#not getting railed. we will endure

[imperatorcopia]

it's a crime that my legs are smooth and soft as fuck and im not getting folded rn

[grandline-fics]

Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION:  You call them by a term of endearment without realising 

WARNINGS: just fluff, mentions of alcohol in Luffy's

CHARACTERS: Ace, Sabo, Luffy | Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro

WORDS: 1,933

A/N: The next part in this in honour of reaching 500 followers. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

You knew nothing would ever happen between you and the Division Commander. You knew he was just a likeable guy who was friendly and warm with everyone. Countless times you told yourself that he was just nice with everyone and yet still you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat just a little faster when he smiled at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from liking him a little more each time he spoke with you and spent time with you outside of chores and tasks being done onboard the ship. It didn’t matter though, even with the knowledge nothing romantic would happen you were happy to be considered a close friend of Ace’s.

One morning you were perched on the edge of the ship’s railing and keeping a critical eye on the thick wall of cloud draped over the entirety of the sky above the next island you were approaching. It made a stark difference to the clear blue you and the rest of the crew were currently under. You were no stranger to the absurdity of the ever changing weather and separate climates certain islands had but seeing what you were going to be greeted with was starting to sour your mood. It wasn’t as fun stopping at an island if there was a storm to endure.

“Glaring at the clouds won’t make them change you know.” You looked over your shoulder to see Ace hop up onto the railing and sit down beside you. Glancing out of the corner of your eye you were jealous of how relaxed he was and let out a long sigh as you returned your stare to the clouds you could now see were darker than you had originally thought. 

“Who knows, stranger things have happened on these seas.” You mused, scowling harder now that the idea was in your head. “Maybe I have the ability to control weather and neither of us knew it? Don’t know unless I try.”

From beside you Ace laughed, reclining back to support his body on his elbows and grinned up at you. 

“If that were possible, that’d be a pretty dumb gift. Glaring at clouds to make them obey you? You’d get a headache all day.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, getting more comfortable too, lying down and tucking your arms behind your head. 

“Look we can’t all be super amazing and control fire like some people, Ace.” You teased, a small yawn breaking from your lips as your eyes closed. You were still a ways away from the stormy island so you may as well make the most of the sunshine and warmth until then. “Some of us are just boring.”

“I definitely wouldn’t call you boring.” Ace told you. Safely in the knowledge that you couldn’t see him, he could observe you carefully with softened gaze. “You’re one of my favourite people to hang out with.” 

“Aw thank you love, you always know just what to say.” Your relaxed smile brightened considerably but you were too drowsy to open your eyes again to look at the man beside you. It was also why you hadn’t realised your slip of the tongue. Ace however tensed and sat up a little straighter from his once relaxed position. His eyes were widened and a soft pink was dusting his freckled skin. All this time he’d thought his feelings were one-sided and now he was hit with the reality that it might not be the case. Overcome with a burst of excitement and hope he quickly lay back down and used his hat to hide his giddy expression and began to think about how to subtly broach the subject when you were awake.

SABO

“You’re not going to improve if you don’t keep your focus.” Hack lectured, swiftly knocking Sabo back with ease. Sabo managed to recover from the attack and retaliated with one of his own that was completely dodged to the point it made the attack look so pitiful. Hack paused in the sparring match to frown at the younger Revolutionary. “Seriously, what’s with you today? Do you need to take a break?” Quickly Sabo shook his head and forced himself to keep his attention on Hack but even then he couldn’t help but feel your presence silently calling to him. 

You were oblivious to the power you had over the Chief of Staff, even from the very first day you joined the Revolutionary Army you’d somehow managed to make Sabo immediately endeared to you. Given Sabo’s personality he was able to pass off his momentary slips and lack of concentration when you were around and for the most part others hadn’t made the connection. Most being the word. People like Hack, Koala, and Dragon however knew. Normally Hack wouldn’t mind and ignore it but this was the third time in the short amount of time of the sparring match that he’d seen Sabo zone out and look your way as you were speaking with Dragon about a recent mission you’d been on. Enough was enough. After knocking Sabo onto his back, Hack turned and called you over. You finished your conversation with Dragon and approached the sparring pair with a soft, expectant smile while Sabo got to his feet. “I want you to spar Sabo with me. Perhaps having two opponents will help sharpen his dulled senses.” 

You became concerned to hear Hack’s less than complimentary tone at the blond and you looked to Sabo with a light frown, scrutinising his features carefully. Could it be he was sick? Was something else be bothering him? It wasn't like the Chief of Staff to be so distracted especially when it came to his training. At the suggestion of you fighting along with Hack, Sabo’s expression became a mix of uncertainty and irritation. He didn’t want to spar against you but he couldn’t outright deny Hack requesting you join them given he had no real reason to oppose it. Sabo could only take a breath and adjust his stance while praying he didn’t make an embarrassment of himself.

At first having you as part of the fight helped Sabo when it came to focusing on the fight, by having two skilled fighters attacking he didn’t have the ability to pay attention to his personal feelings. However when he kept his sight on Hack as the priority he’d slipped up and forgotten you. You took the window of opportunity and ducked under Sabo’s arm, your face less than inch from his. Quickly you hooked her arm around his and tucked your foot around his ankle, twisting and knocking him to the ground. You kept a firm hold on Sabo’s wrist and pressed your knee into his back. “Give up sweetie?” you asked innocently, unable to see Sabo’s eyes widen. Before he could respond you were abruptly called for by another Revolutionary to go out on a mission. Pouting you released Sabo and left him and Hack. 

“Please tell me I didn’t imagine that…” Sabo uttered, almost begging Hack. He looked up to see the Fishman grin at him and help him to his feet. 

“No I heard it too. Funny thing is I don’t think they noticed they did it.” Sabo watched your retreating form and brightly smiled. 

“Interesting.”

LUFFY

For the most part Luffy can be considered fairly clueless about a lot of things if they don’t involve his ambition to be King of the Pirates and obtaining the One Piece, doing whatever he wanted and eating all he wished. That included his own deeper feelings at times. However no matter how complex Luffy’s emotions were about certain things he found it easier to break them down into more simplistic views and gain a better understanding about them. He found he had to do that with you and the longer you were part of his crew the more he had to take an inward look at his feelings. So far he was able to discern that he liked you, he liked being around you and it was mutual because you’d been all too eager to join his crew. For the longest time it was simple as that. 

Things however became complicated one night after he and the rest of the crew helped free another town from a corrupt ruler. As always the celebration was a large affair with plenty of food, music and drink. While Luffy wasn’t a drinker and happily indulged in all the food he could get his hands on, you were pulled into a drinking contest with some of the locals along with Nami, Zoro, Franky, and Usopp. You’d managed to hold your own for a respectable amount but when you felt the world being to tilt and your mind grow hazy you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore. 

Staggering from the table you somehow managed to wander to the only spot you knew you’d feel completely safe and content with. You didn’t know how you managed it, call it instinct or sheer will but you stopped beside your Captain and slid down to sit on the soft grass beside him, leaning against his back for support. Luffy looked over his shoulder to grin at you before continuing to eat. “You lost huh?” he laughed before taking a large bite of a meat skewer.

“It’s cheating when Zoro plays.” You grumbled, shifting to get more comfortable against your Captain. “He’s so smug too. Didn’t even wanna win anyway.” You fell into soft laughter with Luffy and then drifted into content silence. Subconsciously Luffy moved while he ate, seamlessly turning so you were leaning against his side and neither of you seemed to even notice the new position.

When morning came and you woke with a hangover and lack of memory you let out a worried groan, hoping that whatever you’d done wasn’t too embarrassing or at the very least you hoped that everyone else was also too drunk to remember too. Wincing you pushed yourself up to see that you were in your own bed. Hazily you tried to force your brain to work and managed to pull out the image of Luffy which made sense, he was your go-to for anything. Knowing he didn’t drink, you knew you could also rely on him for the truth on what you failed to remember. You found Luffy sitting on Sunny’s head just as you knew he’d be but you became worried to see him frowning, deep in thought. “Everything okay Luffy?” you asked, flinching when Luffy’s head swiftly snapped around to look at you intently. 

“No! You’re not allowed to call me that.” Immediately worry and guilt took hold. What had you done? Would he ever forgive you? Oh no, what if it was so bad he’d kick you off of the ship for good. 

“Wh-what do you mean?“ You asked panicked and feeling sick which was not from the hangover. “Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry but I don’t remember. Please tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Luffy’s expression became confused. “I’ve just decided that you can’t call me Luffy anymore I like what you called me last night after I helped you to bed better.” 

“Oh…” you couldn’t tell what you were feeling in that moment exactly. Desperately you tried to think what you called him, silently thankful that whatever it was hadn’t offended him. “Well if you want me to call you that instead you have to remind me.”

“You called me dear.” Luffy grinned while your face reddened.

[ink-perfect]

unguarded.

## request!

─ about: anime zoro x gn!reader ⋆. angst-to-fluff, 2nd person ⋆. migrane, battle, near-death experience, infirmary visit, argument, mushyl!zoro 🥹, apologies ─ synopsis: as a swordsman for the straw hats, you're well-adjusted to the amount of strength it takes on the battlefield, and are willing to fight through even the worst of migranes to meet this standard. despite your crew’s warnings against this - zoro's, especially - you insist that you can handle it. however, a near-death encounter almost costs you everything, forcing you to confront the consequences of your stubbornness through a particularly intimate conversation with a fellow swordsman... 

the sea was calm, deceptively peaceful, as the going merry sailed smoothly through the waves. but something wasn’t right. you could feel it in the air, in the way the wind seemed to whisper warnings through the rigging.

you gripped the railing, trying to ground yourself as the sharp, relentless pounding in your head throbbed behind your eyes. your migraine had been creeping up on you for hours, starting as a dull ache and slowly escalating into something unbearable. but you had learned to endure it. you had to.

there was no room for weakness on the crew. you’d seen how much the straw hats gave - how much they sacrificed - and you refused to be the one dragging them down. even if your head felt like it was being split open, even if your vision blurred and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you, you wouldn’t say a word. you could handle this.

but the pain was constant now, like a nail tapping at the back of your skull, never quite leaving you alone. the world seemed too bright, the sounds around you too sharp, and it took everything in you to keep your face neutral, to not flinch at every piercing noise.

“oi.”

zoro’s voice cut through the haze of pain, low and gravelly. he had been watching you, as he often did when you thought no one was paying attention. you turned your head slowly, trying not to wince at the movement.

“what?” you asked, your voice coming out colder than you intended, betraying just a hint of your discomfort.

his sharp green eyes narrowed as they studied you, suspicion darkening his features. “you look like shit,” he said bluntly, his gaze not leaving yours.

you forced a laugh, though it felt hollow. “gee, thanks for the compliment, swordsman.”

he didn’t laugh, didn’t even smirk like he usually would. instead, his eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and unyielding. zoro wasn’t one to pry, but he wasn’t stupid either. he could sense something was wrong, and you hated that he could see through you so easily.

“don’t tell me you’re thinking about fighting in that condition,” he said, the edge in his voice unmistakable. it wasn’t a question - it was a warning.

“i’m fine,” you lied, shifting your weight as you tried to stand a little taller, even though the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through your skull. “it’s just a headache. i can handle it.”

his expression darkened, his jaw clenching as his fingers twitched toward his swords, like he was itching to cut through whatever was standing in his way - even if that thing was your stubbornness.

“don’t be an idiot.” his voice was low, almost a growl. “you can barely stand straight.”

“i said i’m fine,” you snapped, harsh now. you regretted it the moment the words left your mouth, but you couldn’t back down now. you hated the idea of them worrying about you, of anyone thinking you were weak. “we’re about to run into trouble. you need every fighter on deck, and i’m not going to sit this one out because of a little headache.”

zoro’s glare could have cut through steel. “this isn’t just a ‘little headache’, and you know it damn well. you look like you’re about to pass out. if you get yourself killed out there, you’ll just be another thing we have to worry about.”

you flinched at the harshness of his words, your chest tightening with frustration and…something else. why did he have to make it sound like you were a burden? like your presence was just another problem for the crew to deal with?

“i don’t need you worrying about me,” you muttered, your voice quieter now but still firm. “i can take care of myself, i….i’m strong enough.”

zoro’s eyes flashed with something unreadable - anger, yes, but also something deeper, something more vulnerable. “you think i’m worried because i think you’re weak?” he said, his voice suddenly quieter, more controlled. “no. i'm worried because i actually give a shit about you, believe it or not.”

the words hung in the air between you, so light-hearted yet so suffocating. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, a sudden shout from luffy in the crow’s nest broke the tension.

“pirates ahead!”

instantly, the mood shifted. the crew sprang into action. nami called out orders, directing the ship into position, while usopp scrambled to ready the cannons. sanji lit a cigarette and disappeared into the kitchen, preparing to fight in his own way. robin, ever calm, began reading the enemy ship’s movement. franky and chopper were already preparing for the worst.

your grip tightened on the hilt of your sword, your heart racing. you had to fight. you needed to fight, to prove that you weren’t a liability, that you could handle yourself no matter what.

zoro shot you one last look, a warning, but you ignored it, pushing yourself forward as the enemy ship loomed closer. the adrenaline began to dull the pounding in your skull, but it didn’t disappear. it was there, always there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to pull you under the moment you let your guard down.

the battle erupted in chaos. cannon fire echoed through the air, and the sound of steel clashing against steel filled your ears. you moved on instinct, your body following the rhythm of the fight, even as your vision blurred and the edges of the world seemed to tilt dangerously.

you cut down one pirate after another, each swing of your sword sending a jolt of pain through your head, but you gritted your teeth and kept moving. you had to keep moving.

but then, your body betrayed you.

your knees wobbled, and your vision went black for a split second - just long enough for you to misjudge the distance of an incoming attack. the pirate’s sword swung toward you, too fast for you to block, and for a horrifying moment, all you could do was watch - there was no time to react.

you were done for.

suddenly, you were yanked backward, a rough hand grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you out of harm’s way. you stumbled, barely keeping your footing as franky’s voice boomed above you.

“hey! what's the big idea?!” franky demanded, his voice tinged with panic as he glared down at you, his massive hand still gripping your shoulder. “you almost got yourself killed!”

your breath came in ragged gasps as you tried to shake off the dizziness, the world spinning violently around you. the migraine, which had been a dull roar before, now surged to unbearable levels, like someone was driving a spike through your brain.

“shit…” you whispered, your vision swimming.

“’shit’ is right,” franky growled, his usually carefree demeanour replaced with an urgency that sent a cold chill down your spine. “you need to get out of here before-”

the next words were lost in the ringing in your ears. your legs gave out beneath you, and before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against something solid and warm.

zoro.

his scent - sweat, steel, and the faintest hint of sake - washed over you, grounding you for just a moment. his grip on you was firm, almost possessive, as he cradled you against his chest, his face twisted in anger and something dangerously close to fear.

“what the hell were you thinking?” zoro’s voice was rough, strained, as if he was holding back something he didn’t want to say. “actually, i bet you just weren't, you idiot.”

you tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. the pain was too much. you couldn’t even muster the strength to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you could handle it. because the truth was…you couldn’t. not this time.

zoro’s expression darkened as he realised just how bad your condition was, his smirk immediately settling into a frown. “shit…this is bad, you can barely talk. damn it, why didn’t you say anything when i asked before?”

you blinked up at him, your body trembling with the effort of staying conscious. you prepared yourself to lie again, to maintain that tough exterior you spent so long cultivating, but looking into the swordsman's dark eyes, the way they felt like they truly saw you, made you melt. you could feel his stare make your stomach do flips, opening your floodgates all too fast. “i just didn’t… want to be a burden,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

zoro’s grip tightened, his jaw clenching so hard you could see the muscles twitching in his neck. “a burden?” his voice cracked, raw with emotion. “you think we’d ever see you as a burden?”

his words cut through the haze, slicing through the pain and self-doubt that had been weighing you down for so long. you had always thought you needed to be strong, to never show weakness, but in this moment, zoro’s expression told you everything you had refused to believe.

he cared.

deeply.

“we’re getting you to chopper,” zoro said firmly, his voice a low growl as he scooped you up in his arms, holding you close as he carried you below deck. the battle raged on around you, but for the first time, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

you were exhausted. broken.

as zoro carried you, his arms wrapped protectively around your limp body, you could feel his heart beating against your chest, steady and strong, a sharp contrast to the chaos and violence outside. you wanted to tell him you were sorry, that you’d been stupid, that you didn’t mean to scare him.

but all you could do was rest your head against his chest, your body too weak to fight anymore.

“don’t ever do that again,” zoro whispered, his voice rough with an emotion he rarely let slip. his grip on you tightened as if he was afraid to let go, afraid you’d disappear if he loosened his hold for even a second.

you blinked, your vision hazy and unfocused, but the raw emotion in his voice pierced through the fog clouding your mind. the world felt distant, the sounds of the battle muffled by the pounding in your head, but the warmth of his embrace - the way he held you as if you were something fragile, something all-too precious - was undeniable. zoro had never been one for softness, never one to show anything but strength, yet here he was, carrying you as if you were the most valuable thing in the world.

“i-i’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. it was all you could manage, but the apology burned at the back of your throat, thick with guilt and shame. you hated that you’d scared him, hated that you had been reckless enough to push him to this point.

zoro didn’t respond right away. his jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the tension in his neck, his eyes fixed ahead with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you could feel the frustration radiating off him, a silent storm brewing just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any moment. but he didn’t let it show. not yet.

“you don’t get it,” zoro finally muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t catch it. his voice was tight, as if he was barely holding back the flood of emotion threatening to break free. “you think we don’t care. you think i don’t care.”

your heart clenched at his words, guilt twisting like a knife in your chest. you’d never meant to make him worry. you’d never wanted to be a burden, to make him or the others feel like they needed to protect you. but hearing him say it, hearing the raw, unfiltered emotion in his voice, made it impossible to deny the truth any longer.

“i…” you started, but your voice cracked, and the words got caught in your throat. what could you say? how could you possibly explain the need to prove yourself, to be strong, when it had nearly cost you everything?

zoro didn’t look at you, his gaze still fixed straight ahead as he carried you down the stairs toward the infirmary. his arms tightened around you protectively, his body tense as if he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go for even a second. “you could’ve died, goddamnit.”

the words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in their weight. you had been close - too close. franky had pulled you back, but if he hadn’t...you shuddered at the thought.

you weren’t ready to die. you weren’t ready to leave your crew, your friends. and zoro…the thought of leaving him behind hurt more than the migraine ever could.

as if sensing your unease, zoro’s grip on you softened, his voice dropping to a quieter, more vulnerable tone. “you can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep pushing yourself until you break.” his words were slow, deliberate, like each one was a struggle to get out. “we’re a crew. we’re supposed to watch each other’s backs. and that includes you.”

his gaze finally flicked down to meet yours, and what you saw there made your breath hitch. his usual sharp, unreadable expression was gone, replaced by something raw and achingly open. his dark eyes were filled with something so deep, so intense, that it made your heart twist painfully in your chest. you had never seen him like this - unguarded, his walls stripped bare.

“i need you to understand,” he said, his voice rough, almost pleading. “i can’t lose you.”

the confession hit you like a punch to the gut. zoro, the strongest, most stoic man you knew, was admitting something you’d never thought you’d hear from him. it wasn’t just about the crew. this was personal. it was about you -about what you meant to him. and that realisation left you breathless.

you stared up at him, wide-eyed, struggling to process the weight of his words. “zoro…i didn’t…i didn’t mean to…”

“yeah, well, you did anyway,” he interrupted, his voice harsher now, though the vulnerability in his eyes didn’t fade. “you think i didn’t notice? every time you push yourself past your limits, every time you pretend like everything’s fine when you’re barely holding on…i see it. i see what you do. i see you.”

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing tighter with every word. you hadn’t realised just how much he’d been paying attention, how closely he’d been watching. it made your heart ache, knowing that while you had been so focused on hiding your pain, zoro had been silently carrying the weight of his worry for you.

“why didn’t you say something earlier?” you mumbled through your pain, the words barely making it past your lips.

zoro let out a short, bitter laugh, though there was no humour in it. “would you have listened?”

you couldn’t answer that. deep down, you knew the truth. you had been so determined to prove yourself, so fixated on not being seen as a burden, that you had pushed away anyone who tried to help. even zoro.

especially zoro.

his gaze softened slightly, though his frustration still simmered beneath the surface. “i get it. you’re stubborn. you don’t want anyone to worry about you. but damn it, i can’t stand seeing you like this. you’re more than just another crewmate to me.”

your heart skipped a beat at that, the weight of his words sinking in. more than just another crewmate.

zoro’s expression tightened, his eyes flickering with something dangerously close to fear as he set you down gently on the infirmary bed. his hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer than necessary, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

“chopper will take care of you,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven. “just… don’t scare us like that again. don’t scare me like that again.”

your throat tightened, and you reached out, grabbing his hand before he could pull away completely. his eyes snapped back to yours, surprise flickering across his face.

“i really am sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i-”

“i don’t care about apologies,” zoro interrupted, though his tone had softened. he looked down at your hand holding his, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. but instead, his fingers curled around yours, holding on with surprising gentleness. the action was quick, so smooth that you thought you had imagined it - but as you checked and saw your intertwined hands, your heart swelled. “just promise me you’ll stop pretending like you have to do everything alone.”

you nodded, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. you hadn’t realised just how much you’d needed to hear those words, how much you’d been carrying on your own for so long. zoro wasn’t just scolding you for being reckless - he was asking you to let him in, to trust him.

“i promise,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the weight of the words was heavier than any sword you’d ever carried.

zoro’s grip on your hand tightened for just a moment, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache. then, without another word, he let go, turning away as chopper bustled into the room with his medical supplies.

but before he left, zoro made a final pause at the door, his back to you. his voice, when he spoke, was so quiet you almost missed it.

“i need you here. with me. don’t forget that.”

and with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the infirmary with chopper, your heart pounding and your mind racing. his words echoed in your head, each one a reminder of just how much you had been blind to, how much you had taken for granted.

you weren’t alone. you never had been. and it was time to start letting yourself believe that.

because one thing was clear: zoro needed you. and that knowledge, that unspoken truth, healed you in a way no medicine ever could.

── ౨ৎ masterlist

[sarahisslytherin]

the hour of the wolf.

jon snow x reader

summary: your nightmares of king's landing follow you to castle black. jon does his best to comfort you.

contains: angst, talk of sa, ptsd, crying, hurt/comfort.

a/n: this one's bittersweet, also first jon and official got fic!

word count: 0.7k

Wind howled outside your cabin at Castle Black, the sound not unlike a ragged scream. You had heard screams like it, had heard them leave your own lungs on several occasions over the past years. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying for sleep to drag you away from your thoughts. But in the pitch black of your chamber you saw the face of every man who tried to hurt you, tried to put their hands on you. You squirmed and writhed and howled but they gripped you all the same. It felt real, too real. You choked on a gasp as you shot up in bed, the cold hitting you like a wall of ice. You were covered in only the thin layer of your smallclothes and the furs that blanketed the bed. You would find no rest here, at least not tonight.

You laid on layer after layer, preparing for the day ahead even though it was the middle of the night. But you had to do something, anything but lie there and relive the horrors you experienced in King’s Landing. You tugged on your furs as you left your room, the harsh northern winds paralyzing you momentarily. Your boots thudded against the wooden floorboards as you made your way through the corridors and down to the courtyard. 

There he was, cloaked head to toe in fur. His sable curls ruffled in the wind, snowflakes catching in them as they fell. Your friend from childhood, the first person you thought to run to once you’d escaped the claws of King’s Landing. Jon Snow. How he had held you when you arrived at Castle Black a fortnight ago, your eyes sunken and your skin pale. You had run to him with a fervor you hadn’t felt in years. You had wept onto his shoulder, nestled deep into the furs as he held you like he would never let you go again. And now here he was. Awake, like you, during the hour of the wolf.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice gravelly and laced with concern as he watched you trudge towards him through the snow. You shook your head in response. “I know the feeling”.

You came to stand beside him, observing the snow-covered railings. “Does it ever get easier? Sleeping, living?”

He was quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It does.” he decided. “The wounds heal over time. They become scars. You remember how you got them but they don’t sting the way they once did.”

You prayed he was right, prayed the gods would be merciful with you in a way they hadn’t for so torturously long. “I have tried to be strong, Jon. But I feel I can’t go on anymore. It is all-consuming. I lie awake at night and I see their faces.”

Jon’s whirled in your direction. You hadn’t spoken to him about what you’d suffered just yet, though he was dying to know. “Whose faces?”

Your mouth went dry. “Joffrey, Cersei, Meryn Trant, the executioner. Men who had taken me and tried to have their way with me. They flash before me when the world grows too quiet.”

Jon’s eyes did not leave you as you spoke. “If I had known, I would have put a stop to it.”

“How would you have stopped it?” you snapped, glaring at him in a way you knew deep down he did not deserve. “There was nothing you could do, nothing I could do.”

Jon came up close to you now, a gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You are strong. Six hundred men here and you might be the strongest of us all. Aye, we might be able to cut down our enemies, but none of us would have endured a fraction of what you did. You are as much a warrior as any man here, do you hear me?”

A single tear slid down your cheek, and Jon was quick to wipe it away. “I hear you.”

“If anyone touches you, calls you a name or so much as looks at you a certain way- you come get me, and I’ll take care of it. Understand?” he pleaded with you, and when you looked into those deep brown eyes of his you wanted to cry.

“Thank you, Jon.” you whispered, burying yourself in the crook of his neck as he cupped the back of your head. He shushed your quiet sobs with all the patience in the world, placing a ginger kiss on your temple.

“I love you.” you sighed into his ear. It was the first time you had ever spoken of the sentiment you knew existed between the two of you. And you decided to breathe life into it with words. “I have always loved you.”

“So have I, love.” he choked out as he held you flush against him. “You’re safe now. Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You knew you would sleep easier in the hours to come, but for now you just held onto the one thing in your life you knew you could trust.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @shemisseshome

[silentmoths]

Some HSR Thirsts

Because I've been fucking star-railed this last week and also I promised @dustofthedailylife that I would write a svarog thirst if she finally pulled welt. so since this exists, you can guess what happened!

Svarog/Yaoshi/Kafka x Reader

NSFW, nothing explicit perse but all very heavily implied, Robot/monsterfucking, does fucking a god cound as monsterfucking?, Svarog is a giant vibrator, Yaoshi and their many hands, also Yaoshi having an aphrodesiac venom in their scorpion tail, maybe a little implied dubcon in kafkas case? I dont...think it is but its there as a warning in case.

Ok but Svarog, who definitely knows what sex is, of course he does, he has an entire database to access, and lets face it, this man has probably already accessed it when looking up ‘how to parent’ information because at one point or another he’s going to have to give clara ‘the talk’

(no, we wont talk about how his version of the talk is going to be the most embarrassingly clinical talk ever to exist. rest in peace clara.)

But he does not, for the love of anything, understand why you want to have sex…with him.

Nonetheless, he does not stop your hands roaming his chest plates, he doesn’t really stop you from doing… anything really, because… whatever this is  makes you happy, and that’s all he wants. 

He’s confused when you ask him to touch you, but he does it anyway, all while sifting through his databanks to figure out both why and where. 

This is also the day you discover that Svarog has an… interesting vibration function in his hands that he claims was once for easing stiff muscles of his old human commanders before he was abandoned.

Yeah it’ll sure ease you alright.

Admittedly…he does like watching you squirm…it does… something to his servos.

Though, he thinks he may have created a monster, because now every day, without fail…you’re asking him for a hand. 

Perhaps one day, when he has done enough research…he might just reveal that one…extra modification that had been made to him before everything went to shit.

One day he will allow you to delve below his trousers and maybe one day he will use that…modification, to finally give you what you want, since it seems you’re unwilling to find another mortal to fornicate with.

Besides

perhaps …clara could do with a mother figure around.

----------

Some say the Aeon Yaoshi, of the Abundance, is a cruel and evil creature.

This does not stop you from seeking Their favour.

However when they finally do appear before you, you get so much more.

Six hands, long and delicate, trailing your skin as they pull you close, unearthly voice whispering in your ear, telling you they’ve heard every prayer, every plead and call for them; how they’ve been watching you all this time, and now they have come to bestow the blessing you’ve been seeking.

But only if you can endure one last trial.

In some depictions you had found, Yaoshi is endowed with a scorpion's tail, so it isn’t a shock when the appendage curls around your body, the tip pricking into your thigh. You feel the warmth of the poison spread through your body and you moan for it. Yaoshi only hums their praise 

Their venom makes you feel warm and fuzzy, it makes their touch intense and vivid, most of all…

it makes you want to give yourself over entirely

You feel hands touch places that have never been touched by another, you feel their teeth and their tongue. You hear their praises.

And then you wake, in your bed. 

At first, you think it was a dream, but then you sit up.

You were naked, your muscles ached, but it was a sweet ache, soft around the edges, and there on your thigh, where they had stung you with their venom…

the symbol of abundance

----------

Soft hands, and an even softer voice, leave you weak in the knees.

“Ready to talk yet?” Kafka muses quietly as she presses a single finger to your collarbone, and you immediately fall back against the table, your arms still bound behind your back. 

You should be struggling. You should be fighting back.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on by the stellaron hunter who had kidnapped you, and was now apparently intent on interrogating you.

“You’ll….have to try harder than that.” you rasp, trying to sound intimidating. 

By the way Kafka’s smile widens ever so slightly, it’s failed completely, and you’re once again left reeling as she approaches, leaning over you like a cat who’s just caught their mouse.

“Will I?” her voice is so soft, and yet so very dangerous as her ruby eyes narrow in on your face “My…are we a little smitten? Your face is all red.” 

Goddamn it.

“I’d never-”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” She interjects as she perches on the edge of the table beside where you lay, she shoots you a look…an expression you can’t quite discern for a moment, until you realise her own eyes are raking down your body.

hungrily.

You watch her bring her hand to her mouth, teeth closing around the finger of her glove before pulling the offending article off; your heart is jackrabbiting in your chest.

“I think…” she hums as she leans back over you, magenta hair falling between you both like a waterfall. This was dangerous, so very dangerous.

But the moment her hand presses against your belly, and slowly begins its slow gaze downward, pressing shamelessly beneath the waistband of your bottoms? You’re a goner.

“I think I have other ways to make you sing that we’ll both enjoy…don't you think?”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

I will be starting a Starrail specific taglist shortly so if you want in on that let me know!

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

The Beast Wants to Tempt the Little Rabbit (Matias vs Clavis)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Clavis: "Haha, found you. So this is where you work."

Emma: "Prince Clavis!?"

After completing my duty as a belle, I returned to my peaceful life, but then Clavis appeared out of nowhere, causing me to drop the book I was reading on the counter.

Clavis: "That reaction. You missed me that much, huh? Then feel free to leap into my arms."

Emma: "I'll pass. Anyway, who's that gentleman next to you?"

Standing right behind Clavis was a man I didn't recognize. Despite his rugged appearance and equally imposing presence as Clavis, he had an impeccable posture and charisma that naturally drew attention.

Matias: "Pardon me. I'm Matias Asbrink, a friend of Clavis. Nice to meet you."

Emma: "Nice to meet you. I'm Emma."

Matias: "Are you also a friend of Clavis?"

Emma: "Um, no, we're just acquaintances."

Clavis: "How can you say that? You and I have been through so much together."

Matias: "Is that so?"

Emma: "You're right. We experienced all sorts of things together. You convinced me to be your partner in crime for all your mischief-making and even dragged me all over the palace."

Matias: "I see."

Emma: "So, why are you here, Prince Clavis?"

Having endured countless misadventures thanks to Clavis during my time at the palace, I couldn't help but be cautious.

Clavis: "That's because I've appointed you as our tour guide!"

Emma: “Tour guide?”

(What's that supposed to mean?)

Clavis smiled and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Clavis: “You see, Matias here is the prince of Acroite, the land of snow and law.”

Emma: “Prince!?”

Clavis: “It’s only natural to entertain the honored guest, so I thought of organizing a Rhodolite tour.”

Clavis: “Emma, you’ve been living in this city since you were born.”

Clavis: “That means you know more about this place than I do.”

(Well, I might have a bit of confidence in that.)

Clavis: “Therefore, I’d like you to assist with the tour.”

Clavis: “And having a woman around like Matias would add to the charm, don’t you think?”

Matias: “She seems to be a bookstore clerk. Aren't we bothering her?”

(He seems surprisingly reasonable for someone who’s Clavis’s friend.)

I know firsthand that nothing good comes from being involved with Clavis, but if I refuse now, it might inconvenience Prince Matias.

(Yeah, there’s no way I can just ignore it.)

Emma: “Owner! Did you hear our conversation?”

The owner peeked out from the back of the shop.

Akatsuki: “No problem. Be careful out there.”

Emma: “Thank you very much.”

Clavis: "Haha, I knew you'd definitely help."

Matias: "I'm sorry if it feels like we're forcing you, but thank you, Miss Emma."

Emma: "No, it’s fine. I'll do my best to make you enjoy Rhodolite."

(I need to keep a close eye on Clavis to make sure he doesn't go off the rails.)

Most of the time, the words peace and safety escaped me when I was with Clavis.

Unfortunately, this time, too, it seemed to have already escaped me.

Emma: "Um, Prince Clavis."

Clavis: "What's up? Are you impressed by my thoroughness?"

Emma: "No, I was just wondering why there's a white horse here."

As we exited the bookstore, I saw a quiet and wise-looking white horse tethered nearby.

While it wouldn't be unusual for a means of transportation to be there, the fact that there was only one raised some questions.

(It doesn't look like they rode together.) 

Matias: "It's a magnificent horse. Is it a warhorse?"

(Prince Matias seems surprised as well.)

Clavis: "Yes, he's Chevalier's partner. But today, he's your companion, Matias."

Matias: "What do you mean?"

Clavis: "You'll be riding this horse to get around from now on."

Matias: "And what about you and Miss Emma?"

Clavis: "We have important tasks to attend to."

Flashing his brightest smile, he signaled to Cyril, and he reluctantly brought over two baskets.

Upon seeing what was inside, I tilted my head in confusion.

Emma: "Rose petals?"

Clavis: "Yup, you'll be in charge of the rose petals with me."

Emma: "Prince Clavis, what the hell are you planning?"

Clavis: "I'm glad you asked."

With a lively expression, Clavis took out a red sash worn by princes during ceremonies.

Noticing the unusually placed sash before me, I couldn't help but groan.

Emma: "I understand."

Emma: "Prince Matias, let's run away."

Matias: "Are you suggesting that we elope?"

Emma: “Elope?”

(Why are his eyes so serious?)

Clavis: "Haha! Hold on a second, Emma. You seem to be misunderstanding something."

Emma: “I'm not misunderstanding anything. I've seen through all your plans.”

Emma: "You're going to put that sash that says 'today's star of the show' on Prince Matias and have him march through the streets on horseback, aren't you?"

Clavis: "My goodness."

Clavis: "I knew you were brilliant, but I never expected you to be this perceptive!"

Emma: "Let's run, Prince Matias!"

Matias: "And then, we'll find an eternal paradise where no one else can enter."

Emma: "Prince Matias?"

Matias: "Ah, sorry. I was lost in thought."

(Did I hear him say something weird just now, or am I imagining things?)

Clavis: "Matias, here, take this."

Emma: "Ah!"

We were unable to escape in time; Clavis had already handed him the sash.

Matias: “Rhodolite has an unusual way of sightseeing.”

Clavis: “You’re a special guest, so you need to be welcomed not only by me and Emma but by the town citizens as well.”

(Yeah, it’s over.)

Clavis: "People, behold! Make way for our distinguished guest!"

In the end, there was no way a girl like me could stop Clavis, so I reluctantly scattered the petals and followed along as Matias, riding on a white horse, moved forward.

Woman: "What is Prince Clavis up to this time?"

Man: "He's a distinguished guest, apparently. I'm not quite sure what's happening, but maybe we should just go along with it?"

Being used to Clavis' antics, the people of Rhodolite quickly adapted to the situation.

Every time Matias passed by, people applauded and cheered. Before we knew it, we had become the center of attention.

Matias: "This also requires a strong spirit."

Emma: "Prince Matias, if it's uncomfortable for you, I can stop..."

Matias: "No, it's fine. If this is Rhodolite's way of welcoming guests, then so be it."

Matias: "By the 62nd precept of the Asbrink family motto, let us proceed."

(What's with that motto? "Accept the kindness of others," or something like that?)

Making up his mind, Prince Matias waved to the cheering crowd and made the surroundings even livelier.

Woman: "He's quite charming, isn't he?"

Woman: "Yeah. But goodness, his overwhelming charisma is almost suffocating."

(It looks like Prince Matias is especially popular among women.)

(Well, I can understand why. He's so handsome and has tremendous sex appeal.)

Woman: "If only Prince Clavis would stay silent and just be a feast for the eyes."

Woman: "Yeah, he's handsome, but only on the surface."

(Clavis is getting quite the remarks.)

Clavis: "Hm."

Clavis: "This is rather unsatisfactory."

Part 2 ╎ Matias End ╎ Epilogue

[lovelynim]

TickleTober2024/Day 07 - Teaching

Honkai: Star Rail - Yanqing & Jing Yuan

“Wahaha!” Yanqing squealed, some water spilling out of the buckets he was holding on each of his hands. The lieutenant gritted his teeth as a crooked smile took place in his lips. His gaze was focused on the distance while Jing Yuan walked around him.

“A Cloud Knight must never let slip their weapon, nor let slacken their form," Jing Yuan repeated, probably for the tenth time that afternoon, while watching his apprentice’s limbs tremble under all that struggle. 

Yanqing inhaled sharply, squinting his eyes as he tried to maintain his shambling focus. “Y-yehes, general!”

The answer made Jing Yuan chuckle softly and nod, proud of Yanqing’s resolve. However, he still had to make sure that today’s lesson would stick to his apprentice’s mind. “Straighten your back,” the general commanded, using the tip of the wooden sword he was holding to deliver another poke to Yanqing’s side.

“AHAh!”

“And stop wasting water,” the general said, trying to sound angry as he delivered another poke, this time under Yanqing’s arm, somewhere between his armpit and his ribs. Of course, this only lead to another stream of giggles and more splashes of water falling to the ground. “How are we going to water the garden if you spill everything?”

“I-I’m tryhihing, general!” Yanqing groaned, shivering as some of the cold water spilled into his own clothes and stumbling a little before recovering his balance, or at least seeming to.

Yanqing could only blame himself for boasting in front of the general. When he asked for a harder, more intensive training, he expected more series of exercises or new opponents to spar with… not whatever this method that Jing Yuan decided to use was.

The buckets of water weren’t even that heavy anymore and the only thing keeping him from maintaining a good posture was the anticipation, the anxiety that came from not knowing when Jing Yuan would strike - or, better saying, tickle - him next.

Step after step, the general continued to slowly circle him, watching his form with ultimate attention. “Good, you’re learning rapidly, indeed,” Jing Yuan praised under his breath, tapping the back of Yanqing’s ankle with the wooden sword as a sign for him to fix his center of gravity.

“T-thank you, general,” Yanqing stuttered in a hurry, taking another huge gasp for air, “I think I-I’m getting the hand-AHAH!”

The lieutenant laughed, again, as Jing Yuan prodded against his stomach this time. “Your shoulders aren’t aligned. Remember: a Cloud Knight must never let slip their weapon-”

“N-nohoor let slahahacken their form!” The apprentice groaned, his cheeks a little red from all the effort and laughter in this training session.

And just like in any other training session, the longer it went on, the harder it was to achieve his goal. At this point, it would be a matter of seconds for Yanqing to drop one of the buckets - that is if they had any water left by that time.

“Should we take a break?” Jing Yuan suggested, thrusting the wooden sword on the ground as he stood before the lieutenant, a kind and warm smile in his lips.

Normally, Yanqing would still have the energy to run at least ten laps around the training ground. Today, however, Jing Yuan could tell that this new method took a toll on his endurance. 

Yanqing sighed, lowering his arms and placing the buckets down shortly before throwing himself back, sitting on the floor. “Y-yes, please, general,” he sighed, lowering his head.

“Very well. Let me prepare some tea, then, we can play a round of Celestial Jade while you recover,” Jing Yuan muttered, noticing that Yanqing didn’t seem frustrated despite the tiredness. Well, maybe this recently-made-up method could, indeed, provide some growth to his apprentice, after all.

A/N: You guys may thank @otomiyaa for bringing this idea up to me, as this was her request while I was asking for suggestions among my friend, ehe

Still, writing anything for these two is always a joyride, specially after the lateest quests hahaha

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Monopoly is capitalism's gerrymander

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

You don't have to accept the arguments of capitalism's defenders to take those arguments seriously. When Adam Smith railed against rentiers and elevated the profit motive to a means of converting the intrinsic selfishness of the wealthy into an engine of production, he had a point:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Smith – like Marx and Engels in Chapter One of The Communist Manifesto – saw competition as a catalyst that could convert selfishness to the public good: a rich person who craves more riches still will treat their customers, suppliers and workers well, not out of the goodness of their heart, but out of fear of their defection to a rival:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

This starting point is imperfect, but it's not wrong. The pre-enshittified internet was run by the same people who later came to enshittify it. They didn't have a change of heart that caused them to wreck the thing they'd worked so hard to build: rather, as they became isolated from the consequences of their enshittificatory impulses, it was easier to yield to them.

Once Google captured its market, its regulators and its workforce, it no longer had to worry about being a good search-engine – it could sacrifice quality for profits, without consequence:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

It could focus on shifting value from its suppliers, its customers and its users to its shareholders:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/15/they-trust-me-dumb-fucks/#ai-search

The thing is, all of this is well understood and predicted by traditional capitalist orthodoxy. It was only after a gnostic cult of conspiratorialists hijacked the practice of antitrust law that capitalists started to view monopolies as compatible with capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

The argument goes like this: companies that attain monopolies might be cheating, but because markets are actually pretty excellent arbiters of quality, it's far more likely that if we discover that everyone is buying the same product from the same store, that this is the best store, selling the best products. How perverse would it be to shut down the very best stores and halt the sale of the very best products merely to satisfy some doctrinal reflex against big business!

To understand the problem with this argument, we should consider another doctrinal reflex: conservatives' insistence that governments just can't do anything well or efficiently. There's a low-information version of this that goes, "Governments are where stupid people who can't get private sector jobs go. They're lazy and entitled." (There's a racial dimension to this, since the federal government has historically led the private sector in hiring and promoting Black workers and workers of color more broadly.)

But beyond that racially tinged caricature, there's a more rigorous version of the argument: government officials are unlikely to face consequences for failure. Appointees and government employees – especially in the unionized federal workforce – are insulated from such consequences by overlapping layers of labor protection and deflection of blame.

Elected officials can in theory be fired in the next election, but if they keep their cheating or incompetence below a certain threshold, most of us won't punish them at the polls. Elected officials can further improve their odds of re-election by cheating some of us and sharing the loot with others, through handouts and programs. Elections themselves have a strong incumbency bias, meaning that once a cheater gets elected, they will likely get re-elected, even if their cheating becomes well-known:

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/gold-bars-featured-bob-menendez-bribery-case-linked-2013-robbery-recor-rcna128006

What's more, electoral redistricting opens the doors to gerrymandering – designing districts to create safe seats where one party always wins. That way, the real election consists of the official choosing the voters, not the voters choosing the official:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/REDMAP

Inter-party elections – primaries and other nomination processes – have fundamental weaknesses that mean they're no substitute for well-run, democratic elections:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Contrast this with the theory of competitive markets. For capitalism's "moral philosophers," the physics by which greedy desires led to altruistic outcomes was to be found in the swift retribution of markets. A capitalist, exposed to the possibility of worker and customers defecting to their rival, knows that their greed is best served by playing fair.

But just as importantly, capitalists who don't internalize this lesson are put out of business and superceded by better capitalists. The market's invisible hand can pat you on the head – but it can also choke you to death.

This is where monopoly comes in. Even if you accept the consumer welfare theory that says that monopolies are most often the result of excellence, we should still break up monopolies. Even if someone secures an advantage by being great, that greatness will soon regress to the mean. But if the monopolist can extinguish the possibility of competition, they can maintain their power even after they cease deserving it.

In other words, the monopolist is like a politician who wins power – whether through greatness or by deceit – and then gerrymanders their district so that they can do anything and gain re-election. Even the noblest politician, shorn of accountability, will be hard pressed to avoid yielding to temptation.

Capitalism's theory proceeds from the idea that we are driven by our self-interest, and that competition turns self-interest into communal sentiment. Take away the competition, and all that's left is the self-interest.

I think this is broadly true, even though it's not the main reason I oppose monopolies (I oppose monopolies because they corrupt our democracy and pauperize workers). But even if capitalism's ability to turn greed into public benefit isn't the principle that's uppermost in my mind, it's what capitalists claim to believe – and treasure.

I think that most of the right's defense of monopolies stems from cynical, bad-faith rationalizations – but there are people who've absorbed these rationalizations and find them superficially plausible. It's worth developing these critiques, for their sake.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/18/market-discipline/#too-big-to-care

[mo0nfairy]

Omg thoughts (in my brain) what if the reader just tweaked out and attacked them. I feel like ada would be the first to react in the sense of shes not surprised you fought back and it would take her about maybe a minute to have reader out cold (it took her so long bcs she just went into a light neck hold so reader passes out) I think Jill would recover from shock quickly but wouldn’t wanna actively “stop” the reader (violently at lest), I mean cmon we all saw the rail gun that was like 3 times her hight that she was using in re3, she KNOWS she’s strong (and that the reader isn’t) so she would just try and lightly restrain the reader. LEON AND CARLOS ON THE OTHER HAND?! Spend the whole time confused,why are you throwing a knife at them? And crying cmon, your favourite show is about to start? Stoppp? And they would just let the reader tire themselves out, they just block any and all attacks, not wanting to hurt you and knowing you’ll get tired soon only to pull reader into a suffocating hug and cooing at the reader saying they forgive them (did this make sense?)

based on the shit they have to endure, idk how reader hasn't lost their minds and thrown hands yet.

ada would find it hilarious and adorable. ofc, she will easily defend herself. but, she has to restrain from cooing over how cute the pathetic attempt was. like a child, you'll be put into 'time-out' to think about your actions. after some time (literally like 5 minutes at most), ada will return and forgive you . most likely, you will never do it again, as you have learned there is no chance at overpowering her.

leon would assume you were play-fighting and join you in the effort, returning your attempted punches and stabs with kisses. easily, you'd be overpowered and then forced to endure the weight of his embrace. any physical touch from you, no matter the intent, is seen as an ask for cuddles, of which leon will happily oblige.

jill, unsurprisingly, would make it sexual. i actually intended to write her smut scene in chapter four as reader attempting to escape and jill punishing them for such, but i ended up scraping it (i liked the motorcycle headcanon too much). so, if you were to tackle her in some feeble attempt at violence, she would easily defend herself and fuck out all that energy from your body.

and carlos? poor carlos would just sob the whole time. he would not defend himself, terrified of the prospect of hurting you. so, you can beat and strike him all you want, all while he cries and pleads for you to stop and to just love him again. in the end, you'll feel guilty for ever trying to hurt someone so weak. you should pick on someone you're own size, as they say.

[hihhasotherfixations]

Kinktober Day 14: Love bites/Marks - Price x Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

I know it’s no longer October but thanks to personal stuff and an upcoming exam, I hadn’t been able to write. So right now I’m just taking it at my own pace and posting it during December. I’m really really sorry but I hope that’s okay!

See you all for the next depravity 👌

I was writing a werewolf Price for this prompt before but got stuck on it (part of the reason this took so long) so put it aside and wrote this instead :3

If y’all wanna see the werewolf tho, let me know.

CW: gn!reader, jealous Price, hickies, biting, slightly possessive behaviour

Word Count: 1837

Standing on the field, your arms were crossed over your chest as you viewed the new soldiers, gauging their abilities and filing away their endurance and skill in your head, storing it for later when you had to write the reports.

Price had asked you to do this, because he’d fallen behind on paperwork due to an unexpected mission, now having to catch up on days of paperwork that he missed.

“What do you think?”

Looking beside yourself at the voice, you took notice of the recently promoted lieutenant. They’d gotten the promotion thanks to an outstanding performance on a mission last month and had been following you around for the last few days.

Knowing how nervewracking it was to be new to such a position however, you didn’t mind, happily showing him the ropes by using your own experience as a lieutenant.

“Why don’t you tell me? I’ll say if I agree.” You hummed, motioning a hand to the men and women running through the course.

Moving a little closer, the lieutenant looked past your shoulder to where you were looking, a hand landing on your lower back that had your eyebrow raising.

“I don’t know, some certainly seem to be performing better than the rest.”

“And how would you write that down in a report?” You tested, a little sceptical at the proximity that was now between you two.

“Well, him-“ The lieutenant started, pointing an arm over your shoulder, causing you to be crowded against the railing you were standing by. You frowned at that, though you looked at the soldier being pointed at all the same. “He’s excelling in the endurance aspect. Definitely above his team’s level.”

“Anything else?” You asked, getting a little annoyed now because he wouldn’t back up.

“What else is there?”

Sighing out, you pushed the lieutenant’s arm back down. “Well you said it yourself. He’s above his team’s level. But he’s not using it to aid his team. Meaning while he excels in endurance, he’s failing in communication and teamwork. 2 bad for 1 good. That’s not enough.” You spoke curtly.

“Those two are interchangeable, so it’s really 1 bad, 1 good, don’t you think?” The lieutenant tried and you scowled.

“Don’t contest me on this.” You commanded, turning around and forcing the hand off your back as you took a step to the side to create some space.

“I’m simply looking out for the future of our-“

“I would take the word of an experienced lieutenant over your own, soldier.” A new voice suddenly spoke up and you both turned to see captain Price standing there, his arms crossed in front of him while he held a thunderous expression.

“Captain.” You smiled, relieved that you wouldn’t have to defend yourself over something so idiotic and infuriating.

“Lieutenant.” Price curtly nodded to you in greeting, walking over and purposely getting in between you and the other man, not greeting him either.

“Done with paperwork?” You asked and the man looked at you. He looked pissed, yet as his eyes crossed with yours, something else flashed in them as they briefly flitted up and down.

“Definitely not. Simply taking a break, see how you’re getting on.” He spoke, looking out over the field again.

Suddenly being cut off however, the new lieutenant frowned, put off. Leaning forward, he tried to get the other man’s attention. “Captain. With all due respect, we were in the middle of-“

“I suggest you zip it, soldier.” Price interrupted with a growl, refusing to address the man by his title. “Y/N. With me.” He spoke as he then turned around, expecting you to follow.

Without question, you did.

“Wait, but what about the assessment?” The lieutenant called out and Price responded without even turning back.

“I expect your report on my desk by tonight!”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked back to see the new lieutenant stand there, defeated, before you turned back to Price and jogged to catch up with him. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on him? You gave me two days to fill out the report, him not even half a day?”

“Call it a trial by fire.” Price spoke, clearly still pissed as he pushed open the door to the building, waiting for you to get in before him.

Deciding to let sleeping dogs lie, you just walk in, trekking the way to the office that you’d done so many times before.

Before long, you arrived and Price unlocked the door, opening it and stepping inside before suddenly reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you inside and twirling you around while he slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it immediately after.

“Now what the hell was he doing, huh?” He asked, the gravel of his voice deep and threatening while you stood there, eyes wide while he reached his hand next to your hip, locking the door.

“W-What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, soldier.” He spoke, glaring into your eyes as he stepped up, pushing his chest against yours to pin you better. “You know perfectly well what was happening. His proximity to you, his wandering hands, that infuriating gaze. It pisses me off.”

Your eyes were a little wide as you looked up to him, his hat casting a shadow over his face that caused the dark look in his eyes to worsen twice over.

“I would never.” You whisper and at that, his eyes seemed to soften a little, seeing how spooked you looked.

“No, hey. I know you wouldn’t, my love. I trust you implicitly.” He spoke, running the back of his fingers over your cheek and down to your chin. “But he needs to learn that you’re mine.”

Growling the last word out, you got no chance before his hand gripped your neck, using the possessive hold to pull you into a kiss as he smashed his lips on yours.

Taking in a surprised breath, your hands shot up to hold onto his shoulders while his fingers flexed around your throat, deepening the kiss instantly as he pushed his tongue past your lips, rolling it against yours.

Your eyes closed while he kissed you, barely able to keep up as his left hand travelled down your side, past your hip and to your thigh, where he gripped tight.

Grunting softly into the kiss, you balled a fist into his clothing, causing you to pull him slightly closer while his lips moved with yours.

Humming, he let go of your throat, his hand instead sliding to the back of your neck, with his thumb by your ear as he savoured the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of you beneath his touch, and the warmth of you against his body.

After a second more, he finally broke the kiss, your breathing a bit heavier as he looked at you with dilated pupils.

“What are you planning?” You whisper, seeing his mind tick behind his eyes.

“It’s about time people know you’re taken.” He whispered, his voice low and gruff as his hand on your thigh squeezed.

Biting your lip, you looked at him. “And how do you want to do that without getting us both court martialled?”

“Implications.” He murmured, leaning his head forward and burying it in your neck.

“Captain?” You whispered, unsure, and Price groaned softly at that, pushing his hardening cock into you, his hips grinding against yours.

“Keep calling me that and see where it leads, love.”

Your mouth opened to let out a shaky breath at the friction, feeling your own arousal skyrocket.

“Like that?” He rumbled, his breath ghosting across your skin. Closing you eyes, you didn’t get much time to answer as suddenly, Price sunk his teeth into the skin of your neck.

Grunting, you jolted from the sudden sensation, causing you to push into Price’s bulge, making him chuckle as he let go of your skin, kissing it as he pushed you further against the door. “Stay still, lieutenant. Be good and follow orders.” He muttered into your skin, pressing kisses to your neck after while his hand then travelled from your neck down to your other leg.

“Sir?” You whispered, using the honorific on purpose, though your question was genuine as you felt him caress the back of your thighs up and down.

Smirking against your neck, Price grazed his teeth across the sensitive skin, moving up to your ear where he breathed softly, knowing it would drive you mad as you felt a tingle shoot down your spine, causing your back to instinctively arch.

“That’s it.” Price praised, only to suddenly hoist your legs up and off the ground by your thighs. Your eyes widened and you gasped at your sudden loss of balance, though Price kept you up all the same. With a little guidance from him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, biting your lower lip as you felt his erection now pushed directly into you.

There was no escape, no wiggle room, no nothing as his hands moved from your hips to your ass, keeping you aloft with it as well as his hips pressing you into the door.

“John-“ You whimpered but the man tutted.

“That’s not the right way to address me and you know it.” He purred, pressing a kiss right below your ear afterwards.

Biting your lip, you shifted your hips a bit to feel the friction, one of your hands moving up to tangle into his hair while you took off his hat with the other.

Humming softly, Price took advantage at the sudden free reign, starting to kiss and lightly bite up and down your neck until his lips hit a spot right above your collarbone that made you twitch.

Not wasting a second, he wrapped his lips around it and began to suck, making your eyes flutter shut as your hand tightened in his hair.

With care, Price sucked a hickey into the sweet spot, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he started to slowly grind into you, not allowing a single gap between your bodies as he kept you close.

“I’ll make sure nobody can miss these.” He whispered as he pulled away, moving further up, starting to suck another hickey.

“But what if-“

“Nobody will touch you but me.” He interrupted, enforcing his words by thrusting his hips into yours, making you feel every inch of his bulge.

“Please.” You whispered and Price hummed, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck before biting down one more time near your shoulder, his hands squeezing your ass again.

“No, darling.” He then chuckled, pulling away. “You’re not getting anything until I’m sure that people will know you’re taken.” With that, he moved to the other side of your neck, beginning to repeat the process while his hold on you tightened.

And while the hickeys and love bites on your neck and collarbone were for others to see, the fingerprints on your ass were for one man only.

[dolceterzo]

The Empire That Little Cardi Built (ficlet)

Fandom: Ghost (The Band Ghost)

Pairing: None

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 685

Summary: In the aftermath of the night at the Forum, Copia is being watched.

A/N: Big thank you to @angellayercake for always championing me and my writing, I cannot tell you how much it means. ♡♡♡

-

BIG SPOILERS FOR RITE HERE RITE NOW UNDER THE CUT

BIG SPOILERS FOR RITE HERE RITE NOW UNDER THE CUT

BIG SPOILERS FOR RITE HERE RITE NOW UNDER THE CUT

Terzo fiddles with the clasps on his robe, the translucent black and purple fabric rippling as he sits in one of the now empty seats, his feet are propped up on the seat in front of him, looking down at all the strewn confetti and Mummy Dust notes - a sigh escapes him, a pang of nostalgic longing for a time since passed. 

"Do you think we should..." He trails off, looking up into the nothingness. He’s not sure what he's suggesting.

"Ah, Saltarian is already with him, he'll have plenty to tend to without us showing up right this moment." Secondo muses, yet his eyes are sombre. His heart was never as cold as some might have thought, he too wanted to go to the man they were watching so diligently.

The man who was once a boy they used to treat with such weariness and disdain like brothers sometimes did.

The Second Emeritus shifts on his seat, scratching at his head in wistful thought."It would have been nice to play somewhere like this, hm?" He understood the order of things, and always knew his tenure was merely a custodial passing of the torch, but he wasn’t beyond having dreams.

The last of three watchful figures hums in agreement, the one who missed out on the most, yet gave everything in other ways. He’s standing instead of sitting, his frail and almost glowing hands gripping the rail in front of him, he's a few rows further down than the other two.

Primo watches over the scene with indescribable emotions, watches as Saltarian lifts a shaking Copia to his feet, his red sparkling jacket such a jarring contrast to the sorrow that emanates from their half-brother's soul.

"He fought hard," The eldest says matter-of-factly.

"So did I..." Terzo grumbles, but Primo dismisses him with a gentle chastising tsk.

"Fratellino, they had made their minds up about us. It was never going to be enough. The old man still does not see this-" He gestures to the now empty Forum. "-as enough."

The two seated brothers nod in resigned understanding. If this place filled with life and love for their reigning Papa, mere hours ago, could not be enough to let Copia keep going, then what would?

Two grunts of agreement come from behind the eldest, they continue watching from the shadows no longer illuminated by the spotlights or pyrotechnics. Hushed words are exchanged between the two men in the pit, after a few moments three noises of surprise come from the stands as they hear Copia say two words, "Frater Imperator."

Stunned for a beat, they look at each other. Terzo throws his hands up in the air.

"At least he made it out with his life." It's not a scornful statement from the Third, one of relief really, he didn't wish death upon the man who had already endured so much and worked himself silly - the same man who had to hold Terzo's head and pretend that he was okay with it before throwing up and crying in his room later that night.

"We'll show ourselves when he's not so fraught with such fresh news. He may not take well to us suddenly showing up when we had years to do it." Primo adds.

They look at each other, deciding that is what they'll do, they'll say hello when Copia's had time to adjust.

Then, without fanfare, the three brothers begin to fade - deciding to return to their plexiglass coffins ready for the ride home.

Just as Copia begins to leave the quiet of the pit, slowly pushing his mother toward the concourse where the private ambulance is waiting, he gets the urge to look around - his eyes are drawn to the first few rows of seating.

Copia knows he must be going a little mad with all that had occurred tonight because for a second he thinks he sees flashes of red, green and purple, flashes that send goosebumps rippling through his body. 

Yet, just as quickly as the vision was noticed, it's now gone, leaving the hairs on Copia's neck standing rigidly.

-

Fin.

[ellewritesalright]

Second Best - Part 4

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Masterlist --- Part 3

A/N: Buckle up folks, things are about to get wild.

Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.

Warnings: Angst! (fluff too) Strict and low-key abusive parents, self-image issues because of said parents, arguing/angry shouting, mentions of illness and death, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (bear with me please [we have almost reached this part of the story]), pls lmk if I've missed anything else.

Word count: 4000

..........

"And this is the lower deck," Nikolai said, motioning around the wooden cabin of the Kingfisher. He was giving you a tour before he left for another trip across Ravka tomorrow.

You grazed your hand along one of the hammocks. "How does one sleep while airborne?"

"I'm not sure. I never sleep while we're flying." He stood beside you, patting the canvas fabric and making it sway. "These are more for the crew."

You nodded, looking around some more.

"There's not much else to the Kingfisher. It's mostly utility, since flights don't take much longer than a few hours usually."

"How does it fly in the rain?" You inquired, eyeing the grates overhead, the blue sky poking through the gaps.

He smiled. "Not perfectly, but we make do."

"Why does that sound like it's a more harrowing experience than you're letting on?"

"Oh, hush," he laughed, "it's perfectly safe."

You walked back up the steep steps to the upper deck.

"Thank you for the tour," you said as you stopped near the boarding ramp.

"Anytime." He leaned against the railing. "I'm just sorry I'll be missing your birthday soiree."

You rolled your eyes. "You mean the parade of unsuitable suitors?"

"That's the one," he smiled, giving your upper arm a short pat. "Cheer up. It's not every day a lady turns twenty-one."

You scratched at your collar for a moment, then clasped your hands together in front of you. "She's going to be insufferable."

He instantly knew you were talking about your mother. "No more than usual."

You gave him a look.

"I'm just saying… maybe she'll be distracted with the hosting."

"She can multitask my misery, don't you worry."

Nikolai sighed, eyes empathetic.

"You'll have to have a doubly good time in East Ravka, to make up for the suffering I'll be enduring," you told him. "I command it."

"You're commanding the king now?" He smirked.

You gave him another look, and he laughed, his hand touching your upper arm again.

"Yes, ma'am."

……….

The house hadn't been this packed since you were a small child. The last time you remembered the Antonovs hosting as extravagant an event as this, you were young enough to be sneaking peeks from the servants' halls. But now, you were in it. Men were twisting you about in the ballroom, eyeing you up from the great hall, whispering in your ear in the dining room.

The man on your arm at present was General Halinsky. He was leading you through a rather stiff waltz. You moved with him, his one hand tightly clasping yours, the other a strict presence on your back. You had to wonder if it was because of the last you'd spoken to him; calling him less accomplished and worse at his military job than King Nikolai. He stared at you without hunger or lust, which was more than you could say for some of the other men your mother invited. But there was a hardness and annoyance to his eyes whenever they narrowed on you. He probably thought you were merely a petulant girl.

When the waltz ended, Halinsky didn't let go of your hand.

"Another dance?" He asked, putting on a charming smile that did not match his viper eyes.

"I'm feeling a bit parched, I could use a drink first," you excused yourself, offering him a polite shake of your head.

"Let me fetch you something," he said, leading you over to a table. He had you sit, then he left.

You kept your back straight despite how you wished to collapse into this chair. Saints, you were exhausted. It seemed like every man was staring at you, all lured in by your mother and her promises of your intention to marry. They all stared, and you were fearful to meet any of their eyes, else they might take it as a sign and approach you. So you kept your eyes on your gloves. The elbow-length white satin covered your little scar. It was the only evidence of the life you used to have.

Your mind went to Nikolai, as it often did. You hoped he was having a pleasant enough trip to East Ravka. He'd flown there, which you still couldn't quite believe; watching him lift off with his crew and a few of his political advisors was a marvel that left you more than a little slack-jawed. You'd have to ask to study the blueprints of the ship once he got back.

He'd sent a letter yesterday, not a singular mention of potential suitors in his swooping cursive. It was more about his journey, another apology for missing your birthday, and a promise of a surprise when he returned.

You smiled to yourself as you pondered the surprise. Perhaps shells from the eastern shore, or a new tool set? You hadn't a clue, and that thrilled you.

A throat cleared in front of you, and you looked up, seeing your mother clutching the forearm of a too-eager middle aged man wearing too much cologne. She introduced him as some northern count, then forced you into a dance with him.

So then you were stifling down sneezes as he had his arm around your waist and his odor overwhelming you. After four excruciating minutes of this, the song ended and you excused yourself as quickly as you could. You noticed Lord Alexei near the left wall of the ballroom, and you started towards his friendly face. It would be nice to speak to someone normal.

But before you were even two paces away from the dance floor, General Halinsky was beside you, a glass of golden bubbly in each hand.

"There you are, my lady," he said, a hint of impatience under his words.

You offered him a smile as you took a glass. "Thank you."

He sipped his glass and looked across the ballroom. "All these people, all here for you."

"It's a good birthday," you said with a convincing chuckle. Your polka-dot scar itched beneath your glove.

"You've many friends, it seems."

"It certainly does seem like that," you nodded drolly.

"You don't think so?"

"I think my mother invited a great number of guests. I'll confess, I don't know everyone here."

He looked at you, studying your face. "Girls like you don't have to know."

You blinked at him. "What does that mean, General?"

He tilted his chin at you as he noticed the sharp undertone of your words. His snake-like stare made you look just as closely at him, studying his cold eyes.

"You're soft," he said, not in an accusatory or insulting tone, just as an observation.

"Excuse me?"

"Soft. Unprepared for life. Like a baby bird in a nest."

"I'm no child, General."

"It's not an insult that you're young and inexperienced. It just means you need someone to guide you in life."

"And you think you're that someone," you remarked, trying and failing to hide the bite in your voice.

"I think you've a large estate that could use assistance. Once your parents pass on, you'll need all the help you can get."

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but my parents are barely ten years your senior, General. I should rather think I need a husband with less years."

He sucked a breath of either annoyance or amusement through his teeth. "That's not what your mother and father think."

"They don't decide who I marry, General. You'd do well to remember that." You cast a glare at him, then you glanced across the room at Lord Alexei. "If you'll excuse me, I have other guests."

You walked away, abandoning Halinsky and your glass with him.

"I sure hope that scowl isn't for me," Alexei chuckled softly as you approached him.

You hadn't realized you were still frowning, but you wiped it away, making your face pleasant again.

"Sorry. I'm afraid I'm nearing that point of a birthday where things aren't fun anymore," you sighed. As if your birthday celebration was fun to begin with.

"Too much birthday, as we call it in my house," Alexei nodded. "My Ana has always been prone to crying on her birthdays or on holidays. She gets so excited and then when one thing does not match that excitement it comes crashing down on her."

You gave a sympathetic chuckle. "Poor girl."

"She is learning to better manage her expectations," he smiled softly. He looked at you for a moment, then said, "I hope you won't find it too forward… but I was wondering about you and my cousin, King Nikolai."

You blinked at him. "Whatever for?"

"Well, it seems to me that you two are quite close. And I plainly remember a time when you two were betrothed."

You managed a smile. "We are no longer betrothed. The king is just a good friend."

"I see," he nodded, but his eyes had something else to say.

"You don't believe me?" You tilted your chin up at him slightly.

He raised his hands. "I believe you. I simply wanted to know if I'd be wasting my time with you, considering how my cousin so clearly likes you."

You scoffed in amusement. "He is a friend of mine. Besides, he has been helping me find suitors."

"And how is his success rate?"

You pursed your lips.

"A-ha." Alexei smirked beneath his mustache. "He's a poor matchmaker."

"He's done his best."

"You'd be married by now if he was truly trying his best."

"Lord Alexei, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this conversation," you said with a polite detachedness.

"Very well. I know when to quit." He glanced around the ballroom, at the swathes of men and their black suits. Then he murmured, "Too bad the rest of these men don't know they've been beaten."

With that, Lord Alexei bowed his head and moved on.

The evening remained a long and tiring event, but now as you faked smiles and acted charming, you also had to hide the hive of thoughts buzzing in your head. When the night finally ended and the last guests had been sent home, your mother made you speak to her.

"You were surprisingly well-behaved tonight," she remarked with a dry stare at you.

You nodded. "Thank you."

She wiped at your cheek, seeing some form of imperfection. "You look tired."

"I am tired."

"Then go to sleep," she said, leaning back in her chair.

"I wasn't aware I was allowed to," you said, standing up again.

"There's that tongue of yours," she rolled her eyes. She seemed too tipsy to be completely angry with you. She snapped her fingers at your father. "Darling, come see this one to bed."

"Sure, dear."

Lord Antonov sighed and offered you his arm. He walked out into the main hall, bringing you towards the staircase. "Where's your precious king tonight?"

You wanted to protest that he wasn't only your king, but you sighed and swallowed the remark.

"East Ravka. Novokribirsk, I believe."

Your father sighed again and patted your arm as you walked. "I recieved several offers for you tonight."

"Oh?" You said, your voice almost clipped.

"Lord Feng, that Kerch Banker Mr Van Sessen, General Halinsky, Viscount Ulrich…" Your father stopped outside your bedroom. "Which do you like best?"

"Most of those men haven't spoken more than a few words to me, how could I know?" You shrugged.

"Then who spoke the most?"

You stifled a groan. "Halinsky."

"General Halinsky," your father pursed his lips, appraising him. He patted your arm again. "Very well. Goodnight, daughter. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," you nodded softly.

You watched him leave for a moment before you went inside your room. You shut the door and stripped off your long gloves, your big gown coming off too. Your heels ached nearly as badly as your head as Lord Alexei's words hummed like a swarm in your ears, the hive of questions, counterarguments, and wonderings still awake.

You collapsed in bed, trying to fall asleep, but you weren't immune to the revelation about Nikolai that Alexei made. You tossed and turned, every movement a question, an exasperated game of "he loves me, he loves me not." It was difficult to say if Nikolai had been giving his full efforts in seeking a match for you. But Alexei was certain in his words–Nikolai would have found you a husband by now if he wanted to--and you had no reason to doubt Alexei.

……….

A few days after your birthday, a letter arrived, addressed from Novokribirsk. Nikolai would be home Saturday afternoon, and he was hoping to come over for tea. You wrote back that he would be welcome, but that you expected to visit the Palace very soon and see his design plans of his flying ship.

You did not mention your anxiety after your birthday celebration, how his cousin had sent you into a tailspin of questions and high hopes. Nothing was worse than raised expectations, so you were trying to muscle them down and stop them before they destroyed your life and friendship completely.

Even so, Nikolai had a small bag with him when he arrived for tea on Saturday afternoon. He set the bag down beside the sofa as you brought him into the library. A belated birthday gift, you figured. He stood by the window for a moment as you walked across the room again. You felt bold enough to shut the door, leaving the two of you alone. You poured tea for Nikolai, preparing it with as much milk as could fit before overflowing.

You felt as if this was a moment you should remember. The blue rim of the teacups, the way he stood with his back to you as he looked out at the gardens, the near-shake of your hands, the glint in Nikolai's eyes as he slowly turned and approached the seating area. Then again, you tried not to build up this moment in your mind; Nikolai was your friend, and he would go on as your friend. That was all.

"I'm terribly sorry to have missed your birthday. I heard it was quite the event," Nikolai said as he sat a respectable distance beside you on the sofa.

"Yes. There were more bachelors and bubbly than anyone could have stomached. My mother went all out."

He raised a brow as he raised his teacup. "And I presume you danced with every last one of them."

"Just about." You rolled your eyes a bit. "One of the bachelors was the ancient Duke Shapovalov."

"The Duke Shapovalov who's wheeled around by nurses?"

"The very same."

"Saints, your mother is creative. He's got to be as old as Ravka."

You chuckled, and Nikolai seemed to lean closer to you.

"I'm sorry you were left to fend for yourself," he said softly.

"It's alright, I'm used to it."

"All the same, I have a surprise that might make up for my absence." He grinned at you, a sly glint in his hazel irises. “Close your eyes.”

You were wary, but you did as he said. The loss of your sight drew your attention to the fact that you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. What was he going to do? You heard him move, and there was a quick rustle of his bag, then he moved again. You could hear him take a breath.

"Hold out your hands"

Again, you followed his instructions, extending your hands. Something soft was set in your palms, balancing a little lopsidedly.

"You can open your eyes now," Nikolai said after a beat.

As soon as you did you felt your heart leap out of your chest. A grey stuffed bear sat in your hands, its nose round and eyes gentle. It was Viktor, your old friend and most trusted bear. This Viktor’s limbs weren’t worn like your old Viktor’s were from trailing the halls after you, but his arms and legs were just the lengths you remembered. And his fur was slightly darker than the original’s, yet it was just as soft and warm. While he wasn’t an exact copy of your childhood bear, he was damn close, and your eyes pricked with tears as you brought your new Viktor to your chest.

“Do you like him?” Nikolai asked.

You beamed, “He's the best gift I’ve ever received. How did you manage this?”

"Well, I used the drawing you sent me, then I asked the staff at the Antonov estate house about a stuffed bear that you used to carry around. It was difficult to track down anyone who knew of Viktor, but finally one of the cooks remembered."

This difficulty made sense to you, seeing as the Antonovs had gradually replaced most of the staff after the firepox outbreak.

Nikolai chuckled as he continued, “I may or may not have passed along your sketch and his description and to a fabrikator.”

"I don't know what to say, Nikolai, I…" You heaved forward on the sofa and draped your arms around his shoulders, doing the improper thing as you hugged him. If your mother caught you she would scream like she was being murdered but you couldn't be bothered. This was the kindest, most considerate thing anyone had ever done for you. Nikolai wrapped himself around you, squeezing you gently. It was difficult to pull yourself away from him. But when you finally let him go, there were tears in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked, hands bracing your arms as he looked at you in concern.

"I'm excellent," you sputtered. "Better than alright. I just…" A grin spread along your lips and you quickly hugged him again. "Thank you."

"I take it I'm forgiven for missing your birthday?" You felt his question burble in his chest as you pressed to it. You sat away from him again.

"You are more than forgiven, Nikolai Lantsov. If we had the power, Viktor and I would declare sainthood for you."

He laughed. "I can see it now: Sankt Nikolai the Dashing and Bold."

"Not quite. I'd name you Sankt Nikolai the Kindhearted."

He smiled softly at you. "I can live with that."

The library door opened and you flitted away from him with dizzying speed. He raised a brow as you sat on an armchair a full coffee table away from him, but you ignored his silent probe, toying with Viktor's ears.

"Your majesty," Lord Antonov greeted with a sigh, balancing a stack of papers under his arm. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long, Lord Antonov. Your daughter and I were just having tea and then I gave her a birthday gift. Perhaps you'd like to see it."

You proudly held up Viktor, matching Nikolai's grin as you peered at the bear.

"You got her a stuffed animal?" Your father peered down his nose at Viktor. He grumbled, "It's a rather peculiar gift for someone her age."

"The bear is a replica of a toy she used to have when she was young, but if you don't remember him, perhaps I haven't done a very good job."

You wanted to say he'd done well, that it was the best gift you'd ever received and you were grateful even if the resemblance wasn't exact, but you were quickly over spoken.

"I remember a scraggly bunch of stitches she used to drag behind her, but we got rid of it and the countless diseases it undoubtedly carried after she recovered from a terrible, terrible illness. The memory is an unpleasant one, your highness, and I am appalled that you would dredge up such a horrid moment in our family's past."

Your stomach turned to lead.

"Father--"

"Quite frankly, I don't see why you've given my daughter a gift at all," he said coldly, eyes lethal as he looked at Nikolai. "She is not your fiance. You two are no longer engaged because you broke the tie between our families. You decided we weren't suitable to marry into your royal line. And despite how incredibly irresponsible your actions were, I forgave them. But I will not tolerate your blithe flirtations with my daughter when you have no intention of marrying her!"

Nikolai stood firm, his mouth pressed in a calm line though you were sure your father's lashing must sting. It was difficult to accept the fact that your father was right, but he had compounded a fear of yours. Knowingly or unknowingly, Nikolai led you on.

"Lord Antonov," began Nikolai. He rubbed at his chest, just over his heart, and for a moment it seemed he didn't know what to say, but he soon composed an apology. "I am truly sorry. I meant no offense--"

"I know what you meant, sending my daughter letters and giving her gifts and false hope. I'm tired of your meddling, boy."

Nikolai's lip twitched and his arms dropped to his sides. "Boy? I am your king, Lord Antonov. Regardless of what you think of me, you will uphold that respect."

"I couldn't respect you if I tried," your father spat. "Now, you'd better leave my house willingly before I have someone escort you out."

Nikolai glanced at you, perhaps wishing you would speak up for him as you had before. But when you folded your arms and looked away he got the message. You were done fighting for him.

He scoffed and shook his head at you, then he stormed from the room. His footsteps could be heard in the main hall, halting for a second to gather his coat, then continuing through the front door. It slammed behind him, the noise bouncing into the library.

You had little time to process the rather one-sided conversation that just played out before you. The realization that you were no better than a fish dragged along on a hook but never reeled in was the only thing you seemed to register. It made you a bit ill to ponder, but you were grateful to your father for pulling back the curtain and confirming your situation with Nikolai. After all, Nikolai had no defenses against it, nothing to say the contrary.

Your father walked to the library door and let it click shut before he whirled around on you.

"You stupid girl!" He hissed. "How blind could you be? Your mother and I share some of the blame for letting this drag out like it did, but honestly, how foolish are you?"

"I'm sorry." You absentmindedly tugged along Viktor's ear. You had clutched him tight the entire time your father aired his grievance with the king. "I was stupid."

"Not as stupid as telling him about this blasted bear! What else did you tell him, girl? Does he know the truth about my real daughter?"

"No, he doesn't know!" You insisted

Your father scoffed and you felt your chest tighten. Your eyes watered as you gave a weak huff.

"I didn't tell him. I promise, I didn’t say a thing,” you whispered. “I only said I had a stuffed animal that was burned after the outbreak."

His glare was as pointed as a needle’s tip. "You'd better not be lying to me, girl. If the truth got out… well, we would both be ruined, wouldn't we, daughter?"

"Yes, father."

He straightened out his jacket. "Leave me now." He pointed at Viktor. "And get that thing out of my sight."

You left without another word. It was a mindless journey to your room, and you wondered why you felt so numb. Five minutes prior you were the happiest you'd been in a long time. You were receiving a thoughtful gift from what you thought was a trusted friend, and now you sat collapsed on the carpet of your room, uncontrollable tears blotting your cheeks.

You should be stronger than this. You'd withstood a tumultuous childhood and lonely youth. You lost your mother to a pair of greedy nobles. You were denied friends and love and always made to feel lesser, like you were a vile sight and poor replacement for what was lost to the Antonovs.

You cried into Viktor's head, your chest aching with the weight of not being good enough–both for your supposed family, and for your once-fiance and former friend, Nikolai.

..........

A/N: Evil ending for this part, am I right? Anyway... Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist:

@xceafh @rhaenyrakryze @thecrowsgambit @nghtwngs @hauntedenthusiasttragedy

@stuffyownswrld @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @angie-likes-to-read @take-me-to-ny

@historianthesecond @kataraluvr @lunamadhatter99 @lareinaa007 @folklorde24

@a-candle-maker @elicheel @charmingpatronus @chaoticswampwitch

@radiantactions @auranightangle @girlofthunder

Nikolai Taglist:

@sweet0pia-uwu @notoakay @naushtheaspiringauthor @marchingicenotes7 @eyeofthestorm

@poseidont @hashcakes

[jelloia]

a post on how yanqing's monologue in the 2.4 quest aligns perfectly with his character story (+ why jing yuan is a great father figure / mentor)

so we all know that yanqing is regarded as the best swordsman on the luofu (character story part I), and when you read his character story part II, it's obvious why:

When hunting near a distant star, the monstrously huge mechabeast Windguard created by the Denizens of Abundance was pulverizing defense forces as though they were ants. But this young boy met against it face-to-face, claiming its head and routing the enemy to the point of collapse. As for subsequent victories: He broke the borisin's Devouring Wolf formation with Jing Yuan, beheading three Brood Lords. He also fought viciously against the wingweavers, ultimately sinking their almighty Cloudseizer Fleet... These are just a small footnote in the annals of his courageous swordplay.

yanqing mentions himself how he isn't like normal kids, but it's kind of startling and unnatural to read about how fearless he is. after all, he isn't like kafka--who literally cannot feel fear--he's just genuinely that good at his art

to jing yuan, yanqing's constant improvement is a reminder of how even though long-life species don't need to fear time decaying their body, their warped sense of time means they are often stagnate in their ideals and ultimately how they live their lives

"General... I finally... won." The general pauses. He suddenly realizes that, compared to the boy trying to improve every day, he himself has endured too many years and is used to stagnation.

the paradox though is that if you only win, that in itself is a form of stagnation.

so if you always succeed while being constantly praised from a young age, what happens when you lose for the first time?

from the average honkai star rail player's perspective, it's laughable that we see someone as decorated as yanqing be defeated multiple times in a row. it makes us wonder whether he even deserves his title, seeing how weak he is compared to jingliu, blade, and imbibitor lunae.

in actuality, this is a genius writing move. by bringing the player into the story right when yanqing starts losing, we begin having the same doubts and suspicions about yanqing that he is about himself. all the scorn and hatred he gets from the fandom are things i'm sure he's thought about himself.

what's even more interesting about yanqing is that most hsr characters are grown and had their early development offscreen, but we are experiencing yanqing's first big low firsthand, right along with him.

but believe it or not, this is exactly what jing yuan wanted.

according to yanqing's character story part IV:

Yanqing became an unrivaled fighter aboard the Xianzhou Luofu as his skills grew more and more advanced. Jing Yuan gradually began thinking about ways to restrain Yanqing's edge, to take him down a peg without curbing his confidence. Too solid and it can shatter. Too sharp and it can blunt. More than just a sharp edge — a sword also needs a scabbard that can restrain it. In Jing Yuan's view, Yanqing has grown up exceedingly fast — beyond expectations. What Yanqing needs right now is not more strength, but the ability and experience of curbing that strength — something that can only manifest by the passage of time.

jing yuan knows exactly what can happen to those blessed with enormous power. unchecked strength and confidence is a double edged sword--it's precisely this overconfidence that got yanqing into fighting with blade/il and challenging jingliu, yet it's also one of yanqing's best features. what jing yuan wants is for yanqing to continue to believe in himself and be courageous, but also practice control and resilience, even after resounding defeat.

"All's equal in war, and sneak attacks are a good idea. It's too bad your sword is so focused on the flourish and can't conceal its form. Is this what they call youthful vigor?"

there are some things you cannot directly teach, and it's not as though jing yuan planned for yanqing to meet jingliu/etc. jing yuan believes that only time can teach yanqing, yet it's also tricky because for long-life species, time is not just a wheel pushing progress but a cycle repeating the same things over and over.

this is why i believe it's a testament to the stellar quality of yanqing's character and jing yuan's raising of him that so relatively quick after all of yanqing's failures...

...yanqing hasn't given up nor run away, but rather discovered that he no longer fights solely for an extrinsic reward--victory, honor, approval--and instead, for something much more permanent

this doesn't mean yanqing's going to stop throwing himself into difficult fights--just take his bickering with yunli as an example--but rather his perspective has changed. yanqing will enter battle even if defeat is inevitable and will keep on going even if he loses. he's continuing to improve, both physically and mentally.

(i also want to point out the juxtaposition of "letting go of everything" and "giving it my all" in yanqing's purpose above; it sounds contradictory but i think it means how fighting helps yanqing feel free and forget the weight on his shoulders, yet it's also a show of passion where he'll fight for his family/friends/ideals to the best of his ability and beyond)

to conclude, yanqing is an insanely complex and well written character, and i'm so happy that the 2.4 quest is exploring everything that has been set up for him so far. connecting this to the final character story i haven't covered yet (part III), i believe that yanqing is closer to achieving his dream than ever before:

It's completely natural for teenage boys to love swords, but a specific dream flickers and dances among the Xianzhou swords in his collection. To become the best on the Luofu — no, the best across all the Xianzhou ships. To take the title of Sword Champion on the Luofu, and even take the title of Sword Preeminence across the Alliance. Since the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, the title of Sword Champion among the Luofu Cloud Knights has remained vacant for centuries. Not that nobody wants to claim it, but for a rather more embarrassing reason: The previous Sword Champion, a legendary swordmaster with 13 outstanding accolades, violated the laws of heaven, resulting in her name being wiped from the face of the cosmos. Even the prestigious title that she bore became a sore spot for others. But for this vastly impressive teen, it's now time to turn over a new page in the annals of history and write another chapter.

ultimately, i think jing yuan said it best:

"You will soon be better than everyone, and that will only be the beginning..."

[harmonysanreads]

@harmonysanreads how are you in this fine morning darling💖💖💖💖 the quest in star rail was so fun and epic!! I can't what in store for us in fontaine djddjssjaa.

Also I have several brainrots for the pass days while cleaning the house and organizing my dads file cabinets. Like this I do ballet and just imagine Neuvillette always coming to the theater recitals to watch us dance, also fun bit that we are fontaine's prima ballerina a well known sweetheart of fontaine!! Where all nobles fight and spend lots just to see us dance or invite us to parties to dance!

Just imagine that ballet darling finished her solo in his private booth which is directly in the center that can see everything in the stage just staring at us face stoic but a dark desire in his eyes as he claps calmly. Yan Neuvillette giving her boquets in her dressing room and praising her in front of the people.

But!!!

Ballet dancer darling underneath her sweetness and kidnes prim and proper lifestyle, she enjoys the common things in life like "oh I love the menu today! But can I eat some street foods from liyue or inazuma!" Or "Wow! I love to listen to more rock n roll music!" She's just so humble and can mingle with people lower to her status. But despite her kindness Yan neuvillette sees this as rebellion like you can't expect you to mingle with people with no class...they will influence you and you will developed thier bad habbits.

Yan Neuvillette being ballet dancer darling secret admirer/ courting them, but Ballet dancer darling is just intimidated by him and indulged him due to the fact he gives them gifts, goes to thier shows and is good friend of the family plus his power in fontaine ballet dancer darling just going through it. But if you asked them they'll rathee go undercover and watch lyney and lynette magic shows, hanging out with Charlotte or freminet heck going down to the lower class and perform for them teaching some who wants to learn to dance.

Anything than being in a room full of suffocating rich people who adheres to proper etiquette than being true to your interests because they are not "a proper becoming of a young lady/man" just Ballet dancer reader who wants to experience the common people life than neuvillette formal dates and lessons

KEEP UP WITH THE AMAZING AND WONDERFUL SPECTACULAR WORK 💖💖💖💖💗💗💗💝💝

Wish us luck because fontaine will going to drain my wallet and I'm pulling for blade and dragon dan heng djdndd

Hiii Coco!!

For Yandere!Neuvillette, I don't think he'll outright see your interest in the common lifestyle as rebellion. Initially, he'd be somewhat confused as such interest is not something he usually sees from someone of the upper class. But as he recognizes it to be humility and compassion, he's charmed furthermore. He might even use this knowledge in his courting and news flash! The Chief Justice of Fontaine is interested in charity and is donating millions of mora to the lower class? Furina is thoroughly amused and her teasings just worsen. Oh well, if he succeeds in wooing you then enduring it all will be worth it. Neuvillette tries and he really gives it his all to win your heart ‘conventionally’.

If you think you can just dodge all his advances by being polite while hoping he eventually loses interest — you're so wrong. In fact, Neuvillette will notice your discomfort regarding him very early and at first, he tries to be more approachable, amicable and charming ; if you may. He's aware of his disposition, therefore, he doesn't really blame you for being intimidated by him. If all of this effort proves to be in vain, no worries ; Neuvillette knows the exact strings to pull to get an artist compliant. Reputation takes time to build but a measly moment to be destroyed, some good ol' coercion should do and in your most vulnerable state, who else will be willing to help you?

The instance where I see him being blatantly controlling is, if your whole involvement with the common folk and lifestyle threaten your ballerina image. I presume ballerinas have a very strict diet to keep their figures, in that case, do you really think indulgences such as oily, fatty street food will be allowed by Neuvillette? The Judge has caught wind of you skipping practice to mingle with the peasants? Well guess who's going to sit there and supervise your practice session til the last second? It's not like you get any encouragement to question his involvement, however valid your complaints are. No one wants to get on Neuvillette's bad side and I suggest you don't, too.

[ next : ballerina darling falling for a commoner ]

[yandere-sins]

What We Want (Yandere!Blade x Reader x Yandere!Kafka)

[Second Part of this]

This time from Blade's perspective, he finally has the chance to get closer to you.

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail  Pairings: Yandere!Blade x GN!Reader x Yandere!Kafka  Warnings: Yandere, Dub-/Non-Con touches/kisses, Hints at kidnapping/owning reader, Soft yandere, Possessiveness, Obsession, Infatuation, Failed Escape, Hypnose

After that, Kafka went to great lengths to keep you away from Blade. 

It drove him mad.

He didn't know why she did it, but every time he tried to ignore the agonizing hole that your absence left in his chest, his mind was flooded with more memories of you. Even though he only held you for mere minutes, Blade couldn't forget the feeling of your body squeezed against his, pure softness grasped in his palm, nor the fear glistening in your eyes or the shudder of your tense muscles. He had never felt this way before about someone else—or perhaps, he had, and like so many things, forgotten it for the better. He couldn't forget you, though, no matter how much he tried.

Regardless, these memories brought forth a flurry of unwelcome symptoms he had to endure daily. They were things that tired him. Angered him. Long moments of complete stillness where Blade would remember the warmth emanating from you. Heat that would seep through his clothes and lay down on the wounds edged into his body, soothing the pain he barely felt unless he was with you. Then, every pain and hurt wanted to be caressed by you, healed and comforted. He'd snap out eventually, having completely missed instructions or conversations, his mind crowded with your features. Your hair, eyes, and lips were all that came to mind when someone spoke to him. As if the gasp you made when Kafka kissed you was the answer as to why he'd pick a fight with anyone daring to draw close to him. Because he needed some kind of relief from these feelings holding him in a tight grip.

Maybe Blade should have hated you for how much you consumed him. Parts of you were mixing with his until he thought you were next to him at the most inconvenient times. Moments that decided about life and death, but all he could think about was smelling your shampoo in the waft of air as he cut yet another enemy down. He could hear your voice whenever the world turned quiet. Frightful but defiant, ringing in his ears, whispering sweet nothings that Blade wouldn't let anyone else say to him. But if it was you, he'd bite his tongue and steel himself while every word of yours crawled into him like a parasite—one he was solely at fault for. 

Because the longer he refused to face these gnawing feelings, the more desperate they became when he couldn't see you again. Of course, Blade's gaze lingered a bit too long on Kafka every time she passed by him, but he never reached out to her, never asked about you. She was the key to a lock he didn't even know where to look for, and even if he asked about something mundane like how you were doing, would she open the door to you? Blade doubted it. Seeing him distraught gave her great joy, and he saw it in the sparkling in her eyes. It was very unlike him, and Kafka's excitement about it was like a sore bruise to his ego, one he had no one there to calm and mend.

He couldn't imagine a life with but neither without you anymore. 

Not when he thought he regularly caught a glimpse of your hair from the corner of his eyes. Or when his mind teased him with an idea of your laugh and how it would sound if you stood behind him. Of course, you were never there when he looked, yet he had been so sure of your presence. Blade was truly going mad over it, patrolling the same hallways and rooms where he met you before as if possessed by the need to find you again. All while he knew that, unless Kafka had a good reason for it, she'd never let him catch you. Blade would never have you, and it was tearing apart his sanity in the most miserable ways. Knowing he'd never get to be around you again was turning him into an unlikeable version of himself. He recognized that if he couldn't bring himself to stop his infatuation, he'd eventually be consumed by it. You were worse than any illness, worse than how Blade imagined his own ruin. And yet, you were a thought so breathtaking he accepted defeat.

Coming to a halt in the semi-darkness, he thought that maybe, this time, if he reached out his hand, it would connect to the illusion of you he saw in front of him. Your breath hitched as he let your well-kept hair spill over his gloves, his palm resting over your cheek. Blade's eyes widened as warmth spread through his hand, familiar, soothing, and he couldn't help but lick his lips when you flinched away, your reactions so honest and real. 

"No– No, I don't have time for this!" you gasped, exasperated and out of breath. This time, the words didn't hurt, even if the distance you were creating as you turned around and ran in the opposite direction he came from, was positively gut-wrenching. He only just got you back, and now you were leaving again? You sounded panicky, your breath wearing thin. As if you were hunted—but not by Blade.

You were running away.

The realization settled into his core like a flower bud, suddenly opening its petals and releasing a multitude of ideas inside him. Ideas that should have never been fed to a mind like his. You were free game now. You belonged to no one. If he caught you, you'd be his. His alone. If he let you go, someone else would catch you, place their hands on the body that Blade ached for, and take you as theirs when it was he who should have laid that claim. 

It was one rare moment of two worlds overlapping, threatening to collide if his fingers found their way around your wrist, in your hair, or against your throat. Dangerous and explosive, an addiction in the making. But before he could reason with himself, Blade was moving. You were confused and disorientated in a world that you didn't know. His world. Your world, if you wanted. Blade would put it at your feet if that meant you'd return his feelings. No amount of blood shed below your soles or heads rolling into shallow graves would amass to how much he desired to have you all for himself. But first, you needed him. Needed him to catch you from running into the dangers that lurked at every corner. If you wanted to get anywhere, you'd need someone to guide and hold your hand. And conveniently, never let it go.

He couldn't even be sure that a kiss from your lips wouldn't drain him of all his life, but the one thing Blade knew at that moment was that he'd rather kill everyone in your and his path than give you to anyone else. He'd rather pluck out anyone's eyes than let them see you, cut off their hands before they could touch you, and rip their hearts out before they could love you. Maybe violence was all he knew how to give you, but if it would make you his, he didn't care how unsightly and frightening it must be for you. Even so, he swore as he reached out to grab you—and keep you from running into a busy street—that these hands would only protect, not harm, no matter how much blood dripped from them. 

You kept breathing like a frightened bunny, your chest rising and falling from fear and adrenaline even when he pulled you tightly against him, his arms wrapped around you like a shield of flesh. On the contrary, Blade was still as death, not daring to breathe and possibly destroy the illusion that was too good to be true. But where he wouldn't, you were more than happy to tear this beautiful reunion to shreds. He never thought to have you back in his arms, but he still recognized all your tell-tale signs of discomfort, from the tensing of your muscles to the defiant twisting of your body. 

"I have to go!" you hissed urgently, trying to break out of his arms. Considering his feelings, it was a harsh request, even though you didn't bother looking into his eyes to give it any weight. It was as if a part of you had given up, thinking he was there to retrieve you for Kafka. Perhaps looking at him was painful for you, though for Blade, it might have been the paradise he had always been searching for. But he understood the desperation in your voice, even if it was minuscule compared to his. You, too, longed for something. But Blade's longing had come to a rather sudden end.

Burying his face in your hair, he inhaled deeply, your scent starting to heal all the problematic symptoms he had been dealing with lately. As if it pulled his soul back into the reality before him rather than what he'd been experiencing since the last time he saw you. Part of him hoped to find his peace with you now so he could continue his life like before. But that would never happen again. Blade would never be able to live a life without you, now that he had you just for this moment. In his arms. All to himself. He had you. 

Slowly, he drew you two back into the shadows. Your struggling increased until you were thrashing in his hold, desperate and scared, trying to break loose. But you knew very little about the strength of a man who had everything he ever desired in his arms, refusing to let go even an inch. Your voice was a frightened squeal, mixed with demands like 'let go' and 'leave you alone', and Blade could do neither. Not when your warmth still comforted all the new and old, madly sore wounds your absence had ripped into him, your body still as pliable and soft as he remembered it. 

Blade couldn't wait to learn more about you. About the ways your body would bend and bow beneath his fingertips. How your skin would get nicked by his nails and the ways he could wrap your hair and limbs around his. The colors your skin would take on underneath his touches and kisses, and how soft those lips of yours truly were. The taste of your body mingling with Blade's on his tongue and the different shades of your eyes sparkling in the darkness where only Blade would be able to see them. The melody of your voice as you laughed, cried, and told him all the things you never told anybody.

The sound of your heartbeat beneath his ear, your pulse pushing against his fingertips. 

All that and more was suddenly reachable to him, and Blade wondered why he didn't come for you sooner. Why did he suffer a worse fate than the mara already put him through if he could have turned over every stone and every body in this crooked world to find you? To have you. Why would he wait, punishing himself?

"There you are."

The familiar voice not only made you shudder in Blade's arms, but your body instantly turned still. For the first time, Blade recognized the feeling of dread clumping in his stomach, the beautiful flower seed of love withering away from the sound of Kafka's voice.

"And look who found you! Bladie."

Kafka had never been a very warm person, yet the two pats on his shoulder were ice cold, like fine daggers piercing into his flesh. Two slaps of her palms, barely muffled by the fabric he wore. Silent orders to let go of her precious darling now and return them to her. Kafka took her darling's hand in hers, gentle but unmoveable. There would be no discussion between you two; Kafka would lead, and you'd follow. Blade felt a twinge of hate for you at that moment as he realized you had already given up your fight, hanging lifelessly in his arms, your eyes to the ground in ashamed frustration. 

"Good work," Kafka mused, the sour undertone barely hiding underneath her mockery. Neither of you could be sure if she meant your escape attempt or Blade catching you before you could get away further, but what he felt was almost sympathetic to your feelings hearing the snark. 

"You can let go now, Bladie. I'll take them from here."

Naturally, as if conditioned to, he loosened his hold on you. It felt as if all the dreams and promises he had just made—alas quietly, to himself—to protect and have you, were now shattering before even taking hold in this world. As if Blade had dared to defy Elio's predictions, and now was reaping the unforeseen consequences. If this was the end, what happened to "kill anyone else before they put their hands on you"? Wasn't he the one swearing up and down that if he couldn't have you, no one would?

His arms strained around you as he took a quick, unexpected step back. You tumbled with him, and even Kafka was pulled out of her stance, a short widening of her eyes all that showcased her surprise before she caught herself.

"Blade–"

"No."

You let out the softest of gasps. Your free hand that shot up to grab his sleeve for stability, now curled into the fabric, and Blade luckily didn't need to deny to anyone how it made his heart swell in affection to have you rely on him. He could guess that no one had taken your side since Kafka made you hers. Any defiance had been the one you could come up with, so Blade's was not one you expected.

Another step back. This time, Kafka was prepared. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at her 'friend', and Blade returned her stare with fake indifference. Blade had no idea about any of Kafka's actions. She was less predictable than anyone Blade knew. So when she suddenly pulled her grip from you, lifting her hands defeatedly, he didn't trust her version of giving up.

He didn't trust her, yet Blade felt overjoyed.

Clinging to you, Blade forced you a few more steps backward with him, out of the grab-zone, into the safety of his protection. With every step, his feelings became clearer and easier to handle. Breathing came to him naturally again, and he even convinced himself this was fine. Now, you were truly his. Kafka had let you go. No one else would get you. 

You were squirming in his grasp when he reached up, petting your head, leaning down to nuzzle his face into your hair once more. Kafka kept you pretty and locked up, but Blade would keep you messy but safe. He saw nothing wrong with the idea of chains and blindfolds, keeping you away from the outside and the outside from you—all to himself. To see, to touch, to love.

"Bladie, listen to me: Let them go."

Those were all the words needed, his body breaking into violent jerks. You let out a frightened squeal as he convulsed around you, Kafka's command and his will fighting inside him as he clung to you with all the strength he could muster. It would leave bruises where he wanted to plant kisses, and he regretted that, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone. Blade dropped to his knees, hands grasping onto you for as long as they could before they plummeted lifelessly to his sides. 

The clicking of Kafka's shoes came closer while he could see your feet turn towards him. "What did you do to him?" you asked, and he would have liked to answer it to you, vile and unseemingly as it was. You sounded frightened, panicked once again, and Blade's heart made a tired jump at the thought of you worrying about him. 

Kafka stepped up to you, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close to her. "I told you to always remember whose embrace you go back to at the end of the day. You should be thankful I put an end to it. Who knows what Bladie was planning to do with you, hm? Come, let's go back. Listen: We'll all forget what happened here tonight."

You and Kafka exchanged more words, but his mind was drowning out the sounds, his breaths the last thing Blade could hear. He could feel your warmth diminishing, fading with your presence as you passed by him, his fingers twitching, wanting to keep you with him. 

He had no idea how long he had kneeled on the dirty ground in the alleyway, heaving a sigh as he got to his feet again. Blade felt off as he flexed his arms, his fingers rigid from the cold. As if he was missing something. The lights from the main street flickered in many different hues, and they all seemed to remind him of something that wasn't here. Something that he needed in that moment. But he could no longer remember what he had forgotten.

"Bladie," someone called out, and with his head heavy, he turned around, staring at the mischievous features of his fellow hunter. "Do you have time to look after my prisoner for a moment? It won't take long."

Blade nodded, still feeling disoriented as Kafka told him where to go.

"Oh, and," she added, just about to leave on some small mission she had to go when she stopped, a knowing grin spreading over her lips. 

"Be nice this time, okay? We can't all have what we want."

[carionto]

Sticking things into the ground just works. sorta

Relativistic sub-space anchor. A miracle of advanced technology. It hooks "into" the fabric of space itself. This enables us to... uhh, I'm sure there's some application.

Basically, it's a really fancy gyroscope with a billion exotic particles doing quantum things in a relativistic way and other garbled science words.

In short - turn it on and it and whatever it is attached to stays in place. Not in relation to any other objects. In the, let's say, "grid" coordinates of space.

So, everything in space is always moving, right? - planets, stars, galaxies, space whales, dark matter, and so on. The scale and gravitational influence of some of these is so massive that it 'looks' like you're stationary, but only in relation to the home object. The sub-space anchor, in contrast, would appear to move at roughly ludicrous speeds the moment you activated one.

Now, only the infused particle quantum matter energy actually stays in place, so the 'handbrake' nature of the act means any other attached matter would experience g-forces the likes of which nothing else can achieve in literally no time at all. Like, not even a nanosecond. The anchor only interacts with the space part in space-time.

The first ones we experimented on, umm, ripped apart our lab, so we didn't actually realize what had happened properly until the third time. And even then we figured it out only because, technically speaking, the Moon moved into the anchor, causing a minor explosion that we managed to notice.

We tried using it as a sort of instant maneuvering "jet" for our fighter craft, where the anchor is connected with semi-elastic girders to the rest of the ship, activate it for the shortest burst possible, then fling it in the desired direction. So far nothing has endured more than two such swings. Half the time most of the outer plating and mounted platforms just get thrown off.

As a weapon itself, it's not really that useful. You have to position it first since our relative motion within space is mostly constant, and the speed is less than our rail guns anyway, plus all the tech that goes into the anchor. I mean, yeah, it's neat to make someone hit an immovable rod, but, uhh, shooting a piece of ore with magnets works better. We'll stick with that.

And lasers. Lasers are cool.