke is the readers bf?

This was long as shit as I got carried away…oops. Not so much on Luke and Nico spending time together but more so reader and Luke talking about Nico.

The moment Nico was brought to camp, a wide eyed boy who was so full of awe and wonder and excitement, you just knew how special he was and you couldn’t help but feel a familial sense when it came to the boy.

Almost as if you knew him your entire life when in reality this was your first ever meeting the boy, but something deep down told you that you would do anything to keep this boy safe and happy for as long as possible before it would be taken away from him; after all life as a Demi-god wasn’t all glory and valour and you all had to learn that rather ruthless lesson one way or another…oftentimes prematurely.

Then again, you chalked this feeling down to you being protective towards the younger Demi-gods that entered camp but this feeling was a lot stronger then that, a hell of a lot in the sense that a older sibling would fret over their younger siblings…but Nico wasn’t your sibling…well not that you were aware of seeing as he was still unclaimed but you guessed being a child of the big three had made you envious of what children of other gods had; family. You were alone and have been alone for quite a while…

Luke, your beloved boyfriend, was able to fill that void for a while, but sooner or later the realisation of just how lonesome you have been would come to consume your every thought.

Mythomagic. You hadn’t heard of that game for quite some time but you had a deck of Mythomagic cards locked within a box, underneath one of the floorboards inside your windowless cabin. Why? They had become so severely damaged and worn with time that you were scared that if you were to pick one up, it would crumple to dust within your palm. Plus it was a sentimental gift from your mother before she…never mind.

The memory was still too painful for you to recollect.

So when you saw Nico fiddling with a Dionysus card -the weakest card in the card game- between his fingers out of nervous habit, you almost didn’t recognise yourself speaking until Nico’s dark eyes looked directly at you with excitement.

‘A Dionysus card, haven’t met anyone who played Mythomagic that genuinely liked that card, you like Mythomagic kid?’ You had asked.

‘Do you?!’ Nico exclaimed as his smile matched his dark obsidian eyes in how brightly they shined.

‘Does Hades have 4000 attack power, 5000 if the opponent attacks first?’ You quickly corrected your self as Nico moved to sit next to you under the tree. ‘Who’s your favourite?’ You added, wanting the lad to feel at ease with you despite what everyone else might’ve told him about you in terms of unapproachableness.

‘Dionysus obviously!’ Nico replied, showing you his card as if to emphasise his point. ‘People think he’s not all that good but I think his powers are pretty cool and to find out that he’s real?! Even cooler!’ He adds on as he looks down at the card as if he was debating whether or not he was going to ask Mr D to sign it. However if Nico was the type of player that you assumed him to be, he wouldn’t dare tempt the idea. ‘Who’s yours?’

‘Hades.’ You said point blankly before continuing, ‘and it’s not because he’s my father.’

‘Hades is your father?!’ - Nico near enough shouted to ear you both the eyes of a couple of campers but you shot them a deadpan glare and they were quick to go back to whatever it was that they were doing beforehand. You softened your face as you looked back at Nico and answered his question. ‘Yeah, he is. He’s not as bad as people make him out to be, he doesn’t get in other people’s business like some gods and goddesses, considering he’s got his own dealings that take presidency but he’s more accommodating then most seeing as I’ve visited him on multiple occasions.’ You finished, shrugging your shoulders, you didn’t want to add on the fact that he had even gifted you Dvir, a hellhound, just yet. In due time you would but, some people would consider that too much.

‘Wow, you’re so cool.’ Right then and there you decided that you would have Nico’s back no matter what, for he was the only one besides Luke that didn’t fear you for your father and by god was it the most reliving thing ever!

You became someone Nico felt comfortable being his true self with, and would even try to sneak into the Hades cabin whenever he needed you to give him comfort and reassure him that you wouldn’t leave him for the Hunters Of Artemis like Bianca did; despite it being against the rules and all but it’s not like you didn’t do the exact same thing with Luke whenever you needed his presence to sooth and put your mind at ease.

He even tried to sit next to you during dinner time at the pavilion, another camp rule he had broken in order to be by your side, but no one dared to speak up upon it and instead bite their tongues, seeing as you and Luke were equally challenging anyone to speak about this to Mr D or Chiron but, nobody dared to do so. Meanwhile Nico was completely obvious to it all and was showing you all of his Mythomagic figures, Mythomagic expansion packs and bestowing every last drop of his knowledge of the card game onto you, all the while you were storing it within your own head as though it was something you were going to have to use later on.

No matter where you went, Nico wasn’t far behind following you like a lost puppy. Needless to say that whenever anyone saw Nico on his own, they knew better then to try anything for you were often lurking within the shadows nearby, watching over the boy with such a fierce protectiveness whilst giving him his freedom to better aquatint himself with camp. When it came to Nico, it seemed as though you became a complete different person, you didn’t know why but all you knew was that you weren’t going to let anything harm Nico while you were able to do something about it.

‘Doesn’t it bother you? Having him cling onto you all the time?’ One brave camper asked once and in all honesty? You didn’t care that he clung to you do suffocatingly. If anything you were glad that he choice you to be the one he relies on for anything and everything, it made you feel an whole assortment of things, the main one being happy knowing that someone openly sought you out because they viewed you as someone who’s opinions are worth listening and taking head to.

Nico felt safer with you than he ever did elsewhere, which was saying something considering he was within a camp built to protect people like him but he felt his most safest with you; Someone whom he quickly began to form an attachment towards and would oftentimes find himself clinging to your side like a second shadow. So much so that Luke would playfully tease you about it whenever he saw you both.

When in actuality Luke loved the fact that Nico was so attached to you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that even with him by your side you still felt like you were alone, and could only hope that Nico would be the one to fill in that void within your heart completely. He was also happy for Nico for having you to fall back on because there was no one in camp that he would have to watch his back then yourself.

‘He’s asleep.’ You mused, looking at Nico, who fell asleep against Luke’s shoulder and was snoring softly.

‘He’s a good kid.’ Luke replied, ruffling Nico’s dark hair as a smile appeared on the younger boys face as he readjusted himself before falling still. Still like the dead Luke once playfully commented.

‘He really is.’ You said aloud, grasping Nico’s hand upon watching it reach out for you, squeezing it in hopes of showing him that you were with him. Luke pressed a kiss to your forehead as he saw the variety of emotions that flashed through your eyes as you kept watch over the sleeping boy. ‘You’re a good influence on him babe, don’t doubt yourself, the boy practically idolises you.’ He tried reassuring you but still the thoughts wouldn’t let up.

‘What if there’ll be a time where I can’t reach him, where I can’t save him from himself and he’ll resent me for it.’ You asked, needing Luke’s guidance more than ever in your time of uncertainty. Luke pondered this for a bit before finally responding. ‘There won’t be a time where Nico would ever resent you and even if that did ever happen, I just know that he would hate himself even more for pushing the one person who had his back and cared for him like their own flesh and blood.’ He then squeezed your thigh reassuringly. ‘That and you’d dive into the depths of the labyrinth to bring him back no matter what and he knows that better than anybody that you’d endanger yourself just to save him, even from himself.’

He was right. You knew he was right. You would wholeheartedly throw yourself into harms way if it meant Nico came out unscathed and that terrified you and Luke could see this. ‘So don’t doubt yourself because if you doubt yourself then Nico will doubt himself by extension. For if the person he admires doubts themself then he would feel like he should too.’ Luke then rests his forehead against yours, his eyes staring deeply into yours. ‘I know you can guide him down the right path, be the kind of person you needed when you were in his situation, be the person you know you’d feel safe with, be his protector because I know you can. He needs you.’ He finished.

You looked down at the peacefully sleeping Nico before looking back up at Luke with a look of determination. ‘I promise to protect him and help him in whatever he may need.’

Like smirks. ‘That’s my baby.’

[visceravalentines]

cold blue summer

a slasher movie AU for The Passenger (2023)

Elliot Sheppard, a third-grade teacher at Central Elementary, abused children for many years before being exposed and taking his own life. Now, twenty years later, the school is being demolished, and something has awakened.... Strap in for the cruelest summer on record.

An homage to classic slasher movies with a summer romance flair.

Read the intro below and read the first chapter (and the rest as it updates this summer) on ao3! Mind the tags--suicide, implied/referenced child abuse, graphic depictions of violence.

School lets out early that year.  

The kids don’t question it, no matter how many times they catch the adults cutting conversations short when they walk in the room.  You don’t look too hard at a gift like that, four extra days of blue sky and no schedule.  

The school makes a statement that says everything and nothing, tries to keep the details vague, but word spreads anyway like kudzu.  The parents sit and fret, cancel camps, extend family vacations.  Stand in the hallways late at night and peer through cracked bedroom doors and swallow their dread down whole and kicking.  Read statistics.  Count their blessings.  

It’s a weird summer, gets off on a weird foot, like trying to hopscotch wrong-foot-forward.  

It’s early Monday morning, too early for teachers to arrive yet.  The schedule change allows extra time to tear down posters, enter the final few grades.  Nobody’s in a rush, though, to sit alone in the empty classrooms.  To sit in the silence of that building and let imagination run wild.  To be there, in the place where it happened.  In proximity to the unthinkable, guilty by association.  By ignorance.  By inaction.  

Elliot Sheppard has been missing for three days.  

The playground for the younger grades sits on the east side of the school at the base of the hill.  The kids call it the Little Toy, relative to the Big Toy, which is on the other side of the building and reserved for the older grades.  Weeds have already started their seasonal conquest, bursting up at the edge of the wood chips and in the shade of the slide.  The foursquare courts need repainting.  A kickball sits half-deflated in the grass at the bottom of the hill.  

The lonesome call of a mourning dove trembles over the dew.  The sun stretches its arms over the lowlands, rosy and resplendent.  In the pale dawn light, blood drips black onto the wood chips.  The gun sits mere inches from the thick-fingered hand that dropped it.  Very little of the man remains above the bridge of his nose, mouth rent asunder, a tooth fairy’s bounty.  Flies already swarm around the pale blue sinkholes of his eyes.  

He will be found in less than an hour by the secretary who bid him good morning every day since she started at Central.  The police will identify him immediately and do their damnedest to keep these details out of the media too, in the name of protecting privacy, protecting dignity.  In an effort to shelter the soft and innocent from the uglier parts of life.  

This time, at least, they might succeed.  

-

Three miles away and twenty years later, Benson Rousseau jolts awake with a scream in his throat.  

[munchmemes]

hozier lyrics, hozier (expanded edition)

❛  i should've worshipped them sooner. ❜

❛  we were born sick. ❜

❛  the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you. ❜

❛  i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ❜

❛  good god, let me give you my life. ❜

❛  there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. ❜

❛  it's toying somewhere between love and abuse. ❜

❛  no more alone or myself i could be. ❜

❛  [i/you] lurched like a stray to the arms that were open. ❜

❛  i lay my heart down with the rest at [your/their] feet. ❜

❛  i wonder if it's better now having survived. ❜

❛  i'm so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. ❜

❛  no better version of me i could pretend to be tonight. ❜

❛  [they/you] found me just in time. ❜

❛  cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done, i need to be youthfully felt cause i never felt young. ❜

❛  it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometimes. ❜

❛  we tried the world and it wasn't for us. ❜

❛  you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ❜

❛  would things be easier if there was a right way? ❜

❛  honey, there is no right way. ❜

❛  i fall in love just a little bit every day with someone new. ❜

❛  there's an art to life's distractions. ❜

❛  love with every stranger, the stranger the better. ❜

❛  all i've ever done is hide. ❜

❛  when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, i feel ike a person for a moment of my life. ❜

❛  but you don't know what the hell you put me through. ❜

❛  it feels good to be alone with you. ❜

❛  there are questions i can't ask. ❜

❛  now, at last, the worst is over. ❜

❛  i know that you hate this place. ❜

❛  there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? ❜

❛  there's something lonesome about you, something so wholesome about you. ❜

❛  innocence died screaming. ask me, i should know. ❜

❛  there's something broken about this but i might be hoping about this. ❜

❛  we'll lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand. so still and discreet. ❜

❛  i'd be home with you. ❜

❛  any way to distract and sedate. ❜

❛  i'm somewhere outside my life. i keep scratching but somehow i can't get in. ❜

❛  don't you stand there watching me, won't you? ❜

❛  don't you join in, you're supposed to drag me away from it. ❜

❛  i'm so full of love, i could barely eat. ❜

❛  [they/you] are sweet as can be. [they/you] give me toothaches just from kissing me. ❜

❛  no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to [them/you]. ❜

❛  you never asked me once about the wrong i did. ❜

❛  [you/they] would never fret none about what my hands and my body done. ❜

❛  if the lord don't forgive me, i'd still have you and you would have me. ❜

❛  why were you digging? what did you bury? ❜

❛  i will not ask you where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you. ❜

❛  just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do. ❜

❛  i know that look, eyes always seeking. ❜

❛  i will not ask you why you were creeping. in some sad way, i already know. ❜

❛  you know better than to smile at me like that. ❜

❛  i know who i am when i'm alone. ❜

❛  you don't understand. you should never know how easy you are to need. ❜

❛  don't let me in with no intention to keep me. ❜

❛  it can't be unlearned. i've known the warmth of your doorways. ❜

❛  i'll find my way back to you. ❜

❛  my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man's beliefs. ❜

❛  screaming the name of a foreigner's good is the purest expression of grief. ❜

❛  i feel no control of my body. i feel no safety in [your/their] arms. ❜

❛  all that i've been taught and every word i've got is foreign to me. ❜

❛  it looks ugly but it's clean. ❜

❛  your fight and fury is fiery. ❜

❛  it's worth it, it's divine. i have this some of the time. ❜

❛  you called my name til the fever broke. ❜

❛  i heard a scream in the woods somewhere. ❜

❛  i turned and ran to save a life i didn't have. ❜

❛  i need you to run to me. run to me! ❜

❛  when i was a child, i heard voices. some would sing and some would scream. ❜

❛  don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash. ❜

❛  you've done me wrong for a long, long time. ❜

❛  after all you've done, i never changed my mind. ❜

❛  please, try to love me. ❜

❛  my love will never die. ❜

[brujahinaskirt]

You know, when it really comes down to it, the main thing that tears me to pieces about Arthur & John is encapsulated so nicely in the trope of the Lonesome Cowboy.

RDR2's storytelling is particularly masterful as it shows us that everyone is the mythic Lonesome Cowboy... but at the same time, I believe it manages to quietly suggest there is one true Lonesome Cowboy of the series.

And it ain't Arthur Morgan.

DEEPLY overwritten explanation below!

On the surface, Arthur is clearly set up by RDR2 to be our Lonesome Cowboy. He even sings the song. But is he really? Really, truly? Or is Arthur's brand of lonesomeness a clever model to help us, through comparison and contrast, begin to notice and understand another, deeper type of loneliness?

Arthur thinks he's unlovable and alone because he lacks one specific type of love, romantic domesticity, which he has dreamed throughout his life and consistently been denied. But though his pain is genuine, the idea that Arthur is alone and unloved is almost laughable. R* shows us every single game day that Arthur is surrounded by people who love him, live with him, and depend upon him.

But that's the great irony of the RDR Lonesome Cowboy, right? Arthur feels lonely and believes he is alone because he is a "bad man" and nonbeliever whom "no one will have" (not even God, and he remains true to his atheism through the bitter end [and thank god for that honestly because the last thing I needed was a Come to Jesus cowboy game...]).

But the inverse is true, and his depression is lying to him; Arthur is almost never alone and pretty much everyone in his family unit actively enjoys his company and wants him around. And yes, many of these people are damaged and have trouble communicating that (though fewer than you'd think). And no, it isn't the same as getting married to one person and raising a family with them for the rest of your life. But lonesome? As in, emotionally and/or physically alone?

Nah! Come on, man! Not even close.

Arthur is more than just loved and needed: he's actually understood by those he chooses to let in, because Arthur is definitely capable of telling his closest confidants how he feels and what is lurking in his heart. We see him do this many times. Sometimes with surprising ease and honesty.

When Arthur is physically alone in RDR2, he's wandering at the player's command, and if he wanders for too long, he's eventually retrieved & lambasted by the people at camp who quite openly/forcefully tell him they missed him and worried about him. Even Low Honor Arthur is a popular man at camp, in his own way, the support beam of his strange family (though LH Arthur is more likely to selectively deny that support, or to provide that support with the caveat of verbal cruelty).

A messy run-down of some obvious examples to illustrate my point:

Despite Dutch's deterioration and manipulations, Dutch and Hosea openly dote on him and relish telling embarrassing family stories about their Big Man Old Guard son to each other. Hosea especially frets about and tries to care for Arthur, mostly physically but sometimes emotionally as well. Susan can be abrasive at best, but she also clearly favors Arthur, thinks often about his well-being, and is one of the primary worriers when he's away from camp for too long.

Abigail and Jack completely rely on Arthur for a significant period of their lives, and though Abigail struggles greatly with showing affection & vulnerability, I would argue her primary and most extraordinary mode of care and affection for Arthur is allowing him to help her raise her son. Sure, she needs the help... but Arthur needs the nuclear family experience of being heavily relied on, too, and Abigail makes it clear she understands that about him better than anybody else. (I'd go on to argue that being relied on in a family way is essential for Arthur's self-esteem and is how he can continue to function despite the massive clash between his true nature and his violent lifestyle, for which he constantly berates himself. But that's neither here nor there...)

The Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) actively worry about his mental health and invite him to share his burdens with them, comfort him (each in their own unique way), play games, dance, etc. They do this for Arthur we don't see them do for anyone else in camp (apart from each other, which leads me to believe Arthur is sort of an honorary member of The Girls, though I won't get too much into that here).

Sadie: "Aside from my [BELOVED HUSBAND AND SOUL MATE] Jake, you're the best man I've known."

Though Arthur seems more likely to trust & befriend women/non-masc men, he has masc men friends & confidants too, and most of the men at camp seem to rank Arthur as somehow more reliable than other members. Charles very obviously loves Arthur & vice versa to the point where I tried to pick one demonstrative example and couldn't figure out where to begin. Uncle is a pain in Arthur's ass, but when shit hits the fan, he knows (and tells him) that Arthur is the best man of them all. Lenny, while young, enjoys Arthur's company (though I would argue Arthur feels more strongly about Lenny than the inverse due to Arthur's tendency to protectively fuss over young people). Hell, Sean constantly tells Arthur, word for word, "I love ya, Arthur Morgan!!! I really do!!! I love ya!!!!" He's being goofy, but he's not joking! He said that!

And that's just a surface-level sampling of gang members. These threads run much, much deeper and we could spend essays analyzing each one, but my god this has gone on too long already.

One could argue that Arthur's story aloneness is at the moment of his death, but I can't quite agree. With Save John + High Honor Arthur path especially, I would argue Arthur has never been less emotionally (even spiritually) alone than when he chose to change the very nature of his death from a random consequence of his hard life to an act of love that gives his surviving core family (John, Abigail, Jack) a chance at happiness. In less peaceful endgame scenarios, Arthur might not actually die alone, or even have time to linger on his approaching departure from the world.

So I posit that Arthur is not, was never the Lonesome Cowboy. Arthur is loved as much as he loves others.

I posit that the true Lonesome Cowboy of RDR is John.

John Marston, who on the surface has everything Arthur ever wanted... but who, due to the nature of his heart and what he's seen, cannot bring himself to fully open up in a way that enables him to be truly understood and embraced by anyone, not even the person he comes to love most in the world (Abigail). There's a reason the epilogue feels so shocking and lonely, and while I do think Rockstar could have done a better job on the transitional cinematics from playing as Arthur to playing as John, that crushing loneliness and sense of discomfort and incompleteness is vital.

It feels awful. It feels like we just lost a limb and were thrown back into everyday life with no fanfare, no true honorable sendoff, no closure, no greater understanding of the world, no peace or contentment. And it feels that way because that discordant, jarring dis-allowance of grief is the ONLY mechanism that helps us feel how John must feel now. Because unlike Arthur, John cannot express or unfold or understand his own pain and loneliness. Not to us, the player, and not even to himself. He never grieves.

Of course, when Sadie and Micah drift back into his life, John snaps. He's never grieved! He's been emotionally alone through all of that, even when he has his family and friends, because he can't open up and let them in! He risks destroying his family in a way that would have undoubtedly caused Arthur extreme horror and anger because John's family is not and has never been a cure for John's loneliness, even though John truly loves them more than anything at the end.

John can't express it, so it's these lyrics themselves that serve as the fount of his grief: I ain't got no brother. No wonder Abigail has her own quiet epilogue rendition of this song (and she, too, is a profoundly Lonesome Cowboy in her way, just like Karen, Hosea, Javier, Jack, etc....). Once Arthur is gone from the world, so too is the only person who knew this deeply damaged kid well enough from his wild childhood to really even hope to see into John's heart.

tl;dr: Arthur thinks he's the legendary Lonesome Cowboy, but he's not. He's just lonely, not alone. In reality, the character who is fundamentally alone, truly lonesome, has always been John.

[ickadori]

++ 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎

[summary] you accompany arlecchino to a business meal.

[cws] reader wears a dress but is otherwise gn. murder. short.

Arlecchino has never brought you along on her business trips before, and would have preferred to keep it that way, but you had been insistent on coming along, lamenting that she left you by your lonesome for far too long whenever she left on business.

You had fussed and moped and she had been took it in stride, planning on returning with a few jewels to join your vast collection, along with a few other trinkets you seemed to collect for the fun of it, but then you had begun to ignore her.

Her greetings were met with silence, her kisses met with unresponsive lips or a turn of your head, and you chose to stay on your side of the bed at night opposed to burrowing into her side as you normally did.

It was one the cruelest forms of torture she had seen — the withholding of your affections.

She caved very quickly after that, allowing you to come along as long as you followed one simple rule.

Never venture away from her side.

Arlecchino was a woman with many enemies. Even if her position as a Harbinger didn’t automatically make her hated by many, her own ways in which she handled others would have surely done so. There had been few attempts on her life, most people having enough self preservation to steer clear of her, but some people had been foolishly spurred on by the promise of insurmountable amounts of moral.

Those people had quickly found themselves with their heads in their laps, the lucky ones, anyways…the unlucky ones had been turned over to Dottore so he could further his knowledge on all the different ways to make a human writhe in agony.

While she never fretted about who may be lurking around corners and waiting for their chance to strike her down (a chance that she would never give them), she did fret when you were brought into the equation.

An attempt on her life was an inconsequential thing in terms of your own, and she didn’t want to find out just how badly she’d react if you were ever hurt, or worse, killed.

“As much as I love sitting around and watching two old men whisper back and forth,” you lowly start, a bored expression on your face as you turn to face her, “I’d much rather be doing something else.” Arlecchino takes a sip of her drink, black fingers a stark contrast to the porcelain teacup in her hand. “How much longer do we have to sit through this before they inevitably do whatever it is you want them to?”

“About two more cups full of tea, and possibly a desert.” You deflate. “Need I remind you that you were the one insistent on coming along?” She inclines her head in your direction, giving only a slither of her attention to the two men sat across from the both of you. They’re Fontaine’s top researchers, secrets that are unknown to many locked away in their minds, secrets that Arlecchino plans on getting, one way or another.

“That’s because I thought we’d be doing something interesting.” You stress, hands fiddling with the sleeves of your dress, and she gives you a leisurely once over, humming to herself as she appreciates the view. “Tartaglia has told me all about the things you get up to when I’m not around, and I wanted to see it for my own eyes.” Ah, so that’s what had brought on the sudden insistence that you tag along.

“You really shouldn’t listen to all the things that boy tells you. It’s highly dramatized.” You purse your lips, and just as you go to say something you’re cut off, one of the researchers -Nil, she believes- finally stopping his discussion with his partner and giving Arlecchino his attention.

“We talked it over and while we did find the offer to be mutually beneficial… collaborating with the Fatui is something that we just cannot do!” Nil raises his voice, and Arlecchino is glad that she chose to rent out the entirety of Hotel Debord. “We won’t deny that you’ve done your fair share of good deeds for the people of Fontaine, particularly the children, but that doesn’t excuse all the murdering, torturing, and brutalizing you’ve done!”

You bristle beside her, and she takes another sip of her tea as thrust a finger in their direction. “Excuse you! I suggest you watch your tone when you speak to her, you old, senile coot.” The man beside Nil chooses to be offended next, and Arlecchino places her teacup down.

“How unfortunate that we couldn’t come to an agreement.” All parties ignore her, and she has half a mind to see how long the three of you could argue back and forth before growing tired, but then an insult is being thrown your way, and your brows are furrowing as your eyes grow glassy and…

“Nil!”

The fire starts from within, and Arlecchino clasps her hands together as blisters begin to form on Nil’s skin, the blood inside his veins boiling. He’s only able to moan in pain, hands fruitlessly clawing at his skin in an attempt to quell the flames.

“What did you do!?” His partner screeches before grabbing the pitcher of water in the center of the table and dousing Nil in it - a valiant effort it was, but ultimately pointless. “Nil—Gods, what did you do?”

A shaky breath comes from beside her, and Arlecchino turns to see you watching the sight in awe, your hands splayed on the table as you take it all in with unblinking eyes.

“He insulted my fiancé, so he paid the price.” Your eyes dart to hers, and a heat completely different from the one emanating from the charring corpse swirls in her gut. “And a fair price it was, don’t you agree?”

You blink as if coming out of a daze, and your head slowly swivels toward her. There’s a mix of emotions swirling in your eyes, but she’s studied you long enough to be able to pinpoint them all; horror, trepidation, awe, admiration, and the undying love that’s without a doubt reflected in her own gaze.

“Yes.”

It’s why the two of you fit together so effortlessly.

[scara-hater]

love your cuddles n plushies 😭😭 could I request one with zhongli, dottore, pantalone, and scara? (Fatui era) love your writing ❤️❤️

YESYESYES, these are all different lengths, and I feel these are rushed, apologies for the inconsistency!

Not proofread!

Pt.1 - pt.2

Cuddles and plushies pt.3

--

Zhongli

You like him, he’s cool, so you make a keychain companion to take on your travels. Working in trade gets really lonesome, and missing your friend is the worst feeling because there’s no vibrancy in colour when apart from him.

It’s likely been about a month since you left Liyue, and you are buzzing with excitement when the city comes to view.

Rushing to your house to rid of any dirt during days of venture, and changing into your normal attire, you grab a bag of trinkets and make your way to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Zhongli seems to enjoy hearing you talk about each item, so it’s expected you visit upon arrival.

Barging through the door to greet the seated man, you smile while plopping your bag unto the table to begin your stories.

But being so lost in your memories, you miss him pick something from the pile. “How peculiar.” “now just where did you find this?”

Looking up, you see his gloved hand holding the keychain. “WAAH-“ forcefully standing, you smack it from his grasp, and shove it away. Poor man hadn’t had the time to process what just happened before you begin to scramble for an explanation, “Ha! I mean- I didn’t! It was- you- umm..”

then he understood, “y/n, darling.” You freeze, “yes…?” Leaning forward with his chin resting on folded hands, he looks you straight in the eyes, “did you make it. Is it yours?”

Your face is burned pink, and how intently he’s staring at you certainly isn’t helping. frantically you shove everything back into your bag, spinning to look at him one last time before lying right in his face, “ I have absolutely no idea what that is or how it got there! It is a mystery only the archons have an answer to I suppose!”

He watches as you speed walk out of the building. But he can’t help but wonder, If you don’t know where it came from, why did you take it when you left?

A smiled graced Zhongli’s face, why he must tell you that he feels the same.

Pantalone

This mf would leave you on purpose if he could. The way you scramble to greet him when he arrives from an all day event, your smaller body hugging his torso his as if it’ll be the last. He thrives on your touch, he is whole heartedly enthralled with you.

So imagine his feelings when you make a plush dedicated fit his image. Both positive and negative.

It was adorable seeing you for the first time with it. You didn’t meet him at the door and when searching for you, and he found you melting over how small the plush was. It certainly inflated the harbingers ego.

But what started as a harmless way to entertain your loneliness, soon turned into Pantalone’s loathing. You held it close, snuggling into it as you rested in the living space, then into when you slept, cuddling it instead of him. Why is a mere foolish toy winning you over and straying you away from him? A creation made in his honour, only to lose the privilege of your attention.

“I swear I had left it here.” Bending down, you look under the bed to see if it had fallen, Your prized possession is lost. you could have sworn you had it on the side of your shared bed, but it is no where to be seen. Rummaging and throwing everything in sight, you turn the room into a mess as you try to find the plush. “I swear I feel like I’m going insane haaaah.” Groaning you flop face first onto the mattress and sprawl your body into a starfish position. You give up.

“Y/n, perhaps you left it during an outing, there’s no need to fret over something so futile.” Leaning on the door frame, he opens his eyes to see your un-moving figure, “Come, let us walk and rid ourselves of unwanted stress.” Smiling, he steps to your figure and sits at the end of the bed, rubbing circles on your back.

“‘Kay, but give me a few minutes to mourn my loss.” Raising your arm, you give him a thumbs up.

Yeah, he threw it out and burned the bin.

Dottore

He doesn’t understand how others minds work, and really only thinks about himself, but respects you. and tries to give you a time frame of how long he’ll be gone when pursuing his experiments. Nice enough, but with a doctor as crazed as he is, staying in his lab can last for weeks back to back. And you are supposed to stay and wait for him?

No way.

You instead, have an experiment of your own! The goal? Creating a cuddle buddy for when Dottore is gone.

And experiment is what you do. Trial and error, you want to gouge your eyes out, but within due time, it all pays off. Though, you are quite tired now. Spending all day focusing one thing is exhausting, you don’t know how he does it.

Cleaning your mess and shuffling into the bed, your hands hold the peculiar thing as you trace it’s silhouette. With heavy eyes slowly closing, you can’t truly see the appeal of the plush you had made, it isn’t human and can’t fulfil your need for human contact. Yet as you fall into a slumbered state, you don’t seem like you’re letting it go anytime soon.

The night was quiet, and the room only sound of soft breathing.

Routine never breaking, you slept alone once again, or you though.

And instead of waking to the rise of the sun, you felt the bed dip and something yanking you into their grip, “wha- oomf!”

“It’s only me, go back to sleep I’ll be here in the morning.”

Scaramouche

Little shit just goes missing. You’ll start your day, make breakfast, and go to work. Then…. wait a minute.

He straight up left, cursing him out only for it to land onto the walls of your home. so out of spite you stomp to your box of odds and ends, muttering less than pleasant words as you angrily lay out a foundation to create your own even smaller doll. If this idiot doesn’t love me, I’ll just made one that does.

And it takes hours of vengeful sewing and stuffing, until finally, it’s complete.

Matching his indigo hair and the permanent frown that ruins his beautiful face, you close the the last stitch giving it a testing squish. Perfect.

Holding it in your palms you groan, “I don’t understand why you can’t give me so much as a note.” A pout on your face you squeeze it’s body, “ I actually miss you, even though you suck, so stop keeping me at an arms distance when I care so deeply about you.” Sighing, you draw the plush closer to your chest, laying on your back you stare at the ceiling., “Perhaps when you come back we’ll talk.” But until then you’ll figure out how to show him that leaving without saying, makes you upset. And that doesn’t take long.

Now all there is to do is wait.

Another several days passed before your scara came home, and once he did, boy was he livid.

“Y/n you imbecile, show yourself! Just what in your simple minded brain made you think this is funny?” Coming down the hall, he sees you, “well? Just what the hell is this?” Pointing to the lamp outside the front door, you poke your head out pretending to not know that hanging from the light fixture is a caged plush, of him.

Not only that, but a note stating, ‘do not free the naughty boy who has no respect.’ And he is not taking it lightly, “in your next lifetime, do not speak to me.”

Ever so calmly you stand outside with him, reaching to take his hat off, “but that’s impossible my love, I’d miss you too great to forget you.”

“welcome home my love.”

His face bursting into hues of red, and he marches out of the room.

He didn’t talk to you for three days.

I promise I’m better at writing, i think I’m losing my mind right now

[auduux]

COTL AU

They got to me

AU under the cut (no art because I can't draw lolz)

This is a swap au with Yellow Cat and Leshy, Yellow Cat (dubbed Joon for this) is Lambert, Leshy is Narinder.

Leshy The Chaos (By himself and siblings)/Chaos (By himself and siblings)/The One Who Fears (By Heket and Shamura)/The Fool (By Kallamar, Heket, and Narinder)/ He of Havoc (By all)/The Worm (by all)

Youngest brother of the gods, banished for an unknown reason to a prison in the deepest depths of hell. What was said when he descended is unknown, but the gods started hunting and slaughtering all cats shortly after.

Joon (Yellow Cat) The Cat (By Leshy)/Cat (By Leshy)/Vessel (By Leshy)/Child of Death (By Leshy, Shamura, and Heket)/Vile Cat (By Narinder, Kallamar, and Leshy)/Vile Feline (By Kallamar and Leshy)/Feline (By Leshy and Heket)/Puppet of Chaos (By Narinder, Kallamar, Heket, and Shamura)/Leader (By followers)

The last cat slaughtered, stupidly sent to the same place as Leshy's prison by Narinder.

Bishop fight order: Narinder > Kallamar > Heket > Shamura > Leshy

Voice Lines

Leshy When first encountered: "You there! You are a cat. One of my brothers own children." "You were slaughtered, like many others..."

Trying to convince Joon to follow him: "Do you wish to exact revenge? Feel a gods flesh in your teeth?" "Help me, and you will never again feel fear. I will make you powerful."

After Joon accepted: "Wonderful! Take my crown, cat, and you will never be slaughtered again." "The forests of Darkwood will be kind to you." "Now go, go to Salem (not the actual name I just gave up on thinking of one) where my jailer resides..."

When about to fight Narinder: "My brother, the cat of death. He thought he could seal me, but no! I will be free!" "Once, there were many cats under his rule. They called him father, even. But not anymore. He has contributed to each and every death upon his people."

After defeating Narinder: "Wonderful! The fool is now trapped within his own realm! I wish I could see him scream and beg!" "Not even Aym and Baal can save him now, the cutthroats...he is all alone." "Now go to Anchordeep. Your next target resides there."

Before fighting Kallamar: "Kallamar is a fool and coward but his wit far surpasses any. Do not think of him as weak, lest one of his many weapons lop your head from your shoulders." "Do not fail me, vessel."

After defeating Kallamar: "The squid has fallen! His ears have been cut from his head! He has gone deaf!" "You have done well, my vessel. Darkwood will be pleased." "Anura is where my sister resides, she of hunger. Do not start eating your own arm when in her presence."

Before fighting Heket: "Heket is a heavy hitter. I suggest gaining armor before fighting her. She may just flatten you."

After defeating Heket: "She will go where none of the others have, and she, too, will be on her lonesome. " "I wish I could see her despair..." "Go, vessel. Shamura awaits her judgement."

Before fighting Shamura: "My eldest sibling. They are the most wise and will be the hardest to beat. Do not tread lightly in the silk cradle." "Shamura. Perhaps the kindest of us all. Try not to die, feline." "They hold the key to my prison. Retrieve it and set me free, and you will be rewarded."

After defeating Shamura: "Shamura never was bothered by solitude, but perhaps after a thousand years it will get to them." "Now free me, and you will be rewarded accordingly!"

After being freed: "It has been so long since I could walk freely! Now come forth. Your life will be mine, but you will never have to fret again."

After Joon refused: "You putrid thing...you cannot have my crown! Serve your purpose and submit to me!"

After being defeated: "You vile feline, what have you done to me?! I cannot see!" "I will have your head for this, child of death!"

When asked about Forneus: "Forneus, the poor she...her kits, Aym and Baal, the watchdogs of death, were taken from her just after birth. If she has not died yet, I assume Heket was able to save her from an early grave. She always fancied the cat."

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hey! Hi

I love your work too much I love Mai'tuiudh too much 🥹

If you don't mind, could you do an mlm with a reader who has problems with selfharm and his Yautja tries to console him even though he doesn't understand why his boyfriend hurts himself?

I have been feeling bad these days and if you do it would be a huge consolation 😞 Sorry if I don't know how to express myself well, English is not my native language 😔

A Battle Mai'tuiudh Can't Fight For You

Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (Male Yautja) x Reader

Warnings: self-harm, blood, thoughts of suicide, relapse of self-harm, comfort, happy ending.

Summary: Away from prying eyes, you wallow in your sorrow. By yourself. Mai gone. Fresh cuts on your arm. A relaspe.

Word Count:2108

Author Note: I just want to say that if you or anyone needs an ear to vent to, you're more than welcome to. I'm not just a writer but a friend to anyone. I'm here for you. Anyone.

P.s. Don't fret, your English is amazing. Works perfectly for me. If you are wanting more, just let me know. I'm one message away.

P.s.s. Happy Thanksgiving! Here's the second one I'm posting today

Masterlist

Ao3

In the lonesome apartment, tucked away in the tiny bathroom, you sat on the cold, unforgiving floor. Dried, salty trails of tears have evaporated long ago. Time has been a blur. You’ve been stuck inside of your mind since the start of this day. Thoughts running rampant. Thoughts you had to get rid of.

Everything wasn’t fine. No matter what you told yourself. No matter how many times you thought of it, repeating it in your mind. Just hoping that saying it so many times would make it true. But, your wish never became a reality.

It started as a steady decline. Friends seeing you pull away from them. Family hearing from you less. Coworkers seeing you slack in your work. Did anyone help? Did anyone grab your hand and lift you up? To guide you softly back to a safe mindset? No. None of them. Your work grew worse and worse. People screaming at you for messing stuff up. Your friends complaining about never seeing you. Family not taking the initiative. They all left you to be barricaded in your meek bathroom, blood dropping to the floor.

This was the only way of relief you could find without ending it all. You didn’t have the balls to do that. You’ve been so good too! You’ve had dealt with troubling times before. Past scars marring your skin. You’ve been clean! Until today. Your relapse. The day you sought a blade from the kitchen and sliced through your healing skin.

And fuck, it felt good. It released everything that has been building up. All the anguish, the heartache, the pain. Every slice cutting through the past marks to create new ones in their wake.

Your head thunked against the drywall. The sobs that once shook your fragile body had left, left you feeling meek and even more miserable. Both nostrils were plugged up, snot running down. Your throat ached and was dry. Here you were, the mate of a power species. Pathetic and useless to him. Despite the feeling building inside of you to cry all over again, you have long lost the energy to do so. Instead, you just stay on the bathroom floor.

Dried blood stuck to your fresh wounds, staining the linoleum floors dark red. You didn’t even have the energy to get up and wash yourself from the mess you created. No, you just stayed there, limp and wanting to be lifeless.

The bathroom door slammed opened, nearly splintering from the force. A new hole smashed into the wall. You couldn’t even lift your head to see who just about demolished your door. A second didn’t past when you felt hands, hot palms, grabbing at you. Clicks and chitters sounding from an alien tongue you didn’t register in your mind.

Then, you were lifted up, over the tubs edge, and place inside the off-white tub. Cold water touched at your toes, finally forcing you to rouse. You whined and tried to weakly climb from the empty bath. But, a firm grip on your shoulder was all it took to keep you there. Finally, you lift your head to find the alien mask of your mate. His biomask covering his face as he fretted over you.

For a moment, you just stared and realized he was calling your name. All you gave in return was a low hum and going lax. The only thing you wanted to do was lie there. A hand cupped at your face, forcing your head back up to look up at your mate. His free hand pulled at the tubs connecting to the cover and yanked the thing off. It was discarded to the side.

Mai’tuiudh leaned in close. His bright eyes dirtied with fret as they darted across your face then down at the marks on your arms. Chitters and even light whining produced from his throat. Once he had your attention, he released your face to grab a washcloth close by. With it, Mai’tuiudh wet it and began to wash away the blood.

New, unfortunate pain rose inside of you. You squirmed and tried to break free from the unrelenting washing. Mai’tuiudh didn’t have any of it. His voice hardened, though he was speaking in rushed Yautja. At this point, he hadn’t realized what language he was in, just flipping to default at the sight of you bloodied and out of it.

You go lax once more, lazing in the tub, warm water running over your toes. It pointless to fight. You weren’t anywhere close strong enough to fight against him. Useless. Can’t do anything right. Not at work. Not with your friends or family. Not even with your own lover. How can he even look at you without disgust? Just a weak little thing who has to hurt themselves to feel better.

A fresh, hot, single tear rolled down your sticky cheek. Your name is called again. You’re staring at the off-white tub when you hummed in answer. A clawed finger gently picks up your chin, drawing your attention back up to your mate. But you couldn’t look him in the eye. You weren’t good enough for him. You’re a fucking male like him but couldn’t even compare to a quarter of his strength.

Two fingers pinched at your cheeks and slightly shook your head. Mai’tuiudh called your name once more. He didn’t understand what was wrong. For the moment though, he wanted to know who hurt you, who hurt his mate. He’ll hunt them down, tear their skull and spine from their body, and present it to you. A sharp snarl sounded from his chest. Yet, you gave no notion that you even heard him.

His years have taught him virtue and patience. So, he returned to cleansing the slices to your arms. The wounds… Mai’tuiudh found strange. They were purposeful but didn’t look to be aiming to kill. The amount of them as well. Mai’tuiudh couldn’t come up with one conclusion: torture. Someone wanted to torture you. But he couldn’t scent anyone else. Just him and you.

Dislodging the pack on his back, Mai’tuiudh brought out his medical supplies. In your dazed mind, you weren’t paying much attention to him. Not until a blinding, stinging pain raced up your arm. You about shot out of the tub and out the door if Mai’tuiudh hadn’t grabbed you. He forced you to stay but you didn’t stop. So, he had to take drastic actions.

Carefully, Mai’tuiudh climbed into the tub to trap you with his size and legs. This freed up his hands to continue working on the wounds on your arms. Despite the hoarse cries and squirming you did, nothing worked to throw the hulking Yautja off of you. Soon, the pain just dulled to the back of your mind as he slathered the blue paste on your skin.

White, sterile bandages were wrapped around your arms. Mai’tuiudh climbed off of you and stayed knelt by the tub. A hand came to rub his thumb on your cheek bone, soft purrs pouring from his throat. Unlike usual, you barely even reacted to the sound you loved so much.

Mai’tuiudh couldn’t help the whine when he realize he hadn’t won you over. Determined as ever, he scooped your laxed body from the rub and carried you over to your bed. He wanted to make you as comfortable as possible; despite wanting to take you to his ship, though shared with his hunt brothers. He knew you wouldn’t be able to rest easily there.

Thick, comforting covers were draped over you. Warm, muscular arms were wrapped around you, securing you to a chest you were familiar with. The purrs vibrating throughout your body.

After a long, silence-filled time, Mai’tuiudh spoke up. “Who hurt you?” his voice gruff with tension. The fact someone had hurt you while he was gone made him feel uneasy. His mate, wounded, on the verge of Dhi’ki-de – walking death. It had his heart clenching at the thought of loosing you. He didn’t understand how this could happen.

But you didn’t respond, again. With a grunt, he sat up and brought you with him. You were maneuvered to sit in front of him, facing the Yautja. Your head was bowed to blankly stare at the blankets on your bed. You name was called. “I asked who hurt you?”

The words entered your brain, rolled around for a bit before you shrugged. How weak would he think of you if he knew the truth? He’s seen worse, dealt with worse. And you couldn’t handle something that he could brush off. Pathetic. Weak. Meek. A little bug in his way.

He grunted with frustration again. Both of his hands were placed on your shoulders and he shook you to gain your attention. You raised your head to look him in the eye this time. “Who hurt you?” He was adamant. You had to admit that. And he wouldn’t stop until you answered him.

“Me.” Mai’tuiudh blinked. You? You hurt yourself? He shook his head, confused. His tresses swaying with the motion. Both of his hands cupped your face and wiped away tears you didn’t know had fallen. “It was me, okay?”

“Why?” It was the only word he could come up with. It didn’t make sense. If you hurt yourself, that makes you a target, makes you more susceptible to being hunted. You would be seen a prey, weaker so predators could kill you. So why in Paya’s name would you hurt yourself on purpose?! He whined, brows furrowed.

You released a deep breath and let him hold your head up. “Because.” He didn’t want to hear about your problems. You were useless to him, nothing more than an annoying fly. You didn’t know why he stuck around? Is this how he plays with his prey, his food before a hunt?

His brows fell into a deadpanned look. He grunted and shook you again. “Why?” he bit out harsher, hoping it would get you to open up. He knew oomans were more emotional then his own species. This wasn’t something he was used to but surely read up about after he realized he had fallen for you.

You tried to ducked your head in reaction but he held steady. He wasn’t doing to give up easily. This is a hunter, born and bred to wear down their prey. “I’m useless,” you spoke in a voice that he barely could catch. His head jerked, puzzled on why in the universe you, his mate, would think of such a thing! “I can’t do anything right. Everyone hates me.”

His spine tensed at your words. The feeling to dig his claws into something grew inside of him. Someone had planted those vile thoughts into your susceptible mind. He snarled, hands growing firm on your face, then yanked him towards his face. He pressed his forehead against yours and made sure you were looking at him.

“Who hurt you?” he asked again. His English wasn’t strong. He didn’t know how to ask why you thought that way or who told you that. So, he just repeated his words from before.

Mai’tuiudh say the frustration grow in your tired eyes. “Me! Mai’tuiudh. I hurt myself. I cut myself because it feels good! It dulls the ache in my chest. Makes me feel something besides all of this sorrow!” you screamed at him with hot, fresh down your face.

Then, it hit him. Wei mo’wei-te. Great sadness, his best translate he could come up with. This sorrow you feel is internal. Yautja have emotions, despite being able to hide them so well. They feel happy, angry, sadness. All of it. Maybe in less physical displays, but they still do. This sadness. He’s heard of it before, from Elders or Hunters who could no longer hunt.

To take a Hunter from the hunt was worse than thei-de. Like… like cutting the wings off of a bird. Leaves feeling this sadness that was hard to heal.

But it was possible. His brows drew together, determination filling his veins. His mate would not suffer this sadness alone.

“What you need?” Mai’tuiudh asked, ready to scour this plant or others to cure this sadness.

You couldn’t believe his words. Instead of turning away in disgust at how weak you’ve become, he stays like a sturdy statue at your side. For the first time, your sobs are from the sorrow that filled your hollow body. You launched yourself forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, face buried into his neck.

Mai’tuiudh understood what you needed.

Him.

[lotrthobbit]

Dwarf Princess 

Haldir x Dwarf!Reader

Warning: prejudice from elves against dwarves, angst, happy ending

a/n: For the sake of this story many things were changed in the original, also this has been in my drafts for about a year lol.

Deep within the forests where the birds sang surrounding a beautiful dwarf whom sat against a tree staring at her dear uncle chatting amongst the humans and the hobbits and his new frenemy, Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood.

She would not lie that he was pleasant site, he stood tall with long beautiful hair that fell down his back and broad shoulders that carried a head with a beautiful face adorned to it.

" Y/n" called Uncle Gimli. She got up from her seat and walked towards him," Yes uncle ? " she asked.

" What's got ya sitting by all your lonesome."

" Just thinking."

Legolas smiled at her and placed his hand upon her head, ruffling her hair as she pouted.

" Do not fret, we will soon pass over and then you can sleep peacefully on a bed." She smiled at him at the last word, bed. Oh how she longed to lay on a soft and fluffy bed, Do not get her wrong, she loved the great outdoors but she missed the comfort of her very own bed and the fluffy blankets that kept her toes warm and the morning cup of tea her mother would make her.

" I just hope we get there soon, even if it is just for a night."

" Well Lass, one more night in the woods will not kill ya." replied Gimli as he chucked. She sat down near the fire, feeling the bitter cold nip at her fingertips.

" At this point I feel like the cold will kill me before the orcs do." She chuckled as she looked up to see Legolas hand her some Lembas bread.

" Eat little one we have a journey ahead of us tomorrow."

" I AM A GROWN ADULT !" she huffed before golfing down the bread and beginning to set her cot near the fire. Legolas chuckled, he had grown quite close to y/n, he saw her as a little sister, after all it was her first journey and he felt a need to always protect her, that and her fascination of elves as he recalled their first encounter.

.

.

. flashback.....

" Uncle Gimli, look it is an elf."

" aye aye lass, be careful, they lack coordination and are coy."

Legolas chuckled to himself as he stood tall in front of the dwarf.

" funny for someone who can not even see over the table."

" Why you !!" That began the bickering friendship between the two while y/n was full of questions.

" how tall are you ?! What is your diet ?! Are all elves blonde ?! Where do you reside?!"

Legolas had never been asked so many questions in his life as of right at that moment.

.

.

.

end of flashback....

Gimli looked at his niece, she was in deep sleep.

" She is quite tall for a dwarf." Said Legolas.

" Aye..I believe her father was a human, although my sister never shared anything of it."

He nodded understanding that the topic was sensitive.

" Ill take first watch." said Legolas before Gimli turned around and said," What do yah think I am not capable of-"

" My friends there is no need to argue.." Aragorn spoke trying to defuse the situation.

.

.

.

The next morning was filled with dread, everyone was tired and the cold and hard ground did not aid their back pain. They simply longed for a warm home filled with delicious foods of all kind.

Aragron had pushed them to continue walking for hours without breaks or even lunch. Their stomachs were grumbling and the mud was piling on their feet making them feel as if the world was weighing them down.

" This is where Lothlorien should be." said Legolas as they continued trekking into the woods. It was foggy and ominous, nothing like the rumors that have spoken about the beauty of it. Legolas himself shared some stories he often heard as a small child about it.

"Daro !" spoke a voice commanding from the trees above. They all stopped as Legolas whispered to them to standstill and to not move a single muscle.

"who are they ?" whispered Frodo. " They are elves." replied Sam. Despite the fear in the other hobbits and even Uncle Gimli, Y/n could not help but feel excitement bubble up in her stomach, although she was also weary, perhaps they may not take a liking that they are stepping within their domain.

An elf dropped down in front of Legolas smiling, "Welcome!" They all looked around, they were surrounded by the elves pointing their arrows in case one wrong move was taken. " How many are there of you ?" asked an elf, Y/n's eyes widened as she stared at the elf before her, sure Legolas was beautiful but he, he was simply gorgeous, he stood tall and proud. Legolas replied with," myself, four hobbits, two men, and two dwarves."

" two Dwarves ?!" yelled the dwarf. " Is the woman a dwarf ?!" he questioned taking in her appearance, she was a beauty despite the mud on her clothes and the matted braids on her head, but she still radiated despite that.

" I can not let the dwarves pass." he declared, Frodo had done his best to try to reason with him, but another elf whispered in his ear that the Lady was expecting them. The elf presented himself as Haldir, he continued to explain that he would have to blindfold them in order to be taken to the Lady, whom was expecting them and turned to look at the dwarves, " keep a close eye on them."

Despite the beauty of Haldir, Y/n was hurt at his words, how could he say such cruel things when she had not done anything to hurt his trust. She pouted, but soon widened her eyes as she saw her uncle beginning to unsheath his axe and yell at the elves.

" We are not spies !" yelled Uncle Gimli, Y/n grabbed his wrist as she noticed the elves beginning to take aim.

" Uncle Gimli, we are on their land, we must abide by their rules and customs out of respect, the same way they would in our home." Haldir glanced at y/n she seemed uncomfortable with the accusation as she stared down at her feet rubbing her arm and tried to keep herself from looking at him.

he cleared his throat and put his axe away," very well."

As they began to be blindfolded, y/n could not help but hold her breath. She felt the cool fingers of Haldir push her hair behind her ears, his breath fanning her face as his arms came around to tie the cloth around her head and cover her pretty eyes. He questioned her lineage considering she was almost the size of an average human woman, but still quite a short stature. He grabbed her hand gently and began to lead her, unbeknownst to her, the rest of the company followed by grabbing onto a rope.

After some time, y/n felt the blindfold being removed, the sight before her left her speechless. The trees were tall and beautiful, the sun casting a beautiful glow within the forest, the air felt clear and pure, the aura of Lothlorien was unmatched. It was truly a sight.

" Lady Galadriel knows of your presence, you may wander freely." said Haldir.

As y/n began to walk away Haldir grabber her wrist," my apologies, my lady, can I perhaps show you something ?" He found himself bewildered that he even let his curiosity get the best of him, he wanted to find out more about her, he was also blinded by her beauty.

She nodded and followed closely behind, what choice did she have, he was holding her wrist afterall. From a distance, Legolas held Gimli back and smiled as the two ventured off somewhere else.

" Will you let me go you imprudent fool, that idiot is running off with me nice !" yelled Gimli

" now now, Sir Gimli, let your niece live her youth, she is a young woman afterall, she can make her own decisions." Said Aragorn.

.

.

y/n and Haldir reached a large tree. He let go of her hand and climbed up then looked back down to offer his hand towards her. She smiled and took it as he helped her up the tree.

" Is there something you wanted to show me ?" asked y/n.

" Look ahead."

There she gasped as she the vast land of Lorien, the beautiful light casting on the land, the calm waters and the beauty of nature.

" It is so beautiful." she said as she smiled and felt the wind tickle her cheeks. He stared at her mesmerized by the light in her y/e/c eyes," yes, it is."

She felt herself blush as she turned around to make eye contact with him. " Sir, Haldir, um...."

" just Haldir is fine."

" Haldir, may I ask, why did you want to show me this ?"

".. I...I don't know, I felt compelled to, as if we were destined to see this together." said Haldir.

Her eyes widened as she stared into the blue eyes of Haldir both leaning in, " Lass get down here this instant !" she felt herself almost slip if it weren't for Haldir wrapping his arm against her waist. He then held her and jumped down from the tree.

He landed in front of Gimli and Legolas," Watch yer step !" yelled Gimli as he tumbled back onto his bum.

" y/n/n, you just met this elf and you're already run off and been seduced ?! " yelled Gimli, causing y/n cheeks to turn a crimson red and stomp her feet," Uncle Gimli, I am not a child anymore ! And I am not being seduced ! Hmph." She walked away as Gimli tried to go after her but Legolas held him back sighing as he whispered to Haldir to leave at once before Gimli turned his attention to him.

It did not take long for them to meet again as a small feast was being held. They offered her a change of clothing, a beautiful lavender dress which she had not worn one since she left. She felt comfortable being freshly bathed and groomed. She had long waited to wash her hair and many of the Elven ladies helped comb and braid her hair which had grown throughout the journey. She sat next to her uncle at the table excited to eat, the seat in front of her was taken by no other than Haldir.

" You look beautiful " complimented Haldir, Y/n looked down at her lap and felt her cheeks flush as she thanked him for the compliment.

"tch." Gimli was angry at the interaction his young niece was smitten someone, an elf at that.

but that all changed when he laid his eyes on Lady Galadriel, she truly was a beauty and the air around her seemed to glow as she welcome them. The company could not help but laugh at seeing his cheeks turn red when she spoke to him.

" What was that about being seduced uncle ?" chuckled y/n. Haldir smiled to himself as he stared at her smile.

The feast went on smoothly, many retreating to their sleeping arrangements. Y/n spoke to Lady Galadriel briefly and she spoke about loving someone, y/n was confused as to why she would talk. about that but Lady Galadriel smiled," my dear child, afterall you are still young and have such a long life to live, do not fret and continue forward." She thanked her for such encouraging words as she walked away to go to sleep.

Somehow Lady Galadriel had a worried gut feeling.

The next morning the company was to leave, Haldir felt saddened that he did not get so speak to y/n, but was content when he saw her in his dreams that night. He felt a connection and could tell they were destined."

" Haldir, perhaps we may see each other again." smiled y/n

He smiled as his bent forward to place a kiss upon her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke once more," I have a feeling we will my Lady. " He said and smiled sweetly.

Despite the two barely meeting, they had a feeling that they had lived before, perhaps in their previous life they were lovers.

And yes, they met again but in unforeseen circumstances, as they fought against the orcs in Helms-Deep, protecting the people of Rohan, the elves of Lothlorien came to aid the company and the army of Rohan.

When y/n laid eyes on Haldir, she could not help but smile at his presence. They all fought bravely, to the end, but once the battle ceased, y/n tried to look for Haldir. She was held back by Legolas

" Legolas, let me go, I need to find Haldir." She felt a gut wrenching feeling, " Please y/n.." Said Legolas. She finally broke free and saw the Many dead men and elves. but her eyes traveled to where Haldir laid. HE was still blinking looking up into the sky. She quickly fell to her knees and called out

" Haldir !" she felt the tear rushing down her cheeks as she stroked his cheek trying to clear him of the blood that stained his pale skin.

He reached a shaky hand and placed it against her cheek, he began to speak," I do not know why the stars led me to you, but I...I-I am glad to have met y-"

" please save your energy, you're going to be okay !!" yelled y/n as she gripped his hand tightly. She kept repeating to herself 'you're going to be okay ' , but it was far too late as he let out his last breathe. She placed her forehead against his and closed her eyes as she cried out silently to herself. The company whom had been separated from Master Frodo and Samwise stood looking at the two, Aragorn himself could not contain his sadness as they all mourned the death of many, especially the death of an ally.

Gimli felt pain for his niece, but did not know what to do other than place his hand at her back. She did not want to let go of Haldir but Gimli told her they must. She placed a kiss on his forehead and stood up fists at her sides. She decided in that moment she would avenge his death.

And she did, together with lady Eowyn she found the strength within her and the company to strike down Sauron and many Orcs. She fought bravely.

Upon returning to Rivendell where many elves had now taken their departure to Valinor. It was now time for her departure as well along Bilbo, Frodo and Gandalf. Her uncle and Legolas were going to stay behind but as she looked into her Uncle's eyes she noticed tears within them. " Do not cry Uncle Gimli, we will be reunited soon, please take good care of him Legolas."

She embraced the both of them as she cried and soon they set sail.

Just as Haldir predicted, they soon met once again....

The End

[merakiui]

MERA not me thinking of the harbingers obsessing over the Tsaritsa's personal handmaiden 😫 🤌like ur so mysterious and they dont really know anything about you aside the fact that ur the Tsaritsa's personal handmaiden (reader is also immortal in here) and that what make's you intriguing to them.

Ooh, it’s even better if you’re the silent type—someone who’s as loyal as the most well-trained hound, a quiet force that only answers to the Tsaritsa. She’s the only one fortunate enough to hear your lovely voice. You often accompany her to the Harbinger meetings because she insists you come along and since it’s an order you comply without issue and stand in the background like a lonesome, unwavering shadow. You keep to yourself and only stare ahead, eyes never focusing on a single thing in the grand throne room. Although sometimes you’ll catch their stares as they sneak sly glances at you, some more obvious than the rest.

Colombina smiles covertly when she knows you’ve caught her stare. She sees no reason to hide her obvious curiosity. Just what will it take to hear the Tsaritsa’s beloved songbird sing? She wonders if you even possess a voice at all. From what she has observed, you only ever respond with curt nods and polite gestures when answering to others who aren’t your Archon. It’s only natural that your mysterious nature would attract her. Sooner or later she’ll have you singing so sweetly. It’s only a matter of time.

Capitano finds your silence alluring. There’s been a rumor amongst the Harbingers that your tongue was cut out for speaking poison, but he refuses to believe such prattle. You’re quiet and he hardly spares you much thought when he isn’t visiting Zapolyarny Palace. But lately his focus has begun to stray during meetings. It’s a relief his mask shields his face, otherwise you would know of his watchful gaze and that might frighten you. You are, according to his judgement, a fragile flower fighting the fierce, dagger-like ice that encases all of Snezhnaya. And perhaps he might be the one to protect you from such a dangerous climate. Both that and his colleagues. They are a threat to your tranquility, but then so is he.

Sandrone finds you to be absolutely delightful! You’re like an elegant, silent doll. Truly the finest marionette waltzing to the whims of a glacial puppeteer. She dotes on you in secret and wishes for a chance to catch you alone so that she may observe you more closely. Unlike her troublesome coworkers, you are far more tolerable. She almost wishes you obeyed her commands. It would be a blessing if she could indulge in tea with you without having to fret over whether or not her actions may upset Her Majesty. What a pity. Fortunately, she knows of a way to construct your likeness from spare parts, a new pet project she will thoroughly enjoy. And with time you’ll become her own precious doll.

Pantalone has gifted you a select few things in the past (jewelry, trinkets, desserts that are difficult to come by, etc). After all, you are an important pawn and the Tsaritsa values your work so it would be considerably ill-mannered of him if he failed to acknowledge your efforts with a few gifts. Some may say he’s currying favor, using riches to sway the heart of a handmaiden, and others may think he’s trying far too hard to cement himself in your life. But Pantalone is clever and with his vast wealth he can find plenty of excuses to be near you. He’s a charitable man, don’t you see? There’s no need to look through him like that. He only wishes to thank you for your hard work and, eventually, claim what’s owed. After all, you can’t expect him to give without wanting to take in the near future.

Arlecchino is relieved to know that there’s another who is as sensible as she is. The others are difficult to handle, and most meetings are tiresome to sit through, where she watches and listens to her coworkers as they bicker like children. You are the only light in this dark, abysmal situation. Every meeting becomes just a little more tolerable when she knows she’ll get to see you. Although it would be nice to speak to you, to hear your voice and relish in your every inflection, she can’t help but allow her thoughts to wander. She’s curious, and she wonders if your silence has been a byproduct of force or something else. When she bows her head in greeting and your only reply is a simple blink, she entertains a slew of possibilities. For now, she is content to observe. Your pursed lips hold a myriad of secrets—secrets that she will soon come to know and lips that she will soon capture in an icy kiss.

Immorality! What a delightfully cursed predicament! Dottore would love to pick your brain. Oh, he could spend hours researching what makes you tick, what gets you to talk, why you act the way you do, and so on. He’s especially interested in the current you. The you who keeps quiet during meetings and keeps to the shadows. The you who never flinches even when you’re in the presence of such dangerous individuals. Are you hiding your fright? Can you even feel fear? Just what is it that draws him in? If only he could take you for himself and find the answers to all of his burning questions… When he grows sick of faraway observations, he might just consider bringing you back to his lab should the opportunity present itself.

Childe can’t stand these boring meetings. Despite the cheery front he puts on for those around him, all warmth ebbs away the moment he steps foot in the throne room and spies the familiar faces of his coworkers. It’s such a drag. If he could skip all of the formalities and get on with his day he gladly would, but as one of the Tsaritsa’s elite he can’t just shirk these obligations. Instead, he focuses on the pretty thing who stands at attention beside an icy throne, looking out on a room of looming threats. You’re a mystery he has not yet solved—a foe he has not yet tested in battle. Childe will see this curiosity through to the end, even if it ends in bloodshed.

They say silence is bliss. Scaramouche can’t quite follow that saying, for he always has something to say. With a mouth that spews hatred as viciously as the snapping jaws of a ravenous beast, he is downright miserable at these meetings. His fuse seems to grow shorter with every minute spent in the frosty palace. But when he chooses to run off with a certain Archon’s Gnosis, abandoning his position as the Sixth Harbinger and going rogue, he thinks of you. You were always the highlight of those dreadful meetings. He’s not sure what it is he feels for you because concepts like love are so very foreign to him. He hardly knows if this peculiar feeling is classified as love. But he’s considered coming back for you. It’s a risk he’s spent plenty of time mulling over, and because it’s you it’s a risk he’s willing to take. Just what enchantment have you placed upon him? He must be going mad…