#oh well its been posted i deserve just a little treat

[a-silly-stained-glass-anomaly]

[enwoso]

CASUAL — leah williamson

wow, it’s a long one. this has admittedly taken me so long to write. i had the idea of this fic at the start of october but for some reason its just took so long to actually finish lol, but anyways as always hope you enjoy🤍

warning: implied smut, mdni 18+

masterlist

"girl where did you end up last night?" your best friend and also flatmate, amelie asked as you sat in your local cafe debriefing from last nights' night out events over a 'morning' coffee — it was more late afternoon ��� the two of you having very different endings to the night.

you sat swirling the dregs of your coffee around as you tried to find the way to explain, not so much how you didn't end up back at the flat cause you know she's knows that after catching you walking through the front door at nine am this morning in last nights clothes your head hanging from both the severe amount of alcohol you'd consumed last night but also in slight shame.

it was more whose apartment you stayed at you were trying to find the words to tell her about.

"oh y/n. you didn't did you-" amelie began as you nodded as a defeated sigh left your lips. that being all the clarification your best friend needed. ok, it may not be your proudest moment but who are you to deny a sexy, goddess of a women. but you knew this was heading in the direction of your getting another ear full.

"y/n.. what have i told you, you need to cut all ties with leah. you deserve someone who's going to treat you so much better-" amelie reached out grabbing your hands as you were still looking down at your coffee cup, you looked up a little.

you knew she was right, but you couldn't admit that to yourself. there was something about leah she was addicting and no matter how many times you ended up in between her sheets telling yourself it was the last time, it always happened again.

"yeah but-" you began but amelie gave you a stern look as her eyebrows raised as you rolled your eyes, "ok i get the message, i'll put it on my to-do list — cut leah williamson off." you dryly said, knowing it would be easier said than actually done.

"seriously you need too, your acting like a loser-" amelie continued as you opened your mouth to say something about the small insult she'd thrown your way but you were unable to. "you are though, your better than the rumours that people are spitting-"

"how do you-"

"people talk y/n!"

you'd heard the rumours going around the locals plus there'd been some article posted on an instagram post noticing you in leah's car after a match — you being labelled as 'mysterious girl'.

you weren't known to the media, thank god, you were lucky if you had over two hundred followers as if you had anymore than that fans would have an absolute field day with the news.

instead you were just a normal, twenty six year old girl who'd grown up in north london and had the usual nine to five corporate job as well as having a casual relationship with the leah williamson but you kept that under wraps as after all it was just something which was casual.

you'd met through a mutual friend of yours who also happened to be one of leah's teammates. lotte, who you went to school together and you'd stayed somewhat in contact. it always being a pleasant surprise to see her whenever your paths crossed.

you had bumped into her in a coffee shop near hours before you were being pressed up against a club wall by a blonde defender, having had one too many. the two of you had spent the night being overly touchy and flirting, her lips being felt all around your body leaving your skin feeling hot and your head all fuzzy.

"mine or yours?" leah whispered against your ear, as her teeth grazed your earlobe, you having to refrain yourself from whimpering. leah's hands gripping your hips as your were tangled in the ends of her hair.

"yours" you managed to get out, although it was quiet leah hear every letter. her hands reaching up to grab your hand as she dragged you through the club and towards the exit without as much of a bat of an eyelid towards her friends who she was leaving behind.

to both your luck there was a black cab waiting on the side of the road, both of you taking the chance to get in as leah immediately told the driver her address.

leah's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time as her thumb drew little circles absentmindedly, the busy streets of london making it feel like it's taken hours just to get a few minutes up the road.

as you watched out the window there was a cloud of regret you knew you'd feel in the morning but right now that wasn't what you mind wanted. you right now wanted leah.

so as soon as you cross the threshold of her apartment, you were pinned against the wall. the coldness sending a sharp shiver down your spine. "your so gorgeous" leah whispered as her eyes darkened, the sweet innocence of her blue eyes long gone.

inching closer so that your faces were impossibly close, taking one of her hands as it lands on the back of your neck and kisses you. slow but deep.

letting yourself get lost in her lips as it becomes more passionate and searching but then leah leans back a little, realising that you were in the middle of her hallway.

"come with me, baby" she whispers, her accent thick as the pet name rolls off her tongue but laced with love making your head spin even more as she extends her hand for you to grab as she leads you towards her bedroom, pushing the door open with her foot as her other hand laces itself back around you waist pulling you back to being impossibly close to her.

giving her a teasing look as she kisses you again this one more needy and fervent. feeling her hands all around your body nipping and pulling at your skin as you feel the back of you legs on the edge of her bed. a slight push and you back met with softness of her white sheets.

a small moan leaving leah's lips into the kiss as she felt your hands gently squeeze her ass, feeling her smile against your lips knowing that you were having the same affect on her as she was on you. you were both driving each other crazy.

as the kiss grow more sloppy as whines were being strung from both of your lips, your hips mindlessly starting to slowly grind against her. leah moving to kiss your neck leaving small kisses and sucking on your neck that elicited small moans from your lips as your breathing hitches.

leah's kisses to your neck becoming more intense you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second as you hips carried on to move against her. your hands lingering on her back as your nails dug that little deeper, more than likely leaving scratch marks.

"please le-" you moan out softly, needing more.

-

that wasn't the last time you saw the blonde defender, nor the last time you ended up with your limbs tangled between each other.

whenever the other had, had a drink or just when you needed company leah seemed to always be there. you felt like you craved her at all hours of the day. you found your mind sometimes wondering what she may be doing when you weren't by her side.

but you weren't together, it was just a casual thing. is what you found you were telling yourself.

but with each weekend that passed you found yourself spending them with leah more and more often. which is exactly what had happened this weekend.

leah had called you, she never calls you only ever texts. strange is what you thought when you saw her caller id on the screen a small smile slipping onto your lips as you pressed accept.

"hello?" you said as leah was yet to speak, you thought maybe she had called the wrong number. maybe she hadn't meant to call you .

"hi y/n-" she finally spoke but she lacked her usual confident tone, this time it had been replaced with a nervous shake of her accent. like she had something in her head that she needed to get out.

"did you need something le?" you ask as there is a deafening silence on the other end, a few rustling sounds before leah clears her throat.

"um are you doing anything this afternoon-" leah paused as you think to your plans for the afternoon, "more specifically are you doing anything at two?" leah continued as she waited your response as you hummed.

"no i should be free, why?" you asked wondering what this was going to lead to, what did she have planned.

"fabulous!" a breath of relief was let out from leah as she had a big grin on her face on the other line which if you could have saw would have made you smile, "since you aren't doing anything, do you wanna come to my match?"

you felt as though her words had just fell on deaf ears, you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. ever since you and leah had- well whatever your relationship was it had always been in the darkness of everyone else, behind peoples back and away from prying eyes.

this felt like a step, you didn't know what direction but it felt like it meant something good.

as you tried to contain your happiness you nodded forgetting she wasn't actually in the room with you, "i- um i would love to le"

"great! i'll erm get your tickets sorted and send them over" leah explained as you hummed along before she quickly had to say her goodbyes claiming that she needed to get her pre match routine started.

since having to re-organise your afternoon, you were now going around rushing trying to find an outfit. not knowing if it was too cliche you going in an arsenal jersey of leah's or whether a subtle hint of red in your outfit would be a better idea.

deciding on just the subtle hint of red, finding a red cap which just so happen to also be leah’s which she’d left at yours after one night.

once you got the match you were amazed at the amount of people who had turned up, yourself not being as clued in of how big a scale women’s football was as admittedly you didn’t exactly have a big interest in football or in sport in general.

but for leah, you’d sit and watch football match after match if you knew it would make her happy.

once you found your seat in the stand you quickly sent the blonde a message not expecting her to even reply but she did.

Y/N:) - i’m here! good luck, i’ll be cheering you on☺️

LE<3 - i seen you! i’ve been looking for that hat. but i think it’s found a better home now;)

LE<3 - meet me near the dugout at the end!

finding yourself smiling at her messages as she sent another telling you what to say to the security so they would let you in to where leah wanted you to be, before slipping your phone back into your pocket ready to watch a game of football.

the ninety minutes felt as if they flew by, and at first you must admit you didn’t exactly understand what you were watching so you just cheered when everyone else around you did, but at the first half and definitely into the second half you managed to get a few rules down — with the help of a google search..

watching as leah walked around clapping and waving to fans looking so effortlessly good in her kit and with the fact she’d just run around for a good ninety minutes it never managed to fail to surprise you how easy she made it look.

despite the team only coming out with a draw which you knew leah would be slightly huffed about especially since they were by far the better team, you still were incredibly proud of her.

walking down and reciting the exact words that leah had messaged you to the security you made it to where she had told you to meet her, but that’s when a certain someone recognised you. a wide smile and arms wide open for you.

"oh y/n it's lovely to see you" amanda engulfed you in a hug, a warm fuzzy but also bittersweet feeling filling your chest. you'd met her mum totally by accident one of the first times that you and leah slept together. she'd been dropping of groceries for her daughter. leah trying to rush you out the door before things got to awkward.

but instead amanda being the polite women she is asked her daughter to introduce you to her. it ending up you stayed an extra two hours longer than you'd planned much to leah's discomfort, but in a way that made it all the more that enjoyable.

"what you doing after here?" amanda asked as she pulled you out the hug, leah lingering just behind you chewing the inside of her lip. "just if your not busy you can always join us for a few drinks" amanda smiled so sincerely as you thought over the invitiation briefly, would it be awkward - maybe? but friends can go out for drinks too!

“yeah, i’d love too” you grinned as a small cheer left amanda’s lips, you seeing the slight falter of a look on leah’s face before it turned back to her signature tight lipped frown.

or maybe you did it just to spite the blonde defender who stood so nervous next to you.

"brilliant! leah we'll wait out at the cars for you" amanda directed towards her daughter as she nodded a small sigh leaving her lips as she plastered on a fake smile, you knew there was a part of her that didnt want you there but that just added fuel to your fire.

amanda looping her arm with yours as the two of you walked towards where the cars would be at the back of the emirates stadium to take you and the williamson family for a few drinks to celebrate the win.

"so how have you been?" amanda asks as she walks beside you, a genuine interest in her tone, as you hum catching her up with your life which hadn't been all that exciting, most days merging into one.

"leah tells me you've been helping her with some business project? how's it going?" amanda asks and you swear your throat started to close up, your words getting stuck in between your lips as your eyes goes wide.

"oh- um yeah it's coming together-" quite literally. you stutter out a response hoping it doesn't raise to much suspicion and praying that the topic is over with just as quick as it came.

"leah won't give me a clue what it's about" amanda complains as she continues to tell you about the countless times she tried to get it out of her daughter as you hummed along more in your head as to why leah would say you were just business partners? why not just say your friends, cause after all you were?

"mhm well i won't be one to spoil the surprise then" you nervously chuckled as you saw the cars in the distance knowing you were close to the end of the conversation. amanda letting out a groan as she hoped she'd be able to get the big surprise out of you but that would be pretty hard considering there was no big surprise.

you were going to have to talk with leah, which would be a little odd as when the two of you were alone, not much talking would be done well not the converse action.

amanda letting go of your arm as she got into the other side of the cab, leah coming out the exit of the back of the stadium as she jogged quickly getting into the people carrier. sitting herself in the seat next to you as she shot you a soft smile.

-

the night was actually going smoothly, leah seemed to get out of whatever strop she was in when you were stood with her family in the emirates and was actually talking to you now. well more flirting with you. her hand getting dangerously high up on your thigh as she spoke.

"have i told you how pretty you look-" she blurted out as you took a small sip of your drink, a small smile appearing on your face as you lifted the glass from your lips and back to the table.

"you may have mentioned a few times" you whispered as this time it was leah's time to smile as her hand drifted a little further up your thigh as you shot her look as she squeezed your thigh making you jump in your seat a little.

"le-" you harhsly said inbetween your teeth as she looked at you so innocently as if she had not clue what she was doing to you but you know she knew. leah knew what her touch was doing to you and how it was affecting you.

leah had you right where she wanted you and honestly, you were going to let her - you'd face the consequences later on. right now, you wanted her, in more ways than one.

standing up with a loud scrape of your chair, all eyes turning to land on you, "m'sorry just- i'll be back-" you stutter out, your cheeks all flushed as you made a beeline straight for the toilets.

amanda looking worryingly over her shoulder at you before turning to leah, who just simply shrugged that making her mum's eyebrows furrow even more.

"i better go and check on her" leah stood up excusing herself as she followed suit pushing the door on the pub toilet door seeing you touching up your lip gloss as you regained your composure from the feeling on her hands on your body.

leah locking the door behind her, a rye smile on her lips as she stepped just that little bit closer to you, feeling your heart beat just that little bit faster.

was it nerves, probably but maybe it was more the uncertainty as you never knew what you were going to get with the blonde.

"are you sure?" leah whispered as she placed a quick kiss to your cheek before resting her hands to your hips as a smug smile came from you before you nodded.

"do you think you can keep up?" leah teased as your shot her a shocked look as she pulled you into deeper into the bathroom, your back now pushed flush against the sink.

"i'm sure i can.. business partner-" you whisper as you inch closer to her, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips a flash of shock appearing on her face.

but just as leah opened her mouth to say another teasing comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. the kiss quickly turning heated when leah's tongue enters your mouth as a familiar warmth floods your body in seconds,

her hands gripping at your waist as she tugs you closer to her without breaking the kiss. the sound of your lips together was enough to leave an uncomfortable throbbing inbetween your legs.

leah pulls back for a moment searching for anything in your eyes that may say that you don't want this but there was nothing but lust, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact in your lips before leah's diving right back in.

the sound that had been blasting through the pub had now quieten to a mere hum as your focus was solely now on the girl in front of you.

her hands placed on the small on your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch as your chest pushed into her. as leah's hands soon made their way slowly to slide down you your ass as your tongues graze against each other.

"so pretty for me, my love" your heart jumps at her loving tone as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, leah's words always having some sort of effect on you and always leaving you feeling flustered.

leah's eyes roam your figure as her hand traces absentmindedly, as if she planning her next attack on your body. the blonde noticing the way your breath hitched when her fingers sit on your pulse point on your neck.

leah rotating her hand so her fingers lie gently against it awaiting your reaction as she smirks watching as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your hands grip against the rim of the sink.

a small chuckle leaves leah's lips as she leans down to press her lips to your neck sucking harshly on your sweet spot. a string of little whimpers leave your pretty little lips as you tilt your head more to the side allowing leah to have more access.

"le, please do something" you beg, feeling her hand roam underneath your hoodie, grazing across your breasts.

"don't be impatient baby girl" she rasps against your ear, tugging down on it with her teeth as you feel your self squeeze your thighs together. hoping it will help you relieve some tension between her legs.

leah finally lifting your hoodie over your head as she throws to the ground of the pub bathroom. usually you would have felt embarrassed as you would feel your whole body want to cower aways but with leah, it felt different. it felt good, it felt right.

-

it was a typical saturday night, leah had her home match at the emirates on the sunday so she was taking advantage of her the small out of rest time she had. a small hum of the tv playing in the background as you watched it, but really all your mind could focus on was the fact leah’s fingers were combing through the ends of your hair.

you were lying wrapped in leah's arms on her couch as the tv played, leah focused on some insta reel on her phone. you head tucked on her chest as it heaved up and down, the wholesome of the interaction. it felt like it was meant to be — it felt real.

"le?" you whispered your head turning to look up at the blonde as a small hum left her lips, her phone lowering a little.

"where do you see yourself in a year?" you asked, it was something that played on your mind a lot, cause would you still be in some casual relationship with leah or would you have your own apartment and she’d show you off to her friends as something more.

you were more hoping for the second option, since the months had passed since you both promised out of breathe that there wouldn’t be any strings attached.

and boy oh boy had that changed, especially since your favourite bra lived in her dresser. it was pretty hard to be casual.

“cause maybe we’d be more and going on cute little dates in a cafe before you’d go off to training” you began as you sat up, you rambling on as your hands flew around with some enthusiasm making you miss the way leah’s face changed.

“and then when you come home i’d be there waiting, your dinner on the table-“ you paused as you looked down to see leah’s face, puzzled but also her eyes they told you a different emotion, not the same energy you had but it was sadness — more a sense of guilt.

“i- sorry i got ahead of myself” you mumbled as your back sunk into the back of her couch, the further side from her.

leah shook her head, and you were half expecting her to wrap you in a hug and kiss your cheek and tell you it was okay and that maybe she felt the same way.

but she didn’t.

"y/n, remember, we're not together-" leah cut straight to the point, her tone blunt as you felt your heart drop and your brows furrowing and a quickly developing pout spreading across your lips.

you let out a shaky breath as you nodded slowly, you understood. she had kept her side of the promise of no strings attached. “i- just thought maybe?” you said so quietly it only came out as a whisper as you fidgeted with your fingers.

looking up to see leah’s face it told you everything you needed to know. you’d only known the blonde for a several amount of months but you knew her well enough to know what her face was telling you without actually having to say the actual words.

“oh i get it” you scoffed slightly, choking back on the tears which pricked at your eyes. all it ever was going to be was casual.

leah’s opened her mouth but nothing came out as she sat herself up on the couch but before she could even attempt to reach out to you, you were up from the couch. slipping your shoes on your feet. you didn’t want to be in the same room as her.

“y/n- don’t” leah finally managed to get out as she followed your actions following you into her hallway which was littered with her football memorabilia from her glittering career. but you shook your head, her voice to painful to hear as you stopped with your back to her just before the front door.

"do you know what's actually quite funny-" you paused to let out a little chuckle as you stood mere metres from the door, as you looked up from your shoes spinning slightly so you faced her. leah stood her shoulders sunken as she tried to plead with you not to leave.

"i actually thought i meant something to you- but i guess that's just how little i actually meant to you" you sighed as tried to steady your breath, tears prickling at your eyes ready to fall at any moment.

"i- i was ready-" you paused as your words got stuck in your throat, leah reaching out for you as you took a step back. "i was ready to give you my everything" you admitted it coming out just a little louder than a whisper.

"y/n-"

“no leah, you’d made it clear how you feel” you spat out as you spun on your heal, leaving leah calling out your name but your ignored her, reaching for the door and hearing how it clicked shut behind you.

part of you was hoping she was going to rip her front door open and call after you and not stop until you were back in the warmth of her arms but the corridor in her apartment block was silent.

the other part of you hated yourself how long you had let it drag out for, but now you were free. she can go to hell.

stumbling through the street as your tears fell down your cheeks, tapping away at your phone until you found the contact you wanted, the dial drilling through your ear a few times before it got to voicemail.

you sighed as you heard the beep, "i cut her off, amelie."

[lewisvinga]

this little life | carlos sainz x fem! reader

summary; when childhood lovers y/n and charles break up, it sends the whole internet into chaos. what sends them into an even bigger chaotic mess was the reasoning behind their breakup and who she turned to for comfort afterwards.

fc; cindy kimberly

warnings; cursing, cheating, slut shaming

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

note; requested ! there’s a couple of typos on the tweets LMAO n i felt too lazy to fix ‘em🤕

masterlist !

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liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: moving onto bigger & better things.

yourbestfriend: AWOOGA

yourbestfriend: gorgeous gorgeous girls dgaf abt men

yourusername: gorgeous gorgeous girls would rather shop and drink lattes with their besties than deal w men

username: omg so it is true

username: YOU GO GLEN COCO

username: ‘better things’ CHARLES WAS PERFECT FOR U

username: any1 notice that carlos liked lol

username: he’s been following her for a few years now lol

username: just saying, why are u liking ur friends ex’s post a bit weird me thinks

username: well u thinks weird

username: ugh the makeup😻😻

username: im on mothers side of this divorce 🥸

username: whyd u break up w charlesssss

francisca.gomes: 😻😻 liked by yourusername !

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; 🥹] [caption 2; men who know your worth and treat you like you’re worth the whole world and more >>]

yourbestfriend replied to your story

yourbestfriend WHOOOOOOOOO

yourbestfriend that’s a hairy ass arm i know that’s not french boy

yourusername LMAO it’s not him don’t worry😁

yourbestfriend then WHO

yourusername maybe his not so little friend

yourbestfriend oh you bitch

yourbestfriend happiness looks good on u tho☹️ tell your new man that i won’t hesitate to throw hands at him

yourusername LMAO i’ll let him know😁

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liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: i think i like this little life 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨❤️‍���

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: 😍😍😍

yourusername: te quiero ❤️ [i love you]

yourusername: te quierooooo❤️‍🩹

username: uhm excuse me?????

username: oh !

username: well that’s….

username: this is such slutty behavior tbh, going from driver to driver months after breaking up w her CHILDHOOD BOYFRIEND🤢

username: literally a homie hopper

username: it’s such whorish behavior 💀

username: y’all talking abt y/n when this makes carlos SUCH a bad teammate, no wonder lewis is taking his seat

username: idc what y’all say they’re a FINEEEE couple

username: LITERALLY😩😩😩

yourbestfriend: hairy man gets a little pass from me……

yourusername: LMAOOOO

carlossainz55: u don’t gotta worry abt me trust🫡

username: this is SUCH nasty behavior from both of them

username: poor charles ☹️☹️

username: i always had a bad feeling abt her, guess its bc she’s a slut

username: breaking up with ur ex after dating since 15, then a few months get w his teammate?? that’s such gold digger behaviorrrrr

username: carlos is SUCH a shitty teammate, can’t even keep his dick in his pants and goes for his teammates ex, NASTY🤮🤮😷

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liked by carlossainz55, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: think i like this little life more ever since the truth came out and i can live peacefully con mi amor. ❤️‍🩹

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: siempre contigo, mi vida [always with you, my life], through the good and the bad ❤️

yourusername: carlitoooos🥹🥹

username: she said FUCK the haters liked by yourusername !

username: how’d charles fuck up and fumble THEEE y/n

yourusername: bc his season ‘wasn’t going how he wanted it to be’ lolllll 🤓🤓🤓🤓

username: he doesn’t deserve u queen

lilymhe: cute but when are u and y/b/f coming to the paddock i miss my gfs 🕊️

yourusername: SOON MY LOVE

carlossainz55: why’re you trying to steal MY girlfriend

yourbestfriend: she was ours first MOVE BACK

yourbestfriend: gorgeous gorgeous girls find men who treat them right after dating liars and cheaters

yourusername: 😇

username: they could never make me hate u 💯

username: now can the haters stfu and focus on HOW FINE THEY ARE AS A COUPLEEEE

username: the first picture i’m so????

username: them<3

username: good for her that she finally found someone who treats her good🥹 yall were so co corned abt charles’ feelings w/o caring abt hers😕 liked by yourusername !

username: ppl alwayssss jump to conclusions w/o knowing the truth, but at least now we know💆‍♀️

[echantedtoon]

Kinda like my last post but more poly. Auish so barely anything's cannon. Kimetsu Gauken based. Artwork not mine both found on Pinterest. Will probably contain some headcannons from my Kagamane x Reader headcannons post too.

-How did you catch the attention of these two couples? You literally had no idea.

-You only knew that you were Muzan's secretary before he hired Kokushibo to take over your job as he was 'better suited.' But unbeknownst to you, that was a way to just get closer to you by Muzan and his wife.

-You've been working for the couple for over two years having been hired by Two to help the both of them manage their companies. Muzan wasn't happy about his wife hiring someone without his say so but relented the because his wife was happy with you.

-You did a very good job honestly. Papers were always perfectly filed, and you were very organized and clean. You kept up with his own and Rei's Business deals separated unless needed to be combined. He couldn't remember how many times the last secretary mixed up their appointments and costed them time and money. You were also on time all the time everyday and had materials at the ready for whatever he needed.

-Rei was quite satisfied with your performance as well and he liked knowing his wife was happy so he didn't care about her inviting you to have small lunch breaks with her and their daughter.

-Their daughter was quite taken by you as well. Smiling and talking about how nice you were and how you had help her learn how to spell a big learn that won her spelling bee at school.

-Rei quite agreed you were quite a charming lady and she wouldn't mind having you around more often. He agrees.

-While you're professional and perficiant in what you do and your bubbly kind and positive personality added a bit of fresh air into the office and at the same time you weren't overly positive for him to find you annoying. If fact he quite looked forward to the way you treated him every morning with your bright smile and a cup of his favorite coffee. How you and Rei smile like old friends and get along so well. How his daughter is always excitedly bouncing around and showing off what cool new facts she learnt 'from the nice office lady'!

-Its inevitable they would find someone as cute as you unable to resist for long. It's not surprisingly Rei that brings up the subject first while at breakfast and he's reading a newspaper. "Dear, Y/n was so kind to teach our little darling how to easily spell arithmetic the other day." "Mmhm. Very nice." "You know I don't think we're really giving her a position she deserves. You've always said that I could use a personal assistant for my work." "Darling, you just read my mind."

-You are shocked when the happy couple announced that you were fired from your secretary job but they were moving you to be Rei's personal assistant. You gingerly try to reject the offer but they insist having already replaced you with Kokushibo who turns out if far more efficient.

-So begins your very awkward new job as Rei's personal assistant. Some of it isn't too different from your old job minus following her around during the day. You still file paperwork for her and handle calls if she's busy, but now you also did things for her such as getting her awkwardly massive food orders-

"I have your double shrimp salad bowls."

"Oh thank you. But I must've gotten too much. You eat the other one you've been working so hard and deserve some food."

And going shopping with her as she gifts you extra items she ..accidentally buys an item she didn't want.

"I have all your bags, Ma'am."

"Thank you. But it seems I accidentally bought the purple heels instead of black."

"Shall I call the store and request a refund for the shoes?"

"No need. You can keep them. They're your size anyways."

-You also start to help out Rei's husband by rearranging furniture in his office as he works and gauges your help in certain things.

"I want you to take this."

".... It's an address and..IS THIS THREE THOUSED DOLLARS?!"

"Yes. I'm thinking about buying a share at this new retreat but unfortunately I'm far too busy to go myself. Go check yourself in for a week and report back to me anything wrong with the place."

Even when you go, granted having a good time, and comeback with your positive feedback you don't see any shares listed for the retreat in the financial database. But he does use your help in other situations too-

"Is this a dinner reservation?"

"Yes. I'm interested in hosting a business dinner together with some investors next week. Go to the reservation and see if their food is up to my standards."

You are concerned when he sees no investors the next week.

-You start to get very awkward when Rei requests you start doing more personal things. Like tutoring their daughter and picking her up from school and playing with her when they're busy. And staying to have dinner with them multiple times a week even if you decline.

-You unexpectedly get a raise despite doing less work than your last position.

-You get invited on outings together to help watch their daughter but for some reason there's always a place set aside for you or the reservations always included a fourth person.

-You get random gifts with excuses-

"My daughter thinks it's your birthday and she'll be upset if I didn't at least gift you some flowers."

"Here. I never used this dress anyways and they got my size wrong."

"My wife misplaced her necklace so I ordered a new one for her. She just found the old one today so you may keep the extra."

-One day you pick up their daughter from elementary school and she's just happily chatting away in the back seat.

"I can't wait for Mother's Day. I'm gonna make you and Mommy the best cards ever!"

"Aw. You don't have to do that. I'm not even your mom."

"Not yet! You have to marry them first and I'm gonna be the flower girl!!"

"Haha! I'm not marrying your mommy and daddy."

"Huh? You're not?"

"Of course not. What made you think that?"

"Because Daddy says I can be the flower girl! Mommy even picked out matching dresses for all three of us in that fancy magazine!"

-Both are a mixed reaction when they receive your professional company email that very night explaining that the hours were starting to get bad for you so you were putting in your two weeks and using all your company vacation days for that entire week so they didn't have to trouble you for a final paycheck.

-Rei is absolutely shocked and very, very confused. Why did you suddenly quit? If the hours were getting to bad then they'd be happy to talk with you about it and rearrange things.

Muzan is pissed. How dare you just quit on such short notice?! After everything they did?! You didn't even have mind to tell them in person!

Both try calling you but get nothing but voicemail, their emails go unanswered as well. Their daughter is very upset. Why did you leave? Weren't you going to marry them?

-Unbeknownst to the couple you use the extra money from your sudden raise to move away to a new residence. Blocking both on your old email and phone before completely getting a brand new email address and number and being sure to block them again on those too before gathering up all the unwanted gifts up to mail them back being sure to include no return address.

-After laying low for about a month you decide to go back out to job hunt. Eventually finding a secretary position open at a local school after the old secretary retired! Perfect! You end up calling the number listed for the principal and she's nice enough to arrange an interview for you with her husband, the Chairman of Kimetsu Academy.

-The interview actually goes very well! Mr. Kagaya Ubuyashiki is a very kind man and his wife is also very kind and both of them were impressed with your resume. You got the job the day!

-You're a little out of your territory being in a a school setting but slowly things start turning. You start to really enjoy your job at the Academy. You've already made friends with a few teachers like Kyojuro and Gyomei.

-Students start to like coming to the office more because of how bubbly and friendly the new secretary is. The teachers start to talk to you more often and invite you to staff parties and outside work events. Events that you were free to DECLINE and no one was giving you an uncomfortable feeling.

-Was working your old job really that stressful? You couldn't remember the last time you actually felt appreciated or just had someone treat you normally.

-Kagaya thinks it's amusing watching you shyly peek into the doorway to his office with papers clutched into your hands and bashfully asking if you could come in. The way you so innocently look unsure of something or squeak out a question. It's adorable seeing your attempts.

Amane finds your sweet and bubbly personality is perfect for the job! Especially when she sees how much you love interacting with the students and always friendly towards her own children. When you shyly ask her for help with scheduling or ask where a certain file is, always puts a smile on her face.

-Speaking of the Ubuyashiki children, you adore the quintuplets! And don't mind watching them in the office for a little bit if Kagaya or Amane was running a little late or had to do last minute work. Because they always asked you if you'd be alright with it first and didn't expect you to do anything outside your job.

-Somewhere along the way they ask you politely if you'd like to have dinner with them without any expectations for you saying yes and you agree wholeheartedly. Making it a weekly thing where you all would all have dinner together Sunday night.

-Muzan and Rei really don't know where you went for the longest time until he just happens to mention you in front of Nakime who recognizes you instantly and reveals it to him.

-Muzan is absolutely RAGED to find out not only are you working for his cousin but seemed to be dating his cousin and his wife!! Rei has to hold him back and tell him to not do anything dumb before he goes to do anything actually dumb like storm into the academy and yell at everyone.

-Instead he furiously calls his cousin and DEMANDS to know what the hell he thought he was doing!! And DEMANDS to let him talk to you THAT INSTANT!!

"Oh yes. You're the really weird bosses she was talking about. How's your dating life going?"

"YOU FUCKER!! IF YOU DON'T DO AS I SAY I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY FOR IT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!!"

"How do you both manage to get married but still pull no bitches combined?"

"YOU MOTHERFU-"

Rei later scolds him for cussing in front of their daughter at her cousins and for chucking his phone off their second story balcony.

-She tries to later apologize for his tantrums via calling Amane who firmly states that they were not to go near you but much more politely.

-Your're later very surprised to discover that Muzan and Kagaya are actually cousins but it doesn't change your opinion on the Ubuyashikis because of how well they have been treating you.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Do Ya Wanna Taste It?

Eddie Munson/Reader

Summary:Eddie gets the chance to spend some time with the girl of his dreams and treats her just how she deserves to be treated.

Warnings:18+, Smut, Kissing, Body Worship, Teasing, Oral Sex (F recieving), Fingering, Nothing else that I can think of (unless you wanna shoot me a message to say I missed something) 

Word Count:822 

Authour’s note:This was my first time writing something spicy with Eddie Munson in mind, and basically I’m just pulling this from my AO3 account and posting it here too. And yes I’m using the Peacemaker theme tune as a title for this fic you can’t tell me what to do

Laying on your back against his bed, you feel the press of his soft lips pressing against yours, tongues tangling together. His large hands cradling your head, his long fingers working their way to weave in your hair.

Slowly you pulled away from him as he chased your lips for one final taste before you broke the silence.

“Y’know you are just full of surprises, aren’t ‘ya Munson?”

“Oh Baby, you have no idea.” Eddie chuckled as he continued to kiss his way down your body.

If it’s one thing that Eddie loves (well really it’s two things, but the best things, as he’s told you many times before,come in pairs) it’s your tits.

As Eddie gently places tender kisses all over your breasts, his pink tongue darts out to slowly drag its way around one of your nipples. Teasing the bud into a hardened peak before he wraps his lips around it and sucks it into the warm heat of his mouth. All the while, with his large calloused hands, he holds the weight of your other breast in his other hand using his skilled guitarists fingers to pluck and pinch your other nipple.

Suddenly you feel his lips descend lower down your body, whilst still placing kisses on any and all exposed soft skin that he could find.

Soon you felt the graze of his teeth nipping at the elastic waist of your yellow and black polka dot patterned cotton panties.

“Gotta say babe, these cute little panties of your are really doing it for me, they’re so sexy” Eddie smirked as his lips placed kisses along your inner thigh

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment, giggling behind your hands.

Lifting your hips up, so that Eddie could hook his fingers into your panties and drag them down your legs. You didn’t miss how he tucked your panties into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Just keeping them for later, baby, I hope you don’t mind” he winked at you.

The thought of Eddie being by himself in his trailer bedroom lining his fist with your underwear as he works over himself is something you’ll be keeping in mind for when you're alone as well.

“There she is, my pretty girl” he all but almost purred out as he was greeted by the sight of your exposed pussy.

Leaning forward, Eddie anchored his arms under your legs to throw them over his shoulders. His tongue darts out to briefly wet his lips, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts, before his tongue licks a long slow stripe along your pussy.

Eddie prided himself in his oral skills, and he delighted in showing off his talents to you any chance he would get.

He absolutely loved having his tongue buried in your pretty pussy, drinking in your sweet juices. He was teasing one single finger inside your tight wet heat, pushing until he could feel that soft spot inside you that had your squirming on his bed. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he gave it a few quick flicks of his tongue before going back and sucking it between his pink lips

Whether he realised it or not, the sounds of your delicious whimpers, had his hips grinding into his mattress in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pressure of the growing hardness in jeans.

Your hands that had previously been grasping at the sheets of Eddie’s bed, somewhere down the line, had found their way to tangle in Eddie’s mess of curls. Tugging the soft strands between your fingers as he continued to slip another finger inside you, and press into your sweet spot.

The knot in the pit of your lower stomach was tightening even more, as you rocked your hips against your boyfriend's face.

“You taste so good, babe” he slurred out against your wet heat.

With Eddie’s constant stimulation on your pussy, it didn’t take you very long before the knot in the pit of your stomach finally snapped as you rode out your high, hands tugging deep in your boyfriends as your hips thrashed against his face. Placing his hands on your lower stomach, Eddie drank down everything that your sweet pussy would give him, slurping up your release.

With you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, Eddie came to lie next to you, holding you in his arms on his bed.

“Wait...what about you? Isn’t it my turn to go down on you now?” you teased with a laugh.

“Oh we don’t have to worry about that, right now. I actually kind of already came.” he shyly admitted with a blush. “You know I always love eating your pussy, babe. I guess it just gets me going.” he smiled.

“Okay, but as soon as your good to go again, I am so going to ruin you, Munson, just you wait”

“Can’t wait, babe.”

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! male! childhood friend x gn! unrequited crush! reader

So I decided to further slow down my posts since things got busy and I had no time nor motivation. So, posts will now just depend if I have some ideas. Forgive me!. But also, i'll add a wider range of post styles since full fics are really long and hard to do sometimes.

Also, I take the sentiment back that I won't do new yans for now LMAO I can't resist it.

Yan! Childhood friend name: Minyu

"Minyu is at the lead now, as expected of the swim varsity president of XX university."

That's the voice of the emcee, their voice loud and clear amongst the loud crowd cheering for their contestants. But one person stood out on the pool. He's way ahead of his other competitors, swimming as if he's a natural born sea resident.

"AND MINYU OF XX UNIVERSITY GOT FIRST PLACE!"

Everyone's deafening cheer raised the roof of the indoor pool as a tan man got up from the pool pumping his fist. His eyes were trying to find somebody. And his eyes locked on you.

"Y/N! DID YOU SEE HOW I WON?! ARE YOU PROUD OF ME?!"

Minyu is bubbly, friendly, and really loud. His voice is sometimes as loud as a booming speaker that the professors never really liked. But people swear he's a good guy.

He's mischievous at times, and did plenty of harmless pranks on you when you both were children.

You both are neighbors since birth. And due to being neighbors, and Minyu being a naturally friendly and charismatic boy, you two became friends.

"Good for you, Min Min. Let's go celebrate?" You asked, handing him his towel as he wiped his wet hair with it.

"Sure! My treat."

Sure, he's friendly, but in reality, he's one hell of a plastic man. He's only being friendly and approachable to use tthese people in the future. It did have setbacks, but hey. Being a popular guy has its perks.

Unlike yandere! college student though, he never found being friendly a choir to do. Minyu finds it amusing to see these people scramble to get his attention, and be his friend.

It's like these people were lower than him.

Why?

He's been betrayed once by his "friends". And ever since then, he stopped being genuine with other people. Always suspecting them for wanting something from him.

But you were different. You were the only one who was genuine with him despite the regular banters the both of you have. That's why you're the only one who knows how plastic the dude is with others. You somehow feel flattered though. At the very least, right?

You don't know the story behind the betrayal. But you saw how down he was due to it so you never left his side. And because of that, he became attached to you.

"Oh, what did I do to deserve such a friend like you?"

That's what he always asked you while hugging you tightly.

When people asked what's your relationship with him, you were quick to deny it. You both were only friends, and nothing more.

And besides...

You froze, seeing your crush pass by the hallway.

As if on cue, your cheeks flushed red and looked down. Goodness, why did he have to pass by this specific hallway? And with Minyu too.

You unconsciously put space between you and Minyu. The rumors about you two dating ringing in your head. You wanted to make it seem that you're available.

But what you didn't see is Minyu's once lively face fall to a cold, blank stare at your back, and at your crush.

"What do they see in that fucker that they don't see in me?!"

A crash was heard in a bedroom. The whole house was quiet, and all one could hear are disgruntled yells of frustrations and desperation.

"What do I need to do to make you notice me?!"

Another crash, this time it was glass.

"Is it because we were friends since childhood?! Is that it?!"

Minyu slid down the wall, absolutely shaken up.

He hated Austin so much.

The perfect little bitch boy, Austin. Your crush. He was so bland! And guess what, he's a total heartbreaker! Well, that's what the rumors tell anyways.

He's a heartthrob that you unfortunately fell for also.

Minyu's pupil shook as he took another gulp of air. The sense of dread and panic settling in his stomach.

He's like this outside of other people's vision. Even yours.

He's an insecure man who can't stand it if you decide to betray him too. Too caught up in the past, he's shaken up at the thought of you leaving him.

Your picture caught his eyes, and he fought back an angry spittle of words gurgling in his throat.

He knew it wasn't your fault. People fall for people regardless of logic.

But why not him? He's there for you since you both were kids! You were there for him when his friends betrayed him. He did his best to flirt and put signals that he's in love with you. He took up swimming because he wanted to look cool in front of you.

But just like the tropes in the books you read, the childhood friend always got overlooked.

He let out a humorless laugh at that thought. The image of you with Austin made him grab his lamp and throw it to the wall.

He knew his issues. But he doesn't want to help himself.

His ear perked up when he heard a ping on his phone. With a shaky groan, he crawled towards his bed, avoiding the broken items and opening up the notification.

He froze, his body clamming up.

"The audacity of this goddamn--!"

One of his ex friends decided to transfer to his school.

Or should he say, ex crush?

He had a group of friend outside of you back in freshmen year of highschool. There were 5 of them, including Minyu. One of them was a long time crush since elementary, and he was so giddy to become their friend.

Goo goo eyed, he followed them everywhere. He felt like the cool guy hanging out with the popular crowd. He swore they liked him too.

Naive little boy he was, doing all their bidding and orders like it wasn't a big deal. Sure, Minyu was rich anyways. So money wasn't a problem. Was it?

His parents noticed how he's spending so much money in a short amount of time. They got into a fight because of it, and Minyu ended up talking back to them and him having his allowance cut off.

The first time he had to reject a... request, Faces immediately fell and their interest in Minyu also fell.

"It's fine. Hey, that karaoke bar opened right?"

"Let's go~!"

Minyu perked up.

"I'll go with you guys too!"

They raised their eyebrows almost immediately.

"Ah, sorry Minyu. But the car is already full. Maybe next time."

This continued to happen. Being snubbed like some dirt on the road. And what hurts the most, is that his crush, who he showered so much gifts with, lost interest in him also.

This was an abusive cycle he was in, until he was finally dropped by them halfway to the school year when Minyu didn't get anything expensive for his crush, and only gifted her an explosion box filled with creative ways to confess.

"Ew. I don't even like you. You're so... Ugh. Don't talk to me ever again."

That experience snuffed out his light, Especially when they decided to rub it in further by spreading how Minyu was only with them for his crush, and failed to get her. Spreading lies too, saying he was an asshole, and he's the one who kept demanding gifts.

Sure, majority didn't believe them, but he was so scarred by it due to the humiliation and betrayal he felt.

So, he fell back and only relied on you. Somebody who he knew would always be there for him.

Now that she's back in his life, he wanted revenge.

But then he felt like it wasn't worth it at all...

Or, he could use her?

It would be hard to manipulate a manipulator, but... He could use her to his advantage.

two months passed by peacefully. And Minyu, wide smiled, attended class.

He knew what happened, and he's pumped. It's as if everything right in the world just connected for him and him only.

With a giddy laugh, he opened the door to the cafeteria with a shit eating grin.

And there you were, sitting alone, eating the lunch you made with a somber look on your face.

He's not gonna pretend that he didn't feel guilty, but god did it outway the results.

"Hey, Y/n. What's up?" Minyu asked, sliding beside you. A concerned look he gave, he rubbed your back gently. "You don't look well."

"W-well... Austin... He... he's so close with that new girl. Gaia, wasn't it?" You said, looking up at him. "I saw them... They were so close. Gaia was hugging his arm so close. Austin doesn't like being held at all."

Minyu hid a smirk and offered a gasp. "Wait, really? Why? How?"

"I don't know..." You bit your lip. "I think Austin likes her. Should I give up on him?"

Finally, Minyu yells in his head.

"For me, yes. You've been chasing Austin since we were first year in college. And honestly, you look like a whipped highschooler looking at him and always wanting to be in his vicinity. No offense." He sheepishly said, "Please, y'n. Move on. For yourself."

While you thought of what he said, Minyu almost laughed out loud.

The day that Gaia transfered, he met up with her, in the pretenses of moving on and asking for forgiveness. Gaia, not changing at all, puffed her chest in pride when Minyu asked for forgiveness on something he didn't do.

Minyu then befriended her the old fashion way. Gifting, talking, fanning her ego, etc. But, he also filled her head on how amazing Austin is. On how he's so handsome, and a genius, and most of all, richer than Minyu.

That got Gaia looking at Austin.

Slowly, Gaia lets go of Minyu and focuses on Austin.

Austin too, seems privy with her attention.

And now, you saw how close they got. That's...

"Amazing." Minyu whispered under his breath, watching you think deeply about the heartache you just experienced.

"Please, move on Y/n. You deserve someone better!"

Someone who's close to you, someone who has been there for you.

Someone that is him.

So pick him, choose him, love him.

Before he fully looses his mind.

This one is all over the place ngl TT-TT

[whousestypewriters]

friends till the end right? - k.a x reader

pairing: kai azer x reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing

a/n: im living off of these crumbs until i get my hands on reckless fr. this'll be he last fic queued/posted until i get back lovelies. hope you enjoy mwah <33

taglist: @nqds, @lxvebelle, @reminiscentreader, @off-to-the-r4ces, @ecliphttlunar

@tornqdowarnings

kai azer was your friend.

your bestfriend.

you grew up together, he, just one week older than you basically being your guide into life. you both know he's full of shit and that he just likes to brag that he's older.

you've been by his side for all of it. the awful way edric treated him - which you still want to shove a dagger up edric's ass for by the way - to sneaking into the kitchen and eating lemon tarts with him.

you're his other half and he's yours.

he was by your side when your parents died, never once leaving you during those awful days. he pulled you out of your slump and brought you back to life.

so yeah....

you were close.

and although you were possibly the closets friends in ilya. you wanted more. you wanted to be the girl he looked at in every room the girl who he would recognise anywhere. you wanted to be his girl.

but that wasn't happening anytime soon. it was mere delusional thinking.

"hey, darling," kai's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "you just gonna lie there all day?"

sighing you open your eyes and look up to kai. "it is rather comfy," you grumble at him. shutting your eyes and the image of kai and the colorful morning sky out.

"well its not my fault you tripped mid-spar."

"EXCUSE ME?" you practically fly up off the ground in anger. "I DID NOT TRIP YOU LITTLE SHIT-" you yell before kai cuts you off with a hand to your mouth.

"hush, you don't want to wake the entire kingdom with your loud ass mouth, you'd think you were a damn amplifier not tele."

you scoff and shove him back, causing him to stumble a little. "i'm going to murder you in your sleep."

"i get to look at your pretty face while dying? thats the greatest gift," kai smirks at you before shoving you back into a nearby tree, "and that was payback for shoving me."

"you deserved my shove. I didn't deserve yours," you huff leaning against the tree while kai looked at you from a few feet away. "what?" you ask. "do i have something on my face? if its dirt im blaming you, i've got lessons all morning after this."

he had an indecipherable look on his face. it only added to your confusion when he stepped closer, his body crowding yours the heat rolling off his skin and onto yours. still looking at you strangely he raises his hand slowly moving towards your face.

"what are you doing?" you meant it to sound questioning and stern but it just came out all breathy and high pitched.

his hand brushed you cheek as he raised it and pulled a twig from your hair. "you had something in your hair," his voice was soft and the moment crackled between the two of you.

there was no reason for you two to be standing that close. it was purely choice. and when kai's head dipped a little you almost gasped at how close you two were.

this was it, oh my god, you were getting your moment? that delusion was turning into a reality.

your breaths mingled together and you're ninety percent sure when kai's hand cupped your cheek and the other grabbed your waist you died a little inside - in the good way.

this was it.

"good morning guys!" a voice came from the other side of the training grounds as kitt strolled leisurely into the area.

kai stepped back from you quickly and headed over to chat with his brother but not before sending you a look that made you want to grin like a school girl.

maybe those delusions weren't so wrong after all.

[whowantslovergirl]

You Stupid Bitch

Maddy Perez x reader (gender not specified)

warnings: cursing its euphoria yk, nate jacobs the homophobic gay woman beater, talks about the abuse, reader being an awesome person, somewhat happy ending, and yea! don't forget to smile!! ^ this means start the song 💋

euphoria masterlist

Summary: Maddy can't see that the perfect one for her is Y/N

posted: January 27,2024

Almost everyone knows how toxic Maddy and Nate is. If you don't know anything about their relationship you basically live under a rock.

The person who knew the most was Y/n a timid person but with a loud personality that's why Maddy and them got along so well.

It even got to the point where everyone thought they were a couple and only Y/n wishes for such a thing.

Because they and everyone else believes they are perfect for Maddy.

Except Maddy. ^

You let the wrong people love you

But you don't see that, do you?

When you cry and need my comfort

I drop everything to come over

Nate fucked up again and Maddy is paying for it again.

They were in her room making out and her phone kept ringing. It was this guy that was like obsessed with Maddy.

Nate saw it, got angry, threw stuff like the man he is, Maddy started crying, Nate didn't care, and blah blah blah. He left and Maddy is still crying and immediately texted you.

You were doing homework and a project at the same time when you got a text.

Maddy <3

can u please come over need ur comfort again??

You immediately went to her house.

The homework and project is due next week anyway.

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

the perfect one for you is me?

You were over at Maddys again trying to her calm down. "He's such a cunt Y/n! I did nothing fucking wrong!" You were quick to agree and still trying to get her to calm down.

"Just count to ten and try to breathe babe." You call everyone babe so of course Maddy isn't gonna find anything weird with the nickname.

She slowly started to calm down. "Thanks Y/n I can always count on you. You're literally my soulmate." She smiled and pulled you into a hug.

If only she said that out of a romantic love instead of a platonic one.

Maddy is your soulmate.

But she's too fucking dumb to see that.

"Anything for you Mads."

The perfect one for you is me

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

the perfect one for you is me?

You and Maddy were taking a walk around the block. An old couple was walking the opposite way and they saw you guys.

"Oh well you guys are the most beautiful young couple l've ever seen!" The old lady says with a smile.

Before you correct her Maddy was a little too quick to jump to the opportunity.

"Oh we're not together I have a boyfriend." Yea for two more days, is what you wanted to say but the old lady just apologized and said

"Well I can tell the one you have now is not the one."

Literally everyone knows it but her.

You don't know what you deserve

And that's why you end up hurt

But you never listen

Take my advice as criticism

"Maddy he doesn't deserve you!" You and Maddy were arguing over the fact that Nate is a piece of shit. You think she doesn’t deserve to be treated like a piece of plastic but she believes that he’s just broken and needs someone to help him.

“You don’t known him Y/n! He needs someone to help him!”

“Yeah a fucking therapist! You shouldn’t have to pay for his actions Mads!” She just shook her head. “He treats you like shit! Every time something happens he storms off like a fucking bitch. He doesn’t care about you, Maddy. He just knows you will never leave him.”

“He does care Y/n! He’ll kill for me and I’ll kill for him. You just don’t know what true love looks like because you’ve been treated like shit in all of your relationships!” You knew she didn’t mean that so you just brushed it off.

“You don’t know what you deserve Maddy and when he puts his hands on you, which he will, don’t come crying to me!” You stormed out of her room and she heard the door slam and immediately started crying.

Her mom, who heard the whole thing. Just stared at her. Maddy looked up wondering why her own mother is not comforting her.

“Tienen razón Maddy. Puede parecer amor verdadero, pero es todo menos eso y muy pronto lo verás tal como es.”

(They are right Maddy. It may feel like true love but it’s anything but that and you will see him for who he truly is very soon.)

Then make the worst decisions

She went back to him but you weren’t surprised in any way. She can be stupid if she wants, you stopped caring.

You saw her the Monday after the fair and you guys made eye contact and she looked pale and very tired. She was also dressed in a turtleneck, since when did she wear a turtleneck in hot weather. Then it hit you.

‘I knew it, he fucking choked her.’

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

When you see Maddie having a breakdown in the cafeteria and only Cassie comforting her at school you can tell she needs you. Really bad.

So you go over and just sit down and hug her. No questions asked. And she gladly accepted the hug and just cried into your shoulder.

“It’s alright Mads.”

The perfect one for you is me

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

After Maddy had your comfort. She’s been on you like crazy. Trying to kiss you and all. You thought this is what you wanted but not like this. Not after Nate.

“Maddy please. Just chill out.” You said trying to pull her arms off you. and she’s still trying to kiss you and hug you.

“You know your the best ever right? Even better than Nate.”

This is fucking bullshit.

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

Another shitshow with Nate and Maddy. You’re honestly sick of this shit.

You gotta tell her how you feel.

_____

“Maddy I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“You know what Maddy! This fucking hot and cold shit. I’m done being the therapist.”

“If it was that serious why did you keep doing it?!”

“Because I was in love with you Maddy! I was fucking in love. But now I’m not so?!”

“What do you mean you’re not?”

“I mean I’m not Maddy. Bye.” You walked out and just left her.

You never felt so fucking free.

The perfect one for you is me

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

She just couldn’t see you were perfect for her and will continue to get hurt. But you’re okay with that.

The perfect one for you is me?

An: GOT MY SHIT CHECKED but the spacing looks weird so I don’t know how to fix tht BUT HOPE YOU ENJOYED

[fir3ylolol]

hi fir3y :3333 can we have more johnny cage x camera stuff (anything related, nothing specific; cameras in house, recording w phone etc) w him having a long time crush for y/n 😁 kind of like how you did w smile! you're on camera (i cant remember if i sent this if i already did im sorry 😥😥)

dazed and confused

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: it's been a while since you've seen your good friend johnny. but what happens when long-time crush mixes with weed?

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, blowjob, eating out, cunnilingus, long-time crush, weed usage, intoxicated sex, loss of inhibitions, praise, filmed, sex tape, cumming inside, cum eating, putting on a show, whimpering men heheheh, afab!reader, gn reader

a/n: YAYYY finally another post!! its been forever. this was requested by @keiiikomegumi. gotta love men who fall hard and fuck desperately O.O also i think this is the longest fic other than we want you! ive ever written lol

word count: 2.65 k

Ao3

It’s been about 3 weeks since you last saw Johnny, which kinda sucks. He’s always a lot of fun, and you’ve been really stressed lately. So when you get his text reading, “come over 4 dinner, we can chill 0.o”, you quickly respond, “see u thennn”. You leave shortly afterward, excited to finally relax. You roll into his driveway after about 30 minutes of driving, seeing Johnny’s shadowed figure standing in the doorway. You hop out excitedly, walking over and capturing him in a tight hug. He laughs, hugging you back just as tight. “Hey! I’ve missed you, it’s been wayyyy too long. Come in, I’ve already got some food ready.” You walk in, drinking in the familiar sight of his home. You see the table set, two spots right next to each other, with a suspicious look on his face.

“So what do you have in store for me?” You sit down, watching as he disappears into the kitchen. “Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and so have I. So…” He walks out, a large silver plate covered with a cloche. “I figured we deserved a treat,” he says with a smirk, lifting it and revealing two brownies. Realization hits you hard. You see, this is California, and if there’s any pastime Californians love, it’s getting high. Johnny is no different; in fact, he likes edibles more, since he says smoking will “damage his star-quality voice and flawless skin.” But he lives a stressful life, and he needs a break just as much as you. So seeing two, delicious-looking brownies on separate plates, you know exactly why you were invited. And you nearly cry.

“Johnny…” you smile up at him, “thank you. So much.” His eyes light up, placing the plates down for you two as he sits down next to you. “Yay, I knew you would be happy! Ok, I’ve got plenty of snacks in the fridge and cold ass water, so we’re set.” He picks his brownie up, and you follow, clinking them together like glasses before taking a bite. It’s rich, fudgy, and absolutely one of the best brownies you’ve ever had. With a mouthful of food, you try to speak, “Schit manm, ‘his is schoo good.” He laughs at you, finishing his bite before speaking, “It’s been barely a month and you’ve forgotten your manners?” You smack him lightly, before standing up and getting a glass of water, downing the whole thing. He follows you, giving you a big hug from behind. He’s rocking back and forth, face buried in your neck. He’s always been more touchy with you than his other friends, but you don’t mind. He’s warm and gentle and always smells fancy. But you laugh, rocking with him. “The room’s already spinning, oooooh.” He lifts you slightly, walking through the kitchen. “You’re so high, oh noooo!” He set you down, laughing still. “You’re so much fun, I missed you.”

You feel a slight twinge in your heart, the words must mean more to you than it does to him. You’ve been a little glad not to see him honestly, but only because your feelings for him have gotten that intense. A break was just what you needed, but now? When you’re going to be wasted and he’s just so nice and so close? You might break. But for now, you appear cool laughing as well before managing to say, “I missed you too” without seeming suspicious. And you start to fall into the same routine as usual, he leads you to the couch to chill together and watch something fun. He used to go to the cinema room, but once he got too high, watched Rambo on the big screen, and had a panic attack. Plus, you can’t cuddle in there, and he can’t stand for that, loudly declaring that he’ll rip the chairs out every time you two go in there. But he never does. You two end up talking about the weeks you didn’t see him. He’s been working on a new film, but won’t reveal any details other than it’s “based on a super true story”. And he laments how hard you’ve been working, trying to convince you again, “You should just quit and hang with me all the time. It would be awesome.” But alas, you turn him down again, as tempting as it is.

Before you know it, it’s been almost two hours, and you’re definitely feeling it more, the buzzing in your brain is a little louder, and Johnny’s touch gives you more goosebumps. But he leans back suddenly, looking you up and down. “Wait, I just realized, I can’t remember the last time you told me one of your famous bad date stories. What’s going on?” You fluster at his words, so direct and to the point that you can’t think for a second. You finally manage to speak again, your tongue feeling a little too heavy, “I’ve just been busy, man.” He scrunches up his face, thinking deeply. “When was the last time you got some? You know…” He nudges you, eyebrows raised suggestively. You take an embarrassingly long pause before speaking again. “...a year.” 

He leans forward, directly in front of your face. “A year?! How are you even alive??” You push him as playfully as you can, completely flustered by the whole thing. “Quit it, it’s not funny!” He sighs dramatically, splayed out across the couch. “So what’s up? Someone catch your eye or something?” You pause again, trying not to look at him, but your mouth betrays you. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s fine, he doesn’t like me like that.” He scoffs, head still tipped back, “What an idiot. You’re awesome. He’s really lucky I don’t just snatch you away for myself.” His whole body freezes as if he said something he didn’t mean to. You look at him, eyes wide and muscles tense. “W…what?” You ask tentatively. But he stands up, walking away while waving his arms around, “Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But you can see the tips of his ears are bright red, and he’s tapping his foot on the ground, something he only does when nervous. You stand up and walk over, staying behind him. “Johnny, it’s something. Just tell me, it’ll be ok.” He takes a deep breath before speaking, still turned away from you. “I said he was lucky I didn’t take you for myself. I didn’t mean to say it, but honestly, it’s true. I mean, what kind of idiot doesn’t like the most stunning person alive? I just…I said too much, and I didn’t want to weird you out because you’re such a great friend and…” He’s babbling on, saying way too much and not making a ton of sense.

But you grab his hand lightly, which causes him to turn around. His eyes are watery, his cheeks and the tip of his nose are red, and his mouth is scrunched up in a frown. You can’t help but smile at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “Do you like me, Johnny?” He nods like a child, free hand coming up to wipe his eyes. “I like you too,” you say with a smile, no longer nervous or guilty of your feelings. He sniffles, looking at you with his wide brown eyes, “Really? You do?” As you nod, he sort of snaps back to usual, but not in a performative way, in a happy way. “Well of course you do! Who could resist all this?” He smiles before pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear before he pulls away. But not fully, as you two lock eyes, and the air grows thick again. You swallow hard, eyes darting across his face nervously. He cups your face with his left hand, and slowly leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s exactly like him, warm and gentle, and it makes you dizzy. In fact, you feel your knees buckle slightly, which he laughs at into the kiss. As he pulls away to breathe again, you can’t help but feel hungry for more. You’ve only gotten a taste of what you’ve wanted for so long, and it’s very appetizing.

Johnny quickly pulls you back to the couch, barely able to think before you find yourself on his lap, hands wandering around your back, eyes locked onto yours. His touch is even more intoxicating than normal, with heavy breathing and racing hearts shared between you two. One hand reaches your neck, pulling you back in. But he’s not as gentle this time, like he’s trying to devour you whole. His other hand is on your hip, guiding you to grind against him slowly. Your hands wrap around his neck loosely. He groans into your mouth, squeezing tighter. You feel his tongue in your mouth, desperate for more of you, more than there is. You can feel yourself growing wetter, so high that your previous inhibitions are gone. Everything is happening so fast, and you’re starting to feel desperate.

He finally breaks away, panting heavily, before looking at you needily. And with how pretty his flushed face is and how badly he wants you, you can’t help but slide down to the floor between his legs. His pupils are blown out, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He tries desperately to pull his pants down quickly, struggling slightly.  But he finally frees himself, cock bouncing out as the angry red tip leaks out. He’s embarrassed, turning his head away slightly, but keeping his eyes locked on you. You have no time to tease, absolutely hungry for him, for this. You take him in your mouth, getting most of the way down before you stop, looking up at him sweetly. He gasps, eyes wide and hands clutching at the couch cushions. You start to move, swirling your tongue around him as you keep a steady pace. His eyelids are fluttering, and very quickly he darts his hands out to grab your face lightly, bringing you up to face him. “C-can I film you? I just…I’ve wanted this for so long and you just look so pretty and I just…I don’t want to forget this, any detail of this.” 

You nod lazily, a smile spreading across your lips as you watch him scramble for his phone. He holds it up, hands shaking as he starts filming. You decide to put on a show for him, looking up through your lashes as you go down again, able to get almost all the way down, gagging slightly. He white knuckles the phone, staring at you intensely. His other hand comes up, grabbing your hair in one hand. His voice rasps out, “Wanna see that face, all of it. God, you’re so good at this. Fuck…” He sighs as you reach your hand out, starting to stroke him as you lean your head down, licking at his balls. He jumps slightly, but the most lovely whine escapes his lips, so you continue, trying to overwhelm him with pleasure. And overwhelm him you do, as he starts squirming back and forth at the intensity of it all, more heady whines. He finally remembers to hold the camera steady, trying to still himself. But as you go down again, rapid and sloppy moves, eyes watering as you look up again, his grasp on your hair tightens. He cries out as he cums, shuddering as you keep going, swallowing it all. You pull off with a pant, looking into the camera and sticking out your tongue to show what you did. He’s breathing hard, letting go of your hair and going slightly slack on the couch. But he tugs at your shirt, pulling it over your head. Even fucked out, he wants more.

You stand up, half-naked, and he tries his hardest to get your pants off too. But his hands are too shaky, and he’s trying to keep his grip on the camera. So you step back and slowly peel them off for him, and you can see his cock twitch slightly at the sight of you. You climb back on top of him, kissing him gently. But he leans to the side, propping the phone against the arm of the couch, and flips to the front camera. He shuffles down a little, leaning slightly to pull his pants down further as you pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his warm skin against yours. He kisses your cheek, and down your neck, reveling in the way you arch your back at the feeling. He whispers out shakily, “You ready? Gonna put a show on for me?” You nod, head dizzy again, as he rubs himself against you, audibly groaning at the feeling. He has no time to waste, sinking into you with a heady whimper. You gasp, taking a second to adjust to him, feeling his hands cling to your hips.

But it’s not long before he’s bucking up into you, using his grip on you for leverage. He’s bit down on your shoulder, whimpers slipping out. Your arms are behind his neck, clinging to him like your life depended on it. You feel him let go, raspy whispers in your ear, “You’re so hot, shit, so tight around me. You like putting on a show for me? Yeah?” You nod, moans pushed out at the force he’s moving now. His voice is shaking more now, but he can’t stop talking, “Shit, I don’t know if it’s the weed talking or what, but you’re so fucking good. Can’t believe I didn’t tell you sooner-” He’s cut off, a whimper as he manages to push deeper, completely enveloped in you. He’s losing his mind, hands wrap around your back for more leverage. But it’s not long before he’s cumming again, a whine as he pushes you down as far as he can. He’s trembling more, heavy pants in your ear. But finally, he’s lifting you and setting you down on the couch. Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to calm down after everything. 

That is until he grabs the phone and puts it in your hands. Confused, you look at him, but suddenly, he’s between your thighs, kneeling on the ground. “Can’t leave you wanting, especially after all that.” He dives in, with no sense of patience, as he sucks at your throbbing clit. His fingers pump inside you, your wetness mixing with his cum. You keep the camera on his face, legs pushed apart as you flinch at your sensitivity. He’s looking up at you, sweet eyes locked on you. He lets go slightly, mumbling into you, “Good job, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” You’re moaning, high-pitched, and slipping from your lips. He’s whining into your sopping cunt, vibrations against your clit causing more jumps. But you cling to him, eyes screwed shut as you cum hard, feeling his tongue lapping everything up with fervor. He finally separates from you, sitting down on the couch with an exhale.

He takes the phone, stopping the recording as he puts his arm around you. “I’ll save those for later,” he says, making you giggle slightly, but you’re quite tired. “We should get high more often, huh?” You snuggle into him, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat under your ear. “Maybe. But hey, those videos better not get leaked or anything.” Your words cause him to whine out, slightly annoyed. “Come on, you know me! I would never. Besides…it would make too many people jealous, you know? Such a pretty thing like you, all for myself.” You laugh again before looking up at him, sleepy but happy eyes. “You’re stuck with me now, by the way.” He hugs you tight, squeezing you with a wide smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[where-the-giants-are]

Big Brother Beast Protection (Older Brothers / Monsterfication / G/t / SFW)

(This was initially posted on my patreon. If you want to support, feel free to at the link at the bottom, just be aware the material on the page is not always appropriate)

—————

“Trick or treat!”

The chorus of children’s voices grew louder across the street as a trio of brothers approached the house of Old Woman Jolene. Watching the other group of kids leave before them, the two elder brothers, James and Marcus, couldn’t help but glance at each other with a hint of nostalgia. This was the same house they had visited every Halloween since they could remember, the one with the homemade cookies and the stories Miss Jolene would ramble on about. Though the older brothers were too old to be trick-or-treating, dressed in simple graphic t-shirts and jeans. They were only back in town on break from their studies, though the older brothers couldn’t say no when they’re little brother Timmy wanted to go.

Old Woman Jolene’s house remained unchanged over the years, a beacon of familiarity amidst the ever-evolving street. Its once vibrant paint had faded into a comforting pastel, the garden that surrounded it had grown wild with age, though it remained a charming spectacle of ghosts, goblins, and glowing pumpkins. Walking up to the porch, the creaking of the wooden boards beneath their feet seemed to echo the anticipation in Timmy’s eyes. The skeleton costume boy practically vibrated as James and Marcus made sure he didn’t fall over, holding onto their little brother’s hands.

“Trick or treat!” Timmy’s voice muffled by his skull mask, holding his pumpkin shaped pale to Miss Jolene.

“Oh, what a sweet skeleton.” Old Woman Jolene said with a smile from where she stood in her doorway. The old lady’s spectacles sparkling as she took in the costumed boy, handing over a small bag filled with the homemade treats the neighbourhood talked about throughout the year.

“What do we say Timmy?” James guided, crouching down and watching the younger brother bounce on the balls of his feet as he looked into his bag.

“Thank you, Old Lady Jolene,” Timmy said, the young boy unaware of the startled cough both James and Marcus let out at their brother’s lack of filter. Though Marcus coughed to hide a laugh that forced out of him, James was more shocked before turning back to Miss Jolene.

“I’m so sorry Miss Jolene,” The flushed James said, his apologies cut off as Jolene laughed and shook her head.

“Oh it’s okay. I know the nicknames the kids give me. In fact, I remember when you two were kids and whispered how I had to be a witch,” the older woman said, almost cackling when the college aged students blushed at the comment, “besides, I am an old lady.”

“Are you a witch?” Timmy asked, much to James’ chagrin and Markus’ amusement. Old Woman Jolene didn’t seem upset at all, smiling sweetly at the young boy.

“Oh I’m not some scary monster. Just an old lady who makes good cookies and tea, you should ask my bridge partners,” Jolene said, giving a cheeky wink at Timmy before looking back to Markus and James. “And what have you boys been up to? Haven’t seen you both for months.”

“Just back from college. Ma and Pa had to go to some party so we got saddled with babysitting,” Marcus said, laughing when Timmy turned at him, claiming he was a big boy now, “You're still our baby brother.”

“So sweet you two help keep your brother safe,” Jolene smiled, leaving Marcus and Timmy to keep talking as she turned to James. “With how times are, it's always best to be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, never realised before just how dangerous the street can be at night.” James said, wincing a bit when he recalled the speeding cars the brothers saw earlier, all the more reason the older brothers kept a close watch on Timmy.

“Well, you and Marcus deserve a reward for your hard work,” Jolene said before, turning briefly to grab something from within the open doorway. Pulling her hand back, she presented it to James. Resting in her palm were two perfectly crafted sugar cookies, the treats expertly decorated and carved to look like monsters from a kids story book. “Just for you two strong boys.”

James took the cookies, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, Miss Jolene. These will help keep us going,” He said, passing one to Marcus who took it with a grin and his own thanks.

“You’re welcome. Remember to watch out for each other and enjoy the night,” she said, her eyes lingering on the older brothers for a moment before she turned back to Timmy, “And you make sure to have fun little one.”

“Okay, thank you.” Timmy said, a smile clearly heard in his voice. He turned towards his brothers, “Can we go to another house now?”

“Sure thing you little gremlin.” Marcus laughed, helping Timmy down as the two made their way off. “Thanks again Jolene,” Marcus called back, taking a bit of the gifted cookie.

“Thank you Miss Jolene, have a good night.” James said, following after his brothers as he waved back to the elderly staple of the neighbourhood. Taking his own bite of the cookie, a purple horned demon like monster, James couldn’t help but let out a relaxed breath through his nose. The familiar taste of citrus and almond reminded the college student of the cookies he would always get from the old woman, though the nostalgic taste had something different. Not enough to completely change his memory, but just a slight nagging of a difference. Shaking his head, James moved to catch up with his brothers.

The street grew quieter as the trio walked on, moving apart from the clustered groups of trick-or-treaters, the siblings walking at a comfortable pace as Timmy chatted away about the treats he was getting, occasionally saying he might share some with the older brothers. Marcus took the lead, his taller height making it easy to spot any potential dangers on their path. James himself brought up the rear of the group, his eyes always looking over the little skeleton that was his brother. Going along the pavement, James and Marcus didn’t notice the slight changes occurring over their bodies, even as the occasional passerby did a double take at the older brother’s forms, though writing it off as some impressive costumes.

Coming up the next house, Marcus paused as he felt something off. It was like he did a full body stretch, his clothes feeling tighter than usual as he shifted in his too tight shoes. Glancing down at his arms, Markus saw his sleeves now pulled back over his enlarged biceps, which had bulged significantly with new size as the oddly longer limbs seemed to be sprouting new hairs. Turning over to his brothers, Markus glanced over the oblivious Timmy before looking at James. The twin brother was also looking back at him with wide eyes, seeming to have experienced his own change with his lanky body thickened out more, his graphic shirt and jeans tightened over his thickening limbs and torso. Whilst both brother’s bodies were changing to grow larger, Markus’ body seemed to be sprouting dark hair whilst James’ had spreading patches of scales across his exposed limbs. Their mouths open in shock showed their teeth had begun to sharpen, James’ taking on a fang like look, whilst Markus’ pushed out from his bottom lip like the beginning of tusks.

“Come on,” The mentally panicking brothers were pulled from their thoughts. The transforming brothers looked down, noticing how they had gotten taller too as Timmy called out and tugged on their trousers. The young boy seemed unaware of the transformation that occurred to his brothers. “Can we go to the door now?”

“O-oh,” James smiled, wincing with how forced it felt and how deep his voice sounded as he crouched down. Still towering over as his broadened body stretched his shirt more, feeling two slight bumps sprouting along his upper back. The seat of his pants audible creaking against his thickened form. “Why don’t you try going up to the door by yourself?”

“Really?” Timmy’s eyes sparkled behind his mask in excitement before turning to Markus. The other brother’s broadened form looked even larger compared to Timmy, with his furry form growing out as his stretched shirt showed along with the layer of muscles and fat, but two growing mounds coming out under his arms.

“Y-Yeah, we’ll be right over here and keep an eye out,” Markus said, his own voice cracking a bit with the deepening tone. Coughing into a now clawed fist as he tried to clear his throat. “And if you get scared, just come right back to us, okay?”

Timmy nodded eagerly, practically bouncing before he rushed off along the path to the front door, leaving his transforming brothers behind.

“And no pushing!” James called out, visibly wincing at his louder and deep voice as a few passing groups side-eyed him before they kept on going. Though the people around them didn’t seem so shocked by the towering juggernaut beasts, James waited till he made sure Timmy was talking with some other kids before focusing back on Markus. “What the Fuck is happening?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Markus replied, his eyes wide with shock as he felt his body expand, the heavy limbs both tired like he just did an intense workout, and yet filled with untold energy. Mark bit back a grunt as the changes seemed to accelerate, the mounds pushing out from his thickening lats tore through his tightened shirt, growing into an additional set of arms. The new limbs mirrored his muscular upper arms, all four were covered in thick, brown fur that matched the spreading patches across his body. Markus blinked as his vision briefly seemed to double, feeling as a second set of eyes began to form just above his cheeks. A glance downwards showing his shirt was gone, leaving the fur covered mass of his chest and rounded gut on display, his lower half out of sight, though he knew his now hand-like feet had torn through the sneakers he wore. Looking back up to James, Markus saw that whilst his transformation took him into a mutated King Kong look, James had gone a seeming draconic appearance.

James’s body looked like a mix of a powerlifter and something straight out of a fantasy novel. The patches of scales had spread across his entire body, a mix of green hues that glistened under the street lights. James' jeans had torn along the back as the itch of his tailbone was the only signal he got before the enlarged tail burst through the fabric. The new limb whipped back and forth behind him, knocking over some garden decorations whilst passersby walked around the limb. James’ shoes tore open with a loud screech as his clawed feet stretched out, carving into the concrete that cracked under their immense weight.. His ragged shirt fluttering off his impressive torso, exposing his impressive form as two powerful wings emerged from his back, stretching out wide with a mighty flap that almost took out some laughing teens. Two bumps began to sprout from the dragon-like James’ temples, growing into small horns, curving upwards slightly along with smaller ones popping along his squaring jaw to give a beard-like effect, only adding to the beastly look of his new form.

The brothers stared at each other, their eyes wide with shock and confusion as though in a matter of minutes they had become veritable monsters, their clothing now in tatters around them save for shorts neither brother remembered purchasing, let alone putting on. Yet, even as the muscular beast men stood tall, most adults in the neighbourhood barely coming up to their stomachs, no one was shocked at the sight of the large monsters.

“Mr Lancer was giving out large chocolate bars,” Timmy called out as he rushed back to his brothers, too busy rummaging through his treat bag to notice his brothers had transformed into creatures that had stepped out of a blockbuster movie. Timmy’s light voice was the only sound that pierced the awkward silence that had descended upon James and Markus. The two enlarged brothers looked around, noticing how no one was screaming nor running at the sight of the monstrous college students. Instead, they were met with polite smiles and the occasional grumble for taking up space on the pavement. The transformation had gone unnoticed by everyone except the transformed brothers themselves. Both beastly brother’s had to lean to look over their barrel-like chests and stomachs to see Timmy looking back up at them. The already small boy was now barely clearing his older brother’s shins, “Can we go to another house?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, sure Timmy,” Marcus managed to reply, his voice now a deep, guttural rumble, his additional arms awkwardly resting by his sides. Looking over, he watched James take a tentative step, his clawed toes digging into the sidewalk with a dull thud whilst his tail swished nervously behind him. Seeing the usually composed James flinch from his own heavy step, especially since Markus himself wasn’t comfortable walking with Timmy out of sight , Markus crouched down low to get closer to Timmy. “How about I carry you for the last few houses, okay?”

“But I’m not a baby. I can keep walking.” Timmy said, the same thing he’d always say whenever the older siblings offer to carry him. Though the want of the little brother’s independence was outweighed heavily with Markus’ and James’ worry of accidentally stepping on him.

“W-Well, don’t you want to see over the trees?” James suggested, coughing as his deep voice came with a slight crack, the taste of smoke just lingering in the back of his throat. “And besides, if we carry you, we can get to more houses faster.”

“Really?” Timmy looked up at the monstrous behemoths that were his brothers, earning nods before the youngest brother seemed to think it over. Of course, James and Markus already knew Timmy’s decision since their brother always played up thinking things over. “Okay.”

“Alright then little guy, now - Whoa, hold on!” Markus began to say, initially trying to figure out the best way to grab his younger brother as he and James didn’t want to risk testing their new strength. Only for the caution and plan to be thrown out as Timmy jumped and grabbed onto one of Markus’ lower hands. The multiarmed brother wincing at the pull of his fur before he helped Timmy up into his palm. Standing back to his full height, Markus sighed, he and James watched as Timmy took his seat within Markus’s palm, holding onto the claw tipped fingers that held him in place.

“Come on. We gotta go before they stop giving out candy!” Timmy said, slapping Markus’ fingers as he pointed down the straight. “Oh, Please.” He added, catching the sight of James’ raised eyebrow.

“At least he said please,” Markus chuckled out, a deep rumble before he made his way along the street. Earning a shaking head from James as the draconic brother followed, remind Markus to watch his step as the titanic brothers' march shook their tiny neighbourhood. And though James and Markus didn’t know how they became huge behemoths, nor what they were going to do tomorrow. Albeit, James mentally reminded himself to speak with Jolene again when he spotted the older woman’s house, and his improved eyesight catching the sight of Old Woman Jolene waving to him from her window.

But for now, the gigantic men were just happy to help their small brother out. Especially since having two giant monsters at your door really encouraged the owners to give their best treats to the skeleton clad Timmy.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

hi 🐊 me again

i figured id ask soneone who actually gives a rats ass about colm since most of my pals dont lol ^-^ last ask posted gave me the push to ask

i think a lot about kieran describing colms happiness as "a ray of sunshine" when speaking about him at the campfire. of course it could just mean that kieran isnt being treated horribly, and thats a ray of sunshine to the him, but i like to think his standards are a little higher even if they never get met.

ive always liked to imagine it as actually meaning something, at least to kieran. its lead me to believe that in an ideal world, kieran was moreso colms personal errand boy rather than just the gangs as a whole, that would make all of the o'driscolls recognizing him make sense. and that would also make the "sunshine" line make more sense too, if kieran was colms own little whipping boy, they would probably have a slightly closer relationship than most. after all, during the camp raid in chapter 1, we do see kieran directly grabbed snd hit by colm.

but im mostly curious about your thoughts on it all, especially as someone whos colm brained (i am trying to get myself there honestly ^-^). id looooove to know your interpretation of that line and what it says about the o'driscoll leader !! its always stuck out to me considering how little they try to humanize colm elsewhere for most of the game, and kieran says it with so much energy that youre stuck believing him.

Oh man, I am glad to get this ask because I love colm discussions. I kind of lagged on answering this because I wasn’t sure if I could actually bring a lot of interesting stuff up to talk about. Colm had so little screen time that it’s hard for me to get a grasp.

Okay. So… sunshine… ☀️

When Kieran said this it immediately made me think of cyclical abuse tactics where there is a period of good treatment followed by destruction.

I believe Colm is much the same as Dutch with having the ability to draw people in and stick with a commonality + a common goal. The O’D are drawn together by the commonality of being Irish heritage (despite Colm being American but has an Irish name). Their common goal is money and the outlaw freedom to do bad and feel invincible in numbers.

Colm doesn’t put a lot of 1:1 time with his gang so I can’t assert how he treats the rest of the gang (likely like a distant boss). But I can make a guess how he treats his close circle of people based off of Kieran’s dialogue.

Why is Kieran selected to stick with the gang? That deserves its own post, but let’s pretend Colm took a liking to Kieran and let him be the personal whipping boy; Someone who showed he was malleable enough to not put up a fight when bossed around (and disposable).

As for the sunshine, I think that could be Kieran recalling the times Colm had treated him well. Not just “he didn’t punch me today. Yay!” But 1:1 personal attention that is so far from what Colm usually does for the rest that it makes Kieran feel on top of the world. Of course he isn’t actually treated well, but it is that friendly talking and ease of laughter that makes Kieran almost forget it’s not sincere.

I think Kieran would be touch starved, and Colm knows this, so he uses brief kind gestures of touch to persuade Kieran. This is me being me but I rlly like Colm touching people’s hair. It is such an invasive and personal thing to do but also 🗣️♥️head scratches and getting your hair played with feels nice‼️♥️. It’s that dissonance between “this is creepy but also I haven’t been shown kindness since my parents died.”

It’s compared to sunshine because Colm’s nice attention is like being singled out by the sun in a cold mountain. It is a spotlight.

The flip side of “when he’s angry, it’s like the devil is upon you” is harder for me to define. I sometimes struggle with media analysis when it comes to imagining things I don’t get to clearly see in the media. Leaving stuff to the imagination is powerful, but I need something of substance to bite into for me to analyze.

I feel like Colm’s anger can be unpredictable. He has the men power and persistence to extend his anger not just to you when he is before you, but to you at all times. I don’t think Kieran was only paranoid, I think he had good reason to fear every moment he was being watched. The one time he let down his guard, he was snatched. There are also letters across the game written by O’Driscolls where they make threats and allude to them stalking people.

Colm’s anger in person is hard to read. I don’t think he yells except in a few cases, he always whispers and talks in such an eerie way. Pardon me as I copy and paste what I told some friends on the topic of his voice…

“He talks in a way that fries my brain because I know I shouldn’t trust him and he DOES sound untrust worthy but I can’t get my claws into what specifically is setting off my radar.

[in blessed are the peacemaker] After the threatening “I liked Annabell” line, Colm is so ominously silent, drawing out the tension moments longer before he just???? Smiles and almost laughs. It’s so playful and harmless sounding (without the context of the situation). Such a fucking 180 and unseriousness. He also says ‘you’ve always liked the ladies,’ as if Colm knows how shallow and fast Dutch likes and falls out with women.

And then the ‘I like that about you,’ whisper is just… Colm. Very colmy. Just whispering something as if it’s some secret or to emphasize it.

Colm is incapable of going one sentence without changing his tone/delivery/pacing/breathiness all to throw off how to read him.

He talks like he is a three headed snake-rat-vulture chimera.”

He turns on a dime when talking to Kieran in Chapter 1 (mission Old Friend? I forgot the name). He holds an amicable conversation for a few moments before something suddenly cues Colm to grab Kieran and give him two quick slaps across the face, then shove him and yell at him. It’s brief, but Colm has been shown to have the capacity to get his hands directly on people, not just use his gang as an extension of his hands. I also want to mention the intentions detail of Colm being atop his horse and leaning down to talk to Kieran. Visual story telling/signifying rank and dynamic. Even when speaking amicably, Colm is in command.

I wish I had more research in my brain of manipulation tactics that would lead to this, but I do think Colm either keeps easy to influence people or already morally corrupt people in his ranks so they’ll easily align with him when he is angry. Hence Kieran mentioning how “he’s mad. And you’re upset and you don’t know why… as long as it isn’t directed at you, you don’t care!”

^ I believe what I am talking about are “Flying Monkeys” in the context of psychology and narcissists. Brief rehashing of what TheraminTrees taught me but it’s when people knowingly or unknowingly are recruited by narcissists to extend their influence / control beyond direct interactions.

I don’t think just anyone could be slotted into Colm’s gang and especially not his close ring of people. That man had an eye for picking people who will easily follow and carry out his bidding.

I don’t think the game could have humanized him a whole lot outside of one of his abuse victims briefly mentioning how colm had moments of good treatment. As the audience (extra: as the audience looking through Arthur’s eyes), there is no good way the game could have made ups sympathize or respect Colm because we ourselves aren’t the kind of people who would believe the sickly sweet lies Colm drip feeds to keep his men by his side.

I do like how they managed to at least briefly allude to a “kind” side to Colm. It would have been so easy to paint Colm as a black and white bad man with no redeeming traits (and I am sure that’s how some fans see him if they missed or ignored Kieran’s camp interaction). But that tiny mention makes him so interesting to me.

As much as I hate how little screen time he got, that’s in character for him. He is elusive, he is hard to read, he is contradictory in how he talks (sounding so humored one minute and deathly silent the next). He is… so. God damn. Slimy.

I love Colm as a character so much it is actually driving me ballistics.

SIGHHHH LONG ANALYSIS BUT ANYWAYS thank you for sending this ask this was a good use of like…. Two hours.

[thewildwaffle]

The Gardener - Part 8

Thanks to A_R_K on archiveofourown for this prompt about the uncanny valley.

Part 1&2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

In retrospect, Nipti supposed the situation at hand was inevitable. He’d been taking a break while working on the support beams for some vigbri climbing vines when he noticed the strange ship sitting near the edge of his gardens, right up against the wild tree line. That was odd. When had that landed? It’s not like he was right next to the edge of his lands, but he was certainly close enough that the fact that he hadn’t heard the ship come in was strange. What’s more, when visitors to his gardens came by, they usually landed their ships next to his large workshop. Deciding that the support beams he’d spent the last quarter of the cycle on were going to keep standing and doing their job, Nipti decided he’d go and intercept his latest visitors before they could trample anything. If they’d just landed near the dang workshop like everyone is supposed to, they’d come across the posted rules and instructions that Marley had set up. Then, Nipti could otherwise ignore them unless they specifically needed something from him. Oh well. As much as he enjoyed not interacting with people other than Marley, he enjoyed making sure his gardens were treated with the respect they deserved from guests. It took a while to find the new guests. They’d already wandered a bit from their ship. Nipti looked around their landing area. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. Thank the stars, their ship must have some great landing gear that didn’t create branch-breaking and petal-tearing gusts during descent. Perhaps that was also why Nipti didn’t notice the ship’s approach in the first place. The guests themselves had wandered off and were slowly meandering through the gardens, staying on the walking paths, Nipti appreciatively noticed. There were three of them. Two of them stared silently at him as he approached. The third was crouched over, looking intently at a plant that immediately sent Nipti’s alarm bells off.

“Don’t touch that!” He called out. The crouching guest turned to stare at him silently like its companions. Nipti was going to say that the plant the visitor was about to touch was quite delicate, and depending on their species, could be dangerous, but the words froze in his mouth before he could. Ah. He’d thought something like this would happen eventually. Before him stood three humans. They looked different than Marley. Taller. Paler. Their eyes were set a little deeper in their faces. There was something else that seemed different, but Nipti couldn’t quite pin down what it was. He shook his head. Of course they looked different than Marley! He may not be an expert on humans, but even he knew humans came in all kinds of shapes, sizes, colors, and dispositions. Still, he was worried of what Marley’s reaction might be to other humans arriving at the gardens. Would Marley be standoffish and territorial? Or maybe excited? They’d both been working on Marley’s piece of junk ship whenever they had the time or parts, but with other humans showing up, would Marley decide to go with them? It was something Nipti knew had been a possibility, but one he kept pushing from his mind whenever it came up. Not anymore, he supposed. Whatever Marley decided to do would be their own decision, and Nipti would do his best to be supportive of whatever his friend decided. “Sorry, that plant there might not be dangerous to humans, but as the gardener here, I ask that you not disturb anything while visiting,” he finally broke the silence. The three smiled at him simultaneously. Nipti tried not to shiver. Marley was always mindful of not baring teeth while smiling to not appear predatory or threatening. These three were not so inclined. Nipti wondered if their diet was different than Marley’s, as their teeth appeared to be sharper. “My name’s Garbon Nipti. I noticed you’d just arrived and thought I’d come and see if there’s anything I can do for you. There are maps available near my workshop there if you’re looking to study a specific garden or specimen.” Nipti gestured to the area in question. “We are just perusing,” one of the humans that had been staring unblinkingly at him as he approached said. Their voice was level and somewhat monotonous. Very different than Marley’s bouncing cadences. Nipti waited for a moment for them to introduce themselves as he had, but they remained silent and still. He stood there as long as he could until the uncomfortableness of it all became too much. “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’ll be working nearby.” He would have also mentioned that they could also get help from Marley, but a part of him hoped they didn’t cross paths. His stomach tied itself into knots. He shouldn’t hope that. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was so afraid that if they did, then Marley would leave with them. Nipti frowned and shook his head as he started walking back to the vigbri climbing vines. No. He shouldn’t be so selfish. He’d always known other humans would visit his gardens eventually. Their kind wandered all over the place! “If Marley does want to go,” he said to himself under his breath, “then I need to be supportive. No matter how much… how much I’d miss...”

He was so lost in thought that he nearly ran over Marley. “Woah, hey Nipti!” Marley laughed and acted as if they’d lost balance from the run-in. Nipti was significantly shorter than the human, so he knew it was just an act. Marley stood back up straight and looked Nipti up and down. “You okay? You look like you’re lost.” Nipti nearly scoffed. “Lost? I walk this path several times a day. How could I be lost?” “Lost in thought,” Marley corrected. “Like you’re physically here, trying to run me over and whatnot, but your mind is a million segments away.” “Oh,” was all Nipti could respond. He supposed he had been rather preoccupied thinking about the new guests to the garden. Should he tell Marley? He was starting to second-guess himself now. If he didn’t bring them up and Marley didn’t cross paths with them, maybe his friend might never even know they were here, let alone leave with them? The gardens were big, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Would that make him a bad friend? Was it his responsibility to tell Marley, just in case? While Nipti struggled with his options, Marley waited patiently with a cheerful smile. That did it. Nipti decided he needed to stick to his original resolve. “Marley, there’s some new guests that just landed by the wild tree line.” Marley’s head tilted a bit. “Why would they land there when I just repainted the landing pad last decacycle? Are they causing trouble? Need me to muscle ‘em outa here?” “Uh, no. No,” Nipti stammered slightly and shook his head. “I… actually, I think you should meet them. They… they’re human. They’re just back there, from where I was coming from.” Marley’s face lit up. “Oh for real? Yeah, I’d love to! I wonder where they’re originally from. It feels like giga-cycles since I’ve seen other humans. Come on, let’s go meet them!” With the “let’s,” Nipti grudgingly followed behind his chipper friend, trying to not let his glumness show and damper the mood. Life, he supposed, would just go back to normal before Marley came. The old workload, the old quiet, the old solitude. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be the same normal. He had gotten much better and bolder at dealing with rude or destructive visitors, having seen and followed Marley’s example. The habit of “jerry-rigging” different contraptions and systems had also rubbed off in some cases when proper solutions weren’t always available. And if Nipti were honest, the solitude would perhaps feel a bit more like… loneliness.

They were getting close to where Nipti had left the new garden guests. They must have wandered a bit down into the Quilb orchard. Nipti reflexively tensed. Those orchards had some very rare specimens, some of which native folklore claimed had mystical properties. Nipti didn’t put much stock into the latter, but he still prized those trees and the flower buds that were about half a decacycle from blooming. “I hope they’re still staying on the paths,” Nipti muttered, mostly to himself. Marley came to a stop at the overlook of the orchard. Nipti stopped as well, scanning the area. He quickly spotted the three figures through the foliage and pointed them out. “There they are.” Marley didn’t move. “Uh,” Nipti was sure his friend had seen them. They were hard to miss. Marley was staring right at them. After a moment, Nipti put a hand on Marley’s arm. “Is something wrong?” Maybe this whole pause and staring thing was some strange human custom. If it was, it looked like it was working. The figures were now starting to move closer and he could see the pale faces with their deep-set eyes staring back up at them.

Before Nipti could even register what was happening, Marley had scooped him up, turned, and ran back the way they had come. Nipti wasn’t that much smaller than a fully grown human, but Marley threw him up over the shoulder and sprinted away like he weighed nothing. Nipti’s arms scrambled on Marley’s back, trying to get leverage to steady himself enough to hold himself up to see just WHAT THE FREWAN WAS GOING ON?! “Marley!” Nipti cried out and nearly got smacked in the head by an overgrown bush as the human in question banked hard on a sharp turn. If Marley heard him in the mad scramble, there was no response given besides heavy breathing and a jostle as Nipti’s weight was readjusted mid-stride. Nipti looked back behind them. The other humans weren’t following, or at least, it didn’t look like they were. He couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t giving chase. But why would they? Why would there be a need to chase? Why was Marley running? Marley only slowed down once they reached a utility shed Only then did it occur to Nipti - humans have a stereotype of being foolhardily brave. Whatever his friend had seen from those other humans had really spooked Marley. The type of adrenaline that comes from being mortally afraid started seeping into the corners of Nipti’s brain. He said nothing more as they ran into the shed and shut the doors. Neither said a word as they bunkered down into the best hiding spots they could manage. Marley took a spot somewhat near the door, under a small window, and would periodically and discreetly peek out to check if they’d been followed. Thankfully, there was yet to be any indication that that was the case.

It felt like an eternity before Nipti finally found his voice again. “Why were we running from those other humans?” Marley kept staring out the window, scanning the area silently for a moment longer. “Those weren’t humans.” “What?” Nipti frowned. Not human? He hadn’t really met other humans besides Marley, but it’s not like they’re super easy to mix up with other species. “Well then, what are they?” Marley’s gaze turned from the window to look back at him, confused and thinking. “I… I don’t know.” “They looked human.” “Yeah,” Marley whispered and said nothing more. They sat watching and listening. The silence was starting to get to Nipti. He felt like he was being hunted, and he needed to do something besides just wait to be found. It was only now that Nipti noticed how the small hairs on Marley’s arms and neck were standing straight up. “Hey, come on, please. What’s going on? Do we need to call for help?” Marley took a shaky breath and nodded. Nipti reached for his pack and had a small moment of terror as he reached in and couldn’t immediately find his comm. After shuffling around some twist ties and a pair of shears, he found it in a side pocket. He quickly messaged the closest neighbor he knew. Thankfully, they messaged back right away that they’d come over. She was a large biet, so hopefully if those humans-that-weren’t-humans were still around, they’d be intimidated away by her muscular bulk and large teeth.

It took a while for the neighbor to arrive, making for a long and tense wait. Even though she was the closest in proximity, Nipti’s gardens were so sprawling, that she was still quite a distance away. Nipti nearly jumped when his comm sounded an alert of an incoming call. “Hello?” Nipti noticed a bit of a tremble in his voice. “Hey Nipti, it’s Glenna,” the biet’s voice sounded a bit tinny on the old comm’s speaker setting. “I’m here. I don’t see anything out of order, at least I don’t think I do. There’s a small ship over here by your main warehouse, but I’m pretty sure it belongs to the family of duibs that I saw meandering around a few mentiks ago. Your gardens are looking great! You’ve expanded a lot since I was here last. Where are you at now?” Nipti took a deep breath. “We’re in a small shed out near the edge of the gardens by the wild tree line. Do you see any ship over there?” “No, there’s nothing out there,” came the response. “Are you okay? You seem a bit shaken up.” “I… I am feeling a bit shaky, yes. Thank you again for coming over. I’ll be over to you soon.” Nipti looked up from the comm device to Marley. Marley looked out the window again then back to Nipti. “They’re gone?” “Apparently. We… we should get out here.” “Yeah.” Nipti had never seen his friend so subdued and skittish. They both walked as if their heads were on swivels as they went together back to the main warehouse.

Despite not wanting to talk too loudly so as to draw attention from any unwelcome, unseen entities, Nipti had to know something. “How did you know they weren’t human? Are you sure they weren’t?” Marley didn’t respond immediately. “I… I’m not sure how I knew, but I just knew. There was something about them that just set me off. It was like they were straight out of the deepest depths of the uncanny valley. Like, they looked almost human, but there was something about them that felt wrong and dangerous.” Marley’s conviction felt strong to Nipti. So they were sure the mystery visitors weren’t human, but he wasn’t sure what the “uncanny valley” was or what that meant. Finally, they started to hear the bright and cheery tones of normal garden visitors. Even though Nipti had always preferred his solitude, he felt a rush of relief at seeing non-”not-human” guests wandering through flower beds and trellises. The relief was even stronger when he finally caught sight of Glenna. Welcoming pleasantries and introductions were polite, but short. Glenna was curious to know more about what was going on. Nipti insisted they go inside for a drink first. Glintsi flower tea for him and Glenna and peppermint for Marley. Recalling the day’s events took only a few minutes. Both Nipti and Glenna shared a particular interest in what Marley had meant by describing the visitors as being “from the uncanny valley.” It wasn’t some geologic location, but a psychological theory that the more something or someone looks human, the cuter humans think they are, up to a point. There was a space somewhere between “almost” and “completely” human that “cuteness” dropped significantly and instead freaked humans out. Usually, it was with robotics and inanimate objects. When it happened with living things, it made the uncanniness so much worse. “Well,” Glenna finished her cup and sat back, “from what I know about humans, you should trust their instincts when they say something is off.” She turned to Marley and smiled. “I know Nipti likes his space and privacy, and I honor that, but I worry about him sometimes. My family and work keep me too busy to really do otherwise anyway. So, I’m glad you’re here. You seem like good company, and with all the visitors coming in and out of the gardens, well, I’m glad he’s not alone.” Marley smiled and agreed.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with more tea and exchanging stories. The sun was nearing the horizon by the time any of them noticed. “Oh, I hadn’t realized it had gotten so late,” Glenna stood up. “I need to get back. I promised my son I’d help him bake some hirtan tarts tonight. If you’d like, I could bring some by tomorrow?” Marley nodded enthusiastically, “Oh yes, thank you. And if you’d like, I could make some dishes I’ve been working on for my little cafe. You can tell me what you think.” “That sounds lovely,” Glenna smiled and started walking toward the door. “It was nice to meet you, Marley. And Nipti, if ever you need help, please don’t be a stranger, you don’t have to do everything all alone, you know.” “That’s what I’m learning,” Nipti returned the smile and bid farewell to Glenna with some additional thanks for coming over.

Nipti waited a few moments once the door was shut before turning back to Marley. “Okay, you’re going to tell me a bit more about the uncanny valley. What the frewan happened in humanity’s past to create a need to know what’s almost-human-but-not-quite?!” Marley blinked and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Nipti waited for more info. Marley looked like they were deep in thought, and needed a bit of time to gather all the thoughts running around their head. “It might have come from hard-wiring in our brains to avoid dead bodies or extreme illnesses? Like, they look human, are human, but something’s obviously wrong and they could be contagious or dangerous. I mean, it’s just a theory, but it does make logical sense to me.” Nipti nodded. It did make sense. “But,” he drawled after a moment of thought, “the visitors today didn’t look like dead bodies. I really thought they were humans. I mean, they looked different than you, but they really looked like they were human?” The unsettled look Marley had earlier that day returned for just a tik. With a shake of the head, Marley stood back up and started gathering up the used tea cups to wash them in the sink. “Listen, I’m not a psychologist, I don’t know why they freaked me out so bad. I don’t know what they were, but I hope I never see them again.” Nipti fully agreed.

[toushindai]

totk spoilers but are we ACTUALLY meant to think it’s poetic or flattering or triumphant that Rauru was like “oh YEAH? Well in thousands of years this guy called Link is gonna kick your ass”

How much has he even heard about Link? He must have had at least one more conversation about him with Zelda because the Master Sword doesn’t come up in the Zelda and Sonia tear, and by the King’s Duty tear Rauru’s just like oh don’t worry, if we don’t finish Ganondorf off I’m sure your bf can handle him. As I’ve said before, his “We rely on your knight” line rubbed me the wrong way starting with its appearance in the trailer, and it really does not feel less entitled after watching said knight (and that legendary sword he carries) very very VERY nearly get one-shotted by Ganondorf at the beginning of the game. And Zelda knows this! What does she feel watching her Better Dad Substitute sacrifice himself and simultaneously sic the evil bad guy on Link—a siccing which explicitly shapes Ganondorf’s attitude towards Link at the beginning of the game? At what point did she have the emotion of “welp. I know why Ganondorf knew Link’s name now.” The musical blending of the LOZ theme/hero’s theme with Rauru’s theme seems to suggest that it’s not an emotion meant to be had at exactly that moment, but I cannot watch Rauru sneer “remember that name” without yelling HE DOESN’T NEED THAT INFORMATION at the screen.

I played through the GSI in Japanese recently and Rauru did seem a touch less entitled to Link than I’ve been reading him—mostly because of the formal, polite, outgroup-equal language he used with him—but I still can’t get over the extent to which Rauru heard about Link a few times and decided, sight unseen, that he was going to clean up Rauru’s mess. My man what made you think that. What gave you the right to decide that. And how frightening to be Zelda and watch Rauru pin all the world’s hope on her beloved knight who Ganondorf absolutely fucking wiped the floor with. We see this worry in her in the Master Sword in Time cutscene! To what extent can Zelda’s transformation and before that her petition to the other tribes of Hyrule for Link’s sake be understood as a forced action due to Rauru’s conviction that Link could do this no sweat? Almost entirely, I feel—but does the game know that?

I just. Isn't it intentional? Doesn't it have to be? The fact that Rauru already needs the correction, once, that he cannot and should not face the Demon King alone. Then his melodramatic claim that Link has got this on lock. Then Zelda being like 😬 not sure about this actually and going through the whole process of talking to the ancient sages + draconifying for the sake of the Master Sword. Because Rauru absolutely set Link up to fail and Zelda is the one making sure Link has the resources, including the support of others, he needs to succeed. And the game is so much about community, about not doing things on your own.

And yet the way the scene is scored and animated and the way all the other characters talk about Rauru's sacrifice seems to treat this as a a moment of culmination, of triumph. I am getting such mixed messages here.

Understand, I’m saying all of this with an aching fondness for this poor self-deluded hypocrite. And also teeth-grinding frustration. I think he deserves to feel suffocatingly humiliated when Link almost didn’t survive Ganondorf’s attack and I also have tremendous sympathy for the shame and terror that it might be far too late to correct his mistake that he must have felt as he waited for Link to wake up. Both of those things. Hopelessly lonely man who found people to love him and built himself into a role he was never adequate for. I wish the game looked at this a little more. I wish I could tell if the game intended this at all.

(This is not the most intelligently written post but I assure you I mean every word of it.)

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Feral Hunter

I wrote most of this in a reblog but thought it deserved its own post as my unwieldy response took on a life of its own, which they have a tendency to do. I’ve added more to it as well so there’s some new extra ramblings on one of my favourite ideas/headcanons/theories for season 3 of The Bad Batch. 

Give me Feral Hunter. My kingdom for Feral Hunter. Completely unhinged, vengeance fueled, feral Hunter. He can go on his Joel Miller/The Mandalorian/John Wick/Liam Neeson in Taken/The Punisher arc, as a little treat.

I've been trying to figure out why I love this idea so much. I think it's because we never really see any of the Batch actually, properly unleash. Sure, they're unconventional and a bit bonkers in their approach but they're still a very well-oiled machine. When they're on a mission, they all know exactly what they're doing, what their roles are, and where their squad mates are. Even when they improvise on the fly, they all adapt fairly easily and smoothly. Everything is still all rather professional, smooth, and efficient. Like they're all operating on muscle memory, which they basically are given how many countless times I'm sure they've trained and done missions together.

Even when the Batch is fighting their way through Kamino, they still operate with that same smooth, efficient, hyper competent professionalism. Despite their unorthodox approach, there's still this sense that they're contained. Never throwing off the shackles and being completely unrestrained. The full unbridled force of their abilities and skills simmering just below the surface, waiting to be given free rein and just obliterate everything.

There's a little hint of this in the opening scene of episode 2x14 'Tipping Point', where the ARC Trooper in Echo comes out to play. But oh, how I would love to see more. From all of them, but especially Hunter. 

Look at his face. Look at that expression and all those emotions from Sergeant Stoic himself, who is usually fairly reserved and contained. Dorito Bod Bandana Space Dad on the warpath to get his ad'ika back, cutting a swathe through the Imperials, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, and taking out anything and everything that even thinks about getting in his way. Hunter goes full Space Rambo mode, ruthlessly taking out Stormtroopers, blood dripping off his vibroblade, eyes wide and deranged, as he turns into a complete animal. His half tattooed skull now completed by the blood of his enemies covering the other side of his face. For extra angst, when he finds Omega, she doesn’t recognise him. The figure standing in the smoking remains of the door to her cell looks like Hunter. Is wearing Hunter’s armour. Is holding Hunter’s vibroknife. But that’s not Hunter. That’s not her buir. Not anymore. And she’s afraid of him. We get a little hint of this at the very end of season 2 and oh ho ho, I am so ready for more. I am so ready for Hunter’s descent into vengeance, revenge and rage. Not just Hunter either, I’d love to see the rest of the Batch unleash as well.

Can you just imagine Wrecker properly unleashing? All of that strength and power finally freed as he rips limbs off Stormtroopers, snapping necks and crushing skulls with his bare hands. The crumpled, pulverised bodies of his enemies discarded behind him as he rages down corridor after corridor of whatever Imperial base they’ve infiltrated. We got a hint of how damaging Wrecker can be when his chip activated but that was chip controlled. This would just be pure Wrecker. 

We see a little more of this in Crosshair's actions and you could also argue that this is chip controlled. Or if his chip has actually been removed, then Crosshair’s actions are definitely still clouded by his Imperial mindset and blind delusion that the Empire is right. Right up until it all goes horribly wrong on Barton-4 and he finally wakes up to the reality of his nightmare. Either way, that unrestrained part of him is still there. The amount of rage and anger that must be building up and festering inside Crosshair is eventually going to explode. When he snaps like he did at the end of 'The Outpost' then there isn’t going to be an Imperial left without a blaster bolt between their eyes. When Hemlock ends up dying (he better), my bet is on Crosshair taking him out and getting revenge. And it won't be pretty. He'd shoot him execution style at the very least. 

I'd love to see Tech (shut up he's alive) completely lose it and finally snap off every ounce of his carefully crafted control. I've written about this before but Tech's combat is exceptionally efficient and precise. He only ever uses the minimum number of shots or moves to take out an enemy because he doesn't need to expend anything beyond what is necessary. Complete economy of form. His combat style is very contained, almost like a mirror of his personality and character. Can you just imagine him snarling and growling like a beast, teeth bared, eyes dark, face distorted in rage, as he slams a Stormtrooper's head into a control panel desk with enough force to crack their helmet and shatter their visor. 

I mentioned above that we've seen a tiny bit of this slightly unhinged quality from Echo. There's another little hint of it when they're all in that training simulation on Kamino.

This gifset from @starqueensthings shows this perfectly, especially the above gif. I love the line they wrote at the top of their post as well, which I'm going to quote in part here: "I’d like to introduce my scomp arm TO YOUR JUGULAR WIRE." This perfectly encapsulates the unhinged quality lurking in Echo. He just leaps onto the back of what looks like the Kaminoan version of a B2 super battle droid and then proceeds to flail and stab madly before plunging his scomp arm into the battle droid's chest and ripping out the droid version of its jugular. Absolutely unhinged behaviour. The absolute madlad.

Now picture Echo finally snapping and doing this to a bunch of Imperials and just absolutely annihilating them. There is so much in him that is screaming to be let out. The general batshittery that comes with being an ARC Trooper. The insanity and chaos of coming from the 501st and Torrent Company. The unconventional, yeet-the-reg-manual-out-the-airlock, bonkers existence of The Bad Batch. Plus all that trauma, fury and rage of what has happened to him, what was done to him, and everything that he’s seen, experienced, endured, suffered, and survived. When the last few frayed threads holding Echo back finally snap he is going to go completely postal.

Is it healthy? No. Is it "good"? Probably not. But my god, would I love to see it.

The Clone Wars has a history of tackling and portraying difficult, multilayered and nuanced topics and we've seen that in The Bad Batch as well. More recent Star Wars series, such as Andor and The Mandalorian, have also had a real interest in showing the murky areas that exist between the good (Republic) and the bad (Imperial). There's been a particular focus on showing that there's a lot more grey than we think, rather than the pure dichotomy between cliched black and white. That sometimes there is no right or wrong decision. That sometimes everything is awful and everyone is stuck in a shitty situation from which there is no way to escape unscathed. In order to make it out alive, lines are going to be crossed. The battle of good vs evil takes on a new edge and the line between good and bad gets very murky.

That quote about how “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain” comes to mind. In this instance, the Batch are still fighting tooth and nail for each other but their sacrifices and actions are starting to take them to much darker places. It’s a classic example of good people being driven to do bad, awful, terrible things when those they love are in danger and they will do whatever it takes to save them.  

The whole 'deeply flawed parental figure seeking vengeance' is a popular trope at the moment as well so Feral Hunter would make sense narratively for a number of reasons.

Will we actually get it? Probably not. And even if we do, it'll probably still be a watered-down kid friendly version.

But oh, just imagine if we did.

[lorelune]

part iv

|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 13.3k  || ao3 || masterlist || ← PREVIOUS + NEXT → ||

As much as you allow yourself to, you 'settle' in.

❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: a!!! chunk!!! AHHHH!!! i'm so excited to finally share more of this piece :'^) thank you endlessly to mao (@itoshisoup) and collab-partner cielo (@firein-thesky) for beta-reading and riffing throughout this piece. their input and edits have been vital to polishing this story and getting it all the way here!! to posting!!! thank you both!!!!! check out the masterlist above to read cielo's piece for this collab <3 leave them and kaeya some love 💓 please enjoy this next chapter, with all its sharp-teeth and softness (and some oral 😎😎!!!!) ENJOY loves!!! <333

...

tags: smoking, vague descriptions of dissociation, references to reader's past, almost-wife (an unnamed oc), some smut (as a treat), soggy soggy soggggy!!!

PART iv: the thaw

Adelinde comes to your door the next day and takes your measurements. Circling you with a sewer’s tape here and there, she records numbers on a little notepad. 

“The Wind’s Breath dance is in a few days.” She tells you. Days have been blurring together. “Master Diluc has requested that an outfit be fetched for you for it.”

You should be upset, it seems like an overstep. It is. But, for ‘staying for Windblume’, you haven’t been back to Mond proper since you’ve settled down in the Winery. The Wind’s Breath dance, or rather night of fucking debauchery does have somewhat of a dress code. There’s a traditional style of Mondstadan clothing that most wear, aside from perhaps knights and some merchants. The colors align with Windblume’s yellow, soft teal and creamy ivory. 

Certainly clothing you don’t have now, and a night of drinking and dancing sounds absolutely lovely. You remember enjoying the ceremony of it, in your youth. 

“... Did you hear Diluc and I last night?” You ask Adelinde when she has the tape around your bust. 

Adelinde chooses her words carefully, more interested in the measurements than your question, “I heard shouting by the hearth, but nothing after. Should I have heard more after?”

You flush at her insinuation, “Adelinde—”

“Sorry, sorry,” She laughs without a bite, going to your inseam. “It’s a little too easy to tease you, dear. Forgive me.”

You narrow your eyes at her in jest, rolling them a moment later and let her prod you for the length of your wingspan. 

“I did shout at him though.” You admit. “I could’ve chewed him out more. He deserved more, maybe. I don’t know. It feels confusing.”

“Why confusing?”

“Because—” You rub a hand over your face and your balance wobbles. “It’s Diluc. There’s just so much there, good and bad. I don’t know how or if I should broach it.”

Adelinde thinks for a moment, gives a thoughtful hum, and rises, “That’s entirely up to you, whether you choose to examine or confront your history with Diluc, and I’d say the winery, as well. I know that he has caused you a great deal of suffering and grief.”

You laugh, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” She smiles. Smooths your collar down. “You also loved him, didn’t you?”

You stew for a moment.

Of course you loved him. Love, still. You’ve buried it so deep in you, but it won’t suffocate. You haven’t fed it in years, starved it from light and air, but it still knows yearning and want better than any other part of you.

You lie, “Once. Maybe.”

“And he loved you too, yes?”

(Oh, he did. He told you so, showed you so, over and over again. In the little gestures of childhood, to firsts that you shared, to the way his eyes shone so brightly for no one other than you. He had always been such a caring boy, and you were the subject of his greatest attentions.)

(Such knowledge has tormented you. To be loved in such a way, and have it ripped away in the way he did—)

“You know this already, Adelinde.” You side-step her question and go the vanity. Fidget with a bottle of perfume left by a previous guest. The glass bottle is small and amber, half-full. It smells floral with a hint of musk; you can tell even before you uncork it.

Adelinde watches you as you do. You can feel her gaze on you. When you dare to look— she keeps a soft expression. Wizened, and perhaps a bit sad. It aches to see her that way. She was there. She had taken care of Kaeya, Diluc and you in your youth. She’d been a fixture. Seen the lot of you through it all. 

You wonder how she has beared it.

“Such care does not go away easily.” She says gently. “Even if we would like it to. Even if living would be easier if they did. I think both you and the master of the house know this well.”

You pop the cork on the perfume. It’s oily, and sticks to the tips of your fingers. You grimace. “It is... difficult to imagine Diluc caring about me, even residually, after his departure.”

“I imagine so.” Adelinde says so kindly. “But, I know the Master well enough to say he wouldn’t have invited you back to the manor so openly if he didn’t care for you. He’s not the type of man to do things he doesn’t want to do.”

(She’s right.)

(You remember Diluc dragging his feet and bemoaning having to wash up after days on the riverbank, covered in sand and dirt. How his hair would snarl and get so knotted— he hated brushing it, his scalp too tender and Crepus was, respectfully, a bit clueless on how to manage Diluc’s hair. You wonder—)

You rub your forehead, then your cheeks. “Even still. It’s hard—”

(Because you simply cannot fathom Diluc loving you still. Such a reality cannot exist. If it did— if that’s true—)

Adelinde must see your panic and redirects. “I think it would serve you well to try and remember where you are. Stay grounded in the good things you can find in the present, here, rather than a past that hasn’t been kind to you.”

“... I don’t have to forgive him, do I?”

“No. Not unless you want to.” Adelinde grabs your shoulders and squeezes. “Enjoy the fields. Visit your friends. Catch up with Elzer, if you can too. Maybe Kaeya—”

“Not Kaeya.” You don’t mean to snap, but you do.

“No Kaeya, then.” Adelinde seems unaffected. She smooths your collar and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Lisa, then. I’m sure there are folks who will continue to need your healing, too. Not to mention I do think Diluc will give you as much wine as you’d like.”

“Please, I’d rather he didn’t think of me as a drunk.” You paw at your cheeks as Adelinde pulls your ear with a cheeky smile.

“Does that mean we can’t share a bottle by the hearth? That’s a shame.”

“Oh, I never said that. We’ll just have to wait until Diluc goes to bed.”

“That’s not necessary.” Your statement gives Adelinde pause. You catch it, how Adelinde schools her expression and straightens herself. “I’ll be sure the master doesn’t give us any grief.” 

You could pry. There’s something there. You know how to smell out a secret— half of being a physician traveling from citadels to isolated villages is picking out people’s hidden aches and pains. Ones they come accustomed to hiding or have become used to. It’s a learned skill, one you did not have in your naivete and youth, but you’ve honed it now. You see Adelinde falter. 

Diluc has always been dawn— the insinuation of Diluc and the night causes her to stumble.

You do not pry. You school yourself. Because you are here for Windblume. And to find this damn healer. And if Diluc hadn’t invited you to his (not your) home, you’d be happily sleeping in your tent just outside of Mondstadt proper. 

You do not need to entangle yourself more than necessary.

(You’ve already stepped too close to a chasm that you’ve avoided for far too long. You do not realize how steep its edges are or how fragile its cliffs.) 

You laugh to yourself, “As if I’d let him.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Adelinde softens once more. You can see the wrinkles around her eyes and in the center of her forehead. Thick patches of freckles on her nose. “ You, though. Take your time. Rest. Be good to yourself. I’m always here to talk, if you would need or like... and if I may?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve given the Master similar advice. He’s more affected than he lets on.” Adelinde reveals and presses her lips to your forehead. “You are both dear to me, and I don’t wish to watch either of you suffer in the ways you have. Though, I won’t mettle more than this.”

You sit with the knowledge she’s presented.

“Thank you, Adelinde.” And you hug her hard like you’re trying to suck the wisdom from her body into your own. “May I ask you one other thing?”

“Of course, dear.”

(You feel unsteady. You don’t want to think about this. But, perhaps, it’ll provide you some stability. Assuredness.)

“Did you ever end up telling Diluc about what happened while he was gone?” You can’t look at her. Even if you were, your gaze would be elsewhere. Even acknowledging ‘it’ (forget, forget, forget) has you feeling untethered. 

Adelinde grabs your hands in hers and intertwines your fingers. They’re worn, calloused from washing and carrying burdens she shouldn’t have to.

“No, I didn’t,” Adelinde says, softly. “Both Elzer and I have kept true to what we promised you when you left for Snezhnaya. Though Diluc has... asked, we’ve been vague about it over the years.”

You’re grateful. Endlessly. 

(It means that something is still sealed, well-bottled and shoved away, and hidden. It was the only request you made of them upon your departure.)

“Thank you.” You hug her, but Adelinde is already moving to pull you close. She strokes the back of your head like a mother would.

“Always, dear.” Adelinde assures you. You scrunch the fabric of her dress in your fists and bite your tongue.

(Lest you reveal too much, or break something that should stay fractured but whole.)

...

The Winery gets pleasantly warm during the spring afternoons. The sun slants just right, and the light that spills in heats the manor better than any of its many hearths could. You leave your window open, soaking in the bird songs and petrichor from the morning drizzles. You’re half-tempted to wander in the vining fields, but abstain. 

You’ve spent the afternoon mulling over Adelinde’s advice. You trust her and her sagely wisdom. Without her guidance, you surely would’ve crumbled during your tenure as the winery’s unofficial master. You had no reason to doubt her, or think that she was leading you astray with her words—

And yet.

(How could Diluc care about you? How, how, how—)

You fist into your own skull, as if you could quiet your thoughts with nothing more than brute force. 

The day lazily slinks by, and you meander to the kitchens for a meal as the sun goes gold with the evening.

You’re surprised to find Diluc there.

The kitchen is an organized mess, notably. Bowls and latched boxes of dry ingredients lay out on the countertops, and the center prep station is dusted in flour with several round balls of dough at the ready. You see a bottle of milk and bright yellow dust in a jar.

Diluc’s jacket has been discarded, hung on a hook near the back door entry to shield it from any potential mess. He’s left in his trousers and waistcoat, any of the more ornamental gold bits have had their sheen dulled by baking dust. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He kneads a ball of dough with a motion that looks far too practiced for someone who was once a knight, and now a businessman. Strong, worn hands, ducking into the dough, then out, smearing it on the butcherblock. His forearms bulge. It’s obscene. 

He must notice you, but he doesn’t stop. You side-step him to the icebox, fish out a handful of berries and a wedge of cheese. You perch on one of the counters and fold your legs under you, stretching to grab a knife from a block.

“... Are you going to spectate?” Diluc asks, pausing, only to look at you for a brief moment before continuing his kneading.

You hum, combining a bite of berry and cheese and speaking through it, “I suppose. What are you making?”

“Sweetbread.”

“When did you learn to make bread?” You ask, a bit baffled. He’d always been a rather poor cook, and an even worse baker. 

“Sometime back. I was forced to, while I was away.” 

“... Oh?”

Diluc doesn’t look at you, “A comrade’s wife taught me how to. She said it was an important life skill.”

“That sounds about right.” You’d never mastered sweetbreads, but you feel quite adept at making flatbreads on round stones.

“These were supposed to be a bit of a surprise,” He grumbles under his breath. Almost pouting. “A gift... And perhaps, an apology— for you. For yesterday.”

“... Oh?”

“... ‘Oh’?”

You trip over your words, shoving a berry into your mouth to try and disguise your stumbling, “I didn’t expect you to apologize.”

“I’m not yet, the bread isn’t done.” Diluc sets the finished ball into another bowl, greased with oil and butter. 

“I see.” You raise an eyebrow and take another bite. The berries stain your fingertips wine red. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I overstepped,” Diluc says simply, adjusting his sleeves and going to work the next dough ball. 

“No— I. That’s not—” You groan, and throw your face in your hands. It feels warm. “It’s fine, Diluc.”

“Denying it won’t stop me from apologizing.” He shoots back. “You have every reason to be angry with me. Besides, this bread will go to waste otherwise.”

You shoot him a half-baked smile. A distraction, for both you and him. Hopefully, it’s enough to disguise the way your shoulders go rigid and the way you white-knuckle the lip of the corner of the counter. His words bounce around in your skull, like a mocking echo that just won’t shut up—

(How long had you waited for that admission from Diluc? How many star-filled nights have you toiled, once, craving that validation from him? You wanted him to balm the wound that he left, even if you knew it was impossible.)

(At some point you asphyxiated the want. Crushed it down into something that could be swallowed but never digested. Hope can’t be killed, but archons, did you try.)

Diluc’s words unearth the dormant thing. You don't think Diluc understands the gravity of what he’s said to you, and you hope he doesn’t put it together. 

(It feels raw. He’s cut you and bared your insides without regard.)

“… Fine.” You concede to him (hopefully he doesn’t prod you further. Bear your neck to him and perhaps the action will be enough to keep him interested and tempted but not to bite down.)

You refuse to look at him. You smash the last bits of a raspberry between your forefinger and thumb and watch the juices drip down your skin. It’s a pretty red that you suck off when it reaches the knuckle.

Diluc sighs, and perhaps scoffs, before the sound and motion of dough kneading resumes in your periphery.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, breaking the fragile reverie. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Diluc speaks quickly. He’s not wrong, but you feel inclined to anyway.

(Your rage is more than justified. The thing bubbling under your skin— guilt, regret, topped with dread— is as well.)

You hop off the counter and teeter to bear your weight on your good foot. A hiss of pain gets caught behind your teeth and you chew the inside of your teeth. Diluc regards you, expectantly, hair spilling over his shoulders, half-hunched over his last ball of dough.

“I should give you the benefit of the doubt, at least a little.” You sigh. “I jumped for your throat, and that perhaps, wasn’t fair. You had a point, it was a long time ago—“

“Stop diminishing yourself. It’s painful.” Diluc interrupts you for once. “I deserve your ire. My reaction to your anger wasn’t justified or appropriate.”

“You stop being self-deprecating.” Guilt-ridden bastard. “Regardless of what you deserve, which I won’t be debating with you, I still care about you.”

(Love, probably. Most certainly.)

It’s an admission you don’t mean to give him. You instantly feel too vulnerable with the feelings; you wish you had kept it close to your chest and hidden. You watch your words cut him, and Diluc freezes. He’s so plain with his reaction that it’s almost comical. His eyes go wide and he goes stiff as a board. You don’t fare any better. You feel as though you’ve revealed a card in your hand that you shouldn’t have. 

(You trade blows. One for one, flayed flesh for a split spine.)

You chew the inside of your cheek. You taste blood. Diluc clears his throat and collects himself. You leer away, laughing under your breath. 

(A younger Diluc would’ve jumped at your words. Shown so brightly he could rival any hearth, become a human sun, if only for a moment. He would’ve gleamed. It’s difficult to admit that he’s darkened.)

He doesn’t return the sentiment— not directly. Not the same way. 

Diluc finishes his dough and leaves it to rest before exiting the room without a word. You don’t get a chance to protest, he’s back so quickly, with a —staff— cane in his hand. A metal-caste owl sits at the top while the wood is stained a rich burgundy.

Diluc hands it to you.

“I don’t know if it’s sized correctly. I based it on the measurements Adelinde provided me.”

“… Thank you.” 

You swallow and accept the gift. It is sized correctly, perfectly even, and it takes some adjusting to re-remember how to bear your weight on it. The ache in your foot lessens almost instantly, quelled. 

“It surprised me, when you didn’t have a cane with a limp that severe,” Diluc says, watching you take a few test steps.

“I did have one— several. Previously.” You examine the metal owl with a frown. “Where did you get this?”

“My father’s study.”

“Diluc.” You freeze. “I can’t possibly accept a Ragnvindr family heirloom.”

“Nonsense.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s been collecting dust for decades. Make good use of it.”

“Diluc—”

“Take it. Don’t be so stubborn. You can hardly walk.” Diluc huffs, though the blush on his cheeks hasn’t waned. “What happened to your previous canes? 

“Uhhh���” You drawl, clicking your tongue and examining the floor. “One was surely stolen. At least two broke? I definitely lost one at a pub— in Fontaine? I never got a chance to go back for it.” There was a village victim to a particularly bad flood that needed tending to. Canes can be replaced.

It takes you a moment to place the look on his face. His brows pinch. Mouth set in a line. Creases under his eyes—

Disapproving? 

It snaps to something more neutral, a moment later. Unreadable and guarded, entirely expected and perhaps welcome. He returns to his baking, tidying up the kitchen with his back to you. You open your mouth, then close it a moment later. 

(Later, there’s a knock on your door accompanied by a tray of steaming sweetbread, the rounds decorated with edible flowers and dusted with sweet flower pollen. Diluc apologizes, barely able to meet your eye. It should be insulting, but it’s cute, in a boyish way. You let it be cute. It doesn’t silence the pangs and pains in your chest, but it makes them easier to bear.)

(The sweetbread is delicious, and you half-wonder about the star map that led him to learn a skill so foreign to a lord like him.)

…

You aren’t sleeping well. Maybe it’s penance, for how well you slept your first days at the winery. Your body is, overall, less fatigued than before. The sleep debt you’d run up was somewhat satiated, which apparently meant not fucking sleeping—

(You could fall asleep, mind you. You just couldn’t stay that way. Dreams woke you each night, of memories and flashes, rib-breaking sensations, and the crunching of bone. Rain-soaked silk clinging to your arms and legs. A bloody nose. A hangover so bad you vomit red and black. A garnet red stone, set in black leather, round as low-set sun.)

(Fragments, really. Twisted and mangled together.)

You shoot up in bed, again, sweat dripping down your sternum, sticky on your forehead. The throb in your chest hardly wanes as you struggle to catch your breath. You clutch at the fabric over your collarbones, breathing through your mouth in light pants.

Your thoughts spin and tumble. It takes you a moment to distinguish moment from moment. Where you are. What you are. When you are. 

Shifting for a sip of water, a shot of pain tangles around your foot and ankle. The muscle is drawn too tight with your fear, panic tugging the tendons wrong. You muffle your own pained wince, keeping it just a wince, and bite down on your lip.

You try to settle, after a while, praying that a few deep breaths release enough tension for a proper sleep. The electric zing that eats at your ankle keeps you awake, uncomfortable to the point of being unbearable. Your heart won’t stop racing with it.

You give up trying to sleep, instead wandering from your room with your new cane, and situate yourself in front of the great room’s dim hearth. You fuss with it, tossing another log and a bit of Pyro starter on the spitting embers. It catches, lights the room soft amber and you collapse on the lounge closest to it. You face your right foot toward the heat of the fire, hoping the heat loosens some of the bound-up muscle.

You splay out. Veg. Keep your eyes half-lidded and watch the fire lazily. Fixate on the licking flames and let the heat burn away your dream and hope it chases the physical pains too.

There’s a slam, when you’re beginning to nod off. Wood on wood— a door near the back of the manor. There are a few more bumps and thuds, ones you can’t place or recognize. You straighten up and listen to the heavy steps that follow. No one would be stupid enough to just break into Dawn Winery, not when Diluc’s fighting prowess is somewhat legendary in Mondstadt. 

You don’t see Diluc enter, only hear him. His stride is wrong. 

“You smell like blood.” You say with the tempo of the crackling flame. “Is it yours?”

Diluc freezes, just behind the lounge. Caught.

“Why are you awake?” He asks, unmoving.

You crane your neck and assess his condition as quickly as you can, “Couldn’t sleep. Are you injured?”

He sighs, “Not severely, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh no, nuh-uh, let me see.” You reach for him around the lounge. “You can’t board a physician and then expect them to ignore you when you come back in the early hours of the morning blood-soaked. Besides, I’d be breaking oath.”

Diluc grumbles something under his breath but regardless comes around to you.

He’s not really bloodsoaked. Not entirely. He’s missing a glove and there’s a slice through the sleeve of his jacket, burnt at the edges. Dried blood coats his palm. You ask him to move his jacket, and you see a red stain blooming over his abdomen.

“Can you take off your jacket?”

“That’s not necessary.” He straightens his lapels and takes a step back. “My injuries are minor. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Diluc.” You narrow your eyes. “Let. Me. Help. This is literally my job.”

“You’re sleep-deprived.”

“Healing a flesh wound takes as much effort for me as it would take you to lift your sword.” You scoot forward on the couch, resisting tugging him closer. “It’s really no trouble. Please, Diluc.”

It must be your begging, maybe. You’re too engrossed in Diluc’s condition to notice how his cheeks pink. He shrugs off his overcoat, and you cajole him into peeling off his waistcoat as well. It sticks to his undershirt and you wince.

It’s easy to slip into your role as a healer. It’s a clinical way of thought, you’re presented with a problem and the way to fix it is apparent and well within your abilities. Seeing Diluc as a patient rather than… Diluc is a cheap trick, and perhaps if you were well-rested and less dissociative, you’d feel guilty. 

“Were you burned?” 

“Only singed.”

You hum thoughtfully, “I need to touch you to heal you. Is that alright?”

He nods, slowly, deliberately, “That’s fine.”

He’s not fully bare, so you need to do some exploratory touching. You’re not sure which is more vulnerable— for Diluc to be shirtless in front of you in the firelight or the way you lay your hands gently over his sides (ticklish, you recall. You watch him suppress a jump.) Your fingertips skim over his ribs, flares of Dendro wiggling into his skin. It bounces around, then back to you.

Three bruised ribs on his left side. Four-inch laceration on his right side.

“This will only take a moment.” You send a strong thread of Dendro through him. Liquid and lengthy, and carefully stitch the wound closed. The skin knits back together easily, clean and free of infection. 

You move on to his next wound and Diluc moves a step closer.

“Your hand, please?” You ask, soft. The heat of the room has lulled you.

(The contact is weakening you.)

Diluc offers it to you, and you take it, as gently as you can. This wound has more burning, but nothing too severe. 

Second-degree burns affecting seven inches of cumulative skin. 

“Who the hell were you fighting?” You ask, brows furrowing as you cleansed and balmed the wound. You wince as your Dendro eats away the burn. “ What were you fighting?”

“Unimportant.”

“I hardly think so.”

“Drop it.”

“ Diluc—”

“Something that deserved it.”

You huff. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

We all have them.

The wound has healed, but you find it... hard let go of Diluc’s hand. It hits you how close he is. You sit with your legs spread and splayed, and he stands between them. He’s inches away, and you’re level to his navel. 

You look up at him, swallowing the heat in your cheeks.

Diluc has always been pretty. Since he was little, just a cherubian boy running about the prairie grasses. He grew into it well, though he has gotten a bit more rugged over the time you were apart. You recognized scars littering his forearms, and felt scar tissue buried in new flesh. His hair has grown obscenely long, tied back with a ribbon into a bow. It's only half-up, now, spilling over his shoulder as he looks down at you. 

Your breath catches in your throat. He swallows and you fixate on the bob of his throat.

(You haven’t been close to him like this in so long. Since you were young, having so many firsts together in his too-big bed. His hands look bigger, warmer. How many times did you crave him, the comfort and heat of him? How many times did you wish the stars were twisted and angled just a little differently, so that you never lost him in such a way?)

(To be so close— it’s an unavoidable thought.)

You squeeze his hand, “Do you want to be farther away?”

“No.” He squeezes yours back— harder. Longer. Like he’s afraid. It makes a fragile thing buried in your shake and fracture. “Do you?”

“No.” You swallow, but it’s late. And you’re weak. All crushed bones and scar tissue. “This might even be nice.”

‘This’ is loaded. Bigger than the word, bigger than the distance your traveled while crisscrossing Teyvat. Maybe bigger than the distance between the stars you scorn.

Diluc rubs a thumb over the back of your hand. It shakes. The heat of the fire and Diluc are making something warm and tender rise up from the base of your spine to the back of your skull. You shake with it.

“It is,” Diluc admits, voice thick and sticky. “Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s my job.”

“Not just that.” Diluc squeezes your hand again. Harder. Searing. “For allowing me this. You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” You frown. “You’re being silly. And self-loathing. Lord Ragnvindr, I wouldn’t ever expect such a thing from you.”

Diluc sputters a half-laugh, and for a moment, he sounds like the knight you first held hands with when you were young. 

“I only mean to say that you have every reason to be upset and keep me at arm's length. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did.” 

“It’s not like I’m not upset with you.” You worry the fraying skin around his cuticle. “I’m indulging myself too, you know.”

(You dance around what this means so well. When did you both learn the steps, as aptly as you twirl now?)

“That’s comforting.” Diluc pulls his hand from yours and it flexes into a fist. He surprises you then— kneels, lowering onto his knees between your legs. You’re at eye level. You feel pleasantly faint. “You must tell me if I misstep.”

“Oh, you know I will.” You give a warbling laugh and your stomach flips.

So much of Diluc is unfamiliar, but proximity with him isn’t. The heat he radiates is the same as you remember, even if he’s a bit rougher and far more wilted. He hovers close, tentative, but not in the boyish, inexperienced way you once knew. He’s not expectant, he’s not taking and tugging and searching— he lingers but only comes so close, giving you the ability to make the first move. 

He sets up the pieces but doesn’t force your hand to play. It’s wretched. It’s thoughtful, or it’s cowardice— either way, it's to your benefit. 

Diluc licks his lips, throat bobbing. You can’t meet his eyes for too long— there, you see searching. He’s lost his way with words, and you can see the way he grapples for the right ones now.

“I missed you.”

(‘Right ones’. Subjective. The ones he gives you are objectively the wrong ones. Only because they force another fissure into you.)

(You’ve spent so long swallowing your own desires and convincing yourself that there was no possible way for Diluc to feel that way about you. You created any number of mental theses as to why Diluc discarded you. Anything to make it bearable.)

(Anything to make the past palatable and controllable.)

(Forget, forget, forget—)

You tense with the thought. Your wound pulls wrong and you yip. Shooting away from Diluc, you double over to your right side. You wrap your hand around your foot (wishing praying cursing that your Vision doesn’t allow you to touch your own wounds) and slap a hand over your mouth. The pain brings nausea and the last thing you want to do is vomit on Diluc.

Diluc immediately fusses, hands hovering over your shoulders and neck, but never touching. His Vision must be alight— you swear you can feel the lick of imaginary flames off his skin. 

“You’re unwell.” Diluc kneels lower, hands apparently alright to touch, and he tries to shoo yours away from your ankle.

You hold fast, “It’s just a temperamental wound.” Your voice wavers and you rest your forehead on your knee. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment.”

“Hush, nothing’s ruined.” He idles his hand over your own. Your vision blurs and you really think you might throw up. “Let me see.”

“No.”

He says your name, like a cut.

“It’s already healed, Diluc. Just wrong. This happens. There’s no use poking at it.”

“Satiate my curiosity, then.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking honestly.” 

You hesitate. Think if this is going to unearth something that you’d rather have stayed buried. Perhaps it was the distance, the heat from the hearth and Diluc in tandem making you melt into the couch—

“Fine. Only because of those sweetbreads the other day.” 

You attempt to peel off your stocking, trembling, but Diluc stops you. His palm (so, so warm. Like the kindest flame) wrap around your wrist and places it back on your lap.

“Let me.”

Your mouth dries, tongue going heavy and useless. Tentatively, you scoot back on the couch and adjust so your right leg is fully extended. Your belly feels exposed, the softest parts of you bared in a way that feels foreign and uncomfortable. 

Diluc waits until you situate yourself, resting patiently on folded knees. Palms on his thighs. 

(He looks like he’s praying, like you’re the altar. This is both an indulgence and a rite.)

One of his wide hands hooks under your knees and lifts your injured foot from the ground. Diluc pushes your night clothes aside, finding the top edge of your stocking and slips his fingertips just below its edge. You jolt with the contact (what’s beyond touch starvation?) and hiss under your breath.

He pauses, flame licking in the reflection of his eyes, “Is this alright?”

You nod, his touch sears you. 

He peels your stocking away. His touch drifts to the arch of your foot, wrapping his fingers around with enough force to be comfortable, secure. It almost burns— but in the good way. Open flame on nearly-frost-bitten fingers. The hot springs in Inazuma or the hot stone massages they favor in Natlan. It seeps into you.

The heat goes cold when Diluc stills, eyes widening and shoulders drawing up. You watch his jaw lock and you nearly rip your foot from his grip. Gruesome—

“How did this happen?” There are visible ridges of shattered bone, prominent enough to catch the shadows the fire throws. Two toes with mutilated nails, still. A scar or two.

“I fell.”

“Don’t lie.” snaps Diluc. “This is not the kind of injury you obtain from a ‘fall’.”

You start to sigh his name, but he cuts you off—

“How.”

“I. Fell.” You grit out. Your chest hurts again. 

Diluc traces the worst of it— a diagonal scar on the bottom of your foot, from the ball of it to your big toe. (You don’t remember the moment, only the sensations. The feeling of the knife slicing, hitting things it shouldn’t—)

You jolt, squirm, protest under your breath but Diluc tightens his grip, firm and unyielding.

“P-Please—” Your voice breaks and you lurch and grab his shoulders without thinking. Steadying yourself, grounding yourself on the bulk of him. “Please, don’t pry on this one, Diluc. Not tonight.”

(Perhaps you’ll muddle through the memory of it to give to Diluc. One day. Not now, when you feel like the gooey center of you shifts a little too close to seeping out of the spaces between your ribs. If you fall apart, will you ever collect yourself back up again?)

Diluc stills and stares at you. Into you. A little wrinkle appears between his brows, a half-scowl formed in the curve of his pretty lips. It makes your heart pound. You nearly backpedal, tell him the whole truth, the one you’ve shoved down your throat like chrysanthemum petals. The garden you’d throw up—

He relents. Allows you respite. You take it greedily.

Diluc coaxes you to lie back down on the couch, touch hovering most of the time. His contact ginger, “You don’t have to give me anything you don’t want to.”

The assurance hits you in the chest. Like a crack that bludgeons your sternum in three.  

“‘Kay. Thanks.” You say. Two words is all you can get out around the threads that bind you upright and together.

Diluc sits back on his haunches, going back to your foot. The pads of his thumbs massage at your ankle, slow and light at first as he gauges your reaction. You swallow thick, watching him with darkening pupils. His touch moves higher, up your calf, shifting your bed clothes aside.

He’s more worn. Calluses make the skin of his thumbs just a bit rougher than you expect. The vision on his waist thrums and throws light as he touches you. Pressing his heat into you. His touch makes you goopy. You slouch into the couch. 

He never ventures higher than your knee, but it’s enough. Maybe it’s too much. The lack of sleep and the fucking heat put you in a state just above sleep. He’s horribly gentle with you, pausing and noting every twitch and jolt you shake out. Asks low and quiet if a certain touch is too much. It’s all overwhelming— decadent. You glut yourself on it, just a bit. The pain of the injury dissolves and all that you’re left with is Diluc. Dutifully petting you and soaking you in something rich and spiced. 

You only feel warm. It spreads up your body— cows the shaking little thing between your ribs. Diluc relaxes you into a slump that has you sleepily blinking, perhaps keening once or twice— you can’t recall. Perhaps Diluc slides back on your stocking and helps you up. Perhaps he guides you up the stairs and back to your guest room. 

(You think about inviting him in. You think about dragging him down and in to bring him closer to that thing in your chest that festers, balm it.)

(You think better of it.)

(You’re too tired to notice the way he lingers on you. His hands, holding you a moment too long. The squeezes to your sides and arms as he walks with you up the stairs. Even when your own breath stutters, you’re unaware. Blissfully ignorant to the effect you have on Diluc.)

You dream of it, maybe. Warmth and heat and familiarity that isn’t wretched. You dream of favorable stars and a warm bed.

...

Something shifts between the two of you after that. Even if the moment of vulnerability was brief, it's like a rift has opened up in your chest. Split. Cleaved. Archons. 

You feel the inexplicable urge to be near Diluc, despite all of the unsettled anger that burns in your belly. The memory of the heat of him is an intoxicant in and of itself. The way Diluc touched you like you were something fragile— cherished. 

(Archons, you’re fucked, aren’t you?)

You avoid Diluc, somewhat. You take to watching him instead. Perching in your bay window, you watch him work in the fields during the mornings and evenings, and listen to him thump around in his office during the midday when the sun is high. He receives a guest or two, maybe, there’s always activity in the main foyer of the winery. You suppose, given that the manor functions as both a home and a business, and it’s the busiest season for Dawn Winery, it makes sense. 

Elzer, actually, is the one who gives you a bit of grief for it.

“He doesn’t bite, you know,” Elzer tells you when you perch on his desk, early one morning while Diluc is out. “You may even enjoy talking to him.”

“We have talked.” You clear your throat, pounding your chest. “Just. It’s complicated.”

“I’m aware.”

Elzer was around, during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. Though Adelinde grew closer to you, Elzer was still a reliable and kind confidant. More-versed in the business end of things than either of you were, and from him you learned a great deal. He, in turn, learned a great deal about you. Adelinde too. Gods, how many nights did you sit at this same desk, organizing mislabeled paperwork over goblets of wine and teacakes? 

“Does your wrist still bother you?” you ask.

“You’re deflecting,” deadpans Elzer.

“You’re not answering my question, either.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. It does. I take a tincture for it sometimes.”

“... Can I see it— your wrist? Let me have a look.”

He holds out his arm and you shift around the desk to prop yourself up on the same side he sits on. Your cane lays idle against the matching mahogany. There’s a reluctant pull at his brow, but he still scoots forward on his seat, rolling up his sleeve. 

Taking his arm in a gentle, practiced grip, you send sparks of Dendro through him. Elzer’s brow scrunches with the feeling— you’ve been told it can be jarring if you’ve never experienced Vision healing before. You tighten your grip. 

You smooth a finger over the meat of his thumb. “Tendonitis, still?” 

“You always said that’s what it was, but never gave me anything conclusive back then.”

“Well, it certainly is,” you huff. Inflammation crawls around the tendons of his hand and wrist, stretching into his shoulder.

You sink a balm of Dendro into him, rather than sparks, more like a sheet. Elzer visibly relaxes, hand going a bit more slack and loose in your grip. Sagging forward, like a ragdoll with half-cut string. Your other hand rises to steady him, firm and solid against his shoulder. 

“Does Diluc work you too hard?” You send another wave of it through. “I’ll chew him out, if you want. I have nothing to lose.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh, so it’s just the bad posture?”

Elzer snorts and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s easy to rib him, like a little brother. He was practically your same age, but he always kept the aura of someone your junior. As adept as he was at everything he did, there’s a boyish charm to him that hasn’t faded with time.

You barely see him out of the corner of your eye— Diluc. Rounding a corner with an armful of papers. His grip goes tight and his steps stutter as he enters the little atrium. Elzer tenses behind you. The Dendro lingering in him bounces back to you.

Diluc clears his throat, fist over his mouth. He looks at Elzer, then you, and clears his throat again—

“Ah, I suppose I’m interrupting working hours. Apologies.” You shrug and hop off the desk. Wobbling past Diluc, you disappear into the shadows of the house.

It’s intentional, really. You don’t want to give Diluc any more of an opening than he already had and fuck— you saw him, didn’t you? The way he drew up, the fire that ignited in his eyes at the closeness—

Archons, Diluc, jealous?

The thought is too sticky to cope with. You retire for a nap early in the afternoon.

...

Nightmares come for you again, and you busy yourself wandering the halls of Dawn Winery.  It’s a moonless night, and far too dark to be wandering without a lantern or candle, but you do so anyway. Adelinde and Elzer are surely asleep, as with the rest of the staff. You assume that Diluc is out, as he tends to be late at night. The tap of your cane against the wooden floors echoes against the silence of the rest of the winery.

Your latest nightmare felt repetitive. The same images, the same feeling of being untethered against an unstoppable swell. Drowning but without water. Asphyxiating on something that crawls up from your lungs. 

(Red, rotten memories. Rotten.)

(Forget, Forget, Forget.)

You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. Ambient light from the manor bounces off its brass handle, polished by clearly tarnished with time. Its design is different from the crystal doorknobs Diluc has replaced around the rest of Dawn Winery. Its original, untouched— a relic.

You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. You know this door. The wood, unlike most of the rest of the manor, hasn’t been re-stained or replaced. It’s the same dark tone you remember from your youth, and the knob shines the same brassy gold. It appears unchanged.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

Clearly, you aren’t, as you enter the room. Your nose burns as you do. A layer of dust covers everything— the table that cuts the room in two, the stacks of discarded books, and old, dry quill. An untouched pile of blankets and pillows in the corner appears to be lightened, sun-bleached.

You kick the pile and laugh, something low and a little defeated.

The Small Study hasn’t been touched. Never redone, not even cleaned. It’s entirely preserved and more painful to see because of it.

(So much tied up in a simple room. You had avoided it at first, didn’t you? You knew everything that happened here. A love that bloomed, a betrayal, your own decay.)

All that’s left is the skeleton of the room. Flesh eaten by time and memory, consumed to this point where there’s nothing further to rot. Just a vague shape to mourn.

Based on the absolute state of neglect and disuse, you assume that Diluc hasn’t poked around this room much, or at all, in the time since he returned. You’re grateful that— you hid a secret or two here that now feel too dangerous to have in the open.

(Despite the fact that it’s clear this place is too painful for Diluc to touch, too. He’d never find the bits of you that you buried here.)

You tug down a leather-bound book from a shelf, eye-level (still), and rub dust off the spine. Over the cover is embossed some type of Fontainisian design, swirls of gold concentric circles and feathering blots of blue and purple over the leather. It was a gift, back then. Something artisanal that a craftsperson brought to Mond’s market—  One of the many gifts Crepus gave to you in the months before his passing. 

You curse under your breath, pressing your fingertips in the cover. There’s a ring of teeth marks on one corner— your teeth. Had you really bitten the cover in a fit of frustration?

(Probably. Your memory feels fuzzy and fragmented. Broken glass— you can’t pick them up without risking slicing your hand wide and bloody.)

A door shuts, a heavy one, somewhere else in the manor. Diluc has returned. Part of you itches to seek him out, survey him for injuries and help where you can. It takes you nothing to stitch and sew him up. Healing a wound for Diluc feels like a twisted debt paid, maybe. He isn’t aware of it. 

Being in the Small Study makes you horribly aware of it.

The pages of your old journal feel brittle and dry against your fingers. Some stick together, even now, with dried ink that you spilled over the pages. Some of the script is illegible, your pen having muddled into something beyond understanding. What you are able to read, you try not to absorb. It’s only morbid curiosity that has you peeking at it, at all. 

(You should probably burn the thing. It has far too many secrets written in it.)

Diluc calls your name from the door, and you freeze. The journal is easily tucked back in place.

“Yes?” You don’t look at him, but twirl on your heel to the middle of the room. As if you should be there.

(Maybe you should be, for him. All you are is a relic to him, maybe. Something from the past that should stay that way. Aren’t you just a skeletal remain?)

(The thought persists.) 

“What are you doing in here?” Diluc asks, lacking any edge. He rests his hip on the long table.

You consider the question, mull over it and roll your answer around on your tongue. 

“Reminiscing, I guess,” you say, it’s too late to be dishonest. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“That seems to be a pattern.”

“Reminiscing?”

“I meant your inability to sleep through the night.” Diluc sees through your diversion. You let him, cow your barely there instinct to fight him. 

You sigh and laugh, weak, “I suppose.”

Diluc’s gaze is on you— you can feel it. You kick at the floorboards, counting the swirls and irregular notches. It’s easy to imagine the look he must be wearing. Pity, maybe. You feel like a stray cat, cornered and hungry, but ever-wary. 

“May I ask why?”

You click your tongue, “Guess, and if you’re right, I’ll tell you.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for a game like this?”

“Call me a night owl.” You clamor on top of the table and sit semi-cross-legged, with your injured ankle extended.

“... Your injury?” Diluc asks.

You shake your head.

“... You always ran cooler. Are you cold?”

“Maybe a bit, but not really.”

Diluc stalls, and you can see him sort out the correct answer. He’s known it since the beginning of this conversation, but you’re both so fluent in denial, you might as well dance together in it for a while.

“Dreams?”

You nod.

Diluc opens his pretty, petal lips to speak, then thinks better of it. Instead, he removes his jacket and lays it over his arm. You expect him to prod you. 

“Would you like some tea?” Diluc asks. “It may settle you, allow you a proper rest.”

Tea sounds nice, you think. Something warm and someone warm. You know better than to walk so close to him when you’re so shredded at the ribs and tummy. Vulnerable. You know better.

(Then why is the idea of closeness with him so intoxicating? You don’t care about the potential consequences, not really. Your tangle of emotions feels superseded by desire, and you’re barely holding onto self-control.)

(Archons, you want to let go, just a little.)

The threads loosen, just a fraction.

“I’ll take tea,” you admit. “I think there’s some of the sweet bread rounds left too.”

When you look up, Diluc has a simple smile painting the edges of his lips. It’s small, nearly uncatchable, but you recognize it immediately. You resist the urge to go to him and press into the dimple that carves his right cheek. 

It’s awful, the way your heart seizes in your chest, nearly breaking you down your center. You twin him with your own smile, a small one— lest you burst in the middle of the Small Study. 

(Where everything began to fall apart.)

(Forget, forget, forget.)

...

You both sip cups of tea and pass a packed, cherrywood pipe back and forth on Diluc’s balcony. It’s sizable, enough room for you to curl up against the railing, far enough from Diluc to not feel crowded, but still accept the pipe each time he passes it to you. The tobacco smoke feels thick and rich in your mouth, and you resist the urge to draw it too far back into your throat. You instead distract yourself with the smoke that lazily curls from your lips with each exhale.

(You catch Diluc entranced by it as well, the way your lips fall open.)

The sky feels starless; heavy clouds cover the cosmos low. You imagine it’ll rain again in the next few days, especially with the ache in your injury. The air bears down on you, just like the clouds do. You crave a moon or single star to fixate on, rather than proximity or the inevitability of an interaction. 

You’ve become truly versed in avoidance.

Diluc looks... perplexed. Perhaps lighter than he did in the study. His shoulders sag more than they did before, and he almost looks to be melting into the chair he sits in. His heavy coat had been left behind in his room as you passed through, leaving him more bare. You can see blood seep up from flesh wounds, staining the white of his shirt, but he’d already brushed off your concern that evening. You didn’t have it in you to fight him on it— you vow to patch him up in the morning if you can catch him before he starts his daily business.

You must, really.

The quirk between his brows bothers you. The draw of his lips and the way he’s purely staring at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You frown. Prodding seems like a bad idea, given your exhaustion and the maw that’s cracked open between your ribs.

Diluc seems to stare harder. If that is possible. He sits before, elbows on his knees, and folds his hands. Covers his mouth with them. They’re thick and worn, unfamiliar to you. You can’t stop looking at them. You recall him having beautiful pianist’s hands, slender and sure-fingered. It’s easier to fixate on some trivial, physical difference rather than his expression. It’s verging on vulnerable. He withdraws to take a drag.

“I don’t know how to put you together,” Diluc admits. He snaps his teeth around the smoke. 

You tilt your head quizzically.

Diluc chews on his words, looks at you, and then away. He takes another draw from the pipe and sighs. “You confuse me. You never used to confuse me.”

There’s a pressure behind your eyes that wasn’t there before. “How do I confuse you now?” 

Diluc exhales. He smells like fresh smoke, ash, and the heat from a flame. And he looks at you and his gaze is soft. The pull of his lip and brow, the shine to his eyes— he looks hopelessly fond and sad. Heartbroken, even. There’s a smear of soot under his eye and you resist the buried impulse to wipe it away as something in your cracks. Threads snap.

“I’m not sure I know you anymore.” 

(It hurts, it hurts, it hurts to hear— no one knew you better than Diluc. You’ve made yourself a stranger, and you must now reap what you’ve sewn. You’re just a vagrant in his home, fit for healing and burden and nothing more—)

Your eyes burn and you tear your gaze to the fields, “What a surprise. It’s not as if I’ve been around for your to be familiar with.”

“I understand why you left Mondstadt,” Diluc tells you, hushed like he is speaking to a frightened cat. Maybe that’s what you are. “I know it must’ve been very lonely.”

You almost snap at him. You almost scream—

(“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you for knowing me and knowing how I felt and being gone and leaving me here to ache all alone. I hate that you know me so well and forgot.”)

You don’t. 

“I had Elzer and Adelinde,” you say. “Dawn Winery was hardly empty. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.” Diluc doesn’t sound offended. “Never pity.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not entirely.” You wish the stars were out. You’d have something tangible to direct your ire toward. “What else would it be?”

Diluc sighs, not resigned, but you can hear the exhaustion in it. He’s wounded, he needs rest. You both do.

(You both need so much rest.)

Your nose burns and you sniffle.

“I still care for you, even if you are unfamiliar to me.” He says quietly, low, sweet, and gentle because it's only meant for the two of you to hear. 

You meet his gaze violently. Your neck nearly snaps turning to him, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying. You feel fragile, so close to crumbling.

“Don’t toy with me.” Your voice wobbles, your conviction does not.

“I’m not.” He assures you. “I wouldn’t.” 

“You’re a wretched man.” You tell him. There’s no bite to your words. 

“For you, I’d be better.”

“No— that’s—” You rub your eyes. “ Stop it.” 

“Stop what? I’m not sure I can.”

(You don’t say: “Please stop being so kind. If you keep being kind to me, I’ll never leave. I’ll take every scrap you feed me and pretend it makes me a king. I’ll open myself up for heartbreak to be by your side. If you keep being kind to me—”)

(You don’t say: “I’ll think that you love me still.”)

Diluc cups your jaw and says your name, soft and slow and easy. 

You’re sedated, because Diluc looks just as frightened as you feel, and speaks as earnestly as he did when he was young. When you used to lay over his chest and count the summer freckles he was blessed with. When he used to hold your cheeks, pressing your lips together, overzealous and honest, like how young lovers do. Like the young lovers you were.

Would this be easier, if you really were two strangers, sharing a pipe and tea? If there really was an ocean and deep sea more than changes of appearance or the way you hold yourself. You know it’s you— that you’ve changed since Diluc saw you. Last saw you— the day of his eighteenth birthday—

The feeling in your chest is violent. Shreds you. Tears you open. You ball the fabric of your sleep clothes in your fist, over your heart, and almost wince. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you think to say. You don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He rubs a thumb over your cheek, and his touch and voice tremble.

“What if I have?” you half-admit, flashing him a withered smile.

(Forget, forget, forget.)

(A red stone like the garnet they tug out of the Chasm’s walls. Rounded. Pulsing. In the left palm of a man who could’ve been your father.)

“Then, I’ll help you fix it if you like.” He can’t. Diluc lets go of you, only to stand and fix a hold on your wrist. 

“It’s not that simple.” You’re already saying too much. Forget, forget, forget. Shove it down into your chest, to the back of your mind.

You remain sitting on the cold ground of the balcony. Your leg remains splayed on the cobblestones, splinted and aching. You can’t bear to look up at him. You want to cry. Maybe, in the daylight, past dawn— you’d be better at facing this. You want tea. You want to sleep. You want to weep—

(into Diluc’s lap. To beg him for things that feel unfair to ask.)

“Why did you ask me to have tea with you?” you ask. “If it was to share smoke and try to have this conversation or two when we’re both clearly”— you gesture to yourself, balled up, and Diluc, bloodied— “not our best, I will retire to my room. I don’t want to... I can’t broach this.”

(“Yet.”)

(It’s inevitable, isn’t it? One you feel in the stars, rushing toward you.)

“It was never my intention to push you.” Diluc rushes to assure you. You look out the pitch-black vineyard, and Diluc kneels in front of you. “I didn’t—”

You snap, voice wobbling, “What do you want—?”

“I want to know you again,” Diluc tells you, confesses, breathlessly. He sounds like a (your) lover again. “I want nothing more. Just let me, please.”

(You haven’t heard Diluc beg in so long. You remember how he’d beg you for the extra candies that Teacher would give you after lessons. Diluc would beg you to trace shapes on his arm and the nape of his neck when you’d stay up whispering to each other during Mond’s cruelest winter nights. He’d plead for you to ride on his horse, with him, rather than your own.)

You squirm under your skin and refuse to look at him. If you do, you’ll shatter. You have to hold it together, just a little longer— until the end of Windblume, then you’ll leave, you’ll fucking run—

And Diluc says your name, begs you, “Look at me, please.”

“If I do, I’ll cry.” Your voice wobbles far more than you thought it would. 

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not—” You laugh, and barely look at him out of the corner of your eyes. “I can’t start crying, Diluc. I’ll never stop.”

“That’s alright.” Diluc sounds like he might cry. “I’ll take you, however you are.”

He sounds romantic. 

You look at him.

He looks soggy— wilted, like the way two-day-old cut flowers do. Still beautiful, because Diluc Ragnvindr is nothing if not attractive. Hair spilling down his shoulders, a fresh scrape over his cheek, eyes that crinkle in between because he looks as gutted as you feel.

And you laugh, something weak and small and feeble. A barely there noise you only let out to distract from the tears that wet your bottom lashes. 

“... What do you want to know?” you ask him. Forcing yourself to settle, bear it, and look at him. 

Diluc’s eyes go wide. The barest hints of joy squeeze the skin around his eyes and you see a boyish smile on his lips you’d forgotten he knew how to wear. You want to kiss it, him, because the feeling in your chest is bursting. The craving, need— to kiss him stupid and share it with him is overwhelming. 

“Everything.”

You’re damned, surely.

“I don’t think I can give you that yet,” you tell him, honestly. “I’m still mad at you.”

“That’s alright,” he placates you. “I want to know about that, too. Anything you’ll give me.”

It’s an awful admission, really. That he cares to know you.

(Some part of you, festered for so long. Convinced yourself of untrue things because it was easier than facing an uncertain reality. The mere idea of Diluc caring for you breaks a small delusion that you wouldn’t be welcomed. That the boy you’d love and linked pinkies with was dead and gone far from you.)

(He’s here, right in front of you.)

You shift forward without thinking. Onto your knees, with your injured side limp, and you press your forehead into Diluc’s shoulder. It’s stiff, with your arms still tucked to your center, protecting your most soft and vulnerable bits. It’s all you can give him. 

Diluc turns tense, then slack, so slack, like he’s been doused in warm water and left to dry in midday sun. You feel the muscle against your cheek go limp and you press your eyes into the smokey fabric. It dampens beneath you and you’re too tired to care. 

(You’re being chipped down— It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Returning to Mond meant this. Part of you always knew that.)

His hand cups the back of your skull and you shiver with it. Warm and big, just like he has become with the years. He presses his thumb and ring finger into your scalp, scratching, and something between a sob and a wince gets caught in your throat.

“Is this alright?” Diluc asks.

“More than.” You keep yourself from weeping on him, barely. Instead, you grip the loose fabric against his chest and smother yourself in him.

...

There’s a part of you that you can’t quiet— the fragment that whispers and thrashes “this is an awful idea” and “stop it, before you get sucked so deep into him that you can’t climb out.” It’s the part of you that keeps your arms wrapped around your middle and only lets you drag your lips over Diluc’s throat without rhyme or reason. It’s mindless, never a kiss, because that would cross an invisible gulf you dare not to breach.

Diluc leads you inside, hand in hand. You wonder if he can feel how you’re shaking, beginning to fracture from the inside out. You already have been. You’re pouring out from your seams.

“I’m going to fetch more tea, I’ll be back in a moment.” Diluc steps toward the door and a bolt of panic shoots through you. It hurts, physical, dread-filled pain that has you stumble up, toward him, reaching out desperately for him.

(“Please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t go. Not again.”)

You grab his sleeve and ball your fist in the fabric. 

Diluc attempts to placate you. “Rest, it’s alright. I’m just going to the kitchens.”

You say nothing and tug him tighter. Closer. 

(Part of you wants to kick Diluc away and lock the door behind him. There’s another that wants you to fall to your knees, and beg him to stay close. He’s given you a morsel and you should know better than to roll over for scraps but—)

(You’re so scared. So scared you’ll lose his heat all over again.

You listen to the latter part as you drop to your knees in front of Diluc, just steps into his bedroom. 

You’re not sure what possesses you—

(You do. You’re distracting Diluc from whatever sticky, honeyed thoughts he is having by replacing them with something more carnal. Physicality is just that— physical. Tangible and touchable and far easier to fixate on the immaterial.)

(... Right?)

Diluc breathes your name, wide-eyed as you brace your palms on his thighs. You can feel how tense he is. The thick rug against the floor cushions your knees. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is small. 

“I want to make you feel good.” You ask, running your hands up to his waistband and begin to untuck his dirtied shirt, “May I?”

Diluc gives you a look. It’s all apprehension and worry, creasing the lines of his pretty face. He works his jaw as you toy with the leather of his belt.

(You understand it, really.)

(You don’t like the look he gives you, but you don’t know which one you’d rather see him wear. Hatred would perhaps be better. Desire would be the worst.)

(Diluc had always been the sure-footed one. Confident, but never cocky or boisterous. Even in the ways you’ve seen him now, he’s been firm and familiarly stubborn. But, at the sight of you below him, offering, he’s creased over in apprehension.)

Diluc gives you an almost imperceptible nod and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. You smother your smile into the fabric of his trousers before palming him. He’s soft, though hardening under the layers of fabric. Your hands tremble as you undo his belt— maybe they’re going numb at your fingertips. It’s hard to tell. 

It’s easier to pull Diluc’s cock free and stroke idly. You flash him a smile, you don’t know how real it looks. 

(You love him.)

He is pretty. It’s not the first time you’ve seen his cock— hardly, but it’s been so long and his body is in so many ways unrecognizable. Even from the sliver of skin visible at his waistline, he has scars. Thick and thin, burns— he’s decorated in them. 

(You wonder how many you could’ve prevented.)

The thought rots something in you and your hands tremble. 

His cock though— his dick, that’s what you’re focused on. You fixate on the head of him, half-hard, pitching forward to press a kiss to him. Diluc makes an unholy, high noise, and you latch on to the sound of it. You lap at his slit and savor any pearls of precum that you taste. 

Pulling away, you spit into your hand, and stroke the length of him. Your ears are ringing.

You look up at him, neck aching, and push the bottom of his shirt up. “You should hold this between your teeth, hm?”

Diluc’s almost trembling, shaking as he nods and puts the hem of the shirt between his teeth. It’s compromising, surely. He’s suddenly so bare, and you’re on his floor, clothed. Mostly. Your robe is slipping, revealing bare shoulders and an unblemished collar. You’re sure it’s doing something to him. It has to, you hope it does.

You stall as he bares his chest to you. 

(So many wounds, healed and sealed. Most of these are new. Even with his battle prowess— what has he been doing to himself? To be so battered must mean that he put himself in harm’s way, above his abilities. Or face a foe he hadn’t expected.)

You tremble. 

You purse your lips and flatten your tongue. The taste of him is distracting, pleasantly. It’s more musk than smoke, all him in a way that makes you swallow him down more. One of his hands hesitantly rests against the side of your head. He doesn’t push or shove you. The contact is so light, it almost feels like he’s hovering rather than making contact. 

(Is he in pain? Does he have old wounds, like yours, that he’s just better at hiding? He was always the type to suffer in silence. Diluc wouldn’t tell you if he was hurting, would he? You’d only been able to goad him into letting you heal him when he was clearly returning home from a brawl, blood-stained, or both.)

You hum around his length and dig your fingertips into his thighs. Corded muscle covered by a layer of fat. Your mouth waters at the thought of taking a bite of him. 

(You know he bruises easily.)

It’s hard to breathe— you hadn’t realized Diluc’s size when you endeavored to suck his cock, but you’re feeling it now. You bully him further down, forcing yourself to relax until the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Diluc says your name so breathlessly, pinched around the edges. Your eyes stay shut and you anchor yourself on sensation. The heat of Diluc, radiating into you from the inside, the desperate way he breathes through his teeth and the shirt tucked between them. You hum around him and relish the choked sound that he can’t hold back. 

(Like this, whatever is simmering under your skin and behind your eyes feels duller. You can chase sensation, grip it so hard it hurts, and bring pleasure at the same time. Isn’t this—)

You begin to bob your head, shallow, once, twice, and then a third time— And with a broken-sounding groan, Diluc comes down your throat.

It’s fast. It’s unexpected. The only warning you had was the way Diluc’s hand tightened around your skull, not pushing, but firm. Your eyes stretch wide as you try to swallow his release. It’s— a lot, more than you expect, and it spills from the corners of your mouth. Diluc jerks his hips, clearly involuntary, and you properly choke on him.

And then he pulls out of your mouth, dripping and sticky and softening, and you hang your head, swallowing thickly and coughing. The ringing in your ears is worse, and the world feels far away. Even Diluc’s heat feels lukewarm. It’s not peace, nor unsettling, something in the middle that is more unpleasant than pleasant. It’s hard to focus.

It’s easier, when Diluc goes to his knees next to you. He’s hastily tucked his cock away, belt still unbuckled. There’s dirt and singed fabric on his knees— you still haven’t checked his injuries. Foolish.

You reach out a hand (are you really shaking that hard?), Dendro curling around your fingers. Diluc catches your wrist and holds it steady. 

The ringing in your ears clears enough to hear him say your name. It’s hard to register. You send the Dendro through his wrist instead— how many fractures has he had on that bone? The scar tissue—

Diluc says your name once more, more sharply, more worried— and he cups your jaw and tilts your face up to his.

“Oh,” you reply softly. Your voice is wrecked. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Diluc’s brow is creased, relief bleeding in his voice. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.” You pat his hand that’s on your jaw. “Peachy. You taste good.”

It’s fun to watch Diluc flush even more— he always has always blushed easily. It spreads down his neck and up to his ears. You mindlessly lay the back of your free hand over the cheek to feel how warm he is. Burning. You swear he’ll scorch you alive.

“I don’t—” Diluc shakes his head, rubbing at your cheeks. It’s intimate. If your ears weren’t ringing, you’d be on the other side of the room by now. Maybe Mond. Maybe Teyvat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask him. You feel breakable beneath your haze. “Is something wrong?”

Diluc looks at you. Really looks at you. Though you look back at him, the world is too fuzzy to take account of details. 

(If you could, you’d see concern. Wretched, awful concern and care that he has kept tucked so far away from you since you’ve returned. You closed the distance so swiftly between the two of you, violently, and Diluc is split wide with it.)

“You’re—” Diluc presses a finger down to your pulse point. “Your heart’s beating so fast.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod. “I couldn’t breathe for a moment there.”

“That’s not it.” Diluc counters you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he strokes over your cheeks, conflicted. 

You reach out without thinking and tug the black ribbon from his hair. It spills over his shoulders— the waves are a mess. You see snarls and soot. Maybe even chunks burned together.

“Can I brush your hair?” You ask, running a hand through it and grimacing as your fingers get caught. “No, I should wash it first.”

“No,” Diluc says sharply. It startles you enough that you jump. It makes him wilt even more. “You won’t.”

“But I can—?”

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Diluc says softly, squeezing your shoulder.

Diluc has been so incredibly tentative, almost unsure, about any sort of physical contact with you prior. But, in this moment, he’s so sure.

He presses his lips to your forehead, firm and unyielding. It’s so warm— like a hearth that’s always been lit and rolling. High enough to cook a pot over but not enough to burn you down. You’d forgotten this part of his heat.

(How could you?)

“Indulge me?” he asks, lips soft against your skin. 

“... In what way?”

“Sleep in my bed,” he says softly. “With me.”

You frown. “You don’t need to return the gesture.”

“That’s not why I’m asking.” Diluc pulls away and presses his lips to your wrist instead. He must be able to feel your pulse. 

You consider. 

(You’re not within yourself. You’re floating; it’s not his fault. Circumstance and sleeplessness and the horror of intimacy do such things, you know. It’s a tempting offer when Diluc’s heat is so comforting.)

(When he is so comforting.)

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Diluc nods. “More than.”

(Is it really greed, if he invites you?)

“Okay.”

Diluc makes you tea. Scenes seem to skip before your eyes. One moment, Diluc is gone, then in the en suite bathroom, then beside you with a warm cup. The order of these events changes the longer you think about it. 

The tea grows colder in your hands and Diluc coaxes you to drink it.

He’s thrown on some soft linen sleep clothes. You get distracted by the obscenely deep-v of the cut, and it takes Diluc repeating your name a few more times to bring you back, closer to the present moment.

Exhaustion catches you quickly once you’re horizontal. It’s easier to fall into and accept when you’re surrounded by the smell of Diluc and his heat. Him. It’s too daunting to touch him fully like this, but you face him when you lie down. You both grab the other’s hand, and squeeze in tandem. 

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, burying your nose in the sheets. “Yeah. Was earlier bad?”

“No,” Diluc says quickly. It’s too dark with the candles blown out, but you imagine him blushing. “Strange, maybe, but not bad. I didn’t expect it. I would prefer some notice, if you’re going to proposition me again.”

There’s something left unsaid after, but you can’t make yourself pry. 

You’re so whittled down, really. You’re just bones and cracking flesh and tears burgeoning before falling. The idea of sharing a big, warm bed with Diluc, despite everything unresolved and open and festering, breaks something in you. 

(You’ve been so hungry. Starved. Emaciated and just fucking dealing with it. And now you’re offered a feast on a platter and you’re horribly loyal, at your core.)

“I don’t share beds often.” A memory bubbles up to the surface. 

Diluc plays with your hair, scratching at your scalp, motions nearly scalding and circular. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve kept much company on your travels.”

“Only a few times.” A melancholy smile twists your lips. A memory drags you down from floating. “I was engaged, once, you know.”

Maybe it’s cruel to say, and part of you revels in the way Diluc squeezes your hand so tightly it almost hurts. “... You were?”

“Yes.”

“Betrothed?”

“Yeah.” You smother a laugh into the buttery sheets. “She was a healer in Fontaine. We met when I stayed in her village to tend to victims of a fungal plague. She asked me to marry her after I’d stayed with her for a while.”

“But, you didn’t go through with it?” Diluc's voice sounds tight. Or, you’re imagining it. 

“No.” You bring your legs up, curling around yourself. “I couldn’t. I called things off a few weeks before the wedding.”

“Why?” 

You think, think— because it’s been a long time, and the memory has become scattered. The face of the woman who was almost your wife is nearly gone in your memory. You remember the sound of her laugh, the color of her hair, and the way her home smelled when she burned her favorite candles. But— but—

“I couldn’t do it.” You feel withered. “She treated me so well. I could have lived well. The village cared for me and it would’ve been a kind life.”

You choke on the sound of your own laughter. Morose. You wrap your arms around Diluc’s one, burying your face in his bicep like it’ll take the burning away from your chest. 

“... Why couldn’t you?” he asks.

(Because it wasn’t here. It wasn’t him.)

“You know, at the Akademiya, there’s a whole Darshan dedicated to studying stars and the alignment of the cosmos.” You tangle a leg with Diluc’s. You’ll give him this much, another admission. “They say that fate’s written up there— for all of us.”

Diluc pulls you closer, under your thighs, slotting you together. It’s like you were made to be that way.

“I guess Celestia didn’t deign for me to stay in that village forever and get married.” You ache, all over. 

(But the stars did bring you back here. To Mond. To him.)

Diluc’s breath catches. He holds you tighter.

“They took you away too, though.” You curl the fabric of his shirt in your chest, over his heart. Like you could rip it out— (just like how he ripped out yours.) “ You left. Chasing something, right?”

And you throw your head back and laugh. You turn away from Diluc, something rotten bringing you back into yourself. Not memories, but dread and panic (forget, forget, forget.) You hate the feeling. You shove your face into the sheets and savor the feeling of it. The smell and the heat that you’re sure will be ripped away from you. It’s Diluc’s scent. Cecilia and oat soap and stale cologne. You indulge.

“You said you hate me.” Diluc’s voice is close. You lay on your stomach, twisted at the hips, and Diluc looms over you. His hands bunch in the sheets on either side of your shoulders. 

“I do, at least a little,” you admit, awful, wretched— “Maybe a lot.”

(As much as you love him.)

“You have every reason to.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

“I don’t regret it.”

It burns to hear. “I wouldn’t expect you to. A chance to play knight— hero?” 

“Did you expect me to not do anything?” 

“I expected you to at least say goodbye—!” You turn, sharp, and spit the words in his face even as your voice breaks. He’s closer than you thought, hovering so that you’re nose to nose.

A few tears slip, dripping down to your hairline. It takes every last shred and thread holding you together to keep from shattering. Diluc looks like he’s been slapped, shiny ruby eyes polished. Candlelight flickers in them, flame on flame.

You bite your tongue until you taste blood. Because, Archons, if you say anything else, you’ll regret it. 

“I’m sor—”

“Tell me in the morning,” you cut him off with a smile, one that makes him frown. “Please?”

And Diluc is nothing, if not weak for you.

It’s an easy shift, for him to drag you to the center of the bed, close to his chest, and pull the duvet over the two of you.

When Diluc presses you, front to front, with your head wedged under his chin, he says soft and breaking, “You worry me.”

You nearly laugh again. “Don’t.”

He just squeezes you, hard enough that you might break.

(You feel like you’re going to shatter. You don’t know if you’re ready.)

[eyesxxyou]

Stalker Spiderpunk/hobie brownx afab reader for you pretty boy (because i like telling people my ideas more then posting any idea/stories on my account) Smut ahead warning! Could kinds be seen as cnc, spiderpunk also gets more yandereish at the end. Still has mask mostly on, so reader doesnt fully know its hobie brown

A little flashback, Spiderpunk whose been watching, praying from afar you dont notice him. He sees how much you love him and appreciate his work but would you continue to do that if you found out he was stalking you? Since the one day he saved you hes been absolutely infatuated with you, by everything you do and how you look. Currently now he’s patrolling watching you go home. For you ever since the day the hero you adored saved you, youve felt like you were prey. Always being watched, it definitely raised your anxiousness high which would explain why your fiddling with a piece of jewelry you have. He thinks its quite cute of what your doing, his eyes and movements following yours as you get home. When your home he watches how you get out of stuff from your job feeling exhausted and changing into a tshirt of spiderpunk, one that was made by a small business that hobie loves. He know its wrong to watch you change but he cant stop, after a couple of minutes and your done he’s actually near your window and knocks on it. Hearing the noise you turn your head you see the neighbors friendly punk spiderman. Your eyes go wide as you open the window to let him in, worried if something happened to him. When you did that you wouldve never expected it to go the way it has now. Which current is you being tied like a bug in his spiderweb. Which kinda feels fitting since you were his prey, and well… he was your predator. Whose currently feasting on the way you taste. His warm tongue inside of you along with his fingers. The tongue piercing only adding more to your pleasure as his tongue and fingers curl together. You can also feel his lip piercings at your folds. But currently hes making you fold, already having your legs turning into jelly so hes holding you up with one hand on your thigh against your bedroom wall where your wrist are pinned with spiderwebs. Hearing you moan and whimper is like a praise to him, oh how he only wants to treat you how you deserve. How hes claiming you to be all his, each moan and whimper just more of a beg from you. In this little game of his, he plans to be the only winner. His mask is only up to his nose allowing it to where he can feast. His mask eyes look up at you, god do you look so gorgeous in that tshirt a small business made of it. God does it only get him more horny knowing you arent falling for big corporations lies. It only gets him going rougher. His hand thats currently fingering you he uses his thumb to press up against your clit, trying to enhighten your pleasure as his spidey senses go off. His spidey senses dying down when you cum in his mouth and on his beautiful face. He watches as your head is thrown back as you moan for spiderman. He enjoys every second of it and he removes his fingers and tongue, he licks the cum off his fingers. Moving his head back down so he gets every single drop you made for him.

He definitely doesnt plan to let you go, after cleaning you up and putting you in the bed he mumbles some soft words to you. The words are fulled with passion as he calls you his. He will do more with you another day but he wants to wait for that. Kissing your forehead tucking you in as he locks the window from the inside before moving out of it and shutting the window making sure its locked. He jumps away as your left their stunned on what just happened, but excited. While hes thinking about making sure no one gets close to who he loves, at least not to close anyway…

Id actually start making fanfics of him if i could write his damn accent (i cant yet guys gonna study him and his voice and accent more. But then again i fucking suck at accents okay. I dont even know if the thing as that good but… yeah)

-🍄

You don't have to wait until you get his accent, just write him normally. This is GREAT! You should definitely post it to your account!