#lys's idiocy

[sunlightandsuffering]

What if some girl from their highschool one day approach Mikasa to ask about Eren bc she's interested in him and think he's cute so she makes up a story about Eren being gay just to cockblock him out of jealousy lmfaoo

LMFAO help, this just reminds me of New Girl. Gay Nick 😂 But Eren is probably SO confused??

Eren is confused. He's confused a lot of the time, Mikasa calls him a meathead sometimes, but today he thinks he has genuine reason to be confused, because Mikasa is acting weird. Actually, forget weird she's acting fucking looney.

She's been texting him shit all morning like "Ciao Babe", "Hope you're wearing those scrumptious red boots ;)" He does not own red boots?? What red boots??

Then, comes their afternoon lunch date, a standing tradition after her Monday morning classes and today, she has brought a friend. She waltzed up to their picnic table with more confidence and swagger than he's ever seen in his life, her hips swaying, and rather than her normal greeting of 'hello', he gets yanked into the most aggressive hug he's ever been apart of. "Come here you glorious bitch!"

What?? What!!!!??!?!?!

"Umm, Hi?" He struggles out through the harsh grip of her arms around his midsection. "Play along," She whispers harshly in his ear before seating herself next to him. "Eren, this is my new friend Carissa," she tells him pleasantly, hand cupped on her cheek as she rests on the picnic table.

"Hi, I'm Carissa, I'm in Mikasa's morning class." "Hi," He replies gingerly, looking to Mikasa for guidance and she raises her eyebrow expectantly. "You're a lot less umm flamboyant than Mikasa describes." What the fuck does that mean?? "Oh you just wait Carissa, he's just shy around new people, don't hold out on me queen. "

"Umm yeah, just umm takes a while for me to open up," he tells her numbly over a bite of sandwich. "Yup, in fact you wouldn't know it by looking at him, but Eren here has bagged all the hottest guys in our friend group so far," Mikasa brags casually and Eren almost spits out his sandwich, what!?!?

"Oh my god, really? Give me names!" Mikasa reaches over, grabbing his hand teasingly, "Oh yeah Armin." That, he can see, he'd always wondered a little if Armin swung both ways, batted for both teams. "Reiner." At this, Eren goes into a coughing fit, him and Reiner!??! I mean good for him, but also he would never stoop so low.

"Connie AND Marco." Connie?? Connie! As if he'd ever go for such a slob, he' honestly appalled. "Jean." Eren squeezes Mikasa's hand a little too strongly and she squeaks, "Well maybe not quite Jean, but he's tried!" Excuse her?? He's tried? So he's gay and he tried for Jean, but apparently couldn't get him?? As if he would EVER try for Jean, in any universe. Absolutely not, he will not have his good name besmirched like this. "Umm, no honey, Jean tried for me, it was all refusals up in here." And then, to complete his show, he snaps his fingers in a flamboyant flourish of attitude.

It is the most dramatic thing he's ever done and even Mikasa seems surprised by him while Carissa begins clapping.

Mikasa laughs nervously, giving Eren a firm slap on the thigh for his comment, "How come the good ones are never straight huh?"

He wants to die.

[satanic-fruitcake]

daniel molloy is so real to me because i also claim to be a savoury man most days. i’m eating strawberries and cream and a cupcake for breakfast.

[eye-of-yelough]

sometimes i think characterising gort as a huge pervert is antithetical to my aro grey-sexual hc but then i remember i’m aroace and also the biggest pervert i know.

[lumberwoof]

started watching spy x family and I knew this show was going to be some level of silly but uh. wow

[nny11writes]

i dont know about catra putting up with ANY of that, however. i can see adora falling into exactly the same trap as the op because she didnt know what her star sign was, and feeling too awkward to explain it

Would she like it? No. Would she enjoy it? Also no.

But I think to keep her job Catra would lie to be a dick to them and as soon as she started getting extra work/praised at work/semi-promoted or fully promoted she would be like, "Yup, sure love the wisdom of those stars, never wrong about us [star sign]'s'." Catra would find it 100% insufferable, but if it's gonna get her some prestige and not be in her face 24/7 she'd eventually roll with it for her own benefit.

I think she'd get uncomfortable once it became about dating Casta's niece because they'd get along perfectly! Then she'd start feeling some pressure and all that simmering annoyance would become a hair trigger on the topic. Then she meets Glimmer and is willing to suck it up once again to talk with a pretty girl, and is beyond grateful that Glimmer also doesn't like it but humors her aunt (And also she maybe had a phase, don't judge her). Catra and Glimmer would get closer and fall in love starting by bonding over something petty and snarky like that, only to realize there is a spark. Catra has a two minute panic that maybe it's all real before realizing that sounds stupid as hell, but she's dating a really cool person now so she'll try to be less mean about it. Like, 5-10% less mean.

Meanwhile-

Adora I would see being immediately uncomfortable, not lying because fuck them but a sort of anxiety lie blurt where she just wants to move this all along please. But once it leaves her mouth she doesn't want to say she lied and doesn't know why so she's dedicated to the bit. Unlike Catra she'd be looking for help and a way out of it once she realizes she's getting semi-promotions/extra jobs/etc. because of this lie, and she'd do what the OP did and finally admit to it... only to have it get twisted around at that point so it's still a fate and star sign thing. Maybe Casta walks in a Adora tries to spin the situation to not make anyone feel bad but all she's done is jump from one lie to another. She would be viscerally uncomfortable when Casta starts trying to pair her and Glimmer up, pretty girl or not Adora feels so much guilt over the lie and situation.

She would also be very grateful that Glimmer doesn't like it but humors her aunt, but Adora would then rope her into finding a way out of her Throne of Lies (which is, like, two minor lies, but this is Adora and she is going to over think this so hard and Glimmer doesn't stop to think getting swept up in the story to undo the damage). I could see them getting closer and falling in love in the process of some ridiculous elaborate scheme that never needed to exist in the first place. At the end of the day Adora would just be fully honest and nothing bad would come out of it.

[amerasdreams]

I never want to force myself into any ill-fitting made up trappings that are supposed to define a role but are really just culturally created

[xoxochb]

Percy unknowingly your bra one handed.... pretty please?

I hope this is what you meant… if not then I’m sosososo sorry my love </3

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

percy trails his lips over the length of your exposed chest, taking his time going over every centimeter of your skin, diligently and slowly. his hands are permanently glued to your waist, rubbing his hands over each of your sides softly. it makes heat pool in your core.

you grind your hips into him, feeling his hardness through both the fabric of your lacy panties and his jeans, though it’s not enough to satisfy you in the long-run. you pull his hair between your palms, ushering him to hurry in his movements as you grow progressively more impatient.

his lips hit your pulse point, taking his time leaving a mark over the skin of that area. you feel his slight smile, as you presume, he can discern the rapid pace of your pounding heart. you pull his hair harder, and for a moment you hear the faintest moan from his lips. it’s your turn to laugh. until he bites down on your skin and you stop.

percy, at last, kisses over the lace edges of your bra, pulling back and frowning when he realizes this is the furthest he can go for now.

he tugs it from the bottom, looking up at you with green puppy eyes. “I want this off.”

you give him a look to indicate for him to go ahead with his actions. with one hand, he finds the clip at the back, swiftly undoing it. with both hands now, he slides the straps down the length of your arms at a antagonizing-ly slow pace, letting his eyes roam the new skin before him.

you wish he would hurry.

“percy, please.”

“you gotta have patience, sweet girl.”

you tug his hair viciously. he laughs only.

“percy, please, it’s not funny!” you whine, pouting.

“I think it’s pretty funny.” he shrugs, removing your hands from his hair to slip the bra fully off your skin.

“yeah?”

“mhm.” he nods his head.

angrily, you grab the undergarment from his hand and use it to cover your chest back up.

“awww, c’mon, sweet girl. I’m only playin’ with you.”

he takes the piece of lace fabric back, throwing it across the cabin out of your reach. you glare at him.

“I don’t really like you right now.”

he ignores all words and begins kissing your chest again, falling down over tits, now exposed thanks to him and his idiocy.

and for a while, you forgot why you were ever angry with him.

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[dollyonm0lly]

(Thot)ughts abt caracalla or geta’s (both 😩) makeup melting and smudging when fking <3

UURGH, I JUST LOVE THIS THOUGHT SM. <33

You are lying in bed between the two of them after a nice fuck, the three of you panting and trying to regulate your breathing to normal. You look to one side, and see Geta's face, his eyes that at the beginning of the night were elegantly painted black, now look more like a panda's countenance, as well as his natural skin showing a little more beneath the smudged white paint, when you look to your other side, Caracalla is not in a very different situation, his face that previously contained a delicate blush, is now completely red, both from the makeup and from the redness that your night's activities brought to his pale face, he looks like a tomato, you think.

You can't control yourself and end up bursting out laughing, unable to hold back not only because of their smudged faces, but also the expression of confusion they have about your sudden laugh, it becomes too much for you, you can feel tears filling your eyes and an discomfort in your stomach from laughing so hard.

Their confusion slowly fades away when they finally look at each other, understanding why you find so much humor in this moment. A mischievous smile appears on both of their faces, Caracalla being the one chosen to verbalize the brothers' thoughts. - "It's really bold, your mockery I mean, when you're looking like that yourself" - He says, you look at both of them, now you are the confused one, but when you see Geta's gaze wandering over your naked body, you do the same... Your eyes widen when you see your body, covered in paint, the same colors as their makeup, those bastards rubbed all their makeup against you, you look like the canvas of an angry artist.

There's a moment of silence, and then you start laughing again at the harmless idiocy of the moment, both Geta and Caracalla watch you with adoring eyes as you enjoy the predicament you're in. It's only when you calm down and focus your gaze back on them that you realize something, they're both as erect as ever, again. Fuck, even your laughter makes them incredibly hard, they think.

[ninguitar]

୨୧　𝓣AKE A BITE　˒˒　LR

─── ﹙🍎﹚when two lovers can't help but be addicted to one-another's lies.

pairing. lara raj x f!r genre. angst, bittersweet ?? wc. 1.4k+ notes. communication issues, toxic relationship, for @lararajjj 🗣️ italics = past events ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ take a bite by beabadoobee

LARA RAJ COULDN'T HELP but chastise herself for her sheer idiocy—more specifically, how she fell for you horrendously. with her hand interlocked with yours, an incoherent slur of words escape her breath. you two were sat out on your apartment's fire escape, seeking refuge in one-another—well, more so, as an attempt to mend your guys' relationship.

leaves wave against the trees, the breeze settling on the horizon. barely any words escape the two of your guys' lips, words lying on the tip of your tongue particularly. you two had just been in yet another argument for the month, hissing and huffing out incoherent curse words strung together with useless arguments.

"why- why are you acting this way! it wasn't even that big of an issue!" you hiss out, your words laced in venom, as you sigh, "you're just making it worse!"

"because you can't seem to do the littlest of tasks—i mean, forgetting to do anything i ask of you—how hard it be to do the stuff i ask of you!" lara observes flatly, her voice dreary, as you could practically tell she'd been biting these words back, waiting for the right moment to just explode.

"i've been busy with college, lara. you know that," you tell her, your hand reaching her shoulder, before she dismisses you, pausing in her movements. hastily, she takes your hand off her shoulder, a frown on her lips.

"look, i— i know i've been failing you lately, and you're sick of it, but i promise i'll stop using being busy as an excuse," you try to mend the already wounded and sour relationship between you two, your tone gentle, and your gaze filled with remorse.

the indian girl huffs, meekly shaking her head, anger sewn into her tone. an exasperated sigh escapes her parted lips, "it's not just lately. i- i've tried to ignore it, really, but god, i've done more shit for you than you have for me!" her face darkens, her frustrations towards you seeping through her skin.

"are you serious right now? i took time off of school just to take care of you when you were feeling down! everything i do has been for you. you act like i don't do anything to you at all," you raise your voice to match hers, glaring at the girl.

"it's not even just a matter of that—you always have no time for me, at all! i have not heard you say anything but the same excuse of 'i'm busy'!" her bitter resentment remains, remarking with force.

your expression crumbles at her words, as they settle in your mind, your chest blossoming pain. lara's face dons with an expression that displayed no regret for her words, making you scoff in response. you cross your arms against your chest, "fine then. be that way."

her lips tremble slightly at your words of agreement, her eyes widening, as the shock from your reaction sets in. by then does her anger tame itself, regret and worry washing over her features now. you brush past the indian girl, disappearing into the fire escape.

which, is what led the two of you to now.

"are we okay?" you murmur, turning to face the indian girl, as you swallow a lump down your throat, a look of resignation washing over your features. a sigh drifts from your lips upon waiting for her answer, both your hands resting on the railings.

she whispers, "'course we are, but not now, okay?" before pressing her lips against yours, her voice barely above a whisper and soothing. trying to ease your mind off of any concerns, lara's arms snake around your waist, interrupting any of your protests.

and by then, you were addicted to lara's lies.

guilt runs through your bones, as you meekly oblige, before trying to protest once again, "it just feels like we're always fighting an uphill battle, that we can never fix. it's always the same thing over and over again." worry lines crease your forehead, your stance stiffening, as you watch the smile falter from the red-haired girl's face.

before you could speak up once again, her finger finds your lips, shushing you. her words are laced with desperation, her voice quietly ringing in your head over and over again, "please, not now, pretty." she meekly grumbles under her breath, burying her head against your neck, murmuring nonsense while doing so.

you knew everything wasn't okay—hell, even lara knew that. but, things always go like this between you two. something goes wrong, either you or her confronts one-another, and then an argument follows. but then, it's forgotten almost instantly a few seconds after, and you're back to square one.

her eyes trace over your lips, before pressing her plush ones against yours, trying to melt away your worries. cupping your chin in a haste, she peppers your face with an abundance of kisses, coaxing praises under her breath. her lips trail down to your jaw to your neck, ruthlessly moving against them—a stark contrast to the way her hands entangle themselves in your cold hands.

"fuck—" her breath fans over your neck, making a chain of shivers run through your spine. leaving a trail of kisses down from your jaw to your neck, they leave small, pink-tinted stains, your fingertips dancing along lara's knuckles.

and you know it’s wrong—wrong to be in a relationship like this, where it's endless fighting between the two of you. and of course, two wrongs don't make a right, but how could you resist the temptation?

your breath stutters, unconsciously easing into the indian girl's touch, as she pulls you closer in an urgent manner. with the two of you standing against one-another at your fire escape, by now, the communication issue in your guys' relationship now seems like the last of your concerns. she pulls away from your neck, her head now facing yours.

"you're perfect," the red-haired girl whispers, running her hands down your arm.

a lie.

lara fixates on you, her lips pressing against each and every crevice of your face, wanting to reassure you, "so, so perfect—my gorgeous girl. can't let anybody else have you."

another lie.

and from her soft, tender touch, you can't help but let yourself drift off into her world, letting yourself believe in her lies. every single, small kiss of hers leaves you remembering the moment you knew lara raj was the one. her charming words from that day ring in your head—"i promise to never break your heart; i'll do anything i can to make my girl happy."

also a lie.

for as long as you were in a relationship with lara, you felt like you were high in a daze, feeling as light as a feather whenever you were with her. you thought—no, knew—that even in another lifetime, you two would inevitably find each other. and lara, likewise, knew so too, finding herself irrevocably in love with you—with everything that embodies you.

you were everything she wanted, and she was yours as well. you know how the indian girl looks when she genuinely professes her words to you—when she talks to you with sincerity laced in her words in general.

and your eyes desperately glaze over hers, already knowing she was meekly telling you lies. you mumble, "i love you too, forever." before you could manage to murmur another word out, lara captures your lips in a ruthless attempt, moving against yours fervently. her kisses leave you breathless, her hands running up and down your waist. the cool night breeze whistling only serves to make the red-headed girl kiss you feverishly.

you think that you two are perfect for each other—well, at least in terms of ignoring the underlying issues in your relationship. either one of you could speak up, but you guys don't, or one of you interrupts the other. it's the same cycle, and it ends up like always—the two of you fixing it with a kiss on the lips.

the red-headed girl drags you to the bedroom, not letting you protest with any words, as she sits, letting your head rest on her lap. the deafening silence through the room leaves you tense, your cheeks and ears flushed. her hands find their way to your hair, playing with your hair every few seconds.

thus, you call it yet another night of endlessly moving backwards instead of forward, stuck in reverse, and inevitably fixing it with a kiss on the lips, accompanied by words that mean little to either one of you. it's wrong, but lara's willing to do anything to not let your relationship go south, and vice-versa.

it gets harder to breathe

but i take it and i want it and i love when it bleeds

taglist. ୨ৎ @lararajjj @kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @vrtualstar

@jellaaa @artrizzler19 @falling-intoo-deep

[restinslices]

My Baby

Bi-Han x Child!Reader (not literally a child. I’m thinking teens - young adult) (no gender specified

Word count: 2475

Summary: This but I made reader less panicked

Warnings: There is no happy ending

Bi-Han always liked to believe that while he is many things, an idiot is not one of them. People could call him rude, selfish, egotistical, bitter, humorless, and whatever other negative words they could think of. What they could never call him was an idiot. 

That’s what he always thought at least. Time seemed to test this theory however. First show of his idiocy was having hope. He had hope that his brothers would embrace the future the Lin Kuei always deserved. He hoped that one day they’d come to him and apologize for their insolence. He’d have to lecture them still and maybe give them some public punishment so the rest of his clan knew to never try what they did, but he’d welcome them back home and they’d begin walking together.

What he hoped most of all, was that you’d come back.

You, his child. One of the few people he smiled at. Few other people could jump on his back with no consequences. Now that he thought about it, you were the only one he wouldn’t immediately throw off. From the moment your mother became with child, he knew he would care for that child deeply. He promised himself that he’d cherish this child until he took his last breath, and even afterwards he’d find a way to still be there for you. You were the home where his heart resided.

And you continued to hold it, even when you left with your traitorous uncles. It left a hole inside him, and he stuffed it with hatred and resentment. He stuffed bitterness inside like one would stuff a teddy bear full of cotton. At least the bear brought joy and excitement. All he had was hate and more hate. Hatred for his brothers who betrayed him. Hatred for the child he had raised leaving him. Hatred for the new clan that dared to challenge the Lin Kuei. Hatred for Liu Kang. Hatred for his father. Hatred for the birds that sang in the early hours of the morning. Hatred towards silence but also towards noise. Hatred towards how loud the rain hit the roof of his home. Hatred towards everyone and everything.

You held his heart in your hands, and without it all he could feel was hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate. 

Bi-Han would never know how you felt about everything. He would never know that having to go against him was the hardest thing you had ever done in your entire life. He would never know that when you cooked, you always accidentally made an extra serving for him. He would never know that sometimes you would dream of the past, only to wake up and be brought back to reality. 

Left to his right. Stars to his sky. Day to his night. Rain to his clouds. 

Blood of his blood. The strongest bond of all. Or at least what was supposed to be. 

He hadn't spoken to, or even seen you in months. Mayhaps that was why he was so angry and so eager to jump at the first opportunity to strike at those he deemed responsible. 

His brothers. 

***

Infiltrating the wedding wasn't as hard as it should have been. Kuai Liang must've been too happy to actually think about proper security. It made Bi-Han scoff. Proof that he was the Grandmaster for a reason, and his brother would never survive as one. 

The Lin Kuei clan was hidden as instructed. Far enough to not be seen but close enough to see practically everything. 

That everything included you. 

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't gone out of his way to find you. His eyes scanned the entire crowd until his eyes finally landed on your familiar frame, dressing in what was probably the only formal attire you could tolerate. 

You looked so… 

happy. 

Your smile was wide as you watched Kuai Liang and Harumi join hands. Not a hint of grief in your expression. Only love and joy.

 

“Bàba, do you not like the bracelet I made for you?” The world was extremely beautiful that day. It was the middle of spring and the weather had been exceptionally kind. No storms recently or anytime in the near future. Only cloudless skies and a sun shining down on the Earth below. 

You were only 10 years old then, meaning you were starting to find your own independence but the majority of you still clung onto your father like he personally put the sun in the sky. 

“The bracelet?” Bi-Han thought out loud. Bracelet… bracelet… oh! The bracelet! The one made of rubber bands that you made him a few weeks ago! He had forgotten about it. He set it down on his desk and hadn't looked at it since. “Of course I like it” he replied. He didn't hate it. It was a simple blue and white bracelet. It was fine. 

“Why don't you wear it then?”. 

“It's on my desk. I still have it” he defended. 

Him defending himself against a child? Man, he had changed. 

You mumbled something under your breath, which made him sigh in return. He hated when you did that. “I can't hear you” he reminded you for what had to have been the millionth time. You had a tendency to go quiet at times and he tried not to get frustrated with you. 

You glanced up at him, then back down at your feet as you both continued walking around the lake. Finally you said “I made us matching bracelets. See?” You lifted your wrist to show off an identical looking bracelet. “But you never wear yours…”. 

You hadn't realized how much your words stabbed him in the heart. Hell, sometimes it even startled him when he'd be reminded of how soft he was with you. He thought he'd be strict and full of discipline when he had a kid. Then you came and proved him wrong. 

All he could say was that he hadn't realized you cared so much. Thankfully though, soon after you got distracted by some animals and completely forgot about the conversation. 

He hadn't. 

Infact, the minute you got home he immediately put the bracelet on. You hadn't realized until he was putting you to sleep. 

You gasped and grabbed his wrist, “you're wearing it! You're wearing it!” You exclaimed. “You like it?!”. He simply nodded. You practically jumped up and hugged him. Of course he hugged you back. 

When you pulled away, your smile was spread ear to ear. “You're the best! The best best bestest best! We're gonna be best friends forever!”. You placed your wrist next to his so your bracelets would touch. 

Best friends forever. 

Your smile was exactly like that night. Beautiful, wide, and full of life. It started to break him down on the inside. Maybe he was making a mistake… 

“Grandmaster” he heard Sektor whisper behind him. “The bombs are in place. The Lin Kuei await your orders”. 

No. He couldn't have been making a mistake. He was supposed to turn and tell his clan to leave? No. 

Nothing was gained from sadness. 

But everything could be gained from anger. 

So that's what he forced to the forefront of his mind. Anger. Rage even. His family betrayed him and were here celebrating some wedding like nothing was going on. Was betrayal just a small thing to everyone? Did no one ever wonder what Bi-Han was feeling?

He didn't verbally respond to Sektor. Him raising his hand for his clan members to see was all he had to do. 

They all began to creep closer and closer… 

They had gotten too close. 

For whatever reason, you started to look around. More than likely becoming fidgety. Whatever the reason, you looked in his direction and froze. 

“Bà-”

The walls exploded. People screamed in panic. In the split second it took him to jump from the higher ground, he had lost you. 

Nevermind you. He couldn't be focused on you. He had to remember that you were a traitor just like your uncles. A hard pill to swallow. It nearly choked him as he made his way through his foes. The wedding guests became grass - they were cut down, their numbers growing smaller and smaller. 

1, 2, 3, 8, 12, 20

How many had he cut down before he heard Kuai Liang?

“Harumi!”

He could spot him now. Bi-Han tracked where his brother was looking to see his new bride. Blood soaked her hands and knife, bodies laid on the ground around her - necks broken or throats slit. “Harumi!” his brother called again with his hand outstretched. 

It was bitterness that led to Bi-Han shooting three large icicles in her direction. 

But it was not Harumi that suffered the attack.

You had rushed towards the woman in an attempt to push her towards your uncle, not realizing the danger you put yourself in. 

It was not her skin the ice pierced. 

It was yours.

The ice pierced through different parts of your torso and chest, the momentum of it pushing you back and pinning you to a part of the stone wall that hadn’t been destroyed.

How would Bi-Han say he felt in that very moment? Shocked? No. There had to be a stronger word for what he felt deep in his soul. Even saying he was disgusted with himself didn’t seem like a strong enough descriptor. From the moment he realized that you had been hit, the entire world went silent. Fighting went on all around him but he couldn’t hear any of it. He couldn’t see them. He had tunnel vision and the only thing he could see was realization slowly dawn on your face. 

He hadn’t meant to…

Why would he ever wanna hurt his baby?

He hadn’t meant…

“I’m sorry”

Those words hardly ever left his lips, but it was the first thing he said to you. He scanned you over in a frantic hurry. What was he supposed to do? Why was he freezing? “This isn’t a nightmare Bi-Han!” he thought, “do something! Fix this!”. But how? This wasn’t a small cut. He knew that keeping a object in the wound stopped someone from bleeding out, but fuck. Did your body know that? Blood covered your entire attire in a matter of seconds. It dripped to the ground like some twisted broken faucet. He tried to cover two areas but there was just too much blood. It seeped through his fingers.

A choking noise came from the back of your throat, followed by blood spilling down your chin. “I’m gonna die…” you whispered. The situation finally hit you. You were dying. “I’m gonna die!” your breath hitched. Bi-Han felt your hands grip his forearms tightly, making him finally look at your face. “Don’t leave me!” you cried.

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. How selfish was he for killing as many people as he did, but feeling like the world was starting to lose its color the second someone he loved was dying? “Stay alive! That’s a command!”.

He knew the cold truth. Peasant, Grandmaster, King, Gods, death came for them all and it laughed in the face of commands. He couldn’t think of any words to ease you. How could he relax you when he himself felt like at any moment he’d throw up? He furiously blinked his tears away and grit his teeth. He wouldn’t cry because you weren’t dying! “Don’t leave me again,” he whispered.

There was so much blood. So much blood…

“What have I done?” he thought out loud in between shallow breaths. “I hurt my baby… I-”.

You began to shush him. Kind and soft your voice was - like you weren’t the one dying. He couldn’t stand it. His head fell onto your shoulder, his own shoulders shook as he tried to hold his sobs in. He was such a coward. He was the reason for his demise but he couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes. 

“It’s okay”.

Those words surprised him. It was okay? No. Those words sounded too final. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, death would spare you and take him instead. “I forgive you”. 

“I-”

“Shhh” your voice was merely a breath now. Your hand on his cheek was weak. He could’ve easily knocked your hand away. He doubted you could even firmly grasp a cup, but he lifted his head to look at you anyway. He immediately wanted to look away. Blood covered your lips and chin, your eyes looked so hooded and tired. What had he done? “I forgive you,” you said again. How? How could you forgive him for what he had done? He couldn’t stop the tears from falling this time.

Your soft fingers wiped at his tears before cupping his cheek. “I…” you breathed out, then managed a small smile. “I was so happy to see you…”.

You were happy to see him and he killed you in return. 

That thought alone made a sob push past his lips. Those words were uttered, then Bi-Han watched powerlessly as you took your last breath. Your smile faded, your head fell forward, your hand fell from his face and to his shoulder. What he saw when he looked down at your wrist made his throat squeeze more than it already had.

You still had your bracelet.

His? Back home.

“Get up!” he pleaded in desperation. He held your head up and shook you in hopes of waking you up, but all you did was stare back at him. “Please!”. Death laughed at his begging. He placed your head on his shoulder, hands holding you close, sobs taking all the oxygen from his lungs. “Not my baby” the words came out weak. One last plea for death to bring you back and take him. Death just continued to laugh and lead you away. “Please don’t do this”.

“Don’t do what? Die? It’s too late” he thought. “The greatest gift you’ve ever received and you destroyed them. You killed them”.

For the first time since he had struck you, he looked around to acknowledge the world around him. People tore into each other, blood soaked the Earth, the dying screamed and cried. What had he done? What did he do now?

He looked to you again. His perfect child. His perfect baby. He backed away from you and your blood followed him. Your body hung in the air lifelessly. You were gone. Forever.

A large icicle formed in his hand. He looked down at it. Yes. It would do.

He pointed the sharp end at himself.

What did he do now?

Did he continue fighting the war he caused so that your death would mean something, or did he stab himself and hope he had enough of a heart to end his own life?

What did he do now?

“Omg Slices! Were you procrastinating again?” This shit is a disease- An open ending. You can decide what he does after since there will not be a part 2. Hope you enjoy! Also the way I be naming these at the last minute…

[transit-fag]

First off what do you mean mind my own business this is my first question maybe stop getting so defensive, also what do you mean “not cis anymore” you have posted about being a male before and your bio has said he/him for the last two years and your usage of a slur is very hurtful to the community as a trans person seeing you post this to Pokémon is idiocy we all know your lying and being defensive so you don’t have to take accountability for your actions.

Ah yes, people are unable to figure out their identity over time. Something that no trans person has ever done

[satanic-fruitcake]

talked to the national career service today it went a little like this

“have you had a job?” no. “work experience?” yes. “can you remember the name of the company?” no. “can you remember the year?” no. “can you remember what duties you had?” no. “are you well organised?” no. “do you make plans and stick to them?” no.

“well no one can say you’re not honest! 😆”

what if i set myself on fire. what if i just laid down and died right here right now .

[gfmima]

c. 東京卍リベンジャーズ | tokyo revengers + f!reader t. you’re WAY out of his leagues and he knows

sano dojo, it reads.

an hour before to your arrival, mikey decided to text you his home address, inviting you to meet him prior to your date at the beach.

it was weird to say the least.

you two already had a habit of meeting at the location itself to save time thanks to his busy schedule and whatnot. your mind overflows with different thoughts all at once — some whisper it was bad news, others reassure it was nothing for you to worry over.

the very last thing you need to do is freak out on such a nice day… or was it? maybe you should’ve brought an umbrella? is it too late to go back? maybe you can ask mikey to bring one just in c—

“can i help you, miss?”

your body tenses up.

a man stands opposite you with an equally clueless look. he holds the door open on stand-by to hear your response until a wave of recognition washes over his face.

“you must be mikey’s girl! hold up… y-you’re mikey’s girl!?” he opens the door wider and welcomes you inside his home with an expression of disbelief. he then introduces himself as your boyfriend’s eldest brother before guiding you to the kitchen where he stayed.

you try to ignore the bizarre looks he sent you and walk two steps behind him. was there something on your face? your hand reaches to grab your pocket mirror.

“oh, mikey~! look who’s here to see you~!” shinichiro says in a sing-song manner, forcing all eyes to be on you now.

you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel the least but self-conscious by their reaction. it wavers from surprise to stupor like they’ve seen a real-life ghost and you can feel your nerves prickle from their intense stares.

with his unruly blond hair obscuring his face and dried drool on his cheek, you would’ve chided him for wasting precious time if his siblings weren’t studying you like a new organism under a microscope.

“i’m not interrupting something, am i, ‘jiro?” you scurry over to his side, holding his forearm like a frightened child.

mikey shakes his head and reached to rest his arm over you immediately, his expression visibly brightening at the sight of you here. he looks at izana, who scoffs at him, and sticks his tongue out as if he wasn’t a full-fledged adult.

“ha! i told you she’s real!”

you tilt your head. huh?

shinichiro offers an apologetic smile for his brother’s idiocy, whereas emma and izana continue to gawk. the pair glance at you, then at mikey, then back at you.

“you’re lying. no way a woman like her would date someone like you. back me up, em!”

“uh, i’m staying out of this.” she raises her hands and backs away. “you two handle whatever this is on your own.”

your boyfriend purses his lips in a serious pout. he turns his back on his older brother, scoffing, “well… you’re just being jealous!”

his comment spurs them to continue arguing like little kids. you stand in the middle of the crossfire as it ensues, greatly confused by the entire ordeal. should you step in?

“i’m super, duper sorry about them. boys are boys, y’know? they’re dumb.” emma’s sheepish tone pulls your focus from the chaos. “so… you must be mikey’s girlfriend! you’re very pretty. i can see why he always talks about you!”

then there was izana… who cuts the conversation short just to look at you closely and demands, “quick! blink twice if he intimidated you to be his girlfriend!”

“is he really not paying you to do this?” is the last thing you bank on to be the first thing your boyfriend’s older brother would say to you.

your mouth opens to give him piece of your mind, though, it promptly closes, not sure of what to tell him. you must have look like a fish out of water as your mind wrestles to process what he said to you.

your foots taps along in an uneven pace, counting down the seconds in your head until rindō came home from his short trip to your go-to restaurant for dinner take-outs.

“what do you mean?” you settle on asking him, as you try to keep your tone neutral as possible.

ran picks a piece of lint off his sleeve and looks at you in the eyes. “what i mean is, he isn’t the most popular with women because of attitude. breaking news, right? and, well, you’re very easy on the eyes. it’s weird to think my own little brother was able to convince a pretty little thing such as you to be his.”

he didn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it did.

he just impressed by how long rindō was able to keep silent about your relationship. he didn’t even realize anything was amiss until he returned one day with you clinging to his arm like a high-strung puppy.

the fact his baby brother — a twenty-one-year-old man — was no longer, a baby, albeit endearing, was baffling.

“i’m not interested in hearing about his dating history. rindō treats me right and that’s all i care about.” the blunt edge in your tone piques his interest.

huh, you weren’t paid to play pretend girlfriend after all. you appear genuinely upset with what he said. still, he can never be too sure. he lived with rindō long enough to know he was just as stubborn to prove him wrong.

“there’s no need for the attitude, sweetheart. i’m just…” ran chooses his next words carefully. “expressing how shocked i am. that’s all. you understand, right? you’re the first girl he brought home and introduced to me — the only one without a three-week expiration. he’s like a changed man.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. what on earth is he trying to imply?

“i’ve got no clue what you did to him but he’s been happier lately.” if you strain your ears, you can hear him offer a tiny, “thank you,” under his breath.

“trust me, the feelings mutual.”

ran shows you a silver of a grin.

despite your cumbersome start, it was obvious he cares for rindō like any other older brother would, putting in the extra effort to embarrass him any way he can. you suppose going here wasn’t a bad idea after all.

delighted with your answer, he offers to show off every baby photo of your boyfriend, especially the unflattering ones. he even lets you take a few pictures with your phone.

“he was so pale then, plump too… he kinda resembles those daifuku mochi, no?”

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Letter

It's not like Buddy liked Chase. He didn't. Honest, he really didn't. And you know he's being honest because he never lies... ok, well, he's lied a couple times.. actually, he's lied a lot. But he's really not lying about this. Because, what is there to like about this idiot? Because that is what he is, an idiot. Plain and simple. With his obviously fake blonde hair and forever-outside voice. The guy should just get the hell out of his way if he knows what's good for him. And that's what he's been telling him.

But he never thought Chase would actually listen.

3 weeks. 3 whole weeks since Chase has been in a book. This was starting to seriously piss him off. Where the hell was he? 

Now, reader, before you start getting ideas that Buddy actually misses Chase, you better think again. Chase has something he wants, the heroine key, and that is it. He just wants the key, so fuck off if you're questioning his honesty in the beginning. 

"Buddy?" calls out a voice, to which Buddy immediately jumped. But don't think he was excited! Or startled. He was merely jumped into action to follow it. However, he quickly realized that wasn't the voice of the blonde, but rather the even more unbearable brunette. 

"What are you doing with the heroine key?" Buddy asks, leaning against the stone archway. He looks around. Another high-fantasy novel with a castle. He's starting to figure out who's the one choosing these books in the first place.

Deacon whips his head around to face Buddy. "Geez. How do you do that?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Just.. appear out of nowhere? Like you're teleporting or something?"

Buddy scoffed. This idiot really thought he was teleporting? As if someone could top Chase's idiocy. "You still haven't answered my question."

Deacon sighs. "Chase has been.. whining, lately."

Buddy scoffs. "When is he not?"

This got a chuckle from the brunette.

"You guys had some sort of fight in the last book you did together?"

Buddy raised an eyebrow and tried to remember. But, he and Chase would always fight, so he couldn't remember any of the specifics. "Probably."

Deacon rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. Deacon seemed to get peeved with Chase a lot, which gave Buddy a sick satisfaction. Not because he's jealous, of course not. But because if the two don't work well together, it'll be easier to make them crack. Give him information. Stop trying to twist his words.

Deacon groaned. "Well, something you said seriously offended him and he's refusing to use Silver, and has been using Bronze, instead."

Buddy felt his eye twitch, Deacon noticing and taking a step back. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"What did I say that could've offended him that badly?!"

"Hey, you know how fragile his ego is."

Buddy makes a light 'tsk' and puts his hands on his hips. "Well this definitely is.. annoying." Before you think I'm annoyed because now I won't see him, that is not the reason. It's annoying because Chase was a much bigger slip up than his ugly, freckled companion. Buddy can extract more information from him. 

"Tell me about it. We've had lots of trouble collecting narratonin now, since the heroine key.. yknow.. summons you."

Buddy raises an eyebrow. "Well, then. He must not be that determined to collect it, huh?"

"Don't talk like that, Buddy. You don't know. He's been telling me to use the key, as long as I go into different books. But I just haven't wanted to deal with you on my own."

Buddy nods in agreement. "I would rather rip my hair out then be alone with you."

"Look. All I ask is you apologize."

"Look," Buddy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what it is I said that is worth an apology."

"It was something about his singing, I think? And the narratonin? He gets really heated everytime he talks about it and then shuts down.

Ya, that did sound familiar. Buddy rubbed his temples in an attempt to remember.

"Snap and clap and touch your toes! Raise your hands, now body roll! Dance it out, you're hot to gooooo!!"

"CAN YOU STOP THAT!?" Buddy snaps. "You've been singing that tune all day!"

Chase rolls his eyes. "You are just jealous of my singing."

"Oh trust me, I am anything but. You're singing is like nails on a chalkboard. Grating and makes me wish I didn't have ears! You better hope you collect enough narratonin fast, before too many people are cursed to have listen to your voice and will never give you another chance to sing, even when you use the narratonin to make you bearable to listen to!"

....

Chase left the story after he said that. But Buddy hadn't sweat it too much. Why would he? They always bicker. But based on the look that Deacon was giving him, he could tell that he had screwed up.

"That's.. definitely too far, Buddy."

"I- How was I supposed to know he'd take it to heart?!"

Deacon shakes his head. "Look, whatever. You can't take back what you said and that's fine. But you can at least make up for it. Maybe write him a letter? The bedroom I woke up in the basement had a desk and some paper. Maybe go write something in there?"

Buddy raises a brow before tilting his head back. "Fine! Whatever. Only because of my own reasons, though! Not because I feel bad. Don't go and get the wrong idea!" he calls out as he enters back into the castle, bulldozing through guards.

"Move, move, Evil Queen, make way." He reads down the spiral staircase, twists and turns, twists and turns. By the time his feet hurt in his heeled shoes, he finally reached the basement.

The room felt all too familiar. Small, box shaped with a thick layer of dust on every surface. A creaky bed, about as soft as a rock, and blankets covered in bed bugs. This... was why he didn't really want the heroine key. Of course, he's still going to retrieve it. It's part of his job. But he will never use it. He's already got a crappy life. Why make himself live through another's?

He sits himself in a creaky oak chair, which gave him a few splinters, causing him to flinch. A small pile of thick paper and a quill with mostly dried out ink. But, still good to use. He wish he knew why his words upset Chase so much. Not because he genuinely feels bad, but because it would make this letter less of a hassle to write. He scribbles up in the corner of the parchment to check if the ink works. He then taps a couple of times in an effort to think of what to write. Buddy, despite all of his time dedicated to reading books, has never been good at words. Things never come out right and he always overthinks it, always adding parenthesis and commas to make his point more clear, out of the fear he's not being explicit enough.

"Dear Chase,

I still cannot believe that you let slip what your name was. You truly are 

I apologize that my words had offended you. I may not know what you plan to do with the narratonin, probably something stu. Your singing is really not that bad. It only makes me want to claw my ears off a little. I do think that you can have a big audience if you put your voice out there, with or without the narratonin.

-Sincerely, 'buddy'"

Buddy stared at the letter, questioning everything he wrote, but decided it was... good enough.. ya, it's not like Chase is worth that kind of effort.. 

He folds up the paper and stuck it into his back pocket. He looked up the staircase once more and let's out a long sigh as he made the long trip once more. Twists and turns galore with each step. The guards quickly moved as to not get pushed out of the way again. He found the ugly boy standing outside, waiting for him. He shoved the letter into his chest. "Here."

Deacon let's out a huff and nods. "All right. I'll see you later, Buddy."

Buddy simply just rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

The boy pulls out the Helper Key, wrapped around his neck, and the he's gone. Buddy looks at the spot where he had disappeared before mentally scolding himself for being so hopeful.

~~~~

It's not like Chase liked Buddy. He didn't. Because what is there to like about that jerk? He's an aggressive prick who does nothing but provoke him. With his incredible eyeliner and deep voice... He should just leave Chase alone. And that's what he's been telling him.

So he stopped bothering and has been properly avoiding him. 

Ho could he not? It wasn't the comment about his singing, although that had hurt, but the fact that Buddy thinks he's so shallow that being famous is Chase's biggest concern. And the way Buddy said it didn't ound like just a jab because he was mildly annoyed. It sounded genuine. Like her really thinks so low of Chase. Maybe Chase took it so seriously is because earlier in the day, before he said that, Chase had visited his mom. 

His moping is interrupted by a knocking at his door. He looks up and sees his cousin, Deacon, standing in the doorway.

"Where were you?" Chase asks. Deacon hands him a paper. 

"It's from Buddy."

Chase sucked in a breath. Buddy. Buddy!? Buddy sent him a letter? 

His heart was racing and his hands were clammy. No way. No. Way. Why was he getting so excited. Stop it, heart!! He pats his chest a couple of times to ease his rapid heart rate before he folded the paper open.

He scanned through the words, squinting as he made out some of the scribbled out sentences, and he finishes it off with a deep frown.

"What's with that face?" Deacon asks.

"This is kind of a crappy apology. There are multiple scratched out sentences that was just him being petty."

Deacon takes the paper and reads over it. "Hm. I mean.. ya, it seems kind of backhanded, but at the same time, since when has Buddy gone out of his way to do something like this i the first place?"

"You probably just told him to do it."

"Ya.. but what about the fact that he actually listened?"

Chase froze and looks back at the letter, feeling his face flush slightly. Damnit. He had a good point. He crumbles up the letter and was about to toss it into the trash, but stopped himself and instead tossed it onto his desk.

"Give me my key."

Deacon smirks.

"Don't smile at me like that."

Deacon quickly stifles it and hands Chase the key. Chase gets up ad grabs a totally random book and crams the key into the cover. The last thing he heard was, "Wait, not that book!"

Chase's eyes opened and the first thing he's met with is excruciating pain. He's impaled. He screams at the top of his lungs and standing over him is Buddy, whose eyes are equally as wide as he stares down at Chase. 

"What kind of book did you choose?!" Buddy exclaims, quickly pulling the spear out of Chase's chest, who's left panting and throbbing in pain. Buddy squats down and looks over him. "Deep breaths. The main character of this book has healing powers."

Chase tightly close his eyes and feels the gash slowly close up. He lays down in the ground, panting. "SHIT! I just needed to talk to you. Just my luck."

Buddy chuckles, actually chuckles, which feels like another stab to the heart, but kind of in a good way???

"You got excited to see me?" Buddy asks.

Chase scoffs. "I just came to talk to you about that letter."

Buddy goes quiet. "Hm. You seem upset? Was it not to your liking, your majesty?"

"Eat a sock," Chase grumbles.

Chase sits up, holding himself by his elbows. "What kind of book opens with the heroine getting stabbed?" Chase grumbles.

Buddy shrugs and looks around at the wasteland they were in. "Well.. what did you think of the letter? You still mad at me?"

Chase pauses before huffing. "Nevermind. I just wanted to say it sucked. I would keep avoiding you if it weren't for Silver, like.. begging me to go back to using her."

"Mhm?"

"Mhm!"

Chase stands up. Buddy does too.

It's not like they liked each other. They just had a story to complete. They just happen to.. do it together.

Shut up.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[bitethedevil]

Hi! Here's a short little prompt for you!

Raphael talks about reeducating Yurgir when he has him back into HoH.

How would that reeducation look like if it's about Tav instead of Yurgir?

Raphael "reeducating" Tav, who has been a very naughty little mouse and tried to steal/destroy her contract while Raphael (as he should) had extra copies of that said contract

CW/Tags: NSFW, Violence, Blood, Sex Pollen, Dub-Con, Humiliation, Bootlicking

As always, I'm slow as hell to answer my prompts so thank you for your patience and thank you for the prompt ❤️‍🔥

It became pretty long for some reason. Also: what is it with me and always having Gale be cucked in my writing? It's somehow always him. Justice for Gale.

AO3 Link

Reeducation

“Clause 10, subclause II: In the event of the loss or destruction of the original contract, any existing copy thereof will assume the validity of the original document…”

Raphael’s voice snaked its way into her ears. Tav opened her eyes and let out a small groan. Everything in her body hurt. She was lying face down on the cold marble floor of the House of Hope.

She could hear his heavy footsteps walking a slow circle around her as he kept reading aloud from the document.

“Should the signee be found responsible for said loss or destruction, the drafter has the authority to choose a fitting punishment for their crime in accordance with the Corpus Juris Infernum.”

His steps came to a halt. She pressed her palms to the floor. She yelped in pain and quickly realized that getting up was not an option. She rolled onto her back instead. He was standing right above her, in his cambion form, looking down at her with a smile and a copy of her contract in his hands.

“You disappoint me, Tav,” he chided and made the copy of the contract disappear in flames. “Betraying me is one thing, but I find that your sheer arrogance and idiocy somehow offends me more…”

She tried to speak but quickly choked on the congealed blood in her throat. She coughed wildly until she found her voice.

“Where are the others?” she asked with a hoarse, wheezing voice. “Are they dead?”

His eyes narrowed at her and his nose wrinkled in disdain. She received a swift and hard kick to her ribs. It pushed the air out of her and her eyes teared up from the pain.

“I believe a slight adjustment to your priorities is in order, my dear,” he said cooly. “You need not worry about anyone else, in this realm or any other, than me at this moment. I could have killed each and everyone of your dear little friends for trespassing. I could tear you apart limb from limb and put you together again in a variety of new and interesting ways…”

He looked down at her pathetic, bleeding form with a smile.

“You should be exceedingly grateful that I won’t do so,” he purred. “Instead, I believe a bit of reeducation will sort out those priorities of yours.”

She was bleeding from…somewhere. It was hard to discern since her whole body ached. She felt herself growing cold and faint. Her eyes began to flutter shut.

She heard a small huff of annoyance before she felt two hands grab onto the front of her shirt and lift her up and off the floor. Her whole body was quickly beginning to numb from the blood loss.

She frantically flailed her limbs as she was submerged in water. She gasped for breath and coughed when she surfaced. Raphael had thrown her into the restoration pool. By the time she caught her breath, her injuries had already healed.

“Strip,” Raphael ordered from the edge of the pool. “And while you do so, kindly explain why you thought it a good idea to cross me in this manner.”

Her mind was still just as scattered even though her wounds had healed. She looked down at her now wet and torn clothes as if seeing it for the first time.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” Raphael said in an impatient tone. “Or you will learn just how unpleasant drowning in water that keeps you from dying can be.”

Her hands fumbled as she began to untie the belt around her waist.

“Speak, girl,” Raphael growled, the sound almost echoed off the walls of the boudoir, making her jump.

“Mystra,” she said quickly. “Mystra gave us a better offer. One that would save Gale from the Orb.”

“Mm,” he hummed in a calm tone that belied the anger he had spoken with just a moment ago. “So, your grand plan was to rob me of what I was owed, please a goddess, save your little sweetheart, and keep your soul. How very greedy of you.”

Your little sweetheart. Raphael must really have kept an eye on them since he knew she was with Gale.

She had stripped down to her smallclothes and looked up at Raphael. He was watching her with an intense gaze.

“The rest too,” he said.

She swallowed hard. She truly did not like wherever this was going, but she was alone with someone who could kill her in a heartbeat. She reluctantly removed the last of her clothing and covered as much as she could with her hands.

Raphael gave her a pleased smile and picked up a fluffy towel for her. He held it out between his hands for her. She stepped out of the pool and reached for it, but he pulled it away from her.

“Step closer…”

She did and Raphael began drying her off with the towel. He was surprisingly gentle, which only managed to make her even more nervous.

“I own you, as things now stand, my dear,” he said from behind her as he dried her off. “Which means, there is only one you should worship and give your undivided attention and love to, and I will make sure that you are not confused in the future as to who that is.”

She looked at the floor in front of her as his hands moved the towel over her naked body. She felt utterly hopeless, and she felt more and more anxious about where this was going. She cleared her throat.

“Please,” she pleaded quietly. “I made a mistake. I will honor our agreement in the future.”

“You certainly will,” Raphael growled into her ear and threw the towel on the floor. “Turn around and get on your knees…”

She slowly turned to face him. She was shaking, but she tried to garner up some bravery in the face of her fear. There were lines that she would not cross, no matter what the price was, and he needed to know that.

“I am loyal to Gale,” she stated as firmly as she could. “I won’t do anything that jeopardizes our relationship or his trust in me.”

Raphael smiled as if what she said was amusing to him.

“On your knees,” he ordered again.

She hesitated for a moment but then reluctantly sank down to her knees in front of him.

“Good. Now, clean your blood of my boot.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked down at his feet. The tip of his right boot was still glistening with her blood from when he kicked her in the ribs. She reached for the towel that Raphael had discarded, but he caught her by the hair to stop her.

“Ah-ah,” he said. “Use your tongue.”

“You can’t be serious…”

“You are eager to test my patience, aren’t you, dear?” he said with a cruel smile. “However, you are not the first disobedient pet I have dealt with…”

He let go of her hair to snap his fingers. A riding crop appeared in his free hand in a flash of flames. She looked from the riding crop to him. He was giving her a moment to reconsider, but when she did not move, he brought it down hard on her thigh, making her yelp. He kept going, one hit after the other.

Crack, crack, crack.

By the fourth strike she was bent down over his boot with tears streaming down her cheeks. She heard the sharp sound of the riding crop being pulled back for another strike, and immediately put her tongue on his boot.

“Good girl,” he praised in a mocking tone. “Wonderful to know that there is some sense in that empty little head of yours…”

The taste was disgusting between the metallic tang of blood and whatever Raphael cleaned his boots with. There was so much blood, and she felt like throwing up.

“I do wonder where all this reluctance is coming from,” he mused from above her. “This is hardly new for you, I mean. Since, evidently, you would gladly prostrate yourself for a goddess you barely know and who once slept with the man you love…”

Her jaw clenched as she gagged and tried not to throw up. There was still blood left on the leather of his boot. She whined quietly before putting her tongue to work again.

“It is difficult to imagine anything lower than that,” he purred. “Though don’t you worry about her any longer, my dear. I promise that I am a much more forgiving and generous god than Mystra…As long as you honor your agreements and show me due respect, of course.”

There was nothing forgiving about what she had experienced so far, but she held her tongue. She focused on finishing her task before she accidentally would empty the contents of her stomach over his feet.

“Up,” he ordered suddenly.

She had no complaints about stopping what she was doing. She scrambled to her feet fast in fear that he would whip her again. He smiled at her.

“Very good,” he walked further into the boudoir. “Come.”

She followed him and prayed to all the gods that would not hear her anyway, that he would not make her do worse.

He gestured for her to sit on the bed before walking to a small table where a bottle of wine stood. He poured a glass for her, and she saw him pour a vial of something else in, before handing it to her.

“What is this?” she asked hesitantly.

“Simply something that will help you understand the level of devotion I expect from you in our future endeavors. A little gift from Haarlep. They could not be here themselves unfortunately, since they are currently rotting in a dungeon for letting you steal from me.”

“Incubus spittle,” she muttered and then started to slightly panic. “I don’t— I meant what I said earlier, I won’t be unfaithful to Gale.”

“Perish the thought, my dear,” Raphael said in mock innocence with a placating gesture. “I assure you that you don’t have to do anything that would anger your little sweetheart. Now, please: drink.”

She looked from the cup in her hands to him and then to the riding crop in his hand. Her thighs still stung with pain from his last couple of lashes. She brought the cup to her mouth with shaking hands and took a small sip.

Raphael placed a finger on the bottom of the glass and tipped it towards her, urging her to drink more.

“All of it,” he said and smiled when she complied. “Good girl. You are learning quickly.”

He gently took the cup from her before sitting down beside her on the bed. She jumped when she felt him place his hand on her head. He gently combed through her hair with his fingers and massaged her scalp.

The spittle took effect almost immediately. It washed over her, calming her nerves and making her body less tense. Every sensation in her body blurred for a moment, and it felt amazing.

“Look at me,” he purred.

She turned her head and looked at him. Then came the second wave of emotions: her body started to heat up, and she felt herself become increasingly sensitive to his touch. He smiled lazily at her while he kept playing with her hair.

He chuckled when he saw her beginning to squirm. She could feel the arousal starting to take hold, but it was along with a sense of infatuation that she had not been prepared for. It was more than just a sexual attraction: she felt fascination, trust, safety, love.

“Oxytocin,” he explained as if reading her mind. “A little chemical in your brain that is produced when you orgasm, when you hug a friend, when you hold a loved one close, when feel your child’s skin on yours for the first time… You brain is currently being flooded with it.”

Her pupils were so dilated that there barely seemed to be any color left in her eyes. She could not pry her eyes away from him. The only thing on her mind was how much she longed to touch him more.

“Does it feel good, my sweet?” Raphael purred in a patronizing tone and chuckled.

She felt amazing, but she needed more. She put her hand on his that were in her hair. Her breath hitched slightly at feeling his warm skin against her palm and it sent a jolt of arousal through her abdomen.

He pulled his hand away from hers with a smile and moved off the bed. She almost whined at the loss of his skin on hers. He walked over to a table and grabbed a small tin of something before handing it to her.

She looked at it. There was no label. She opened it and smelled it. She recognized it as the stuff Karlach had once taught Wyll to wax his horns with. The smell was so distinct, like leather and something that was hard to put a finger on.

Raphael sat down in front of her and leaned his head back slightly.

“Go on,” he purred.

She felt that it was cruel that he would limit her to the one part of him that wasn’t his skin, but she obliged. She sat on her knees behind him and began applying the product to his horns.

This close she could smell him. She had never noticed just how good he smelled. Yurgir had been right: cherries and musk, but also something else. Something spicier, along with the leathery smell of the product she applied to his horns.

She barely noticed that the front of her body had become glued to his back as she worked, and somehow, she felt the need to get even closer. She could feel just how wet she was whenever she adjusted her position to better reach his horns. Surely, he could smell that too.

She pressed her legs together, trying to deal with the feeling. She pressed her chest against his back. The friction of his clothes against her hard nipples felt amazing. A small part of her somewhere in her mind knew how pathetic she was at the moment, but she did not care.

Raphael chuckled at her.

“Careful, dear,” he teased. “You are being awfully clingy. We can’t have your lover being jealous, now, can we?”

Gale. Right. She had almost forgotten him for a moment. She felt partial to forgetting him again. She needed this. Needed Raphael. Surely Gale would understand…

“It almost hurts,” she said in a breathy voice.

She finished with his horns and moved her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. She leaned her forehead against the back of his shoulders. She could not help herself anymore. She grinded her dripping pussy against her foot under her, desperate for any kind of friction. She moaned softly but it wasn’t enough.

“Do you think you have learned your lesson?”

She nodded against his shoulder. Her breath was heavy. She moved her hand up his neck, past his collar to touch his face. The feeling of his skin and slight stubble against her hand almost made her moan.

“Can I trust that I have your undying loyalty in our future endeavors and that you will never cross me again?”

She nodded again.

“Use your voice…”

“Yes,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I’ll bring you the Crown of Karsus. I promise.”

She trailed her lips across his shoulders and buried her nose in the back of his hair. She needed him so much that it felt as if it was killing her.

“Good,” he said briefly. “Then you are free to leave.”

She stopped breathing for a moment and tensed completely.

“No, please,” she pleaded quietly. “I need…”

“What do you need?” he asked in an almost teasing tone.

“Please…” she repeated.

He hummed as if considering it for a moment.

“Stand up.”

She pried herself away from him to do as he said. He sat slightly further back on the bed. He beckoned her closer and then reached out to grab her face by her cheeks. He pulled her into a kiss, if one could call it that.

He stuck his long, forked tongue into her mouth, almost as if trying to lick the remnants of the wine and spittle from her mouth. He pulled on the ties of his pants and pulled his cock out. He did not even rid himself of the rest of his clothing, as if it was a mild inconvenience for him to fuck her.

She straddled him and he helped her lower herself onto his already hard cock. Despite his size, she was wet enough that it went with ease. She almost screamed at the feeling of finally having him inside her. He let her do all the work, while he looked at her with a lazy smile and an almost bored look in his eyes.

She quickly started riding him at a faster pace, eager to chase her pleasure. She cradled his face with her hands, needing to feel more of his skin. He did not stay unaffected for long. Despite his nonchalance, she saw how dilated his pupils were getting too and his breathing was starting to change.

He pulled her closer so that her chest was flush with his. He grabbed her hair roughly and yanked her head back, while his other hand was on her hip guiding her movements.

“I wonder what your dear wizard will say once he learns what a little whore his lover is,” Raphael growled.

Something about his hearing such words from him in that smooth voice of his almost made her come apart in itself. She rode him harder, earning her a groan from him. He bit her neck, giving her a mark that would with out a doubt make her companions ask questions. She didn’t care at that moment.

“Poor Gale Dekarios,” he growled. “Doomed to keep his unpleasant condition and displeasing his goddess. The only thing left he will have is you, dear…and the knowledge that you willingly and eagerly fucked the devil who took everything from him. Such a naughty little thing…”

In one rough movement, she was lifted off his lap and slung over the edge of the bed. He held her down as he entered her bent over form from behind. He gave a few slower thrusts before he began to pound into her at a pace that was bordering on violent.

She was all but screaming in pleasure. Her toes curled as his hips snapped against her. Raphael was groaning and grunting into her ear, chasing his own pleasure. The air was squeezed out of her when she finally came, and her walls clenched around him. All that left her mouth was a breathless gasp.

He buried his cock deep inside her as he came with a growl so deep that it barely sounded human. The effects of the incubus spittle finally started to leave her after she came. He pulled out of her and admired his work for a moment.

She moved to sit on the bed. Her legs were still shaking uncontrollably from her orgasm. Her mind was starting to buzz with a raging storm of unpleasant thoughts and guilt. So much guilt…

His smile widened at her change in expression. His eyes drifted over the still bleeding bitemark on her neck and the blooming bruises and claw marks on her hips from his grip on her. He stuffed his cock back in his pants and ran a hand over his hair to adjust a few loose strands of hairs back into place.

“A fitting punishment, I think,” he mused. “A betrayal for a betrayal. I trust we will see each other again soon. I will eagerly await your delivery of the Crown. Until then…” he gave her a cruel smile, his white sharp teeth visible. “Give your lover and your friends my very best regards.”

She panicked and grasped for anything to hide her naked body with when he moved his hand to snap. She heard the click of his fingers before she was sent back to camp.