#oli chatters

[playername-player-of-games]

re that oli fic: do you like hate me or something

i just wanted to inflict pain upon you as payback for the brainrot hope this helps,

[aerie-stims]

i can do 10 more boards in like 4 days right ? yeeeeaaaah we’ll be fiiine

[berryhaunterbb]

Hey BB, if you don't mind me asking, who exactly are your parents...? Are they still around?

Mama Thea's been gone for a while, but I know she's around.. Mamas don't wander far.

Mama Oli.. Mama's gone gone though..

[misteria247]

I'm gonna take a break on the 87 tmnt for a bit! I'd just gotten through the 6th episode and it was wild. The next one is episode 7 of season two!! Enter the Fly!!! Once I'm done with my little break I'll get started on that episode next!!!

Thank y'all for putting up with my nonsense so far lol.

[naviavu]

Evergreen

PAIRINGS: yandere!alhaitham x reader

TAGS: mild compared to my other works <3, i guess, >:-), obsession, possessive sex, juicy smut, alhaitham is yandere YANDERE, he just wants reader back home :(, sumeru dream team, abuse of power, childhood friends to lovers, kinda, manipulation

WORDS: 4.4k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist

NOTES: hope everyone enjoys this dark twist of alhaitham! it's been so long since i wrote for genshin, and i'm not sure how much the tumblr community has changed. regardless, please don't hesitate to drop by my inbox to comment or request! i genuinely missed writing lol <3

You often think that you’re cursed with your work.

(Y/N) of the Akademiya. Graduated early from Vahumana, traveling all over the seven nations to be a teacher and provide impoverished kids with free education. This is the fourth year of your career, and you’re staying in Fontaine– everything is going great.  

Until one day, a messenger approached you.

“What do you mean the stakeholders are withholding funds indefinitely?” A chalk breaks under your grip, powder falling to your skirt. You glance quickly outside the tent, careful to not let your students hear you. “That doesn’t make any sense– the Yorun investors are literally from Sumeru! They’re wealthy enough to fund fancier Akademiya projects! ”

The messenger– Jesse, a gentle Fontainian girl much younger than you– avoids eye contact and fiddles with her sling bag. “They insisted that the abrupt change in the sages and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s rise to power caused their resources to become… limited.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” You shout. Jesse trembles. You sigh and pat her head. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Get home safe, alright?”

(She only nods and places the letter on your desk. Before leaving, she turns back and says, “I’m really sorry, Ma’am (Y/N). I also wish that you continue your work. You’ve done a great deal educating kids in this neighborhood… including my brother.”

You give her a sad smile.)

There was no choice. The next day, you taught one last lesson to your students (eleven children from the back alleys of Fontaine, all no older than twelve) and bid your final goodbyes. When they ask where you’re going, you tell them that you’re on for another long journey, and you don’t know when you’ll be back. They gather around and embrace you, small hands all over your body. One of the kids (Jules, one brilliant in maths but not so much in literature. You’ll miss his toothy smile the most) tell you that they will pray to Focalors for your safety. You pat Oli’s head one last time, telling him to be good for his sister Jesse. 

A carriage picks you up before sunrise. Your journey to Sumeru was uneventful, and every small bump and thud on the way aggravated you further. You settle for burning holes at the empty seat in front of you.

You enter the city with your head down, walking the familiar steps robotically. You think that you recognize the voices of your old acquaintances and neighbors chattering and laughing, but the haze from your mind (and heart) prevents you from doing the bare minimum of greeting them.

The first step to your wooden porch is a bittersweet homecoming. When you open your front door, the hinges still squeak the same tones before you left. 

Your evergreen shrubs haven't grown an inch, as if someone was maintaining them. (You brush off this strange detail.)

Mindlessly staring inside your unkempt house, you decide that if you want to continue your life’s work, you must continue earning money. 

(You failed to notice that your doorknob was dust-free.)

You sat down on your old desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the higher-ups for the cause of your arrival, the reason for the halt of your travels, and that you’re looking for a job. 

For the rest of the day, you unpack your bags, sweep the floor, and pace restlessly in your living room. It’s been many years since you were in contact with your superiors. The last time you saw them was at your graduation, where everyone expected you to stay in Sumeru and be one of the next candidates for the Sage of Vahumana. 

The grip in your broom tightens when you remember as clear as day your professors’ anger and judgment when you declined their offer. Entitled. Ungrateful.

Will they even accept you back? Will they cast you out?

To your surprise, a reply arrived on your doorstep not even a day later. A clean envelope embroidered with green and silver patterns.

You were offered to fill the vacant position of Scribe. 

You tell yourself that you’ll adjust eventually. 

Seeing the piles of papers and books in front of you, your hand aches a phantom throb. You wonder how your friend Lisa could survive this kind of monotony in Mondstadt. It pays better, sure, and your back and legs won’t hurt as much from traversing landscapes– but it’s still nothing compared to seeing the smile on children’s faces when they finally understand the concepts after a bone-deep, exhausting lesson.

As expected, the stick-thin pen felt too soft on your fingers after a few hours. You were more used to holding chalks or markers. Drafting ordinances and reading through academic policies was never your thing. 

Outside your study, you hear the light footsteps of scholars while noisily prattling about one of their newest inventions. You can’t help but compare the plain white-green palette of your office to the brightness and energetic vibrance of the local districts. 

Putting your hands on your head, you exhale deeply. “Fuck me!” 

“--(Y/N). I hope you’re doing well on your first day.” A voice –not too different from years ago, just deeper– enters the room.

Oh god. “Alhaitham!” The silver-haired man closes the door behind him. You didn’t even hear his footsteps outside your office. “Sorry, my… hand cramped from signing all these papers. You know how it is.” 

He raises his eyebrow. “Still not used to your tasks?” Seeing him out of his Haravatat uniform is a new sight. Even from a distance, his stature is much taller, no doubt towering over you.  

“Well, I can’t really complain,” His lack of greeting and deadpan expression doesn’t bother you. If anything, you’re glad that the Alhaitham you knew four years ago is not too different from Alhaitham now. “It’s better than not having a job. I didn’t expect them to accept me so fast, though. I thought they’d be more hung up with my rejection thing years ago. Old people and their grudges, y’know?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond, used to your chattering. He meanders to the nearby bookshelf and brushes through. Your lips quirk into a small grin. “Thank the Archons that I have my very cute junior, who’s also the Acting Grand Sage and the previous Scribe, to help me adjust with my new work, huh?”

His fingers stop skimming. He glares over his shoulder. “Power tripping me on your first day? I’m calling human resources.”

Your shoulders shake when you laugh. His own kind of humor never ceases to amuse you. “Sorry. It’ll take some time… but I’ll get used to this. I promise.” 

A familiar and comfortable silence settles in the room. A few papers later, he finally picks the book he’s been looking for and turns to you. “Please do everyone a favor by going to Lambad’s Tavern tonight. Kaveh got into an altercation with another customer, and your presence would help tone down his temper. Tighnari and Cyno are also expecting you. Candace also mentioned that she hasn't gotten back to you since you last wrote to her, and she would love to catch up personally.”

Your lips smile at the mention of your old friends. Stretching your arms, you look out the window. The noise outside from Sumeru City barely hangs in the air with your office located so high up in the building. “News goes around real fast, doesn’t it? I’ve been keeping a low profile since last week and didn’t even tell anyone about my arrival. Not Kaveh. Not Cyno, not Tighnari, not Candace.” Your whisper, eyes downcast.

Alhaitham walks to the other side of your desk and crosses his arms. “The lack of funds for your organization wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). Whether it's because of the shift in power from the sages or not, incidents out of your control inevitably happen.”

You don’t ask why he knows the reason why you’re back here. Alhaitham always knew more than what he let on. “Don’t waste time being disappointed with yourself and focus on what you have now.”

You turn away, flustered from the sincere gaze of his bright virescent eyes. You take a sip of your warm coffee to hide your smile. “Thanks, Haitham. This is why you’re the best Acting Grand Sage.”

He rolls his eyes. The brewing tension disappears. “Make sure that I see you in the tavern no later than 10.”

The door softly closes when he leaves. For the first time in forever, this place starts to feel like home.

The lively, alcohol-drenched atmosphere in Lambad’s Tavern never changed. 

Years ago, you’d go day drinking whenever your assignments were returned for their fifth revision. If your whole class was lucky, most of your group mates and colleagues will be with you, equally drowning in their academic-induced sorrows.

The amber-brown colors of the sheets and the patrons who entered remained the same. Before you even reach the counter, someone already picks you up and spins you around in a hug. “Little one! I’ve heard from some patrons that you were back in town. It’s one of those rumors that I hoped to be true!” 

You giggle and embrace Lambad back, grateful for the older man’s warm welcome. 

“(Y/N)!” You’d recognize the forest ranger’s sweet voice anywhere. Tighnari jogs towards you and pulls you into a hug, tail wagging. You notice that he looks better compared to all those years ago when he was still in the Akademiya. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner. When Cyno told me there seemed to be an occupant in your house, I didn’t expect it to be you! ” 

Bitterness pangs in your heart. “I didn’t expect to be back either,” You say honestly. “Guess everyone needs a little break somehow.”

“Warn us next time, would you?” Cyno emerges behind his friend. “Be thankful that there was other urgent business to take care of. I was ready to… interrogate whoever was staying inside my friend’s house without their permission.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, boss,” You shake your head and laugh. Three of you walk to a table near the windows. You’re happy to see everyone. And you’re glad to know that they’re also just as happy to see you. 

After a good hour of catching up, you feel your whole body relax and your jaw tense from laughing too hard at Tighnari’s anecdotes. Your emotions unwind like a fresh flower by the streams. 

“That blockhead doesn’t know what he’s talking about...  Where are they? The tavern is too crowded at this hour!” You turn to your left, looking for him. You wave excitedly when you see a tuft of blonde hair. 

His eyes widened. “(Y/N)?”

“Kaveh.”

“(Y/N)!”

“Kaveh!” The architect ran up and enveloped you in a hug. Since college, yours and Kaveh’s stupidity knew no bounds– it was always laughs and jokes between you. You stay in each other’s arms for a few moments, and the familiarity of his scent brings you relaxation. 

The night goes on as great as it started. 

“I can’t wait until I move out!” Kaveh exclaims. Two people from the other table look in his direction. Your other friends groan, used to his antics. 

You notice redness starting to come up on the blonde’s neck. “You’re being really loud for someone I thought didn’t want people knowing you live with him.” 

Cyno places down a card. Tighnari groans. “Don’t engage him. (Y/N). Or he won’t stop.”

“Yes! Yes,” Kaveh starts. All the other customers are busy with their own shouting and chattering. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the place. Alhaitham is a quiet roommate. I just can’t stand his attitude most of the time! If I wanted a lecture, I would’ve gone to the Akademiya and talked to my old professors.”

The blonde crosses his arms. “What about you, (Y/N)? I’m not going to lie, Alhaitham made a great recommendation of you being the Scribe. That’s the only thing I could commend him for this week, at least.” 

“What?” You weren’t aware of that. Your thumbs fiddle with your skirt. “Uh, yeah. I’ll make sure to thank him later.”

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), you’re to kiiiiiind,” He slurs. “I wish you were my roommate instead.”

Your best friend reaches to twirl your hair. In your drunken stupor, you giggle with a light blush painting your cheeks. 

A bottle clangs on the table. “Another one, please.”

A heavy presence sits beside you. You look, and Alhaitham was already downing a shot, throat bobbing. 

In the background, your friends laugh while Kaveh groans. 

Has Haitham always been this beautiful?

The silver-haired man looks at you. “Enjoying Kaveh’s tales?” 

“It’s always a fun story when you’re involved.” You giggle, flushing under his gaze. “Everything about you is so entertaining, Haitham.”

Your flushed face does something to his chest. He gives you another shot. “That’s why your colleagues used to look at you weird. Whenever Kaveh wasn’t around, you’d hang out with me, even when I clearly wanted to be alone,” He laments. 

“Says the one who used to follow me around like a puppy! We were mismatched weirdos,” You don’t notice the blush creep up on his cheeks. You smile at him earnestly, whispering. “I’m glad you didn’t change– oops!”

The chair creaks and you stumble into his arms. You look up, seeing his face and amber eyes close to yours. Heat emanates from the grip on your waist, and your hands feel hot on his chest. Sparks flew to your core. 

“Get a room! You know what, I’m staying in Cyno’s tonight. He never sleeps anyway,” Kaveh’s shouts break the stupor and you push Alhaitham away. He stumbled, and Cyno was on his side in an instant. “You heard him. Kaveh, it’s time for you to clock out. Tighnari, let’s continue this game next time.” 

The three of them exit the tavern. ‘Make Alhaitham pay the tab! He’s so unfair!’ Kaveh says, and Alhaitham begrudgingly does so when both of you have sobered enough to walk home. 

You don’t know if it’s the leftover alcohol in your system, but the night sky swirls above both of you. “Ah… I never knew… howmuchImissedbeinghere,” 

“Easy there,” He catches you again when you stumble. “Where are we going, Haitham?”

“To your place, of course. You’re exhausted from work. You need to rest.”

“What? But I thought…” Your mind goes blank. Alhaitham looks at you with hope in his eyes, but the light is gone in a split second. 

“You thought what?” When you don’t answer, he stops on his tracks. “You thought what, (Y/N)? Tell me.” 

“Nothing.” He looks away. You face him. “But… I think… my place is too far. Can we go to yours instead?” 

You seal your fate with those words.  

The heat from both of your bodies encapsulated the whole room. 

Alhaitham’s hands slowly grip your curves. Passion and lust melted into two souls that yearned for each other for so long. 

“Haitham…” You breathe out, shivering from his fingers ghosting on your skin. You feel like you’re on fire, and his warmth only served to fan your flames higher. 

“I wanted you for so long… you’re so beautiful…” He gasps, fumbling around your blouse buttons. Despite his rough kisses, he handles you gently– like porcelain glass, a gift getting unwrapped for the first time.  

When you finally undressed, Alhaitham almost couldn’t believe his eyes. 

The one woman he had been obsessed with, laid out before him. His for the taking. 

You shiver at his gaze. You hold out your hand, shaking from the cold. And arousal. “C-Come… Haitham… you can do whatever you want with me…”

And so he does. He climbs to your bed like a predator hunting the prey. You lie in wait as you let him take the lead. Kissing all over your breasts, suckling on your nipples, sending shivers to your core. You try to squeeze your legs for relief, but Haitham stops you by putting his knees in between your legs. 

He clicks his tongue. “You’ll only cum on my mouth, fingers, or cock tonight, baby.” 

You shudder at his words. Down he goes, settling himself between your soft thighs. You flush, your cunt surely eager and wet, aching for his touch. He licks a stripe in your pussy, and you moan. “H-haitham!”

He licks more eagerly, like a man starved. Never in a million years you’d ever thought that you would be this vulnerable and intimate. At the hands of your junior, no less. His face on your thighs and his mouth on your clit, sucking like you were his last meal. 

Your head was in the clouds. Your hands move to his head, tugging roughly. 

He growls. “You wanna play rough? I can play rough.”

You sigh. “Keep–going– Haitham…”

He spits on your cunt. He slurps on your mixed juices. “I-I’m close…” 

He stops and you whine. Your legs are pulled to the end of the couch, and you watch him as he fumbles with his clothes. When he finally emerges stark naked in front of you, you notice his large cock, angrily red at the tip. 

That won’t fit inside you. 

“Wait– Haitham!” He positions himself in front of your legs, rubbing his cock on your entrance. “Yes, baby?” 

“You– You might not fit inside me,” You flush deeper when he laughs. “I’m being serious!”

“We’ll never know if we don’t find out.” He enters you, and you moan. You try to cover your mouth from letting such embarrassing sounds come out, but he pins your arms above you. “I want to hear you.” 

He rocks into you, like two bodies connecting with each other have waited for a long time. 

Alhaitham observes your face, sketches it to his memory. The way your eyes glisten, and your mouth opens in pleasure. The curve of your hips and waist, the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, and the tears in your eyes. You’ve grown into a fine young woman as he expected, and it was a blessing that you came home so unexpectedly. 

Your pussy is heavenly. All his teenage fantasies culminated to this one night– his childhood crush, sprawled out in his bed and legs open like a slut. He’ll make sure that your skin is marked all over. Let everyone know that you’re his, and no one else’s. 

“Haa… Feels so good…” You were equally drenched in sweat and your tears, pleasure overcoming your senses. You feel him suck your nipples again, sending you more pleasure to your core. 

“You’re so fucking tight– that’s it, baby, suck me in,” He groans, as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens and you moan, and it suddenly snaps– “Ah!” 

Your juices make a mess on his stomach, his thighs, and yours. You heave and gasp your breath, shivering. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe,” Warm arms envelop you, and you close your eyes.

You sleep soundly in Alhaitham’s arms. 

Time goes on, and your passionate meetings with Alhaitham are repeated. 

You gave yourself to him again, and again, and again. At his house, when Kaveh is away with his clients. In his study, when he’s stressed. On his couch, when both of you are drunk and give in to lust before going to the bedroom. For the past month, you can’t count how many times you woke up seeing the lush green of his windows and his warm body curled up around yours. 

His visits became frequent on your own study. He brings you coffee. You spend the whole day drafting and writing, and he reads his book in the corner of your room like a loyal attendant. 

It’s domestic. Sometimes, you often wonder what life will be if you decide to stay. 

(Is there a future with Alhaitham? You ask yourself one afternoon when you see the man sleeping on your mini desk. His silver hair softly flutters in the wind, and on his hand is a document you handed him to put by one of the bookshelves.

It would be good if he could join me in traveling the world. You stamp your last document for the day. 

You walk and place a kiss on his forehead to wake him up. “Work’s done, sweetie.” 

You would miss him terribly.)

One morning, your jolly footsteps alert people in the street. “Haitham!”  You whisper excitedly. The door opens, and you enter before he can even offer for you to come inside. “I got it!” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what it is, but I’m proud of you.”

“I’m going back to Fontaine to teach! The stakeholders said there was an error in the calculations; they’re ready to fund my investment again!” You hug him tight. Joy pours out of your body. 

(You don’t notice him freeze.)

“I’m so happy… I honestly thought that this was the end of my life’s purpose…” You trail off. Alhaitham hugs you back. His grip tightens on your waist.

“I can finally come back to the kids in Fontaine…” You trail off when you see him looking far into the distance. 

You frown. You know better than most people that he’s not the most expressive person, but you thought that he would at least crack a smile for you. 

You hastily pull away from your hug. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted you to know first, since you’re… very special to me,” Your face was red from shame, and from not knowing how to describe your relationship with Alhaitham correctly. “I’ll go tell Tighnari and the others now.”

A beat passes. “(Y/N).” 

You turn around, hand clutching your bag. Alhaitham stands still on the doorway in the same position that you left him. 

Then, he smiles– crooked and ominous, like he was forcing himself.

Perhaps he is. 

A shiver goes down your spine. He speaks, confident and clear– like it wasn’t the most obvious lie. “I’m happy for you.” 

The door closes behind him. This time, your feet fight the urge to get out of this city as soon as possible.

 Your happiness ended as quickly as it came.

The newspaper plastered on the board of Port Ormos sits still despite the rough winds, like it knows how heavy the burden of the message it carries.

Yorun Investors dead on ambush

An Adventurer’s Guild member sighs, discouraged. A businessman– from Sneznhaya, you would assume from his attire– exclaims. “That would mean their investments are also cut off? Drat! Half of my businesses rely on their funding!”

People pile up to see the newsboard, collectively murmuring. You stand still, motionless. Bricks are piled on your hands and your feet. 

You can always find other investors, of course. Just like you did four years ago. 

How long would that take?

You walk home, absentminded. You pass by the Tavern, then the Akademiya. Walking by Alhaitham’s house doesn't even spark excitement inside you. Calling your other friends isn’t a choice, either.

You just want to wake up from this dream. 

When you arrived, Someone was waiting on your doorstep.

“Alhaitham?” Thesman stands up straight. How long was he waiting? “(Y/N), I apologize for how I acted yesterday. I hope you forgive me.” 

When you remain quiet, he continues. “I also heard about what happened. I don’t mean to mock you, (Y/N). I’m truly sorry to hear about it.” 

Tears start falling down your face, which turn into full, ugly sobs. He walks gently, as if you’ll break into pieces if he makes the wrong move. He holds up his arms. 

You bury your face in his chest and cry.

Living with Alhaitham was happier than you’d thought it would be. 

It’s been months since you took his embrace on your front porch. You spent sleepless nights with him, writing letters for every investor or kind soul who’s kind enough to fund your endeavors, even for a penny. 

You were desperate. If the higher ups knew the struggle you’re going through right now, you’re sure that they’re laughing at you. 

(Not that you cared. Alhaitham stayed up writing letters with you, and that’s all the support that you need.)

You waited, waited, and waited. Yet every reply was rejection. Your partner saw you break down, and he’s always there to pick you back up. 

His clothes are strewn all over your house, as if he lives there now. 

“Coffee?” He offers. You nod. A giggle comes out of your mouth when you see a purple hickey on his neck, barely covered by his shirt.

It’s been months since he heard your laugh. He stops stirring the cup he’s prepared for you. Alhaitham looks back, says sincerely, “I’m glad you stayed.” 

An uncomfortable feeling brews once again. You tell yourself that you’ll get used to it. 

You still have hope that one day, your feet will step out again to reach your dreams.

But for now, everything that you need in Sumeru City. The perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable (but boring) job.

You’ll never have to venture out again. 

(The evergreen shrubs outside your house starts to grow.)

“She’s settling in well?” 

“Yes, she’s resting,” Alhaitham sits on the makeshift chair. Ghandarva Ville was far, but it’s where less people are around. Besides, no one would dare trespass in Tighnari’s personal home. 

“You owe me a favor,” Cyno crosses his arms. “Finding the investor’s carriage was not difficult. They’re pretty famous. But erasing traces is a piece of work. I’m lucky that no one was within the area. Not that they could catch me, anyway.”

The door opens. Tighnari brushes off dirt from his clothing, having come back from burning the investor’s bloodied clothes. He sees the grey-haired man relaxing by his couch. “Are you smiling? Don’t smile. You look weird. Also everything is done, reduced to ashes. What’s our payment, Acting Grand Sage?”

Alhaitham hums, and everything fades into the background. He thinks of you lounging in your home, watering your plants, and decorating your journal. Just like how it’s supposed to be, in the first place. He even cleaned some parts of your house so that you don’t exhaust yourself too much upon your first day.

Thank the Archons that he has the perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable job. 

(Y/N) will never have to venture out again. 

Ever. 

[wileys-russo]

all i can picture in my mind is jealous bf less who KNOWS she shouldn’t be jealous, and she’s just gone quiet bc she doesn’t wanna say anything. and then that creates a whole thing with r who feels like maybe she’s don’t something wrong. and then it all blows up and leads to a guilt confession from less about why she was quiet

shut down II a.russo

"-well baby i think that was quite literally everyone. you have now met my entire family!" you smiled softly, having pulled your girlfriend away to a quiet corner of the back deck, your cousins wedding kicking off in full force behind you.

"i can't promise i remember half their names love i won't lie." alessia chuckled, hands finding yours as you played with her fingers. "i don't know half their names and to some of them i'm their husbands, sisters, best friends second half cousin on my dads side." you joked, coming from such a huge family did have its challenges.

"you look so beautiful tonight amore mio." the striker sighed, the way her eyes lovingly roamed your body making your cheeks flush red. "as do you baby, the matching colour scheme was a nice touch." you smiled, hands fussing with the suit vest which adorned her top half, the taller girl wearing a two piece vest and pants set that perfectly matched your dress.

"my favourite part about this dress will be watching it fall to the floor later." alessia almost purred, lips ghosting yours as you raised an eyebrow at her suggestive tone. "mm and my favourite part of those suit pants will be watching them fly across the room later, much later." you teased, leaning in as if to kiss her but pulling away at the last minute.

"come love, we should get back inside." you smiled knowingly at the look on her face, taking a few steps away and offering her your hand, wiggling your fingers. "just you wait." alessia warned with a smirk tugging at her lips, accepting your hand and allowing you to pull her back inside the venue.

as soon as the two of you stepped inside you were both whisked away into the hurry and flurry of the dance floor, twirled around by distant relatives as your heart warmed to watch alessia dance with your neice.

"well hello stranger." you jumped at a pair of hands landing on your waist. "oh my god ellie? hey!" you gasped at your childhood neighbour, pulling her into a tight hug, missing the way your girlfriends eyes instantly locked onto you from across the room.

alessia knew she shouldn't be jealous. you'd never given her any reason to be, you showered her with your love and attention whenever she wanted it and alessia knew you would never ever cheat, that's not who you were.

so then why she felt her eyes burn and her stomach tighten at the unfamiliar girls hands all over you, the way her eyes roamed your face and subtly dropped down to your exposed cleavage, the way she picked you up and twirled you round.

that was her job, you were her girl, only her hands could touch you like that and only her arms could wrap around you and protect you from the world.

but she was tugged from her jealous haze by a small hand pulling at her pants, your neice holding up her hands expectantly as alessia's face softened, twirling the little girl around who squealed happily, the noise catching your attention as you glanced over ellie's shoulder, face softening at the sight.

"come on! we have so much to catch up on." alessia glanced up to check on you, having made sure you were in her sights all night, so alarm bells rang in her head as she looked around the room trying to spot you.

"hey oli, save me a dance for later?" she knelt down and spoke to your neice who nodded happily before running off after her brother as alessia continued her search for you.

she finally found you sat at your seat on your assigned table, ellie sitting in alessia's place as the two of you chattered away without a care. "oh! here she is." you perked up as you spotted your girlfriend making her way over.

"so you're the infamous girlfriend. hi! i'm ellie." your friend stood in alessia's path toward you, pulling her into a surprisingly sudden hug as alessia returned the gesture though a little more awkwardly.

alessia was quick to sit down in her rightful seat, ellie moving to the vacant chair on your other side as the two of you resumed conversation, alessia's hand moving to rest somewhat protectively on your leg.

as the conversation continued the blonde found herself struggling more and more to ignore the unwarranted jealousy bubbling up inside her. ellie was absolutely lovely and alessia detested her for it because it even more so added to the fact that alessia had no right to feel this way.

and yet with every laugh she pulled from you, every little inside joke you two shared or funny memory you reflected on, every little subtle touch of your hand or your face as she’d grab at you with a grin, alessia’s stomach coiled further and her grip on her drink would tighten.

she felt isolated from you despite being sat right by your side, she wanted to be pressed up against you on the dancefloor, her making you laugh and her whispering sweet things in your ear as the two of you swayed and stole kisses inbetween each song.

but she wasn’t, and that’s not to say you were purposely excluding her from the conversation with your friend, quite the opposite actually if anything it was alessia who was isolating herself.

knowing she didn’t have the right to feel this way but unable to ignore or move past the reality that she did in fact feel this way, alessia shut down and switched off.

you’d continually try to pull her into the conversation, wether it be you highlighting her varied achievements both on and off the pitch, or recommending a new restaurant the two of you had recently been to.

you’d tried a multitude of different ways to get your girlfriend to engage and yet each time she would just smile politely or give an answer with no more than a few words, going back to sipping on her drink as her eyes avoided yours.

you didn’t fail to notice when her touch slipped away, her hand moving off your knee to rest in her lap, inching away as you tried to reach out for her again, a small frown painted on your features at the rejection.

at first you felt worried, trying to maintain conversation with ellie whilst also ticking over and over in your mind and memory if you’d done anything to upset the taller girl beside you who looked like she wished she was anywhere else but.

but then when your countless attempts to rope her in to engaging with you failed, your worry turned into frustration which was very close to boiling over into anger.

“im just going to go to the toilet and freshen upa bit. babe come with me?” you left her no choice, your voice seemingly sweet but your girlfriend instantly caught onto the slight tone of malice which lay beneath its initial layer.

apologising to ellie who waved you off and stood to go and mingle, you grabbed alessia’s hand and all but dragged her away from the table.

“what the hell was that? why are you being so rude?” you questioned once the two of you were safely locked inside the toilet, thankfully no one else in a single cubicle to interrupt the fast brewing argument.

“i wasn’t!” alessia shook her head, again avoiding your eyes as you huffed. “really? then why do you look like you’d be anywhere else but here with me?” your voice cracked slightly at the end, emotions betraying the tough facade you were trying to play into as your girlfriends eyes snapped to yours at the waver.

“baby i want nothing more than to be here with you, nothing makes me happier or prouder than having you on my arm and by my side both at events and in life, i promise.” the blondes hands were quick to settle themselves either side of your face, placing a reassuringly tender kiss to your lips.

“then why were you being so quiet and stand-offish at the table?” you frowned, the striker letting out a pensive sigh and dropping her hands from your face. “it doesn’t matter.” alessia sighed, dragging her hands down her face as you cocked your head curiously.

“it matters to me. did I do something wrong?” you asked quieter now, insecurity starting to hint it’s way through the fortress of your mind. “what? no amore mio i promise, it’s absolutely nothing you did.” she assured quickly as your frowned deepened.

“then talk to me, please.” you requested, the concerned look in your eyes enough to cause alessia’s heart to crack. “its really nothing, it’s silly.” alessia sighed, tilting her head back as you stayed quiet, urging her on with a pointed gaze.

“okay. i was jealous of ellie being round you and i knew i had absolutely no right to be and she was actually quite a lovely girl so I sort of just…shut up and shut down?” alessia winced at the admission, your face softening at her words.

“lessi. you’re right you have no reason at all to be jealous!” you assured, arms reaching up to loop around her neck as you stared up at the taller girl. “just seeing her hands on you and her making you laugh and all the little inside jokes, well it wound me up a little.” alessia muttered much quieter as again your smile grew.

“you really are the sweetest you know that right?” your nails traced lines on the back of her neck. “see this? i’m yours baby. yours and yours only!” you gestured to the small golden A necklace which had hung round your neck for months now.

“but its cute you got so worked up. next time just talk to me about it, after all you’re normally quite good with your mouth.” you teased, grinning as the look in the blondes eyes shifted slightly.

“you know mi bella ragazza, you did say i’d find that dress on the floor later…well would you look at that? it’s later.”

[peachesofteal]

Trick or Treat

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick/female reader 1.8k words For @glitterypirateduck's GAZFEST Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but contains suggestive themes, slice of life, dad!Kyle, light angst, fluff/comfort. Brief character appearance from another series. I didn't use a prompt for this but it is a one shot.

Trick or treating is an odd custom. 

You feel this way, because like Kyle, you didn’t grow up in a place where knocking on doors for candy was a predominant tradition. Halloween was celebrated, surely, but dressing up as little ghouls and running around, screaming ‘smell my feet’ to your neighbors was just… not a thing when you were a child. 

Times have changed though, since you were young. Customs have floated across the oceans. They have melted into new traditions, new practices that took over schools and playground chatter. 

“I wan’ ta be a ghost!” Oliver’s little face beams up at you as he clutches your hand, skipping beside your body with boundless energy, crisp brown leaves crunching beneath his heels. 

“A ghost?!” you gasp, fake fear making him shriek with giggles. “That’s too scary!”

“Naw it’s not!” it’s a playful protest, and you when you turn the corner, he forgets all about the allure of trick or treating for something infinitely better. 

The sight of his dad standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. His dad, who he hasn’t seen in nearly three weeks, waiting for him. For you. 

He takes off into a sprint.

He’s only four, but fast, and you stay on his heels as he flings himself into the arms of his father. 

“DADDY!”

“Don’t you look the part.” Kyle murmurs, heat creeping up your neck into your cheeks when his hands graze your waist. He ducks under the brim of the black, pointed witch hat you managed to find last minute, and presses his lips against yours. You savor him, soaking in everything, the smell of his skin, the remnant flavor of sweetened peppermint on his tongue, the heat of his body pressed to yours. 

Everything you’ve been missing. 

Everything you’ve ever needed. 

“Do you like it?” you croon, and his hands lift the edge of your shirt, just enough so that his palm lays flat against you, kneading against your hip. 

“It’s… bewitching?” He tries the word before the crack of a smile forms, a breathy chuckle, amusement at himself blooming across his face. 

He stuns you. Still. Even after five years. Even after being married, having his child, being separated across continents for too many too long stretches of time. 

“I think-“ you’re about to tell him that you’re thinking about after trick or treating, when Oli will be asleep, when the house will be quiet and dark, all of the candy given away, the candles blown out. When his body will be flush with yours in bed, and you’ll push and pull one another into a daze of pleasure. 

He’s been home for a week, but the longing, the wanting never stops. It only builds, desperate to drink up as much of him as possible, eager to hang on to everything he gives you before he goes again. 

“I’m ready!” Oliver’s shout interrupts you, chiming over some camp Halloween music crackling in the background, finally ready for his grand entrance even though you got him ready over a half hour ago, and Kyle huffs a laugh into your neck before you both pivot to where your son stands on top of the stairs, clad in his very fancy, brand new Buzz Lightyear costume. 

“What's this?” A perfectly packaged Buzz Lightyear costume sits on the kitchen table, and Kyle rubs the back of his neck. 

“He ah- didn’t want to be a ghost anymore.” 

“What?” The dog barks from the backyard, pulling a glance from you to where Oliver plays with her, where they chase each other around in circles in the dusk lit grass.  

“And I couldn’t tell him no…” Your husband tries to explain sheepishly, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah, you’re not really good at that.” His hand envelopes yours, lips pressing to your knuckles. “That’s alright though.” You know he feels guilty. He feels the weight of his absence, feels the pain every time he comes, or goes. 

You try to hold it for him. The sadness. The remorse. The struggle. Try to put the flames out, when they grow too high, when it’s too much for him to bear. After all, Oliver was a decision the two of you made, together.

Sometimes you succeed in lessening this weight that he carries.

Sometimes you do not. 

“Okay, hold still!” you hurry backwards, lining them up in the frame on the front step, flanked by the poorly carved jack o lanterns, the jagged teeth and uneven eyes glinting at you from where the LED lights flicker inside their hollowed-out guts. 

Oliver grins, looking between you and his dad, who crouches beside him, holding him close in an embrace. They have their arms around one another, and they're so happy, so sweet, that you have you hurry up and blink your tears away before Kyle’s super senses catch on. 

You click a million frames of the same photo, just in case, selecting the second one to send off in a group message. 

>Buzz and his favorite Sergeant go trick or treating!  >Soap: I thought I was his favorite Sergeant?  >Price: Enjoy, make sure you get some of the good candy for yourselves!  >You: Of course, and we will! Soap, send pics of Bee in her costume and the fam!  

The response comes fast, a picture, a selfie in an elevator. Soap’s got a half full pillowcase in one hand, and the phone in his other, their partner standing behind him, her fingers folded over his waist, face beaming and bright as she smiles up at the camera. Ghost looms next to her with a little girl curled up against his chest in a homemade bumblebee costume. 

Kyle barks out a laugh, and types out a quick reply. 

>Kyle: Who made that costume? I know it wasn’t you, Soap. >Ghost: It definitely wasn’t. 

“Muuum!” It’s an impatient whine, and you slide your phone away, handing him his plastic pumpkin. 

“Alright, rules.” Kyle begins, the tone of his voice serious enough to jog Oli’s attention immediately. “Stay with us at times. No running too far ahead. Mum or I should be able to see you, yeah?” Oli nods agreeably. “No crossing the street without a grown up. And say thank you at the door.” 

“But wot if they give me apples?” 

“Say smell my feet.” Kyle deadpans and Oliver’s eyes go wide, while you smack your husband’s bicep lightly. 

“No! You still say thank you. Buzz Lightyear likes apples, you know.” Oli deflates a bit, and Kyle laughs, pulling him in for a hug. The little boy melts, still content to just be cuddled and held by his dad, even though he tells everyone he’s a ‘big boy now’. You try to memorize the sight, something to think back on in a few weeks when your bed is empty again, and there’s one less setting at the dinner table. 

“What are we waiting for?” Kyle pats Oliver on the back, and then the three of you take off down the street under the orange glow of All Hallows Eve. 

“He’s cleaning up well.” Kyle muses. Oliver runs down the sidewalk, pointing at his orange globe with pure excitement. 

“Mmmm.” You hum your agreement, pulling your jacket a little tighter. It’s gotten cooler since the sun went down, and the crisp fall air nips at your skin.  “Cold, love?” A warm arm goes around your shoulders and then tucks you in tight, close enough that your face can nestle into his clavicle. “I’ll warm you up later.” He murmurs and you roll your eyes. 

“You’re so cheeky sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do.” He’s solemn when he says it, but his eyes twinkle, mischievous streak simmering just beneath the surface of his enchanting gaze. 

“No question where he gets it from.” Kyle’s fingers touch your temple and then swipe down, glancing across your cheekbone before he’s cupping your face fully, tilting your mouth up to his for a dizzying kiss. 

“You’re not so well behaved yourself.” He chides between the slide of your lips, and you smirk into it, nipping at him when he deepens the kiss. Your heart glows in your chest, warm, happy, sated, and you melt into him, content to be swallowed in the bliss of his touch, his love- 

Oliver screams. 

Everything happens at once. 

Oliver screams, and you both recognize it immediately. You gasp, moving to turn away but you’re too slow, far too slow compared to Kyle. You feel the strength of his body, his muscles turned to action in your grip, and then nothing, save for his absence. 

He’s already gone. 

He’s already over the fence, and up the little yard of the house where you son stands with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

There’s a bowl of candy on chair next to him, and as you get closer, you notice that it has one of those animatron hands in it, the ones that snap forward and grab someone unsuspecting when they reach for a treat. 

Oh. Your body sags with relief. Your heart slows to a slightly elevated pace. 

“You’re alright, shhh. I’m here. Dad’s here.” Kyle has Oliver in a hug, and he rocks him side to side, rubbing his back and whispering soothingly. “Just had a scare, is all.” Your son’s crying relaxes, and he sniffles, keeping his face pressed into Kyle’s chest, hands clutching at him. When Kyle moves to stand, he lets out a frightened cry, and your husband is quick to comfort him, shushing in his ear as he holds him tight. “I’m right here.” He coos, rising with the boy in his arms, looking at you over his head. 

“I think that’s enough for tonight then.” You whisper, leaning forward to peer at Oliver’s sleepy and tearful face. It’s late, well past his bedtime, and he’s already hit every house on the block, filling his little jack o lantern to brim. “Let’s go home?” Kyle nods his agreement. 

Your fingers intertwine with his during the walk home. He holds you, and his son, the entire way, until the front door is swinging open and the two of you are lowering Oliver into bed, tucking him in carefully and kissing him goodnight. Kyle strokes a gentle touch across his cheek, and you volunteer to do the clean-up downstairs so he can linger there, sitting by his son’s bed, watching over his sleeping form. 

When you’re done, and the lights have been turned off, the jack o lanterns no longer flickering in the night, the street nearly quiet, Kyle pulls you into your bedroom.

“Want to leave the hat on?” He raises a brow, and you smother a giggle before pulling the pointy hat off your head with a flourish.

“Trick or treat?” He steals the question from your lips with his, pulling you downwards, burying you between his body and the sheets. 

“I love you.” He whispers against you in the dark, mouth tracing a map across your skin. “Happy Halloween, my love.” 

[amourtoken]

Ask and u shall receive lmao here's more cult leader Oli

*NSFW below the cut, MDNI*

cw: Oli is a cunt, toxic dynamics, throat fucking, slapping, possible dubcon?, corruption, coercion, cult themes, drugging, degradation, toys

♡ thinkin heavily abt cult leader Oli who has you shaped into the perfect little follower. You don't even so much as question him or hesitate when he makes a request of you, ready to serve him however he likes.

♡ he's so disgustingly sweet to you when he wants something. Pulling you in his lap and kissing all over your face, petting your hair, telling you how pretty you are and how much he appreciates you. When he doesn't want something from you, he's basically dead fucking silent all day. Not a word, not a touch, barely a glance, but you still follow him around like a lost puppy.

♡ more often than not, he's just using you to fuck. At the very least, you're the only one he does this with if that brings you any comfort. He's telling the truth about that. Why would he train up a whole new slut when you're constantly at his heels begging for attention? you STILL say yes even after he's avoided you for days. You're basically a dream come true for him.

♡ you're so easy, all it takes is a single comment or look to get you whiny and dripping for him. He thinks you're at your best on your knees. Loves lacing his fingers through your hair and fucking into your throat like you're not crying and gagging on him. You try your best not to pull away but sometimes you can't help it, desperate for some oxygen. He'll roll his eyes at your complaint, the grip on your hair becoming painful while he's dragging you back onto his cock. He doesn't have all day, get it together.

♡ I feel like he's not above drugging you. Sometimes he doesn't wanna deal with the chatter and just needs to get off. You're all pliant and soft for him when you're not completely there, all you have to do is lay back and take it. You're still making little sounds and squirming slightly but nowhere near as loud as usual. He's still covering your mouth with one of his big tattooed hands to keep you quiet while he fucks himself into you. After he finishes he leaves and you eventually come out of your haze, dripping with his cum and aching from the intensity of the encounter. You don't remember any of it, but you could imagine.

♡ to be completely honest the man loves to torment you. If you're not in tears during an encounter he hasn't worked hard enough (not that it takes much). He'll choke you until you're clawing at his forearm begging for air, pinch and tug at your already sensitive nipples a little too hard, and took a liking to pussy slapping recently bc he's evil (and I need him). He's also a big fan of tying you down and leaving you with a vibrator pressed to your clit for literal hours. Either it'll die before he gets back or you'll be subject to it in front of him for a while which is even worse. You've cum so many times it's painful by now and you just need a break but Oli thinks you're pretty like this so unfortunately that's not gonna happen.

"Crying already? Doll we just started. Looks like you're gonna be crying for a while then."

"Always so fuckin tight for me- no one fucks you like I do. Say it."

"Such a good little slut for me, so pretty. You can take more, stop whining."

"Say please and I might give you a break, sweetheart." (Lying)

"Beg for my cock down your throat, maybe I'll touch you after."

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Keeping up the image

Im slowly becoming addicted to leaving random comments on the beginning of each chapter

Yesterday i read some atrociously bad sold to 1d fanfiction for research purposes, so i’m trying to erase that memory and redeem the trope by writing this (guys, it was so bad, i tried to actually read some of it, because this particular fic used to be my favourite when i was like 13, and it’s unreadable, like it’s deplorable, it’s an abomination, and it’s really concerning that for 1 I enjoyed it to the moon and back and have read it multiple times and 2 had access to shit like that at a preteen age) anyway,

as always im dedicating this to @ziptiesnfries i hope you enjoy (btw if anyone else wants to be tagged lmk) 

previous masterlist next

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, a little bit of manhandling

Oliver learned rather quickly that the boys did more for their images than for their music, and it was far from a fault of their own. The four bedroom house they occupied, seemed lavish on the outside, with a gated fence around the property, perfectly maintained garden with seasonally blooming flowers wherever you looked. 

The other boys had already disappeared by the time James closed the door behind themselves. And Oliver looked around the empty open plan kitchen, living and dining room. The inside compared to the outside was modest, with white walls and grey furniture, it looked like whoever furnished it gave no thought to style or taste. Just another piece of bitter disappointment for Oli, whose previous home was swimming in decorations and tasteful furniture, the walls were brightly coloured with warm yellows, oranges and browns, he couldn’t help but mourn the loss of that, looking over the bare tabletops and kitchen island. The only redeeming quality of the room was a bunch of cords and mic stands hastily pushed in a corner, breaking up the sterile and monotonous look.

James never let go of his leash, leading him around by it, showing him around. The boys’ rooms were slightly less of an eyesore, each of their individual touches reflected off the posters hung up around the walls, but none of them seemed to have touched the uniform furniture. He started to wonder if it really was their stylistic choice or they simply did not care.

The last place they entered was the drummer’s room, which was exactly the same as the others’ much to Oliver’s disappointment. He had a feeling this was going to be the room he’d spend most of his time in.

“I took the liberty of ordering a few things for you yesterday” was the first sentence he actually said to Oli, instead of chattering in his general direction, not really caring whether he actually listened or not.

“Really?”

“I got a bed, and a few clothes, a couple of collars, just essentials really” he smiled endearingly and run his hand through the pets hair, which he happily nuzzled into “I made a few calls, they should be here soon” Oliver had a feeling that if he only needed to make a few calls to order things overnight, the guys must have had enough influence to fix the place up with little to no effort, they just didn’t. Truly disheartening.

“Let’s go get some breakfast” 

The fridge was fully stocked with everything they could possibly need, much to his relief. At least he’d be able to cook. He sat in silence at the kitchen counter and watched as the drummer made a large batch of scrambled eggs for the two of them. His movements were sloppy, and he made a huge mess on the counter as he cracked the shells open. Oliver grimaced at the sight, while the boy’s back was turnt. He swore he’d take over the kitchen if they let him, and if they didn't he’d sneak out in the night to clean up.

“Here you go” James put a plate in front of him with a slice of bread and a large heap of steaming eggs, before sitting down right next to him. 

“We’re eating like this?” he asked with sincere confusion and a hint of condescension.

“What do you mean?” James asked, his mouth already full. Oliver shook his head. Pets don’t eat at the same table as their owners, he felt this was common knowledge.

“Together” he felt awkward just saying it, and got ready to get down on the floor if he had to.

“Yeah, why not?” Yeah, sure, why not? He got to eating, cautiously, as it was a new and uncomfortable way of it, occasionally shooting a glance at the boy next to him, because he was still expecting him to change his mind. He realised just how hungry he had been halfway through the meal. He didn’t have anything since the morning before, back at the shelter.

He offered to wash up after themselves, but James dismissed it with a wave of his hand, and he sat through another painful round of having to watch him stumble about in the kitchen. The relief came, when the doorbell rang. And the drummer ran past him excitedly, grabbed his leash and pulled him to the entryway.

There were two cardboard boxes, one big and one smaller accompanied by a tired looking postal employee, who asked for a signature and immediately left. James grabbed the larger box and instructed Oli to bring the smaller one and led them back to his room.

The bed resembled a bean bag more than anything on the picture that was printed on the side, “Pet Accessories - from pocket to human sizes we cater to all pets” the label read, which made James laugh, for some reason incomprehensible to Oliver. They read through the instructions together, and got to setting up. There wasn’t much to do, after opening the plastic cover and letting the compressed foam on the inside take shape. They left it in the left corner of the room under the window between the wall and the wardrobe, the only place suitable to fit anything this size.

“Oh, goodie” James opened the other box, and Oliver couldn’t help but join him in the excitement. The collars were the first thing to come out of the box, three of them in the band’s signature colours, orange and red and the last one was black and white chequered. 

“They look so much cheaper in real life” James complained as he pulled the orange one out of the plastic packaging.

“I like them” he tried to help out, but the truth was they really did look cheap.

“I do too, but the plastic will flake off after a few wears, look” he scratched the surface with a fingernail, and it really did start to peel “We’ll make it work,” he sighed thinking hard “we can put it on as an accessory when we go out and switch them to your normal one at home”

“That should work” Oliver agreed. At least he could keep the old one.

“Okay, now the clothes” James shook his head, and got back to his cheery self “I guessed your size, go to the bathroom and try them on” he clapped and ushered the boy to the en-suite bathroom, which was covered in white tiles and grey grout; unsurprising.

Before starting to dress up, he looked through the items in the box. It was mostly T-shirts covered in symbols and pictures of music groups Oliver didn’t recognise, not one of them was the boys’ own, there also were a couple pairs of jeans and tracksuit bottoms, all black, and some underwear and socks. The t-shirts fit right, if not a little big, but they were comfortable. He wasn’t sure if the jeans were supposed to be as tight as they were, so he placed them back in the box before emerging from the bathroom wearing a new outfit.

James looked him over with an approving grin.

“The Muse? Great choice” Oliver just nodded and noted that he would have to learn more about music, but appreciated the compliment.

“Thank you for these. The jeans might be a little too tight, though” he put the box on the floor anxiously.

“Are they? We can get new one’s tomorrow” he clicked his tongue in disappointment “You can put the rest of your things in the wardrobe, I cleared a shelf for you” 

Much to his surprise, Oliver was happy to note that the wardrobe was clean and all the clothes inside were neatly folded and stacked on top of each other.

“Thank you” he repeated after he finished organising his things.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, awkwardly. Oliver shook his head. He was living on what he was given, and he felt provided for.

“I can get you anything” James nudged. 

“Can I maybe have some books? I like to read” he asked sheepishly. He really did love reading.

“Of course!” the drummer’s face lit up “I was heading out anyway, I’ll stop by a bookstore. Do you have anything special in mind?” He didn’t. James left him ‘to do whatever until he’s back.’ So for a while Oliver lounged on his bed, that decompressed fully while he was trying the clothes on and turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. It looked more like a real dog bed than on the picture, it was dark blue, a welcome refreshment in the colourless house.

He looked out the window and noticed the garden again. So full of flowers and life. If only he could bring some of that inside. An idea sparked in his mind, and he got up with a wave of determination. He opened the door and peeked outside James’ room, the other three doors stayed closed. He tiptoed to the entrance and tried the door. It was open. He walked outside and stopped for a second to breathe the fresh air and bathe in the sunlight, then got to work and started gathering flowers in a bouquet. When he felt it was enough he headed back inside, softly closing the door behind himself.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie caught Oliver by the arm, grabbing him with bruising force turning him around and pushing him against the wall. A few flowers fell on the ground with the momentum. The pet couldn’t help but whimper softly as he tried to free himself, before he could actually answer. He didn’t mean to be bad. He wasn’t even sure what he did was wrong, and he wasn’t sure how bringing flowers inside could be anything short of wonderful in this suffocatingly grey house.

“I- I- just-” he stuttered. He felt like Eddie’s bright green gaze burnt his soul directly with the intensity he was looking at him “I was just trying to- to get some flowers, to- to put on the- for the table” he squirmed in the singer’s hold, who finally looked down and let him go after a moment of consideration.

“Anyone seen you?” he asked, with a frustration laced tone.

“No? I- I don’t think so, what- why?” Oliver asked. He was scared and confused by the sudden attack.

“There’s paparazzi everywhere, they could’ve seen you” That didn’t explain much. They were on live television just a day before. Eddie sighed, when he saw the pet’s confused expression he wasn’t quick enough to hide.

“We don’t want them to take just any pictures. They can twist and turn news around, and once that happens noone can really know what happens with our career” he explained, much calmer. Oliver let out a soft ‘oh’ in acknowledgement. He understood now. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know” 

“It’s fine, just- Just don’t do it again… Let’s go put those flowers out” his expression softened and they set out to the kitchen to find a vase.

[minecraftbookshelf]

After the End: Angst Version

Hello! You have found the angsty version of this ficlet! The Original (Dark) Comedy version is HERE

-

The wall disappeared.

fWhip isn't exactly sure when it disappeared, he thinks he might have dozed off, tucked in among the scattered blocks and between the gravestones of his friends.

But at some point the wall disappeared and the rain cleared and fWhip woke up to sunshine and blue skies in an empty world.

A few of the animals are still wandering around. One of Sausage's blood sheep is off in the distant trees and the chickens seem altogether unbothered by recent events. Mooshy is peacefully gracing off towards the Winchester. fWhip just stands there, wet jacket, wet pants, wet shoes, and, worst of all, wet socks, and stares up at the messy, frantic stacks of blocks made by a bunch of players like rats in a trap. Fish in a barrel.

The tombstones around him pulse, the purple beacon-like light shooting off into the air, before it fades away again.

Katherine's stone-carved face stares judgily back at him.

Spawn is a mess.

He starts with Kathrine's dirt shelter at the opening of the spawn courtyard. It's easy to take down. Then he gets to work. It takes a few hours, chipping away at the different materials placed in a panic.

He clears up his own pillar of diamond blocks, and Scott's stone one beside it. Mog's gravestone watches.

Dirt and wool and diamond ore and iron blocks and the mis-matched contents of a near-dozen inventories.

Eventually, finally, it is done. The only things left are the shattered remains of the floating obelisk that had been there since they first set foot on the server and the silent witnesses. Shubble and Katherine and Eloise and Owen and Pix on the ground, Mog's so high he can barely see it and, somewhere above it all, out of sight, Scott.

Scott who had looked him in the eyes and flown up into the storm rather than stay.

He wanders back towards the Winchester, walking under Sausage's tombstone and refusing to look towards Oli's. He gives Mooshy a pet on the nose as the passes and trudges up the stairs. Shubble's charged creeper head is still on the noteblock inside.

He sits on the porch.

The sun sinks, and sets, and rises, and still he sits.

It's almost midday when he hears the sound of rockets overhead.

It's not curiosity that drives him to his feet, its something much more numb than that.

They're at spawn, the person who flew in. He can hear them talking to themself before he makes it to the top of the stairs.

One more step and he's able to see.

"fWhip!" Joey bounces away from the graves and towards him. "Everyone else is dead, we won!"

He throws an arm over fWhip's shoulder, beaming directly in his face. fWhip squints back.

"It's just you and me, together forever!"

Joey chatters on, listing plans for ways to remember everyone and about how at least nothing was damaged and fWhip peers up at the sky, towards where he knows Scott's gravestone is.

Eventually, Joey notices his silence and pulls back just a little to look at him. "Are you okay?"

fWhip doesn't say anything. He can barely hear Joey over the roar in his ears anyway.

"fWhip, are you okay? What happened?"

His fingers wrap around something. Cold and familiar.

"fWhip, you're scaring me-"

A choke. A gasp. A gurgle.

fWhip lets go of his sword hilt and back up as Joey slumps over on top of Pix's gravestone for a second before vanishing completely, replaced by yet another monument.

He looks up at the shattered obelisk and somehow, despite the bright light of day, the galactic runes seem reflected in his eyes.

If there was anyone there to see them.

-

AO3 link in the notes

[playername-player-of-games]

👀

what else can i say about cessation uhhh

grian is in it but he's a monkey

mumbo is in it but he's a blue heron

pearl is in it and she's the goddess of the sky and she has these beautiful brown wings and she could kill you very easily but she won't. she and gem spar probably more often than they should but they are besties so it's fine. she could pass for a mortal, i think, she has clever ways to hide her wings and holding her hand makes you feel like the sun is warming the very core of your being. hugs from her are solid and comforting. she smells like sunshine. she smells like nighttime. she smells like the air after rain. she smells like birds- a farm, a chicken coop- which shouldn't be good smells all things considered, but this is comforting in the way that coming home is, and there is safety in her smile.

gem is in it, she's a deer centaur and fwhip's sister.

fwhip is a vampire

joel, scar, and cub (maybe) are vexes

etho is a shapeshifting fox who follows cleo around the entire time

bdubs is there. the sun god. god of the forest. the god of life, loud and boisterous. the god of springtime. look at me !! look at the forest coming back after winter !! look at the way the leaves are green, the flowers sprouting up to say good morning, the way they close up their buds when it's time to say goodnight!!

scott is. probably there. idk where im putting him yet but he'll be there. perhaps some kind of star spirit. supposed to be working alongside the goddess of the sky but kinda doin his own thing.

i haven't thought about. bigb. hrrrrmmmmm. might make him a horse or somethin i haven't decided yet.

what other lifers are there. uhhh. im missing so many i'll think of them later <3

[aerie-stims]

the empires boards are SO PRETTY but u guys have to wait a month for them 😔

[erstwhilesparrow]

you (general you, not specific you) could Do Something with the funeral for the pillagers in mcsos… the quiet, unhurried chatter as people wait for the timers to count down to zero about death and how the code for the graves works and their memories and feelings about the pillagers…. the way you can see all the ruin around them and the shattered floating stones of spawn in the distance behind the graves… the fact that it's pix here, former vigil keeper, and oli, former isekai protagonist, and fwhip, voice of the fates…. fwhip saying it's weird, because he and jimmy never managed to get into their usual back-and-forth… the sense that something is ending here, something really has changed and it is worth paying attention to, but it is not quite like death as we know it, death means something different because it's a game… we can talk about season two, we can talk about the server budget, and at the end, the graves disappear without sound or light, and the platform they were on is taken down, and it's almost like they were never there, except there's still the pit from the explosion, and the structures built by their servermates, and the inexplicable monument of spawn, testament to what was and is and will be…

[poisonheartfrog]

The sculk crawling across Shelby’s skin itches under the pastel gauze of her party dress. The spell may have hidden it from view, but she can still feel its every pulse. It writhes with a mind of its own. Combined with the buzz from Sausage's mojitos, she feels more than a little sick. At least the rum and lime covers up the taste of dank cave and rot in her mouth.

Fwhip and Oli chatter on either side of her, but she can barely pay attention to the words. The creeping infection speaks to her in a language of vibration. It calls to her to forget, to let it be a balm to cover up the pain. 

It can take away that shame that seethes in her heart, where every disappointed word from the Witch’s Academy, every failed spell, and every doubt lives.

She just has to give in.

Shelby clutches her glass a little tighter and paints on a smile.

She can feel the sculk squirm when Pix dies. 

*****

Katherine clears the long table, toned arms moving quickly from place setting to place setting. The glasses and plates gently clink together as she stacks them with the same precision Shelby has seen her use to separate monsters from their heads. 

Katherine is as kind as she always is, and her laugh is strawberries and spun sugar. She greets Shelby with a warm smile and Shelby replies with a blush.

Shelby wants to be close to her, to soak up her presence like sunshine. If her body were her own, Shelby would invite Katherine to visit her in the Evermoore, where they would stargaze under a velvet sky, or sit by the slow moving river and talk for hours.

But the sculk keeps burrowing into her skin. The itching turns to burning.

So Shelby begs for a cure, then lashes out with words that she doesn’t mean. Katherine winces and steps back, suddenly closed off. Shelby’s regret comes too late to make any difference.

Her shame seethes even more. 

*****

The sculk contains a galaxy, thousands of shadowy stars blinking in the dark. Every point is an opportunity. A promise that her thoughts will stop swirling and her mind will be at peace.

The itch is so strong now that she’s not sure she exists outside of it.

The catalyst sinks into the swirling fog at the heart of the Evermoore like it was always meant to be there.

Oli wanders in, like a lamb through an open slaughterhouse door. Killing him is almost too easy.

The sculk soaks up his blood and begins to bubble. It boils over and spreads, flowing through the mist and pooling around Shelby’s feet.

Tendrils lick up her legs and meet the veins already entwined around her. Shelby can hardly tell where she ends and the sculk begins, and a universe in shades of teal darkness is spread out before her.

[ilexdiapason]

did i tell the tumblr masses that oli called me his favourite chatter yesterday. so i called him my wife. and he read that message aloud 🥲

[aealrizen]

The rest of the meal was spent with idle chatter between the hosts and Ian, with Whip chiming in mostly only when he was addressed. Midas remained quiet, though not because the others were ignoring him. It had been easy to tell he was overwhelmed already, so Chipo had thought just having time to watch, listen, and not have to respond would have been nice for him. As Benjamin took care of cleaning up the dishes, Chipo led their guests back up the stairs, Olie in her arms and Berko obediently holding onto her skirt. Despite already yawning, Berko kept looking back to make sure the others were following which caused Ian to chuckle softly and wave to him.

“Sorry in advance,” Chipo apologized once they reached the top of the stairs, turning slightly to talk to them without having to raise her voice too much. “We don’t usually have a lot of guests, so we only have one room with two beds-”

She broke off when Berko threw his hands up, reaching towards Ian while also remembering to stay near his mom. “Grandpa can stay with me then!” he chimed abruptly, then his excitement grew too great and he reached over to latch onto Ian’s hand and pull him towards the door with his nameplate on it. Whip couldn’t hold back a sputter of amusement, but refrained from commenting.

“...Honey, I think your bed is too small for him…,” Chipo tried to decline gently, giving Ian an easy way out if he didn’t want to spend the night dealing with a younger child. They had an escort job to get to early in the morning afterall. Ian didn’t need to be kept up late by her son’s chattering, and incessant wiggling in his sleep.

To her surprise though, Ian just chuckled softly, allowing Berko to drag him around. “It’s alright. I’ve slept in worse situations. If it’s alright with mom I don’t mind staying the night with him,” he agreed, putting the condition that Chipo had to be okay with it since he wasn’t sure how she would feel about an essential stranger staying with her son. Family or not, they had only met that afternoon. He wouldn’t blame her at all for not trusting him.

It seemed it was Ian’s turn to be surprised though, for after getting past her initial shock Chipo just gave a relenting sigh and smile. “It’s fine,” she agreed, a strange softness in her expression. “He doesn’t get to see family much, and it’s been awhile since he’s gotten so attached to someone. If you don’t mind, it would be nice for him to get to enjoy himself for a change.”

It was unexpected for Chipo to comment about Berko not getting attached to people, and Ian was stunned silent until his memories could supply a possible answer. “...Military life can be quite stifling, huh,” Ian sympathized, shifting his grip to give Berko’s hand a gentle squeeze. It was common for those who lived with people in the military to have a more isolated life. What with having secrets to keep and eyes boring holes through their walls to make sure they did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if Berko didn’t have a lot of friends simply because other kids were subconsciously scared of him, channeling their parent’s unease. “There are kids where we usually stay that use me as a pillow all the time. I don’t mind letting him do the same,” Ian assured, giving Berko a warm smile. Anything to give comfort to others in this barren world.

The comments earned a chuckle from Chipo, and she leaned over slightly to address Berko. “Go get your pajamas and come to mommy and daddy’s room for a bath. We’ll let the guests use the bath in the hallway tonight.”

“Yay! Big bath!” Berko cheered, swinging his hands up for a moment once more before rushing into his room. The childish antics earned chuckles from the adults aside from Midas, who was too busy zoning out in a daze from the antihistamines while following Whip around.

“Big bath tonight,” Chipo repeated with a chime, reflecting her son’s excitement as he ran off. Stopping by a sliding door closet in the hall, she used one hand to pull out a towel and spare set of sleeping clothes for her guests. “Luckily since Benny is in the military we get guests often enough that they provide us with a set of sleepwear in a couple different sizes. So hopefully some of these will be comfortable enough for you all, and I can put your clothes in the wash tonight to be ready in the morning.”

“That would be wonderful,” Ian responded, already basking in the idea of having clean clothes.

“Thanks,” Whip grinned, catching the towel and clothes Chipo handed him and also making sure Midas didn’t drop the ones that were passed his way. “Go ahead and shower first,” he directed, a mild chuckle behind his voice as he gave Midas a nudge towards the bathroom. “Before you fall asleep where you’re standing,”

He only earned a soft grunt in return as Midas waddled in a half asleep haze into the bathroom, fumbling slightly to close the door behind him. It was small, with only a shower and half bath one could only sit in, but it was still something strangely fancy to him. Something other than a bucket and a curtain over stone. It was nice though. Just turning handles and having whatever temperature of water he wanted. Not being covered in a layer of sand and dirt for once. He found that lukewarm water was the most comfortable, and this time the soap didn’t bother him as much. Chipo had mentioned something about getting a brand with a more simple ingredient mix this time, and it strangely smelled more like the soap that was used in the slums. He knew not to take too long though, there was always a line. And after he was dressed in the soft fibers of city clothing he stumbled out of the bathroom and by the other two with the towel still over his head and weapons loosely in his hands. They would have to store them somewhere the kids wouldn’t get into them, and he didn’t really feel like letting them out of his sight anyway. Not because he felt unsafe without them, but simply because it had taken a lot of effort to find the parts to build them. He didn’t fancy having to start over.

Whip and Ian had been quietly chatting in the hall while they waited, but once Midas opened the door Whip just had to snicker. A quick direction to the guest room they’d be staying in before he got his own shower, cranking the shower a little warmer than necessary to enjoy the rare experience of steam and prickly clean skin before the luxury was relinquished to Ian.

Rubbing the towel on his head, Whip came back to the room to find Midas tucked away in the corner, a plush pillow squished close to his chest, almost hidden by his curled form. Whip ended up giving yet another soft snort as he moved to the bed and plopped down with little grace. “What are you doing?” he asked, keeping quiet just in case someone in the neighboring rooms had already fallen asleep.

The question went unanswered as Midas continued to stare at the air in front of him, lost in his own thoughts like so many times before. After a stretch of time being filled by Whip massaging the water from his hair, Midas finally spoke up. “... Hey Whip?... Do you think I’m weird?”

The question caused Whip to blink, finding it rather sudden and without context. His immediate thought was to answer ‘yes’, Midas was a rather weird kid when compared to other people his age. But there weren’t any other kids Whip knew that had to deal with losing their identity on top of being turned into what half the population considered a monster. The weirdness Midas had had never bothered Whip, but he refrained from voicing his first thought out loud. Sometimes when Midas asked questions he used different words in place of what he was really asking. Unconsciously watering down the question to make it more palatable for others.

“Weird in what way?” Whip instead asked in return, keeping his focus on drying his hair. He didn’t usually like to take a shower so close to bedtime, but he was glad to have something to focus his attention on so that Midas didn’t feel stared down.

The response was slow to come, and Whip wasn’t sure if it was because Midas was reluctant, or just extremely drowsy because of the antihistamine. But eventually he drew a long breath, rolling his head slightly to the side. “...Unwanted,” he clarified. People didn’t like weird things. Unpredictable was dangerous, and therefore undesirable to have around.

“No.” Whip was quick to answer this time, brows furrowing as he was a bit perplexed what brought this up yet again. “Why do you think you’re weird this time?” So far nothing in this new environment had made Midas comfortable. While most other people Whip knew would have been ecstatic at being there, getting to experience the clean rooms, soft clothes, warm meal, and all the other luxuries the city folk took for granted, Midas just seemed either afraid or discontent. Other than the food of course. And while the response was unusual, Whip was quickly coming to learn it wasn’t unwarranted. Emotions were confusing enough as it was, and without the memories behind them Whip was starting to learn that talking Midas through his confusion seemed to help considerably.

“.... The bed,” Midas admitted succinctly, drooping gaze shifting over to the bed he was deliberately sitting away from. The floor was more closely familiar to the ground he’d slept on for as long as he could remember. Even if it was smooth wood instead of gritty dirt covered stone. “I’m… afraid to use it. Chipo said it’s fine. I can’t imagine she’d rescind her offer. I don’t want to think she would. She’s a nice lady. But… it’s weird…. If I sit down…” he faltered, mouth trying to find the words his mind couldn’t quite come up with coherently. “I… would I even be able to get up again? It’s strange, I feel like I’ll end up trapped there. Like always…”

Like always? Whip turned to stare in confusion at Midas, but the question died before it was voiced. Midas looked like he was moments from falling asleep, and Whip found he couldn’t blame him. This had been an unintentionally exhausting day for him, and while Whip was intensely curious what Midas meant by ‘always’ he knew he most likely wouldn’t get a coherent answer. Breathing a short noise of relenting amusement, Whip slipped his hair into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way before he pushed off the bed and approached the sulking, awkward child in the corner. “C’mon kid. Let’s go to sleep,” Whip beckoned, offering his hand to Midas. A short time ago he wouldn’t have thought Midas would have taken it. But now he wasn’t surprised when Midas reached out after blinking blearily at the hand for a moment.

Pulling Midas to his feet for just long enough to drag him over to one of the beds, Whip carefully shoved him over onto the mattress. Midas only gave a noise of complaint, but found it hard to sit back up once his face squished into the soft material. It was so enticingly comfortable. Being cradled in a cushion of foam instead of balanced like a board on hard ground. A strain of panic was starting to rise from the concern his fears were manifesting. But it halted when Whip gracelessly flopped over next to him, mercilessly shoving him around to make room and almost ending up with Midas’ back against the wall so they both could get comfortable. It earned some pathetic snickers from Midas, and Whip grinned before reaching up to pat the boy on the head. “If you find the bed has stolen you when you wake, just give me a shove and I’ll pull you back up,” Whip half joked, giving Midas a gentle ruffle before shifting into stillness.

For half a second the voice sounded like someone else in Midas’ nearly sleep stolen mind. The words were different, so Midas couldn’t quite hear the voice behind them. But the feeling was still there. The intent to pull him away from being trapped in what normally brought comfort to others. Who was that? It was too warm and peaceful to focus for more than a heartbeat before his mind was shutting down for rest. The weight of a quilt on his form after Whip pulled it up, and his face squished into a pillow held close to his chest as he curled around it. The figure of someone else right next to him, soft breaths and warmth making their presence known. This had happened many times before. Midas couldn’t actively remember it in his mind, but he still felt comfort built up from familiarity cultivated over many years seeping into his bones. The last thought he had was more of a feeling before he drifted off.

He’d be alright. Tomorrow might be an effort to wake up, but he would still be there to greet the morning. Like always.

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First

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Let me just crash over the hurdle that was the first part of this post with all the grace of a baby giraffe new to it's legs OTL That was such an effort, eugh.