#so truly I have been weeping on and off for hours

[deadboydyke]

So episode three of the last of us huh

[retiredteabag]

Choso watching you interact with children

Babysitting with Choso and him getting emotional realizing that his love for you goes deeper than he understands...

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

The two of you had been watching your niece, spending hours together, playing outside, drawing, and making snacks, and now you, Cho, and your niece were watching a cartoon on the television.

Nobody was really paying attention, too focused on the conversation that bounced from your niece's school friends to her hobbies, to her neighbor's pet lizard.

Choso was listening intently, asking questions that made the girl leap on the sofa, eager to tell him more. He never seemed annoyed or bothered by her attention. He was very intentional with his care.

You found yourself staring at him with hearts in your eyes, he was just so good with kids.

“And when I first met him he was this big-“ she brings her palms together, “but now he’s this big!” She dramatically pulls them apart, showing the width of what must have been the world's largest bearded dragon. “But anyway… yeah, I need to go potty!”

You look over, “okay, I can pause the TV, we’ll wait for you.” You offer her a smile and she makes a serious face.

“Good. I like this episode a lot.” She bounds off to the restroom and you chuckle, knowing she wasn’t paying any attention to the show on the screen. You look back to the man at your side and smile.

“Ya know, you’re pretty good with her.” You nudge Choso.

Choso’s love language was words of affirmation, through and through, but you didn’t praise him because you knew this, he truly just had so many good qualities, it would be a crime not to tell him!

He beams, “It’s easy loving people.”

Your heart warms, knowing he was telling the truth. “You’re so good at conversation though, she gets so excited when you're with me. And when you don't come, you're all she wants is to talk about.”

He lights up, “Really? That makes me happy! She's very silly.” He looks at your face intently, "She has so much energy, it reminds me of Yuuji." He plants his palms in his lap as if really considering what he had just said.

The two of you had fallen into a comfortable silence before eventually, you began to hear a repetitive jolting sound.

Frantic rattles were coming from the door of the bathroom and it wasn’t long before you heard a cry of your name.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” You shouted, rushing to the bathroom door, sure the child had somehow locked herself in.

Dramatic weeping came from the inside and you were instantly brought back to a time when you had been stuck inside of an elevator as a kid. The panic you experienced in that moment had been insurmountable as a child.

You jiggle the knob, “Sweetie is it locked?”

But your niece wasn’t hearing you, “I-I can’t ge-t it open!”

“Okay! That’s alright, I’ll get it, don’t worry, honey!” You look around for something to push the lock through to the other side.

Choso was pacing, unsure of what to do, nibbling on his pointer finger. You’ve just pulled a pin from your hair when the child’s wails reached a new height.

“Help me! Help me, please! I’m stuck!”

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, honey, I’ve got it.” You push the pin in the doorknobs hole and punch the lock out of place, immediately twisting the door open.

And within a second your niece is flinging herself into your arms. You kneel to her size and hold her in your grasp. Petting her hair and cooing in her ear.

“It’s okay, see? Nothing to worry about, we were here, you were okay.”

You rock her back and forth, her little shoulders shaking wildly.

“I was s-scared I was gonna be in there for-for forever!”

“Noooo-” you don’t laugh, knowing she truly had been frightened, “No, I wouldn’t let that happen.”

The little girl pulls back with a ridiculous frown, fat tears are in her lash line but she pulls a face and whines, “Only cause my mommy would be super duper mad if you did!”

She tugs you in for a big, tight hug, and is gone in a flash. Sitting before the TV as if nothing had ever happened.

You’re stuck squatting by the bathroom door, aghast at how quickly children move on. Just as you’re making to stand though, Choso kneels to help you up. He’s smiling sweetly but there’s something else in his face, something you haven’t seen before.

The television starts up again and you go to grab Choso's hand, the stress of the moment evaporating but he just squeezes at your touch and mutters something about needing the restroom himself.

You nod and make your way back to the living room, distracted by his odd behavior, but still, you focus your attention on your niece, who was suddenly enthralled with the show she had been ignoring not ten minutes earlier.

It was a while before you realized Cho was still gone. Had he never left the bathroom? What was he doing in there, you wondered.

After such an eventful afternoon, your niece, who had been so captivated by her "favorite show" seemingly dozed off, laying on the couch.

You stretched your legs, stood up, and made your way back to the bathroom, expecting to just check up on Choso when you began to hear sniffles and huffs from behind the door.

Not wanting to wake up the kid, you knock gently with a knuckle, whispering, "Cho, baby, are you alright?".

It was a moment before there was a response, but after hearing a shuffle of feet, the door was creaking open and Choso's tear streaked face came into view.

Seeing him like this sent you into overdrive, "Oh- Baby what is it? Cho, what happened?" Your brain is trying to recall what might have happened to have caused his obvious distress but you're pulling a blank.

He looked as if he was almost getting the words out before a choked sob left him and he was squatting on the floor suddenly. You crouched down to meet him, frantic to understand.

His shoulders were shaking, it broke your heart but as you were patting his shoulders you noticed that his cries sounded a bit different.

"Baby, baby, what's wrong? Can you tell me?" You rubbed on his back, it was just as he was lifting his head that you noticed, his shoulders weren't shaking with cries, but rather, laughter.

He looked at you with a wobbly smile on his lips, his eyes still full of tears and he chuckled. Your dread eased some but you kept your hand on him, rubbing at his arms.

"What?" You smile back, "what is it?"

"I just-" He began, but a bout of air broke out from his lungs. He sucked in a deep breath and sighed, "I just... It was watching you...with her." He points to the living room from his squatted position on the bathroom floor.

"I just realized...how gentle you are, with her and me... and everyone." And his smile wobbled again and more tears broke his waterline.

"Oh, Cho, that's-" You smile at his embarrassed face but he holds up a hand to cut you off.

"I just. I know you're the one for me, I've known forever, but I-I" He huffs a deep breath again, a hand on his heart. "You say I'm so good with kids, but you are too, I just think... I just think we would make a good f-family...".

His voice wavers and the tears are steadily falling now. "Cho," You pat his arm and smooth over his hair, "Cho, it's okay, you're the one for me too. Didn't you know?"

He nods shakily, a wet smile still on his face.

The two of you are still crouched on the bathroom floor, Choso has a drippy face and is looking at you with so much love you could hardly bear it.

You want to scoop him up the way you had with your niece, he is quite a bit larger than the girl so you settle for wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you can.

The two of you stay like that, Cho falling to his knees a bit to get a better angle to hold you. You had been with the man for some time, you had known you loved him as well. But the desire to marry, to be one and start a family, that was new. But the sudden surge of emotion was so new and so present, that you could not ignore how obvious it was that Cho would make the most perfect father.

You both had been so lost in each other's embrace that you didn't hear your niece stomping her way back to the bathroom door before she shouted,

"AH! Did you get trapped inside too?!"

Choso pulled back, shocked at her sudden appearance, he giggled in a happy way. His face morphed gently into his normal demeanor, tuning his neck to look you in the eye, he maintained contact as he brought your palm to his lips, only breaking to look at the child again.

"Yes..." he chucked, "I think I did."

His neck slumps as blood rushes to his ears and he hides the embarrassment.

"It's okay! Now that it's over, we can go finish the show!" She shuffles from foot to foot. It was clear she wanted to make Choso feel better after experiencing something she knew to be scary.

Cho dips his head low and pushes his hips to stand, a bright smile on his face. He never took his hand from yours, tugging you with him from his little emotional hideout in the bathroom as he quietly states,

"Thank you, I'd like that."

You knew Choso could not care less for the story playing on the television but nothing brought him more joy than to see a smile on his loved ones faces. He pulled you along to the living room and when the two of you were seated once more, he leaned his face onto your shoulder, kissing the fabric of your shirt before watching the screen intently.

Of course, he was keen to discuss the episodes happenings with your niece over dinner.

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: Bucky finds out you’ve never been eaten out and takes that personally. 

Gif does NOT represent readers physical appearance, but just look at that tongue

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Bug (+ Brother’s best friend Bucky, plus sized fem reader) CW: Explicit, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, rimming (vague), demanding Bucky but everyone’s into it, Bucky’s mouth, virgin reader

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky looks up at you incredulously from where he lays between your spread legs, chin poking into the soft flesh of your stomach, his favorite pillow as of late. You were just so goddamn soft, he couldn’t get over it. 

“How is that news to you? You know I’m-”

“A virgin, not a saint. You’ve dated!” Coming from anyone else it would’ve sounded like an accusation but Bucky was truly just confused, how could someone have access to your body not have their face buried in your sweet pussy twenty-three hours a day? Hell, he’d only licked your essence off his fingers and he was already hooked. You gave a short shrug in response, not sure what to say.

“What about that guy Steve caught you with?” 

“Ew! Never speak of that, he had to bleach his eyes and I had to bleach my brain.” Normally your dramatics would’ve at least earned you a playful eye roll or indulgent chuckle but he was too distraught to offer even that, suddenly rising to his knees, back straight as he loomed over your still prone form. 

“You’re seriously telling me that jackass didn’t reciprocate? None of them did?” 

Again, unsure of how to respond you just offer him a small shrug. 

“Bug, take your goddamn pants off right now.” His tone is deadly serious, eyes blazing. He genuinely looks upset by this new information. 

“BUCKY!” 

“Now or I’m ripping them off.” 

You’re quick to arch your lower back off the bed, rushing so Bucky won’t ruin your favorite leggings, his calloused fingers joining yours in yanking the waistband down over the swell of your stomach and hips before he’s throwing them over his shoulder. As soon as you’re bared to him he drops back to his stomach, rough hands pushing your thighs apart, wasting no time in nosing at your clit. Your mortified to hear him deeply inhale, but it’s quickly lost in a wave of arousal as he begins to talk, seemingly to himself; “Can’t believe no one’s ever tasted this beautiful cunt. Fucking losers. It’s mine now” Filth continues to pour from his mouth between wet open mouthed kisses to your thighs, he alternates between biting and sucking at the soft flesh, before chasing a trail of slick from between your ass cheeks back up to your weeping hole. 

You’d never understood the phrase “he ate pussy like a man starved” until now. It was like Bucky was truly trying to devour you, tongue lapping at your achingly empty opening, a perverse parallel to how he kissed you. His tongue consistently moved over your soaking flesh, licking from one hole to the other before darting back up to your clit, suckling on it as he fucked you on a finger, making you beg for a second. The cycle continued until you were spiraling towards oblivion, his left hand reaching towards you, allowing you to lock your fingers together while your other hand twisted tightly in his hair and his continued to fuck in and out of you, now up to three fingers. 

You hear what vaguely sounds like “tastes so fucking good.” And your name, your actual name, not Bug, before you're using your grip on his hair to press him further into your cunt, grinding against him as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life so far. Nearly spirally into a second when you come back down to earth and feel his jaw working against your overstimulated cunt as he does his best to drink in your juices. 

He pulls back just long enough to peer up at you, the entire lower half of his face soaked in your slick; “their loss.”

[flametrashiraarchive]

Succor 2

Muzan x GN!reader

Content warnings: oral sex, anal fingering, prostate milking, profanity, Muzan Kibutsuji.

NSFW MDNI.

Part 1

Follow up drabble to Part 1

Taglist: @hiraethsdesires @verose-tb @blamedbisexual @tsukiran

Muzan was livid. One of his upper ranks had fallen for the first time in more than a century, and the remaining demons of his so-called elite class were nothing more than pathetic fools, serving him with nothing but disappointment. 

He let Gyokko's severed head plummet to the platform below, taking grim satisfaction from the wet thud it made when it landed. Hantengu yelped in fear, Akaza flinched, and Douma’s perpetual smile faded. Nothing could quell Muzan’s rage. Nothing. 

"Muzan," you whispered from beneath his desk. He hadn’t known you were there, and your sudden appearance was nothing short of disarming.

You were his most depraved and alluring creation; a demon who was repulsed by the consumption of human flesh, but who garnered strength from Muzan's own fluids. And what strength it was. His breath caught as your hand slowly worked its way up his thigh.

Surely you couldn't still be hungry? You'd already sucked him dry not two hours ago.

And yet, as the fools groveled below, whimpering apologies and empty promises, your hands went to the fastening of his trousers and deftly undid it. 

"Stop that," he hissed through his teeth, glowering at your pretty face. "Cease at once, you infernal slut. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a mee–"

A shuddering breath escaped Muzan's throat as you took out his cock and used the very tip of your tongue to tease his opening. 

Oh he could have torn your head off for such insubordination, and perhaps he should have, but as his knees buckled and he was forced to brace himself on the edge of his desk, he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He fought to regain his composure as your hot, wet mouth surrounded his rapidly hardening cock and he tried to keep his voice level as he addressed the upper ranks. “I’d advise you all to act with more urgency from here on out. I suppose you’re not entirely at fault for your inadequacies.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock and the veins in his forehead began to throb. He raised his voice once more to address the demons. “I’ve been too lenient with you because you’re upper ranks.”

He chanced a look down at you, and immediately regretted it. You gazed up at him with tears shimmering in your eyes as his dick grew to tease and nudge the back of your wretched throat. Oh, you were an abomination, a vulgar disgrace to demonkind, but he could not walk away from you. For all his power, he was devastatingly weak when it came to you and your depraved mouth.

He had to end the meeting.

“Gyokko, once you’ve confirmed that information to be true, you are to head over there with Hantengu at once."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a partition closed the pair of you off from the upper ranks, and he could finally let loose the growl caged behind his teeth. “You will be the death of me,” he hissed. “How many times must I feed you, my greedy slut?”

You simply sucked him harder in response. 

"Curse you." His legs trembled beneath him; his weakness and helplessness only adding to his fury. 

“Oh, fine, you licentious leech,” he snapped, putting his hands on the back of your head and thrusting into your mouth. 

He pumped his hips, brutally fucking your face as you gagged and drooled over his cock, your eyes rolling as your tongue lapped at the precum weeping from his slit. With every thrust he reclaimed a little more power, a little of his tattered dignity. His toes curled inside the butter-soft leather of his shoes as exquisite pleasure built and spilled over.

With a grunt he unloaded down your throat. Your greedy tongue lapped at his cum as a deep groan burst from his throat. “Yes… swallow it all. There. Now I truly have nothing left to give you. Leave me be.”

His eyes widened as you yanked his trousers down entirely, exposing his backside. 

“What are you– Oh I should destroy you,” he groaned as heat prickled along his cheeks and the top of his chest. He released his grip on your head to try to pull his trousers back up. “How dare you, how–” 

His blood-red eyes widened. Your strength was truly astounding as you stood, catching him off guard and spinning him around before you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the desk. The song of smashing glass and falling equipment drowned out his gasp. 

“You dare–!” Muzan’s protest died on his tongue as you slipped your finger past the barrier of his lips and laid it flat on his tongue. His pupils narrowed to reptilian slits as indignation and arousal battled for dominance. He could bite your wretched finger off– in fact, he should have, but he found himself simply moaning around it as you lowered your head to take his cock into your mouth once more. 

He licked the underside of your digit as his eyelids fluttered.

“Mmhh–” he sucked your finger, biting back a mewl as you pulled it free from his lips. “What are–” His body tensed as your finger delved between the plush cheeks of his ass, circling his hole, lubricating it with his own saliva. 

You simply raised your eyes to meet his frantic gaze. 

“You aren’t… fffuck.” His head lolled back as you continued your ministrations, your moan reverberating around his cock as you pushed past the taught ring of muscle to finger the soft flesh within. 

He was helpless then; eyes wide, mouth agape around a silent cry, chest heaving as you fingered his hole. 

“Damn… you…” he choked out, voice cracking as he lifted his legs higher, allowing you to press deeper. You hit a spot deep within him which made him see stars, “Oh… ohhpleasepleaseplease fuuuck…”

You seemed obscenely pleased as his cock started to weep, and you greedily swallowed down every drop which spilled out of him. Never in over a millenia had he been treated with such disrespect and made to feel so utterly helpless. He whined as he bore down on your degenerate fingers, furious as hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Bringing up his arms to shield his face from your gaze, Muzan let his tears soak into the sleeves of his shirt as he rocked his hips, fucking himself on your fingers, taking you deeper.

"More, curse you. Another."

You obliged your king's request, pushing another finger past the barrier of his hole, scissoring them to widen him. His eager body responded to your touch, allowing you to push deeper and massage that exquisite spot deep within him.

His cock erupted onto your tongue as you milked him, pulsing pleasure and heat consuming him as he choked out your name. On and on, the pleasure consumed him, seemingly never ending. His mouth fell open, his lips drawn back to expose his fanged teeth as his groans turned to frantic whimpers. “I can’t I can’t I can’t I don’t… Gods, curse… you… I… oh fuck oh Gods please. Please. Please~”

His orgasm exploded then, sending sparks of scalding pleasure shooting throughout his body as you groaned in satisfaction, your wicked tongue lapping up every drop of his seed. His hands grasped at anything he could find, tearing pages from his notebooks and sending vials of ingredients flying from the desk.

“Mm,” you crooned as he lay on the desk, gasping for air, his body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your torment. “Such a good master, cumming so much for me.”

His crimson eyes widened at your praise, a muscle in his jaw leaping as he bit down the whine pressing at the back of his throat. “Silence.”

Forcing a deeper breath, he placed a hand on the back of your head and flexed his fingers in a muted show of affection. "Mmh… curse you." 

You were by far the best and the worst demon he had ever created, and in that moment, he would gladly keep you by his side for eternity. 

----------

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, you can check out my other fics on my masterlist

[d4yl1ghts]

Hi could I request an Anthony bridgerton x wife(reader) angst where he married his wife who used to be from the lower class and they end up having a fight because she did something that is “out of class or wrong” so she ends up giving him the silent treatment

unfair (1)

(mean?) anthony bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: after benedict makes a rude comment about your past and anthony doesn’t do anything about it, you and anthony end up having an argument

A/N- i hope this is alright, i felt the need to make it have a happy ending

part 2

-

Your husband of three months sat beside you with your hand gently clasped in his. You were at his family’s house for a meal and Benedict had been getting on your last nerve, he had arrived drunk for a start. He had also been attacking your social status as you were from a lower class family. Anthony knew this was getting to you, so he took your hand in a way to calm you. “So, Y/N, how was it growing up in the streets?”, Benedict obliviously questioned. You knew he was only saying it because he was drunk but this was too far. “Would you please stop going at me for where I grew up?!”, you raised your voice slightly as you stood up.

“Darling, sit down.”, Anthony carefully whispered to you, as if one wrong move would set you off. “No, I’m not going to sit down! Are you just going to let your brother treat me like that?”, you said lowering your voice towards the end. “Of course he has no right to treat you like that but darling, there is no need to raise your voice.”, the eldest Bridgerton replied.

You sighed in defeat. How was he going to just allow this? You arose from your seat again, tucked your chair in and stormed off into the room the two of you were currently staying in.

Violet watched you leave and turned to Benedict: “You can not act like such towards your brother’s wife, Benedict.”

Benedict just watched her in amusement but she knew he would regret this when he had sobered up. “I do not care if you’re drunk, tomorrow morning you will apologise to Y/N as she has done nothing wrong.”

“And Anthony, will you go and check on Y/N instead of just sitting there?! She is your wife, you know!”, Violet exclaimed. Anthony rushed off silently, realising he had acted impulsively. He lightly knocked on the door of your shared bedroom. “My love?”, he tenderly called out to you through the door, making sure he was alright to come in. “Go away.”, you yelled back at him. He could hear light sniffles and sobs. He felt awfully bad.

“Can I please come in?”, he tried again. Silence. He took this as a sign to go in. He was met with you weeping into the sheets of your king-sized bed. “Come here darling, it is quite alright.”, he hushed you but you pushed him away, ignoring his presence. “That was out of class, my love.”, he’d whisper, caressing the back of your hand. You instantly removed your hand from his. “How dare you speak to me like that?! Get out.” He saw the build up of tears in your eyes and knew he must leave you alone for the moment.

Why did he say that? What caused him to say that?

He sat idly against the back of his bedroom door, listening to you silently crying. Anthony felt horrible, he caused this! After half an hour, you opened the door to an asleep Anthony. He looked so peaceful- until you opened the door and he fell back. “Are you okay?”, you asked, trying to hide your laugh. “Yes, I am fine I believe.”, he smiled, watching you laugh. He let out his own quiet chuckle. “About before, I’m so sorry, my love…”, he began. “I do not know what got into me, I’m so sorry.”, he said with a longing and genuine look in his gorgeous eyes. “If you are truly sorry then I guess it is fine, you do have such an impulsive nature.”

Anthony sighed with pleasure as he brought his lips up to yours and hastily and passionately kissed you, breathing you in.

[auspicioustidings]

Ghost should stop it, he knows he should, but he makes up his mind that it's for your own good. He was never good with untrained animals, never had enough patience for them.

NON-CON

He doesn't know how long the session has been happening, but he can make a guess that it's been at least the best part of an hour. Your poor pussy is hot and swollen from the mounted dildo mechanically pistoning in and out of it and he doesn't think it's ever looked prettier than right now with how it's weeping from the abuse.

Mace hasn't totally restrained you which he appreciates, he'd like you trained not broken. Instead he has you on a table with your wrists cuffed to your ankles. There's a chain between the cuffs, enough to give you some movement but not so much that you can get your hands above your head to push him away.

Said head is dangling off the edge of the table and he skirts round the edge of the room to get a better view of Mace fucking his thick cock into your throat. Christ, from the side he can see how your throat bulges, how his heavy balls keep smashing into your nose and carrying trails of spit whenever he pulls back.

There's a thread of frustration in his old friend. The training is taking longer than he'd like then. Ghost wonders briefly what exactly the aim is until he pulls out enough that he sees the glint of metal in your mouth and you are told in a rough voice to take a deep breath. He's teaching you to deep throat then, using training wheels in the form of a ring gag. It's a good lesson to start with given how Ghost needs you to breathe only at his allowance. He needs that sort of control over anything he owns.

Your body goes into panic when Mace presses deep and holds there. Ghost watches in anticipation, screaming encouragement in his head. You can do this sweetheart, just swallow around him, a'tta girl. I know sweetheart, so big and so deep, gotta trust he knows when you really need to breathe.

None of it out loud, he hasn't decided if he wants you to know he is in the room or not. You'd maybe expect a rescue, be relieved for a moment before you saw how thick he was in his trousers and how bright his eyes were with appreciation. He had been dreading training you, he truly had. Of course Mace would have noticed.

Mace sighs as he pulls out, big hands massaging your tits as he lets you gulp in oxygen. You're doing yourself no favours with all the sobbing, you would be better with big, calm breaths. He reaches over your body and plays with your clit and there's nowhere for you to go. You can only try and thrash but are quickly pinned by both the dildo inside you and Mace's hand on your belly. It takes a horrifically short amount of time for him to have an orgasm flushing through you, have your body reset to relaxed so he can start the process over again.

Ghost had told you when you started dating that he was not a good man. He had told you to run. Mace was only showing you mercy really. Better he train you now than Ghost was forced to do it later.

He would never be so gentle.

[heechwe]

high & dry | 𝖍𝖛𝖈

➸ First story in the @hogwartsaltior universe! ୨୧ pairing: chwe (vernon) hansol x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 4.5k ୨୧ genre: fluff ୨୧ tags: hogwartsaltior!au, dj!vernon, gardener!reader ୨୧ synopsis: Vernon is good with his words behind a microphone and with hundreds of students listening to him. Why is it so hard to talk to one girl in the gardening club?

“Thank you for listening to Chwe’s Power Hour sponsored by Hogwarts Altior. Have a good day and night folks.” Vernon puts the headphones down on his makeshift desk, surrounded by studio equipment and paperwork that he always neglects to turn in on time. His homework also sits unfinished in his backpack, but he’ll worry about that later. His focus is on looking over the stats for his latest stream.

Dokyeom, Vernon’s roommate and fellow Gryffindor, gives him a thumbs up as he scours the laptop screen in front of him for the numbers Vernon’s after. “Best show so far man.”

“But do the views say that?” Vernon looks over Dokyeom’s shoulder, anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“Read it and weep, kid.” To his surprise, his best friend is actually right for once. Almost two hundred students listening in, both on and off campus. The outreach Vernon’s radio show has gotten so far is something to be incredibly proud of, but he wants more. Maybe if he can prove music is not a waste of time, his parents may take him more seriously when he talks about switching majors.

“Holy shit,” Vernon says out loud, smiling at the evidence.

“I know.” Dokyeom closes his laptop and begins getting his stuff together. “Listen, I gotta head to Combat Training, but we’ll go over the next show tonight.”

They exchange handshakes as Dokyeom exits the tiny office space the university gave them as a studio, leaving Vernon alone with his thoughts to ponder during what remains of his lunchtime.

Astrology isn’t the worst degree in the world, not by a long shot. He likes to learn about the constellations, the stars, how the planets moved in tandem with one another in a symbiotic pattern. And sure, being in one of the longest educational tracks seemed daunting, according to his friends, but it’s interesting to look up at the sky and know there’s a system up there that needs to be understood and appreciated like everything else.

But does he love it? After a year of studying, that remains to be seen.

What he does love, though, is his Power Hour.

It gives him a zest to his daily routine that didn’t exist before. His schedule had just been friends, Quidditch, and studying. It was fine at first, but being without something that truly drove him to do more, be more, had become taxing after a while.

Walking out of the building, he decides to go home and eat lunch in the comfort of his bed before his next class, Star Charts.

Vernon loves to take note of the greenery as he passes the gardens towards the student quarters. But he knows it’s deadly to step foot near the many plants and flowers, not just because of his allergies. He doesn’t want to smell like a joint if he steps in the wrong spot thanks to Josh and Jeonghan’s extracurricular activities in the horticulture club.

What does make him stop today, however, isn’t just the plants. It’s mostly the girl plucking weeds from the ground at the entrance of the courtyard, stealing his breath in a way pollen never could.

Face caked in soot and a messy bun at the top of your head, you know a steamy shower is in your plans as soon as classes are over. You loosened the yellow tie around your neck hours ago to focus on the gardening work in front of you, but it turns out to be a bad decision due to it flopping around in the wind. If only the last root could give…

You look up to see a guy facing your direction, mouth lightly agape and seemingly looking directly at your spot on the ground. Was something or someone behind you that you failed to notice? You turn your head to look over your shoulder, finding nobody down the path or coming out of the greenhouse you were in prior to your work outside.

You look back in the guy’s direction, but he’s gone. He’s speed-walking up the path to the student quarters when you do catch the image of him, his back quickly going out of sight.

Shrugging, you go back to the stubborn weed that has taken up too much of your time. Maybe you’ll cut it at the base and call it a day.

Vernon scribbles the score of the student’s assignment on the front of the paper, relieved it’s the last in the stack. TA duties have been completed to fruition, possibly for the first time in weeks. He wishes him and Wonwoo got to switch TA positions, but Vernon’s aware that it breaks all kinds of moral codes for a TA to also be a student of the very professor they’re assisting.

At least Vernon gets to see the architecture of the Law building for reference in his drawings. He didn’t have any painting classes yet, but the more he could practice now, the better. If he was to ever become as good as his mother, anyway.

The tall doors of Professor Sung’s class open, and Vernon almost can’t believe his eyes.

It’s you. You’re not covered in dirt but still entirely breathtaking, holding a large potted plant in your hands. As you walk closer, careful not to bump into the desks on your way towards him, he is unsure what to say for the first time to capture your interest.

You smile and set the pot down on Professor Sung’s desk. Both of you speak at the same time, words blended on top of each other’s.

“Sorry to bother-“

“I’m allergic to pollen.”

Your face morphs into confusion, but you laugh all the same. Vernon wants to immediately crawl into a hole. Why in all things magical did he just let those words come out of his mouth? 

“Okay, noted.” You point to the plant. “This is for Professor Sung. It’s asphodel. No pollen, I promise.” You look over the graded papers on the desk. “You must be his TA.”

Vernon nods immediately and stops, feeling ridiculous again for being so eager and forthcoming with information. What was wrong with him? You were just a girl. A beautiful, cute, hardworking, breathtaking girl, but still a girl!

Your mouth goes slack in recognition, eyes suddenly widening. “I remember you now! You were outside of the student grounds the other day.”

Vernon laughs nervously. He puts the papers in front of him into a neat pile, trying to stifle his panic. All he remembers from that day is you and trying to run from the fact you caught him staring. The cringe he feels is excruciating. “Yeah. I like to look at the plants on my way to my room. You guys have done a great job with the…selection.”

You laugh again and bite your lip. “Yeah, it’s mostly me and Jeonghan. You probably know him.”

He nods again. “We practice together on the Quidditch field. Well, us and my roommate Seokmin.”

“I know Seokmin! And forgive me, I forgot to ask your name.” You hold your hand out politely and give him your name in turn.

How can a person be so gorgeous and nice? Vernon thinks maybe it has to do with your Hufflepuff placement, but he has a feeling the evidence lies in your personality. One he wants to get to know now as soon as possible.

“Hansol,” he replies after placing his palm in yours, your soft skin making him weak in the knees. “Most people know me as Vernon or DJ Chwe or Chwe but y’know—what I’m saying is, my name is Hansol.”

You smirk. “Nice to meet you, Hansol.”

You play on Vernon’s mind in a loop. The feeling mimics the visual graphic Dino made for Vernon’s radio station icon, the turning CD adorned with the words “CPH.”

“Alright, listeners, I hope that music mix brightened your day and leaves you in anticipation for the next one. My name is Hansol Vernon Chwe. Thank you for another installment of Chwe’s Power Hour, once again sponsored as always by Hogwarts Altior. And you have a good day and night. Peace!”

Dokyeom and Vernon take their. headphones off at the same time, Vernon’s best friend blowing out a breath. “At this rate, man, you’re going to be turning discs all over the world.”

Vernon chuckles. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, bro.”

“C’mon! You talk about it all the time. Pull the plug. Chase your dreams.” Dokyeom knocks Vernon in the shoulder with his fists multiple times, turning the younger boy into a heap of laughter. “And, maybe before that, let in the girl you’ve been talking about?”

Dokyeom motions for Vernon to look towards the clear windows of the station. When he does, he finds you there with a smile on your face, an entirely new plant in your hands. It’s smaller than the asphodel you harvested for Professor Sung. The plant, like its pot, is in an assortment of bright colors, mostly teals and greens.

Vernon motions for you to come inside, so you do. You greet Dokyeom before Vernon. “Seokmin and I share a free period, and he told me he helps you with your station stuff.” You smile and put the plant on Vernon’s desk near his headphones. “Don’t worry. No pollen.”

Vernon inspects it with his eyes, unfamiliar with the plant in front of him. His brows narrow in pure curiosity, and you answer the question that sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Muggles call them succulents. They’re really easy to take care of. Just a little sunlight and watering once a week should be enough.” You laugh to yourself and glance around the office space. “Thought the place could use some color.”

“Thank you,” Vernon says. His heart can’t help but be shaken up even more by your presence in his sacred space. He barely knows you, yet he’s so enraptured at your mere existence.

He used to make jokes about his friends when they were down bad for girls, ones that they knew were out of their leagues. Now, he feels like an asshole for doing so. Clearly the workings of the heart are something out of a person’s control.

Vernon isn’t idiotic enough to call it love, but it’s as intense as infatuation can be.

“I’m gonna go, but I’ll see you guys later.” As Dokyeom’s leaving, he raises his arms in the air in a silent chant for Vernon. Thankfully, you don’t notice Vernon’s idiotic best friend and roommate, entirely focused on him.

You stand there, unsure what to do now, but Vernon fills the space with the dumb courage he musters. “I was just on my way to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to join me?” 

He stutters, suddenly trying to play it cool. “I mean, unless you have a meeting or something with the gardeners. In which case, I don’t want to intrude—“

You raise your hand to shut him up, giggling. “I would love to, Han.”

The nickname on your lips makes his heart stop and start again in a millisecond. He could get used to that. Definitely.

On the brink of midnight, Vernon gets a text from Jeonghan.

[YJH]: Got party favors in the greenhouse. U in?

Vernon groans, stuffing his head in the pillow. Should he smoke when he has an early class tomorrow and another Power Hour special? Probably not.

But the second text that pops up makes Vernon sit up straight in his bed.

[YJH]: Your missus is our DD, if that changes your mind ;)

Lunch a few days ago had been a success. You laughed at all of his jokes and even took his hand when he offered to help you up from the picnic table. Although you exchanged numbers at the end of the “date,” he hadn’t found the nerve to text you.

But now, he won’t waste the opportunity to see you.

Vernon puts on his old Quidditch hoodie and a bit of cologne to mask the odor. The next step after he sees you is to do his laundry to avoid smelling as much as possible. Homework sits somewhere in the middle of that plan.

He closes the door to the greenhouse behind him, the smell of the herbs hitting his face immediately. It wasn’t a mystery how Josh continued to supply himself and his friends with…supplements. As the president of the Horticulture club, he can access any specimens at any time. Surely it should been you, your care for plants and flowers not going unnoticed by him and probably your other classmates. Pretty privilege has to apply, for sure. But you’re much prettier than Josh, too, so what the fuck’s up with that?

You smile when you see Vernon enter the greenhouse. Your new friend skates by the stoned, giggly man-children sitting in the lawn chairs and passing their joint around. Hoshi is practically asleep, eyes almost closed and chuckles leaving his lips at the speed of a young schoolgirl. Vernon has the passing thought about how ironic it is all the Slytherins he knows take up their efforts with “gardening” yet probably know only a handful of plants.

“Hey, flower child,” Vernon says, sitting next to you on the workbench.

“Oh, spare me. Is that my nickname now?” You jut out your bottom lip, pouting.

“I think it’s nice. It fits!” Vernon motions with his hands to the surrounding vines and other foliage within the greenhouse. 

You nod in agreement. “Okay, point taken.”

He looks over at the assignment you’re doing, some form of chemistry if he had to guess. “What’re you working on?”

“Lab stuff. If I want to be a herbologist, I have to pass this class,” you say with a groan.

“Wait, you’re telling me there’s actually something you’re not good at?”

You stick your tongue out at him, threatening to poke him with your pencil. “Just wait, you’ll see I have many flaws.”

He knows that can’t be true. To him, even the most minute flaw of yours is impeccable.

“But yeah, just balancing equations and the like. I know astrology is more metaphysical stuff, but—“

“I love chemistry,” Vernon says, standing up and grabbing leaves from random plants between his fingers. Strangely, the more he walks around and steps into your world, the more confident he feels. “Speaking of that, I wanted to ask—“

“Hansol, watch out!”

Little does Vernon realize his back is perfectly positioned in front of an adult sprig of venomous tantacula, the plant ready to spring for the sight of prey. In an instant, Vernon sees your wand appear from your side and ducks out of the way to avoid the impending spell.

“Diffindo!” The venomous tantacula shrivels as soon as its body is separated from the base of the plant. You breathe in a sigh of relief at the fact your friend has not met his demise at the hands of the creature. However, Vernon’s quick dive turned out to be a bad choice. He managed to drop into a large pile of terracota plant pots. Some of them cut up his arms and a small part of his face in the process of his crash landing.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask, bending down to inspect his face. You touch a hand to his cheek, moving his face in your direction. Vernon responds with a gummy smile.

“Nothing a bandaid can’t fix.” Vernon releases a breathless laugh.

“I have a medical kit somewhere around here.”

You run to find it. Vernon’s just dumbfounded and pleased he got so close to you on a technicality. Yes, his face is probably bleeding a good amount, but he knows it’s worth it to see your pillowy lips and doe eyes up close and personal.

When Joshua stumbles up to Vernon on the brick floor of the greenhouse, stoned out of his mind, he laughs like a madman. “Did you fall or something?”

Vernon smirks, resting his head happily on the ground. “You could say that.”

The collection of vinyls, CDs, and musical content in Vernon’s room is a marvel. The piles are mixed in with the typical items in a guy’s room, socks strewn about the floor and star charts leaning against the wall. When you call Vernon a slob in a playful tone, he can’t deny it.

“I have to be in the mood to clean,” Vernon says in his defense. 

You roll your eyes. You’ve met messier guys, but Vernon’s definitely making his way to the top of the list. “If I had to be in the mood to garden, half of the greenhouse would be withering away as we speak.”

“Is that how Josh keeps his presidential position, by only doing half of the work?” Vernon smirks, running his hands over the map in front of him. The homework needed to be done yesterday. Calling you as a reinforcement to make him focus is his best chance at getting it done.

Then again, seeing you now, he thinks that was a mistake. How can he focus when you’re in his room, chastising him to work and clean his room in such a cute way?

You may just be the end of his academic career as he knows it.

“No. Josh is a good president, and he really stands up for us with the student government. If he hadn’t advocated for muggle flora imports when they wanted to put more money in the Quidditch reserves, the greenhouse wouldn’t look half as good as it does right now.” You snap your fingers together. “Like the succulent in your radio station! Josh is technically to thank for that.”

“Don’t let him take the credit. I bet you put in a lot of effort growing that thing.”

You scoff and go back to inspecting his music collection. “Have you listened to every album you own?”

Vernon nods, smiling. “Some more than once. But that’s because some of those are my folks’ copies.” He gets up from his bed to stand next to you, tracing the outlines of the vinyl jackets with his fingers. “Like this one? Stevie Wonder’s In Square Circle? One of my favorites.”

The corners of your mouth turn up. “Surprises me you’re not a music undergrad. You already know so much.”

He chuckles sadly. “My parents thought it would be best to find something more practical to study.”

“Astronomy is practical?”

A smirk appears on his lips. “Point taken.”

You huff. “Anyway, it’s your life. It should be about what you love to dot. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer, but herbology’s my calling.”

“No kidding, flower child.”

“You know that nickname is cringe!”

In the midst of your banter, Vernon was unaware how much the distance between you closed. He can smell the perfume lingering on your neck, the scent of moondew driving him insane. His better impulses tell him not to stand so close. He should avoid inching further towards you. It’s wrong to focus on the look in your eyes that tells him not to stop.

Your breath hitches just a touch, and that’s his signal to throw all of his reservations out of the window. He presses your back to the vinyl player, caring little for the scratch of the record at the sudden movement. He can buy another one later.

He captures your lips with his and instantly feels every worry sap out of his being. You wrap your arms around him, hands firm against the back of his neck and fingertips grazing the ends of his hair. Magic in his world is not just exclusive to charms, potions, and cauldrons anymore.

He has you to thank for the definition expanding.

When a moan slips out of his mouth, you pull away breathless.

“Sorry if I was too forward. I—“ Vernon blurts out.

“No, no, don’t apologize.” You smile shyly. “I wanted you to.” You press your hands to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palms. “Just don’t want to rush into anything.”

He nods without a second thought, hanging onto your words with glee. You’re into him. Enough to want him to kiss you, at least.

“Does this mean I can ask you on a proper date? Not just lunch after CPH?”

You giggle into his neck. “Yes, I would love that.”

After a month of secret kissing behind corridors, study dates in the library, and even Vernon helping tend to pollen-free plants in the garden with you, he may have to admit he’s fallen into the deep end.

But how does one say that, especially someone as terrible with non-lyrical words as him?

So, he decides the perfect way to tell you isn’t in the standard sense.

He writes.

He writes down his thoughts and feelings to a random beat that popped into his head, the rhymes that show up on the notepad in front of him exactly what’s inside of his heart. He makes final touches, moving a word around and then repeating some others. It’s not a full song, just the idea of one at this point, but it says what it needs to, and that’s more than enough.

Vernon texts his parents about his next special, and this time, they promise to listen. Maybe now he can prove to them it isn’t a fruitless endeavor not worth pursuing.

He puts the headphones over his head, one half of his mind occupied with a million thoughts and the other half excited to see what will come after the special. Dokyeom counts him in, mouth in a thin line from focus.

“Welcome to Chwe’s Power Hour, everyone. I’m Chwe Hansol, the man himself behind this lovely hour of music, and I thank you all for tuning into this special episode of the show.”

They go on as usual, answering user-created questions from the last stream and also playing a couple of requested songs. When they make it to the ten-minute mark, Vernon sees Dokyeom’s cue.

“So, recently, I met someone who has quickly become a very important part of my life. So, today, I want to share something that was on my mind with all of you.”

Vernon nods his head to Dokyeom who begins playing the backing track for Vernon’s song. Some guitar strings and a welcoming beat begin to play. The confidence suddenly rises out of Vernon, taking on its own life as he begins the song. The words come out of him effortlessly, the poetry he wrote for you synchronized with the music in a way that has even Dokyeom swaying in his seat cheerfully.

Flower child,

Why can’t I keep my thoughts off of ya?

You grow in my chest without my consent.

Please help when my heart’s under arrest.

Flower child,

I always recognize your steps

When you walk around my head.

The path you have to be familiar with.

Don’t tell me your interest’s a myth.

Flower child,

Is this garden ready to bloom?

You drive me wild.

Can I grow with you?

Flower child,

Can I show you?

You’ve left me beguiled,

Flower child.

The guitar and beat of the song fade out gradually. Dokyeom can’t help himself when he claps his hands together and cheers for his best friend, the sounds coming through in the stream. Vernon laughs and clears his throat.

“As you can hear, my co-host DK seems to have enjoyed my song.”

“Are you kidding?” Dokyeom says, mouth agape. “Best thing we’ve played on this show, no doubt.”

Vernon chuckles heartily, his chest filled with pride. Not just for himself, but for this creation he’s found enough conviction to share with the world. 

“Thank you again for all tuning into this episode of Chwe’s Power Hour, sponsored by Hogwarts Altior. I cannot wait for the next episode and your thoughts on this one. It was without a doubt my favorite special so far. To all of you listening, have a good day and night.”

When the stream comes to a close, Dokyeom grabs Vernon in a tight bear hug, screeching in glee for the younger one’s success. “That was fucking incredible!”

Before Vernon can reply, he feels the buzz of his phone in his back pocket, your name lighting up his screen.

Meet me in the greenhouse? x

Vernon walks through the greenhouse. The foliage and flora he’s encountered many times in the past since meeting you and beginning your love affair greet him. He hopes the flowers he picked up on the quick run from the radio office to the courtyard capture your heart in the same way the plants in the greenhouse do.

Even if they make his eyes itchy around the eyelashes, he will deal with it. No amount of pollen could ruin this day.

You’re working on some homework at the gardening bench when he comes in. You drop your pencil immediately when you spot him out of the corner of your eye. You smile at the bouquet in his hands. “Usually I’m the one bringing you plants.”

Vernon grins as well. “Thought I’d return the favor this time.”

You leave your stool and walk towards him. Pecking his lips, you grab the flowers from him. “You know zinnias have pollen in them.”

He shrugs, taking no stock in the stuffy feeling in his nose. “You’re worth all the allergies in the world.”

Your cheeks turn a deep shade of red. Pressing your nose into the flowers, you take in the smell with a satisfied hum. “They’re beautiful.”

“They represent long-lasting affection, according to Joshua. But he might’ve been stoned when he said that.” Vernon smirks, grabbing onto your free hand.

You giggle. Staring deep into his eyes, your expression suddenly becoming serious. “Speaking of that, I listened to your show.”

Taking a deep breath, Vernon hopes he can find the same courage he had in the studio then now to use exclusively for you. “Since the second I saw you, I was drawn to you. And all the feelings I’ve had since then I put into that song to express just a fraction of how amazing you are. And I know it’s cheesy, but I meant every word, and I hope you feel the same.”

You step away from him, letting go of his hand and walking back to the gardening workbench. Vernon’s anxiety spikes, unsure what your next step will be. Would you say what he wanted to hear, or would you tell him something that would break his heart altogether?

You drop the bouquet on the table and run back to him, knocking all the air out of Vernon’s lungs with a sudden, soul-encapsulating kiss.

In the pressure, movement, and heartfelt nature of your lips against his, he feels idiotic second-guessing you for even a minute. 

You both separate, lips still inches away and smiles abound. Despite your actions saying everything he needed to hear, the words leaving your mouth just confirms every emotion in his heart. “I love you, too.”

[itsabouttimex2]

Ok, ok, HEAR ME OUT-

How about lmk Monkeifam and Bullfam with a Y/N who isn't afraid to throw hands —

Like i mean in a response to trauma or manipulation, becouse i fell it isn't explore enough in this situation -

Sure, your loved that you belived was a friend trapped /kidnapped/gaslight you is heartbreaking and of course you are gonna be sad and more incline to behave butttt-

There is always the other way of absolute rage that comes in once you realized you have been trapped/kidnapped /gaslight ecc- like i don't care anymore, i wanna throw hands, those people are death to me.(even thought this isn't the smarter choice considering the strenght of some of the people here) like them breaking Y/N down so they can comfort them to manipulate them, but then unsurprisingly the get the biggest smack/punch of their life . Just- wow the audacity.

Throwing Hands

Bullfam & Monkiefam

“…is this some sort of pathetic attempt at ‘rebellion’, Y/N? I am not impressed.”

Your hands straight bounce. Like punching a bag of wet cement, the Demon Bull King’s skin just shifts around under your fists, never breaking or bruising. You only shatter yourself against it, leaving you worn and looking foolish.

He might not even punish you, given that it’s likely that you break a wrist on impact.

“Now, look what you’ve done to yourself, foolish child. Did you truly think your mortal flesh could stand a demon king’s might? Well, now you know better.”

You lost your temper and struck him. Immediately, you learn better than to do that ever again, and he considers it lesson enough.

Surprisingly merciful, all things considered. (Partially because he finds it somewhat funny.)

I once said in my yandere alphabet that: “Red Son doesn’t want to waste his time doing something like caning or whipping you”. And though I think that viewpoint is usually true…

This changes that. It’s maybe the only situation where he would actively engage in any form of normalized torture “corporal punishment”.

Being physically attacked switches Red from ‘mildly reasonable, if a bit hair-trigger’ to ‘vicious and cruel’. Through brute force alone does he wrestle you into submission, binding your arms behind your back with a pair of metal cuffs.

He tosses you onto the nearest bed and couch before burning the lower half of your clothing off. He then takes up a thin metal rod to utilize in “disciplining” you, sharply lashing it down against your now unprotected skin. He’ll leave puffy, bleeding welts from the top of your rear to the bottom of your thighs, ensuring that you won’t even be able to think about walking for at least a week.

Problem is that not only does it not solve the problem of you being scared and angry, it also just… makes him feel bad afterwards. It breaks him, seeing you weep brokenly over his bed. Blood sluggishly trickles from the skin he’s lashed open, and you scream your lungs out into the sheets as you try to adjust to the pain.

And then he “has to” (wants to, in truth) settle in for some awkward form of aftercare, offering lotion and bandages. When you don’t accept, he forces you to drink a cup of honeyed tea loaded with sedatives because you won’t stop shrieking.

Antiseptic while you’re asleep, a few stitches here and there, then the lotion and bandages he tried earlier. And then a few cautious back rubs, trying to calm your fitful slumber.

“Gods, Y/N… what have I done to you? I… I was just… I was… no, I… I’m sorry.”

An outright dodge. Princess Iron Fan has no time for your nonsense. For trying, she’ll lock you into whatever room has been set aside for you, barring the door with powerful magic.

One shallowly-filled bowl of food every two days, adding just a little bit more to it each day. One ceramic cup of room temperature water every four hours. A change of clothes every three days. Instead of brute force, Iron Fan teaches you through deprivation.

After a month of this, she might see fit you allow you back out of your room, letting you mingle with the family you have been forced to adopt.

After writing her a letter of apology, of course. Two pages. Pray you have the mind to keep your pencil steady.

So very many tears to deal with, probably on both ends. MK knows that he’s doing isn’t all that great, sure… but it’s because he loves you!

Can’t you love him back, please? Ok, he’s been manipulating you! Maybe he’s been driving some friends away! Maybe he’s sent a few clones to tail you around the city! But, please, please- you can’t stop loving him! He just can’t risk having you hurt!

“Please, Y/N! You don’t understand! I’m just trying to keep you safe! You can hit me again, hit me as many times as you want! Just- please, Y/N… I need you. Please…”

His last resort is stuffing you in Shuilian Cave, given that you can’t escape with his or Sun Wukong’s help. Maybe a few ropes to keep you in place. He’ll cry with each knot tied, begging you not to hate him.

Sun Wukong tanks your punch and gives your head a little pat, frowning at the display. “Sorry, bud. Trust me, I know I’m not exactly the good guy here. Go ahead and let it out. I… kinda deserve it, huh?”

The Great Sage knows you have every reason to be upset. Really, you do. All there’s only so much waylaying of emotions to be done, unfortunately. You were going to crack eventually.

He stands firmly in place, one hand rubbing your back while you break your fists against his body, watching you scream and cry. The man is just… unsurprised? He’s starting to realize that he messes up a lot of things.. So just letting you whale on him seems fair, gently trying to shush your angry tears while your skin grinds to bloody pulp against his shredded abdomen.

“How about I make us some tea,” he offers afterwards, surveying your destroyed hands. “And I’ll patch you up. Then… I think you’ve earned yourself an early bedtime for the rest of the week, bud.”

“Oh, kiddo. Do you know what “screwing up” is? After this, they’re gonna put your picture in the dictionary as an example.”

Macaque does not tolerate having hands laid on him. Not by friends, not by enemies. And certainly not by his little student, who is supposed to be wide-eyed and placid, in awe of his every move and strike.

You are supposed to be sweet and respectful. You are supposed to be kind and loving.

And he’s sure that with a little bit of “training”, he’ll get you back to that disposition.

He’ll snap his fingers with an angry snarl, shadows springing all around you like cold wires. You are gagged with a cold ebon muzzle, both your hands locked inside a cuff of swirling black and purple. You want to act like an animal? Macaque will chain you to the wall by your new muzzle and treat you like an animal.

Maybe a few days spent so on a chain so short you can’t lay down will teach you better than to raise a hand against “the only person who even loves you, Y/N!” ever again.

[caesium-55]

Imagine Charles Leclerc who dated all your friends because he cannot have you.

It's not that you don't want him—God only knows how many times you wished to all the stars in the sky for you to have him—but it's because you were afraid. Of what? Of what would come if the relationship would not work.

"What if we'll work? What if we'll be happy?" he asked you that once, when you were both seventeen and he was steadily rising in his career as a racer. But you pride yourself to be an intelligent woman, always practical and never to be swayed by feelings. You would not sacrifice an almost two decade friendship over a what-if.

So while you pursue your career in architecture, he began dating your friends. It's petty. It's cruel. It's unfair. Not just to him or to you but the poor girls who thought he loved them when it was you he was imagining when he kissed them.

It hurt when it happened the first time. Then, you realized that you had to suck it up because this was the mountain you chose to climb. It was a good thing that you were always the best at keeping your emotions at bay.

On his first breakup with his first girlfriend, he was the one who told you first. He came by your house, the one next to his childhood home, and told you personally. You had shook your head at him, disappointed but not surprised.

"Who dumped who?"

"It was her."

"Good for her."

Then, he helped you cook dinner, you ate together and he left after. You spent the next morning comforting your friend, listening to her two-hours long rant patiently. Guilt crept up at the back of your skull because you were the one who introduced them both.

The next time you learned Charles was dating again, it was through Twitter. You shrugged it off at first, not interested at the news because the fans can be full of exaggeration sometimes. You trusted that Charles would personally tell you if he had found someone. Like he did before. Because Charles will never ever keep secrets from you.

Then, a week later, on the third Wednesday of the month where you, your brother, and your dearest Mama visit the Leclercs for the usual dinner get-together, and she brought her along.

"Charlotte?" you blinked in surprise when you saw her, pretty as always. "What are you—"

Then, Charles appeared right behind her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh."

Of fucking course, he chose Charlotte. Charlotte who also lived next door. Charlotte who had been your friend since highschool. Charlotte whom you shared similar interests in architecture and art. Charlotte who worked the same job as you. Charlotte who looked uncannily similar to you and you fucking know why Charles chose her. He had been searching for you in everything, in every person, and he seemed to have found familiarity in Charlotte's arms but it's not fair to her.

You resisted the urge to punch him the entire evening.

Dinner went great. Mrs. LeBlanc's cooking will always be one of the best things served on a dinner table but even if she cooked your favorite food, you barely had the strength to swallow it. The entire focus of the conversation was on Charlotte's and Charles' relationship and fuck, that made you feel like dying.

Is it jealousy? Is it guilt? You did not know. You wished it was the latter.

You confronted Charles later that evening, in the privacy of his childhood home. The familiar faces of his racing heroes are the audience of your entire debate.

"Stop this, Charles. Charlotte does not deserve this."

He is an asshole. Truly, an asshole. Unfortunately, you were the reason for him being like that.

"Why would I? I'm happy now."

"Are you truly? Do you like her?"

You saw his jaw tense, "I will learn."

"Stop searching for me in other people. That's not fair to them." You wanted to be the one who had the last say.

Then, they went steady for almost three years. And you thought perhaps Charles learned to love Charlotte as he said. You cried every time you thought about it. The four walls of your bedroom listened to you weep every fortnight when you felt extra lonely and your best friend was oceans away, chasing his dreams at high speed, and you imagined what it would be like to be in Charlotte's place.

In the morning, you became alright.

Another third Wednesday dinner and Charles brought Charlotte again, and this time, you wanted to be free from this. Charles was happy. Charlotte was happy. You can't be the only one unhappy. So you told him: "I'm happy for you. Thank you for loving Charlotte."

Then, he fucking broke up with her two days later.

He came by the apartment, told you the news before Charlotte even told you through text, and God, you felt like screaming at him then and there. Yet, you remained calm, staring at him blankly.

"Why?"

"She wasn't you."

"Fuck you, Charles."

From there, it became a full blown argument. Charles was emotional. You were too unemotional. A perfect balance.

"Why can't you just love me?" he asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Because!" you cut yourself off. You loved him. God, you loved him so, so much. But you will not tell him that. You cannot. So you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. As calmly as you can, you said, "Just stop, Charles."

He opened his mouth, probably to argue with you because he refuses to have you withdrawing from this argument. He let you run away a lot of times before. But not tonight.

"Please..."

And it was like a switch. Charles' fury dissipated at a single world that came from your mouth.

"Okay."

He turned around to leave and then opened the door but before he could fully exit, he asked, "Can I know at least? What is wrong with me that you won't even consider loving me?"

You let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know," you lied.

He nodded and left.

You knew he'll keep doing it. Dating girls who are either your friends or girls who look like you. Alexandra...Jenessa....Elodie. The last girl was Janine.

"I broke up with her."

You didn't even bother asking him why. Just handed him a chilled bottle of beer from the fridge.

"Because she wasn't you."

"I know," you said blankly. You're used to this. Used to the ache in your heart when he decides to date your friends or girls who look like you. Used to the anxiety that overcame you on the nights when you wonder if he finally stopped looking at his girlfriend while imagine you instead. Used to the guilty relief when he tells you they broke up.

It had been years. You're beginning to get tired. He should move on. You should move on. But whatever is holy enough residing in the skies above is just plain cruel.

"Why wouldn't you love me?"

"I do love you, Charles."

"As a friend."

More than that actually, you thought but never had the guts to say it out loud.

"You know I'm an awful human being, dating girls who resemble you because you won't like me back. It's the closest thing I could have of you."

"I know."

"You're also an awful human being, rejecting me and rejecting me and for what?"

"You're drunk."

"I know."

"That's my line."

He sighed.

"Is this because of what happened with Olivier?"

Olivier was another kid who lived in the same neighborhood. He used to be close friends with you and Charles. You started dating when you were both 15 but the relationship tragically ended when you were 16. The thing about Olivier is that he could not go back to just being friends with you and that devastated you because Olivier was such a good friend. You knew what it was like to lose Olivier—as a girlfriend and as a best friend.

God forbid you lose Charles, too.

You won't have anyone anymore.

When you hesitated, he knew he was right.

"Fuck it. Can't believe my happiness is stopped by a childish guy who cheated on you when we were teens."

"Charles."

"I won't cheat on you."

"That's not it, Charles."

"Then what is it?!" he was raising his voice again. "I have been stuck wondering what was wrong with me that you—you—"

He didn't even finish his sentence as he furiously wiped his tears.

"Just give me a chance, please."

Should you or should you not? It took years and six girlfriends. Should you free him from this torment and cage yourself with the fear of losing him every day?

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 1

Chapter One: Solitude

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 6.7K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, blood and gore

—————

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own …

The northern winds were unforgiving to the open area abandoned of life, well the whole world was abandoned from life following the Outbreak. Cordyceps that destroyed the world in a matter of hours, though you weren’t there on Outbreak day you had dealt with your fair share of infected. But the secluded area you had found and claimed as yours didn’t give much of the fungi-humans. Sure there were the stray infected that came from the distance but they dead, sniped from a distance before they could get anywhere close to your home. It wasn’t the infected you needed to worry about when you were truly far away from populated areas for cordyceps to spread…it was the people that would think like you. And that’s what you were worried about and it seemed like your luck in this remote area had finally run out.

Your last hunt tied to your pack your rifle slung over your shoulder as you make your way through the snow to the cabin. Two rabbits that you were glad to find in your traps, it would have been great to have deer. Just a few hours ago a herd of deer had come through here and you had wished you could find their location but you had to settle for the rabbit for dinner. Coming over the small hillside, the path from the thicker forest and home was so routine that you could do it with your eyes closed. Seeing the snow-capped cabin appear you smile under the scarf covering the lower half of your face, you can’t wait to be inside and warm by the fireplace. The horses outside your home have you frozen as you swing your rifle into your hands instantly on edge and wary. You were so stupid to look after your tracks, did someone see you when you were hunting and followed your trail back? They couldn’t have you switch hunting locations every day and the different trails back would confuse anyone who does not know the area. Drawing closer to your home and see only two horses tied to the fencing as they mull around giving you no attention. Circling the home to avoid the front door in case they are camping right there to blow your head off. Finding the back door silently creaking it open as your breath is silent and footsteps non-existence after years of learning to become invisible. You can hear things being moved around as you creep into your own home. Your rifle aimed at the doors you knew you had closed now open checking to make sure no one is hiding in them. The bedroom door swings open and you press yourself against the wall as you watch a man with his rifle slung over his shoulder come out and turn in the direction leading to the living room. Before he could get a step down the hall the cool metal pressed against his back has him frozen.

“Slowly slide the rifle off your shoulder,” You growl and he slowly raises his hands and he lets the rifle slide off his shoulder and hit the ground.

“Tommy? Everything alright?” A man’s voice calls out and you press the barrel of your rifle into Tommy’s back.

“Walk.” You order as he keeps his hands raised and walks out towards the living room and you hear footsteps of the other man.

“Tommy? Did you hear what I sa-” “Keep your hands where I can see them or your buddy here gets it.” You say as you look at a younger man as he freezes with his rifle in his hand.

“Tomm-” “Jesse do as they say.” Tommy cuts off Jesse as the younger man nods.

“Rifle against the wall, finger off the trigger.” You say as Jesse slowly rests the rifle against the wall by the front door, “Same with the pistol and knife,” You say as he pulls the two both slowly out of his holsters and places them on the small table next to the door. “Sit.” You point at the couch in front of you and he slowly walks over there and takes a seat. One still holding the rifle you bring the other to the holster on the back of Tommy’s jeans pulling out the revolver opening the chamber emptying the bullets as they hit the floor, then you grab the hunting knife in his front pocket and put it in yours. Shoving the gun to his back to get him to move he too joins the younger boy on the couch the two with their hands up now defenseless with no weapons even their packs away from them. You could see both of their features, the older of the two with long black hair that was slightly pushed back from his face, and a decent mustache on his face, the younger boy with shaggy black hair as well that was hidden under a hat. They looked well fed while you had barely gotten by with the rations you have and the hunting. Their clothes as well looked clean, dusted with snow, but catered for their bodies while you wore a mismatch of different gendered clothes that you had to alter to adjust to yourself.

“Are there others with you two?” You ask your rifle aimed at the two as they look at you, they couldn’t see your features, a hat covers your hair, and the lower half of your face is hidden underneath the scarf that slightly muffles your voice but it’s filled with venom and lacks any hesitation to put a bullet in each of their heads.

“It’s just us,” The older man, Tommy speaks for the two, “We’re part of a community, lots of people, we have food, power, safety, if you want to come-”

“I’m not going fucking anywhere.” You say harshly your weapon more focused on the older man as he raises his hands higher to show he’s not going to try anything, “Does anyone else know about this place?” You demand and Tommy shakes his head.

“Only us, look we’ll get out of here and you’ll never see us again.” The man says and your silence only lets them brew with many questions and fears the main one being, are there leaving here alive? You should just kill them and end the discussion, how could you trust them that they weren’t going to come back? You would have to fucking leave and start all over again. You could head more north, hit Canada, and start over there. Your finger rests on the trigger as you stare at Tommy and you curse under your breath for what you were about to do.

“Get up.” You order as the two men stand and you usher them towards the front door that brings you out to the porch the sunset streaming an orange glow against the untouched snow. “If I see any of you or any of your people I won’t hesitate to fucking kill you.” You threaten as the men move to their horses, grabbing the hunting knife that was the man from your back pocket and chucking it as it lands in the snow before them.

“Best get moving, you don’t wanna be out in the dark here.” A mixture of a threat and advice as Tommy moves forward picking up the lone knife that is meant to protect the two men as they saddle up. Your weapon is still trained on the two as they take off and you make sure they are past the ridge waiting out there a full five minutes. You even climbed the hill rifle in hand expecting them to be waiting there to take you down but, you saw nothing but the tracks leading away and the empty plains and forest surrounding you.

Closing and locking the door you collect the new weapons resting your rifle on the coffee table as you take into account the equipment. They were of much better quality than the hunting rifle you called yours. It was here when you stumbled upon this place used to kill the previous owner you assumed he was tired of living in this fucked up world and wanted the easy way out. Your nerves felt heightened with that interaction, you can’t even remember the last time you saw a person though infected don’t count. Someone that speaks and has thoughts but can be manipulative and kill you if you let your guard down.

The night is eerie as you eat one of the rabbits the other gutted and strung to preserve for your next meal and use the fur for other uses. The rifle laid across your lap as you eye the front door, the back door of the home now barricaded by the old heavy bookshelf you pushed down the hall to block it. You hadn’t felt this on guard in months and maybe this is why people had appeared in your small sanctuary. You would rather deal with infected showing up here than actual people. Sleep wasn’t going to come to you your nerves were shot and the adrenaline from early kept you awake. Sitting on the couch silently waiting to take down whoever might try to get you until your lids grew heavy and your head slumped over sleep taking over.

The people of Jackson especially those who were close and dear to the Miller brother and the family and friends of the younger boy Jesse waited anxiously for their return. They were meant to return before sunset now dark and the older Miller brother paces the gate where he watched his brother leave. Joel was ready to steal a horse and go out and look for Tommy but here he was being stopped by his sister-in-law and his surrogate daughter.

“Jesse and him are alright Joel, there has to be a reason for them to be held back.” Maria tries to calm the quickly growing anxious brother her being better at hiding her fears of the location of her husband and the father of their child.

“They should have been here hours ago. Before sunset he said, it’s been three hours past that!” Joel didn’t mean to raise his voice but the nerves and fear of losing another member of his family to great for him. His hand clutches his watch the memories associated with it his only reminder of what he lost. Maria rests a hand on the man’s shoulder,

“He’ll be alright Joel, have faith in them. If they aren’t back in another hour I won’t stop you from going off and looking for him.” The leader of the community offers and the older man nods but before he can start coming up with a gameplan someone from the watch towers of the large gates calls out.

“They’re back!” Joel felt a sigh of relief leave his body and he could even see the woman release her own tension. He watches the gates open as the two men enter the town Joel instantly notices the lost weapons and their packs gone. He and Maria go over to Tommy as he slides off the horse letting it be taken away by a stablehand and Jesse is greeted by Ellie and one of her friends, Dina.

Maria hugs her husband her hands cupping the man’s face looking for any injuries, “Are you alright? What took you both so long.” She asks as Joel looks over his brother and he could see the thoughts running through his head.

“What did you see Tommy?” Joel asks and Tommy looks over at his brother and his hand reaches for the knife he was given.

“There’s someone out there!” Jesse says coming over to Ellie and Dina not far behind. Tommy gives the younger boy a look before sighing and nodding, “We were doing the normal patrols checking the towers and went a bit further and we found a cabin. Thought it was going to be deserted, maybe find some supplies or anything but it seemed we stumbled on someone’s home.” Tommy explains and Maria looks more frantically for any injuries but he waves her off.

“We’re fine, they only took our weapons and packs. Could have killed us but they let us go.” Tommy explains he could picture your eyes cold and expressive, but they seemed young but harden by the world around them all.

“So we go after them, we kick that guy’s ass, and get the gear back!” Ellie says and Tommy shakes his head same with his brother who gives a quick scold of her name.

“Told us if anyone of us shows up there again they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us, we just leave it. They stay where they are we keep away and that’s final.” Tommy explains and Maria nods.

“Come on it’s been a very stimulating day. I will let the council know of this so we can avoid that location on patrols.” Maria says and the people bid their goodnights as Jesse is brought home with his family Dina following with as the Millers plus Ellie stay together.

Joel looks over at his brother seeing the conflict in his eyes, “You alright there Tommy?” The man perks up before slowly nodding,

“Yeah...you know I offered them to come here…a lot safer than being out there all alone,” The man sighs scratching his cheek, “They said they were better off there.”

Joel nods patting his brother’s shoulder as they make their way to their respective homes, “Maybe it was for the best.” Tommy nods his hand grasping the hunting knife just remembering those eyes. He couldn’t shake the familiar feeling off them.

“Maybe..”

Weeks passed the winter was harsh for the people of Jackson but with the heated water and the power that was put through the community, they would push through. Both Miller brothers saddle up for their patrol ready to check on the communication towers with the large amount of snow that had come down on them this past week they needed to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. On their horses just waiting for the earlier patrol to arrive so they can head off. Tommy and Joel turn to the gates as Jesse and William his most current pairing for patrols come flying in on horses.

“Tommy!”

Jesse yells coming beside the man on his horse, “I know you said to avoid the cabin and we did,” Jesse says trying to catch his breath as the older man tries to start scolding him when he heard about the cabin, “But from one of the trails you can see straight at it and it’s just cover in smoke…and there was blood everywhere.”

The four men went off after Jesse and William had cleared they were good to head out again and show them as the four horses raced through the snow, Tommy wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. You were a complete stranger, one that did almost kill them when they first met. But it was this gut feeling he couldn’t ignore as they reached the ridge and he sees the cabin, part of it has thick black smoke though it looks like nothing was on fire anymore.

“Stay alert,” Tommy warns all of them with their rifles or pistols as they depart from the horses. Moving towards the house the front porch steps is drenched in blood and the snow around it from the man dead on the steps a bullet obliterating his skull. Looking at the three other men signaling Jesse and William to check the back as he and Joel enter through the front. Once the two men disappeared around the wall he turns to his brother as the two stood on opposite sides of the door before they enter. The stench of death and the burning smell. Part of the roof was caved in smoking planks of wood leaving an open hole in the ceiling. They had to immediately climb over a body that is slumped over at a hatchet embedded in the man’s chest. The place was in a state of disaster a clear fight took place there. Furniture flipped, blood, and bulletholes everywhere. The couch Tommy remembers sitting at is flipped over and a man laying half on it and there are multiple stab wounds to his neck and chest area. A wheeze fills the air and the two men turn their weapons finding a woman against one of the walls her face sweaty from the clear blood loss she sustained from the knife still in her chest. Her eyes glazed over blood spilling freely from her mouth, “f…fuck..ing an..animal..” Her final words as she slumps over and the two men look more cautious. There’s no way you did all this. A thump comes from the bedroom as they turn to face the hallway, seeing the backdoor blocked by the large bookcase. Moving down checking each of the rooms leading there the violence only grew more. In the bathroom, a man lies in a puddle of blood his face caved in from the porcelain sink that is broken around him. Standing in front of the bedroom door Joel’s hand grabs the handle counting before pushing it open. He’s lucky he didn’t walk straight in as a bullet fires splintering the door and the wall between the two men.

“Fuck..” A very feminine voice groans as an item is dropped and the two men enter finding the destruction of the room. Two bodies are dead one at the foot of the bed and the other on the bed his blood soaking the sheets. On the floor in the corner with a clear shot to whoever enters the room. Tommy hadn’t known what his almost killer plus savior had looked like, everything was hidden by heavy winter clothes, and the only thing to show were your eyes and parts of your brows. He had truly thought you were a man. But with minimal layers, this fight probably happened when you were home, he’s staring at a girl…a very young girl for the fact. But also the fact he thought he was staring at a carbon copy of the man beside him looking exactly in shock and confusion as his brother.

You see two men before you one you recognize as the man you let go, Trevor or whatever the fuck his name was. The other next to him you’ve never seen but the two did look like similar brothers maybe. The revolver is aimed at the Travis guy you do know and you see the older man raise his rifle at you while the man with the gun pointed at him makes no move with his own. “I fucking told you I would kill you if I saw you again.” You hiss trying to shift your weight letting a hiss from the burning pain in your side. Thomas looks down at your side and sees your hand pressed against it blood soaking the fabric.

“You’re hurt.” He takes a step forward and your finger rests on the trigger while the other man has a clear shot at you, “Drop the gun girl.” The older man hisses and you barely glance at him as you speak.

“You’re in my fucking house dickwad don’t tell me shit.” You say before you open the chamber showing there are no bullets left, “If you’re here to get your shit back, it’s all gone or used to kill this fuckers.” You wave the empty gun to show the damaged room and the two bodies that are with you.

“Like I said before, get the fuck out of here and let me die in peace. Better yet toss me a bullet and let me finish the job.” You spat leaning your head back against the wall, waiting to hear them leave or maybe give you a way to bite the bullet. A sudden rise in pain as a pair of hands clutch your wound and your eyes widen as you look at Tristian put his hands on your wound with what looks like actual bandages.

“What the fuck?! Get…the fuck…of me!” You hiss trying to push him off as he only puts more pressure on your wound. “Should’ve fucking…killed you!”

“Shut up, tryin’ save your damn life.” He says as you glare right back at him, “Joel get the horses she’s coming back to Jackson.”

“No, I’m not!” “Tommy?!” You and this Joel guy yell at the same time as Tommy continues putting pressure on your wound as you struggle more against him, “How do you know if she’s not infected?”

“Do I look fucking infected dumbass?” You say and the man glares at you, “Watch your mouth kid.” Joel glares at you and you glare right back.

“Suck my dic-” “Hey!”

Tommy yells silencing the two of you. “You’re fucking bleeding from your side, so it’s either we leave you and maybe the guys you killed have buddies that come after you and you figure out if you can take them,” He says giving you a look, “Or you can come back to Jackson and stay alive. Your choice.” Tommy looks at you as you’re silent.

“Get the fucking horse, Joel.” You spat and Tommy sighs in relief as the older man glares at you, “You don’t tell me shit.” “Think I just fucking did.”

“Jesus Christ! Stop talking either of you,” Tommy says shutting you both up as your glares both enough to kill the other if looks could kill, “Joel please get the horses.” The man gives one last look before heading out of the room. Tommy looks back at you looking at your wound. You would get better treatment when they return but this would be the best he could give you. Tommy helps you to your feet and you groan in pain your hand pressing to your stomach he has one of your arms thrown over his shoulder as he starts leading you out of the room.

You’re semi-dressed for the weather not as good as he would like it but he grabbed a coat by the doorway slinging it over your shoulders to give you some warmth. The frigid air and brightness of the snow reflect off the snow as you move past the body at the doorway and the steps seeing the four horses as Joel holds two of them and two other men are standing there one you recognize from before as he watches you.

“The fuck you looking at.” You growl as the boy and the man snaps their gaze away from you as Tommy curses under his breath.

“Maria’s gonna kill me.” He could already think of the fight that is going to happen when he gets back. They already had to deal with Ellie and the sailor of a mouth she has plus the intensity of Joel but it seemed like you were both of them put together and then times that by twenty. Reaching the horse Tommy climbs on first before reaching for your free hand as he pulls you up as you groan in pain your teeth grinding trying to muffle your sounds of pain. You felt breathless and out of energy from just that, Tommy has one hold of your arm to his front while your other holds your wound. “Alright let’s go!” He yells and the horses take off as your face presses against his back trying to focus on your breathing. In for five…hold for four…out for five. Repeat. It was the only thing you could focus on as the world around you blurred. Leaving your destroyed sanctuary behind to wherever Jackson is.

The ride is intense each bump in the road makes you grip the man’s hand hard as a flash of white light covers your vision. You weren’t sure how long you were awake or did you daze, until you found hear Tommy in front of your speaking but everything sounded underwater. “The gates are just ahead kid. Hold out just a bit.”

A garble of words is slurred back to him as he spurs the horse faster and he squeezes your hand in reassurance though he only feels your cold ungloved hand. They reach the gates as they open, Jesse, William, and Joel coming off their horses quickly while Tommy slows down. “We’re here kid, you’re gonna be alright.” He says when he feels your grip on his hand weaken before he turns seeing you slipping off the horse your eyes rolled back. 

“Joel!” He yells to his brother grabbing your shirt to try to stop your fall but your sleeve rips. His brother comes at the right moment to catch the top half of your body and the two of you hit the ground your head protected from the ground. Tommy is off the horse before the two of you as Maria and others quickly join seeing the patrol returned with an addition.

“Christ Tommy. What the hell did you do?!” Maria yells as her husband presses his hands onto your side as he shouts out for the town doctor. “I’ll explain everything once she’s tended to.” He says and he sees your eyes slowly flutter open and he’s drawn back to you.

“Hey, kid keep those eyes open. I’m getting you help. Just need you awake..umm, tell me the year? You got a name kid?” He promises as you look at him in pain as he waits for a name. “bite…me.” You say before darkness quickly takes over as you hear a final curse.

You felt rested which was weird and the pain in your side was less of a constant screaming pain to a dull feeling. Shifting feeling the slight comfort of a mattress as you slowly blink your eyes open and you hear shuffling coming from the other side of the room. What looks like a younger-looking lady as she goes through cabinets before she comes over to a metal tray in her hand she places it on a small medical table she doesn’t seem to notice your conscious staring. Where the fuck were you…you remember the cabin..the fight...then it was a blur you remember voices and someone holding you but you weren’t sure what was real or not. You see the lady pick up a needle filling it with something and she turns away from the briefest of seconds and you strike. Snatching the metal tray you swing it as it collides with her head and she drops to the ground. Moving off the bed you bring your hand to your shirt lifting it and see a clean bandage covering your side instead of the old cloth ones you were forced to work with. A groan from the injured woman makes you move. Reaching the doorway you snatch the coat off the rack and the cold air sends a shiver down your body. Slipping your arms in the thicker coat flipping the hood over your head. Taking in your surroundings seeing people milling about though you avoid their gazes. You take in the streets, no run-down buildings…or ration lines. This wasn’t the QZ this didn’t even look like a Fedra run area. You almost stopped to take in the large pine tree covered in lights of a collage of colors and the top of a large star. What the hell was this place?

“What do you mean she got out?” A voice yells out and you quickly lean against a wall to make yourself unnoticeable. From your peripheral, you could see two men walking frantically down the street as they stop a bit before you.

“Look Claire said she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, and I was going to ask Jesse to keep an eye on her. Didn’t expect her to wake up and give the poor girl a concussion!” The familiar voice says as you see the man with long black hair rack his fingers through the tendrils in stress. The other man with shorter brown hair that was greying and a salt-and-pepper beard. His hands are on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Okay we watch the gates, she would only head for the exits if she plans on running. Have everyone on the alert, we don’t know if she might try to cause harm to anyone here.” The man says,

“Joel she’s a kid, not some rabid animal.” The younger man says and the older one, Joel crosses his arms with a glare on his face, “Tommy you saw that cabin, she did that herself and already seems to be proving us right.” Joel says and you try moving past them just act casual and keep heading down the main road. If you can get to a gate before they can spread the news you’ll be home free.

You had only made the mistake of glancing back at the pair making direct eye contact with Joel as he is mid-sentence before he stops his eyes widened seeing you staring back at him a few feet away from him. You’re just a few seconds short of dodging him as a strong hand grips your wrist before you can run. Your hand whips out a large crack filling the air as it makes contact with his face. Joel stumbles back clutching his nose with a curse as you dart, racing through the streets shoving past people as they yell at your retreating figure and you can hear the chase behind you. Sprinting into what looks like a hall, multiple pairs of eyes meeting yours as you bust through the doors looking like a madman before sprinting towards the large double doors that lead to the kitchen. You hear the doors open as Tommy and Joel yell at you to stop. The kitchen is busy as you shove past people looking back and seeing the two in the room with you. Seeing a tower of crates filled with plates. You grab them pulling them as you run past they crash to the floor stopping the two men in their tracks. Seeing the emergency exit sign you break through reaching outside as you sprint through the snow-filled streets. Lungs on fire, your side burning as you slide in the snow picking yourself up as you turn the corner and see the sign Rancher Street. Spotting the first house you see sprinting up the porch your hand grabs the door ready to break it down when it swings open as you tumble inside. Slamming the door behind you catching your breath as you survey the home. It looks like a normal home, clean but cluttered showing it was lived in. Your mind already running on the ruthless fighter side you had to protect all these years.

“Joel?” A girl’s voice calls out from upstairs as you freeze, “You home already old man.” The sarcasm in her voice as you see a girl bound down the stairs expecting the gruff older man but sees a girl slightly older still covered in blood and grime. The two of you stare at each other and her hand slowly moves to her pocket but you strike first. Your fist slams against her face stars filling the girl’s eyes as she pulls out the switchblade trying to stab at you but you grab her wrist as she pushes forward with a yell. The blade slashes out catching you in your face as the two of you collide against a table it moving with force. She puts her weight as she tries to bring the knife through your chest it digging into your skin and gritting your teeth in pain, Holding her back with one hand the other scrambles behind you, your fingers brushing against a glass vase curling around it and slamming it against the girl’s face. She cries out pulling back as the shards create scratches as you tackle her to the ground she lets out a gasp the wind knocked out. Seizing the weapon a struggle as the roles are reversed and the blade inches closer to her neck.

The main door kicks open and Joel and Tommy heard a scream coming from down the street from his own home. Rage fills the older man seeing the stranger pinning down his injured daughter with a knife dangerously close to her. Grabbing you by the hair ripping an animalistic shriek as he throws you into the wall. The knife flies from your hand when you hit the corner of the wall, your back seizes and you feel a rip in your side. A hand grabs your throat pulling you to stand as you try to fight back but your legs are pinned the same with your arms held in his tight grasp that would bruise in his free hand that is choking you out.

“Joel!” The two voices behind him yell out as he pins this teen to the wall ready to finish her off for daring to assault Ellie. “Joel stop I’m fine!” The younger girl calls out despite the scrapes and quickly forming bruises but was more worried about the man choking the life out of the girl.

“Joel.” Tommy's warning voice as the red filter in front of him begins to fade as he’s left staring at a young girl her teeth barred her face slightly red from the lack of oxygen. He steps back and you drop to the ground gasping for air your hand lightly touches your throat. Your other hand lifts your shirt cursing under your breath seeing the popped stitches bleeding through the bandage. “Up kid.” You hear Tommy say as you glare at him before spitting at his feet. The man sighs as the door opens revealing there are two more men. Your body reacts trying to run but Joel still bleeding from the nose but which had started to clot up grabs you by the arm as the two men grab you by each arm.

“Fuck you.” You snarl as you thrash in the men’s arms as they pull you out of the house, people from other houses family of all ages watch the event as you bare your teeth at them as they pull their children closer to them in fear. You are silent letting them force walk slash drag you to what you find out is their town jail.

The place was empty probably not needing any use until now, you’re thrown into a cell as the door close. There’s a concrete bench/bed built into the wall and nothing else as you shove yourself into a corner giving them no other way to come at you. The only passage of time is the small window high up on the wall and the bleeding from your side that was once a spilling red to now clotted up with the bandage. The small wound on your chest had stopped bleeding and didn’t need any treatment. They didn’t seem to think to leave someone to watch confident nothing would happen and you had to admit they were right. No amount of jumping for the window that you knew you couldn’t squeeze your body through or shaking the metal door hoping it was not fully locked. The cold room comforted you as you picked at the blood and dirt from under your nails when you heard the sound of footsteps.

Looking up seeing Tommy leaning against the back wall and a woman with dark skin pulls up a chair from the wall and takes a seat. Folding her hands in front of her as she looks at you seeing the cut on your face from the girl’s knife and the quickly forming bruise around your neck. “You’re lucky Joel didn’t shoot you back there.” The woman says and you roll your eyes looking away from her.

“Yeah let me go thank him for almost suffocating me instead of shooting me.” You spat before leaning, “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna open this cell and fuck off.”

“You don’t get to make the decision here.” You shot up grabbing the bars your face pressed against the bars.

“Open this fucking door!” The bars rattle with your pulling as the woman makes no reaction to the murderous look on your face.

“Did you tell anyone about us?” She says as you push back, “Fuck you.”

“You’re just increasing your stay here with the backtalk. Now did you tell anyone about this place?” The woman questions.

“I didn’t tell anyone shit! There’s fucking no one to tell.” You yell throwing your hands up in the air as she watches you before speaking up again.

“How old are you,” “85.” You say not to give up any information as she gives you a look.

“What’s your name?” “Princess fucking Diana.” You spat and she smirks as she leans back crossing her arms.

“How about this, you tell me what I want to know, and I’ll tell you what you need to know,” She offers as you lean against the wall across from her. “Okay, my name is Maria Miller, and this is my husband Tommy.” She points to Tommy who is behind her. “Now you. What’s your name?” You’re silent before offering your name,

“Y/n.”

Maria nods, glad to at least get something, “Nice to meet you Y/n. How long have you been living in that cabin?”

You shrug flexing the bruised knuckles from your fight earlier, “ I don’t know…’bout a year now. Now you answer my questions.” She shakes her head,

“I only have one last question. You have absolutely no one going to look for you. No parents…family..anyone that might be coming for you.” She says and she notices the sudden frown that appears on your face and the loss of snark and bite at the mention of parents. It was the small crack in the harsh mask you put it but the topic seemed to strike hard and strike deep.

“No.” Your voice is rough your body still your hands balled in fists, “No one’s coming.” Your gaze avoidant you felt uncomfortable and embarrassed as if the truth of a lack of parents would make the older woman laugh at you. It made your skin crawl with how easily it affected you feeling the little girl crawling to come out but you shove it away the harsh look covers your face. “Can I ask my fucking questions now?” You ask and Maria nods waving her hand for you to speak.

“Why did you even bring me? Let me leave. I didn’t ask for your fucking help. You don’t even have to give me anything just let me go back to the cabin and you’ll never see me again.” You say, just have them point you in the direction of your home and you’ll make it on foot. You felt uneasy here, these people were clean and fed, and they looked normal, unlike yourself and the people you’ve seen in your lifetime. Maria is silent before she sighs shaking her head,

“I can’t do that.” You step close to the bars as she speaks, “Those raiders are part of a larger group, they’ve probably been following you for days before they decided to strike. Coming here there is the possibility they might come after you in revenge. You already know too much about Jackson and we can’t risk you revealing anything about this place.” She stands as your hands grasp the bars.

“None of them are gonna come after me! I told you what you wanted to know! Let me the fuck out!” You yell as she looks at you the rage written across your face, “You fucking told me you’d let me go!” Maria moves towards the door her husband following behind her as you shake the bars screaming at them, “You fucking bastards! Let me out of here! You can’t fucking do this! Let me go! Fucking let me go!” The two leave as you move back against the corner sliding down to the ground, holding your head in your hands.

Your luck had run out and you had no idea what you were going to do to get out of this one.

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with han on your wedding day

✰ pairings: bsf!han x fem!reader

✰ genre: angst, fluff if you squint and romance

✰ word count: 1.3k+ words

HAN | chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one 𖨂

first off, i’m sorry i made you cry like that. i’m sorry that i intentionally hurt you even though i didn’t mean to. i guess it’s time to spill the beans, huh? it’s been what– like 6 years now? 6 years of constantly pining over you. 6 years of falling in love with every bit of you. and 6 years of watching you fall for several people and get your heart broken. i’ve seen it all. lived it all as well, right by your side just like always. it wasn’t easy of course, watching the love of your life kiss someone else, hug someone else or cry over stupid exes who didn’t deserve you. but i did my best to hold it in. but now . . . i don’t think i can. i love you so much, more than you’ve ever now and more than you ever will. your fiancé is lucky. he truly is. for being able to marry a girl like you in less than a few hours. and you must be wondering why i’m sending you these voicemails 3 hours before your wedding. well it’s because you don’t have your phone with you right now as you’re very much busy, which is a golden opportunity for me.

two 𖨂

i hate you. so so much. i hate you so much for making me feel this way. i hate you so much for running through my mind the entire day. i hate you so much for making me feel all excited and giddy whenever you smile at me, but your eyes. . . they have love. not the romantic one, the platonic one. and that’s what hurts me the most. i even thought of telling this to you earlier but i couldn’t. not when our friendship of 8 years was at stake. never. nothing is more precious than that. but sometimes i do wonder whether your heart used to beat fast when i stood close to you. or whether your cheeks used to feel warm when i touched you. did it ever happen to you? i guess not. how could you love a guy like me? you, who are literally the perfectionist and me who learnt from you. doesn’t match right? i wished it did. i truly wished it did.

three 𖨂

i never lost hope, you know? instead i clung onto it until the very end, which is today. i hoped for you to fall in love with me little by little. and even though you couldn’t reciprocate my love for you, i wish we tried. but i fall in love with you a little bit more day by day. and now my heart is swelling with immense sadness that it even hurts to laugh without letting out tears of pain. it hurts to see you smile knowing i’m not the main reason anymore. i’ve become a side one. and it hurts to see you so excited for your wedding. and i hate myself for that. i hate that i can’t even pretend to be happy for my best friend who finally found true love. best friend. that’s all i mean to you right? nothing more, nothing less. but i don’t blame you. i could never. so i hope he doesn’t hurt you ever. because i might not be sufficient for you whether it be now or 10 years later. just know that.

four 𖨂

as i stand wearing my tuxedo, i wonder how it would look to have your arm linked with mine. to have your eyes shining with joy, for me. but that can never happen, can it? i see the way you look at him. the way you talk about him. and when you’re angry at him, it hurts me even then. oh, how i wish i could be him. standing by your weeping side and wiping your tears. or perhaps, holding you in my arms under the moonlight. it sounds heavenly doesn’t it? at least it does for me. which is the exact reason why it isn’t real. and i can’t imagine what would happen after you hear these. just don’t hate me please? i beg you. it took me a lot of courage to say this. and i would die if i ever knew that you hate me. your man, he’s perfect in every way. i tried to find any flaw but there isn’t one. he’s madly in love with you too but not longer than me, try to beat that. he gifts you all his love and never his anger. he treats you like a delicate vase, if handled improperly, you might break. he engulfs you in his love and you can practically drown in his eyes with the amount of admiration it contains for you. all for you, my angel.

five 𖨂

i’m back, hiding in the bathroom as i speak. your wedding just ended– and i don’t think i could see you two kissing. i’m so sorry angel. so so sorry. i didn’t want to be that bad friend who falls in love and starts acting as a homewrecker. never. i’m so sorry for falling in love with you. if only i didn’t look at you while you were doing my makeup, this wouldn’t have happened. i danced with you although, and when you asked why i was getting emotional i could only smile with tears. this was the last time i held you like i loved you. the last time i twirled you, and the last time i caught you. because now, i’m throwing away that hope from my life. and i’m letting you go now, my love. i promise. i won’t ever try to love you again the way i did and i’ll punish myself if i ever do that once more.

six 𖨂

at times i even thought i don't want to love you anymore. you tore my heart out in the summer and tossed it aside with a carefree laugh and that crooked smile, before sauntering off to meet your new partner before classes began in the autumn. i don't want to flinch every time i hear your name escape someone’s mouth. i don't want to keep getting hurt every time a memory flashes in my mind like a blaring siren, a loop of playful moments and the moments where i fell deeper. i want to not care about you anymore. i want to be perfect strangers, but i couldn’t just not care when you knocked on my door at 4 am, drunk and a sobbing mess, i just took you in my arms. i held you for hours till the moon disappeared, replacing itself with brightness. not for me. not when you couldn’t even remember how i cared for you or how we went back to being best friends. maybe it was selfish of me to for the night knowing you saw my worth only in your drunk state. but it was enough for me. you were enough for me. and my heart shattered every time knowing i wasn’t.

seven 𖨂

i’m finally letting you free, from the love i had buried deep in my heart. i wish you a happy married life, my angel. and i’m sorry but i will be leaving tonight. i’m going away for a while. for good. and even though i have many excuses i won’t tell them to you. i need time. away from you. away from those feelings that keep bubbling out just by hearing your laughter. i know i’m late. very late in fact. but could you try and not hate me for this? please? it’ll be my last wish before i go. and now, suddenly, everything seems like a goodbye. the last dance, the last hug, the last smile, the last kiss on my cheek and the last moment where i add a full stop to this unrequited love of mine. congratulations angel. though i wished i could call you mine.

[acourtofthought]

What they say about Jamie:

What they say about Lucien who was based off Jamie.

From this:

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

To this:

Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles, but I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien, just like Jamie, easily transitions between both worlds. Gentlemen to warrior.

"Whisperer of fish, fowl, horse, and lass"

Lucien:

He waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He’d tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I’d been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. We remained silent as the fish eventually stopped flapping, their sides catching and gleaming with all the colors so bright above us. Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. “I’ll clean them while you start the fire.”

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

"Paying attention to every little thing about Claire, making him possibly the first feminist of Scotland"

Lucien with Elain:

He knew without demanding clarification that she was aware of what he was to her.

She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn’s coat. And he could have sworn something sparked in them as she met his gaze.

“Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.”

“No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

“I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

Lucien with his female friends:

“Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

“No,” Lucien said quietly as I reached for a foothold in the next boulder. “That was all you.”

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.”

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”

Just like Jamie, Lucien is a feminist and constantly paying attention to all the details of his mate.

"Sexy, gorgeous, and perfect"

Lucien:

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow.

Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse.

I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest.

Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back, and I calmed my weeping, those seawater tears drying up like wet sand in the sun. I lifted my head from his sculpted chest at last, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders as I peered into his concerned face.

She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

“You should kill Beron and his sons and set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn,self-imposed exile or no.

Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared,

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

Lucien, just like Jamie, is the King of Men.

@lucienweekofficial

[howaboutcastiel]

The Apostate (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Word count: 2.7k

Din broke the creed. He removed the helmet and, as a result, opened himself up to possibilities he could have never conceived of before. 

Content: SMUT. Cunnilingus. A little sweet dirty talk, slight reader insecurity. Premature ejaculation? Idk, it’s filthy, it’s fluffy. Read it and weep. This is not proofread and I am up past my bedtime.

~~

Din Djarin didn’t know what to do without something to worship. 

Ever since he had taken off his helmet and been cast out by his siblings of the Watch, he was aimless. Purposeless. His child was off learning how to wield the force, and now Din well and truly had no semblance of family. He was all alone. He had never felt more alone. 

That is, until you came along. 

It wasn’t that he’d never met you before, but he hadn’t dared entertain the thought of a life with you, nor with anyone, as his place was among Mandalorians. Seldom did a child of the watch manage to find someone on the outside willing to spend their life with a man whose face they would never see. Sometimes two children of the watch would pair up, able to understand each other, able to make that lifelong bond in spite of their own lack of identity. Even then, it was a far cry from what Din would ever consider true intimacy. 

That didn’t matter now. He had broken the creed. The helmet could come off whenever he liked, in front of whomever he pleased. At first, he couldn’t make himself do it. It had been decades since he’d taken it off—it still felt so wrong. Din wasn’t comfortable going in public with his face uncovered. It felt humiliating. 

He still kept it on most of the time, in front of most people, but not you. You had managed to coax the helmet off of him a few months into it, after several smaller steps had given him a boost of confidence. First, it was his gloves. He had been too scared to show you his face, to press his lips against yours or to let you run your fingers through his hair. When you’d convinced him to take off his gloves, though, and the pads of his fingers studied your lips and your jaw and your neck—when they’d felt the heat of your palms and felt your heartbeat as they pressed against your chest, he understood what he was missing. Din had never been so close to someone, and yet he felt as though he was barely there at all. Each new inch of your skin that he explored sent goosebumps through him. Gradually, he had wanted to hold you closer and closer. To touch you with different skin. 

He’d gotten down to his boxers and his undershirt before he realized he’d have to bite the bullet. You had never pressured him to take off the helmet, never moved faster than he’d explicitly said. It wasn’t you that had grown so desperately impatient. It was him. Din couldn’t stand to have his view of you obstructed for one single moment longer. 

You had audibly gasped when you took in the sight for the first time. His face was bright red and he couldn’t meet your eyes at first, but you drank him in all the same. Messy brown hair stuck to his face with sweat, patchy and unkempt beard framing soft lips that were slightly agape. Eyes dark as the night sky, but warm and large and twinkling. He looked peculiar and beautiful. He also looked terrified. 

First, you explored his face with your hands, just as he had done with you. The pads of your fingers swept along his jaw, traced his lips, and traveled the bridge of his soft, hooked nose, all while Din scarcely breathed. He didn’t know what to make of the bewildered look glued to your face. It wasn’t until a near-delirious smile crept across your cheeks that Din realized he was okay. 

He hadn’t managed to scare you off, yet, and your lips looked as soft as ever. 

For hours, you switched between tenderly kissing every inch of his body and just staring in awe. He slowly grew more comfortable, kissing deeper and tugging closer and holding you tighter and tighter. Lust was not even on his mind. The only word that Din could conjure to explain how he felt for you?

Worship. 

He decided then. Maybe he could take his helmet off for whomever he pleased, but he chose to reserve it for you. Only you. Well, unless Grogu crossed paths with him again. He would take off his helmet whenever you asked it of him, and leave it on for the rest of the world. He had found his new family. A family that wouldn’t abandon him. A family who wanted him for all the parts of him. A family he would give his life for. That he would die for, and that he would live for. 

So, that’s how the two of you had been spending the last month. You’d managed to get up to more than kissing, both before and after he’d removed his helmet, but now it was something more than a quick, rough fuck. He was still so unused to the touch. Most days, you would have to begin by guiding him through it. Din was playing years of catch-up trying to learn how to make you feel good. All he’d ever been taught was how to fight, how to hurt. But he would never hurt you, so he ran out of ideas pretty quickly as his need to touch you only increased with each passing day. 

Tonight, though, he had a thought that simply wouldn’t leave his mind. It was something he’d never tried before, something that had never been an option. He didn’t know where to start or how to ask, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. As he made his way back to your shared quarters, having been away on a bounty hunt for several days, there was no other thought on his mind. He had to have you. 

He had found a new way to worship you, and he just had to try it. 

“Mesh’la,” he breathed as he came through the door. You were standing over the counter, finishing off your preparation of a nighttime meal. The latch had barely closed behind him before the helmet was tossed aside, along with his gloves. Din scooped you into his arms, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You reciprocated until the lack of air made you dizzy. 

“I missed you,” you gasped against his mouth. He grinned and chuckled softly. 

“I think time moves slower when you aren’t around,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “I missed you, too.”

“Are you hungry, my love?” You tilted his face toward the tabletop, where a bowl held several servings of your favorite dish. “Was just finishing up. It will be ready to eat soon, if you give me a moment.”

Din tensed his jaw. “I’m not sure I can keep my mouth off of you long enough.”

You chuckled, but the drunken look in his eye was far from humorous. 

“There’s something I want to try, cyar’ika.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Now?”

He nodded. “The food can wait.”

In a swift motion, Din hooked his arm underneath you, half-guiding, half-carrying you to your bed. His mouth latched onto your neck as he lowered you down on the stiff mattress. You groaned as your back hit the covers and his grip didn’t lax. 

“What is this new something?” You questioned. He didn’t lift his head to answer. Din’s lips migrated across your chest and down to the neck of your shirt. His hands inches underneath the fabric from the bottom, pushing it upward. 

“I want to taste you,” he breathlessly murmured. His eyes flashed up to yours, so lidded that a wave of heat went through you from the image alone. “I need to taste you.” 

He tilted you forward enough to push your shirt over your head. Din pulled himself up to your face again, this time wedging his tongue between your lips when you arched your back to meet his kiss. You tugged at the beskar plates on his shoulders. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. Perhaps he wouldn’t enjoy the taste of you—perhaps he’d be repulsed, or grow impatient as he took care of your needs and not his own. Perhaps he didn’t know what he was signing up for. 

“I’m certain.”

He pushed you down to lie flat. Din groaned as he made his way down your chest, kissing and mouthing and sucking purple marks on your skin. You arched into his face when he paused to take one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand shot to his hair and the other to his back, beckoning him forward. 

Din moved to unbutton your pants and a wave of anxiety shot its way up your spine. His eyes flashed up at you, dark with lust, and his mouth hung open as he pulled the fabric over your legs. You had just gotten started—you weren’t as wet as you normally were by the time you got here. Still, the thought of Din turning his nose up as your arousal hit his tongue was enough to scare you. 

You clamped your legs together before he could reach for your underwear. Immediately, the mandalorian was drenched with worry. He backed away and took his hands off your skin, his eyes wide with the fear that he had somehow overstepped and hurt you. 

“We don’t have to do this now,” he offered. He moved to pick your pants up off the floor, holding them out to you. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” you explained. “I’m just a little bit nervous. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

He tilted his head at you. “Disappointed?”

“We’ve never done this before. You might think I’m disgusting.”

Din laughed, loud and offended, and scoffed at you. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, only now taking the time to untie his boots and pull them off. 

“I could never think that.” He continued by pulling off his beskar, followed by the layer of clothing right underneath. “I’ve been dying to touch you since we first met. I explored every inch of your skin with my fingers. I have learned you inside and out. And now, I want to do the same…”

He leaned over you, now in his undershirt and boxers. Din’s lips hovered over your ear, his hand tracing your jaw. 

“…with my tongue.”

You shivered. An intense, full body shiver that you couldn’t even try to hide. He chuckled breathily against your ear before pulling away. There was a clear tent forming inside his boxers, but he paid no mind to it as he got to his knees. 

“Is that okay?”

Din rested his hands on his thighs, waiting for your go-head. 

You nodded. “Oh, God, yes.”

He closed his eyes and shuddered, as if your permission had sent him to the ends of the galaxy and he was struggling to find his way back. Din pulled on your legs until your knees hung off the edge of the bed. He hoisted your thighs on his shoulders, planting kisses upward toward your heat. 

It wasn’t long before your hands made their way back to his hair. He continued to ravage your skin until you had thoroughly soaked a spot through your underwear. Din pressed a kiss on top of it, eyes screwed shut in pleasure or concentration or both. He went to hook his fingers underneath the fabric, before clicking his tongue. 

“To hell with these.”

You stared down in shock as Din took the fabric of your panties in between his teeth. He bore down while pulling outward with his hand, tearing them straight through the front. You sucked in a gasp as the cool air hit your soaked core. Din continued to bite and tug until he managed to pull the underwear off of you completely. His eyes flashed with hunger and, before you had time to think, his mouth was on you. 

He took the time to explore, licking a strip from your entrance to your clit and feeling the texture of each part of your cunt with his tongue. You nearly bucked into him when he stopped to suck lightly at your clit. You groaned, loud and filthy, and he leaned away to look up at you. His beard was glistening with your arousal, and he looked to be in complete bliss. A crooked, slight smile tugged at his lips. 

“That feel good?” He breathed. You nodded and threw your head back. Din muttered, “not what I’d call disgusting by far, cyar’ika.”

He returned to his place and started to find a rhythm. Din’s nose nudged perfectly at the little bundle of nerves as his tongue finally dove inside of you. One of your hands gripped the sheets with all of your strength, while the other was pulling on his locks hard enough that you knew it must hurt. He only leaned in further, though, whining gruffly at the tug on his scalp. Din’s hands gripped your thighs roughly. You almost swore that he was trying to pull you closer against him—as if that was even possible. 

Suddenly, his pace changed. Din’s movements grew even more frantic, more ravenous. Your soft whines threatened to turn into all-out screams, and you couldn’t help yourself but to buck into his mouth. His grip on your thighs grew stronger. 

“Din, don’t stop.” You didn’t expect him to be so good at this. He was inexperienced, to say the least, and he had only been with you for a matter of months. Still, Din knew you inside and out. He knew which parts of you were sensitive. Which parts made you fall apart from the lightest of touches. Which parts made you see stars. The familiar tightness in your belly was starting to tip into that burning feeling right at the edge. You rolled your hips in time with his movements, and Din gasped and whimpered into your cunt. 

It wasn’t long before you were at your peak. You couldn’t think straight, the feeling was so good, so tender and yet so strong and rough. Your climax washed over you like a tidal wave, and your thighs clamped tight around his head as you rode a particularly blinding high. All the while, Din guided you through the bliss. The flicks of his tongue continued. The slight nudges of his head, the latching of his lips onto your soaked skin. You held him there until it was almost certain that he had long run out of breath. Finally, the ecstasy started to dissipate and your limbs turned to jelly. He gasped for air, resting his chin on your thigh. 

“Dank Ferrik,” he breathed. 

You scoffed, chest heaving. “You’re telling me.”

Din grinned and rolled his eyes. He wiped his mouth with his hand before lifting off of his knees and swooping into another kiss. It was much lighter and sweeter than the movements he’d made on your pussy. You didn’t even care that you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Thank you,” he breathed when he pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours. 

“I should be saying that to you.” You raked your nails lightly up his back. You moved to pull his hips down onto yours, trying to grind up into him. “Let’s take care of you, now.”

Din held his hips away from yours. You opened your eyes to see him blushing deeply. He bit the inside of his cheek. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he smiled sheepishly. “It’s just… you don’t have to worry about that.”

You rolled with him onto your side, and peered down to see the wet spot in his boxers. He blushed even deeper, his whole face and neck beet red. Heat flooded you, as well, at the sight. At the thought of him enjoying himself so much. 

“It was that good, huh?”

He leaned into your chest. 

“Mesh’la… I couldn’t have imagined anything better. I thought the idea was stuck in my head before, but I’m not going to stop thinking about it for days.”

Din’s body was slack against yours. You wrapped your arms around him. Sleep tugged at your eyes, but so did hunger at your belly. You felt him grin against you as your stomach made a dramatic growl. 

“Should I finish making dinner now?”

[vulturv0lans]

ive been marinating in this neuvillette thought for days and it is. you know how it rains when he cries. well. what if it starts raining all of a sudden bc his partner is domming him and it just feels so good and he feels so loved he starts crying in pleasure like rip fontaine its rainy hours now

violently ill at this thought rn...also i love that you used "marinating" i might have to steal it i've never written dom reader before so i hope this doesn't suck i'm sorry

it's raining in fontaine again.

not a storm, with raindrops so heavy that they feel like bullets hitting one's skin.

drizzling, soft rain. disappearing as quickly as it came, that people barely have time to dig out their umbrellas before the sky clears again.

of course, rain is nothing new to the people of fontaine, but rather a habitual occurrence. it is said that dark clouds form and rain falls when the hydro dragon weeps. a beautiful legend, yet not many truly believe in it.

but to neuvillette, chief justice of the opera epilesce, the dragon sovereign of this sacred land, whose name people admire but whose face people rarely see, being in his current position is anything but habitual.

his hands are bound to the bedpost by a pair of shiny handcuffs - just where did you get those? he makes a note to interrogate wriothesley later for ever lending you these - but not that he really minds, of course. his white ruffled blouse is rolled up to expose his porcelain skin, slightly damp with a layer of sweat. the veins in his forearms become just that much more prominent with every tug and pull, desperate to be able to touch you.

he’s nearing his orgasm for what feels like the tenth time now, yet you show no sign of granting him his release anytime soon. your hand expertly pumps his cock, now red and leaking in angry protest, occasionally running your thumb over his sensitive tip. his body jolts in response, toes curled and hips bucking into your hand.

neuvillette’s skin burns a deeper shade of red as he thinks of just how lewd his current position is. but before he can fathom another thought, the pink of your lips wrap around his cock and he almost explodes in your mouth at the feather light touch alone.

“please, let me-”

you release him with a loud pop, “let you what?”

he musters a deep, guttural groan at the sudden loss of contact, “let me cum, please.”

you only hum in response. he’s been doing so well, so good for you that maybe he deserves a reward - just not the one he had in mind.

quickly ridding yourself of your lower garments, you straddle him on the bed before slowly moving up. neuvillette curses under his breath in anticipation, eyes fluttering shut before pulling you closer to his waiting mouth, hands instinctively wanting to touch you but are met with a sharp tug of the metal instead.

“be good and stay put for me,” you tut, the rest of your sentence dies in your throat when he impatiently wraps his mouth around your aching clit, the familiar warmth forcing a loud moan off your cherry lips. every noise you make is like fuel to him, silently encouraging him to go deeper, faster, temporarily forgetting about the pathetic state of his cock, rock hard against his stomach and almost dripping precum from several denied orgasms.

he picks up his pace and grows bolder, dipping the tip of his tongue into your folds to get a better taste of you. soon you’re shaking and cumming on his face, juices dripping down his chin before he licks up every single drop, not letting any of your essence go to waste. violet eyes are three shades darker when you finally come down from your high, his skin glistening and his breath fanning across your core in heavy pants.

you smile at him, lazily playing with a strand of his hair as you lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. neuvillette kisses back eagerly, head lifting from the pillows to get better access to your mouth, teeth and tongue clashing as you reposition your core by his aching cock.

“seems like you deserve a little reward,” you whisper when you finally break the kiss for air, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips, and your tongue pokes out to lick it off of his mouth, a sight so lewd yet so beautiful that he begins to think he’s dreaming.

a whimper escapes him before he can stop it, but what use does dignity have anyways when your warm cunt is grinding against his erection? the tip of his cock catches on your clit deliciously with every sway of your hips, and perhaps he’s still sensitive from the relentless play session earlier, his breaths quickly become heavy pants as you grind into him, coating his length in your slick.

and then he begs.

his words so dirty that they become a sin, one that the gods could never hear of. forget the seven or the dragon sovereign, all he can think about is to be snugly inside you and feeling your walls milk out every last drop of him. despite being rendered powerless by something as trivial as (human) handcuffs - what a shame - the primal desires in him still wants to breed you. to mark your insides and claim it as his.

a high pitched noise escapes him when you finally end the teasing and lower yourself onto him, your wetness making a small squelch as you sink into his length, moaning out from feeling so utterly full. neuvillette is not much clearer headed, the tight squeeze of your pussy around his abused cock threatens to make him cum right there, before you even start moving.

luckily for him, you have grown desperate from all the teasing too, looking to chase the remnants of your high. you lift your hips up before slamming back down onto him, the tip of his cock reaching the most delicious places inside you. you waste no time in picking up the pace, your tits bouncing with the rhythm of your hips that all he wants is to reach out and hold them, pinch your pink nipples between his fingers and feel the perfect weight of your breasts in his palms.

if only he could touch you. even in your desperate chase for another high you don’t forget to praise him, muttering dirty words about how big he is and how good he’s making you feel. still you show no sign of freeing him from his restraints anytime soon, no matter how many pleases he whispers in between moans.

he is so helpless under you, the sight of it filling you with so much satisfaction that you can't help but want to draw out his orgasm despite feeling so close yourself. his tip twitches inside you and you lift your hips up, the emptiness soon replaced by smugness when you notice the tears pricking his lash line, a visual proof of

and it rains outside. raindrops like translucent whispers tapping against the windowpane with a rhythmic cadence, the sound barely audible above the heavy pants and mumbled pleas next to your ear. the tip of his cock is an angry red and your lover is reduced to a blabbering mess as he strains against the handcuffs, toned muscles flexing and his porcelain skin flushes with heat, drops of drool at the corner of his downturned lips as he pleads for mercy.

"you've been so good for me," you press a kiss to his lips and taste him on your tongue, salty and sweet and dizzying.

the metal clinks as it falls to the floor, and before you know it his hands are on you like a man starved. you squeal in surprise when he wastes no time in lowering you onto him again and thrusting into you with renewed fervour, reaching so deep into you that you are seeing stars with every delicious drag of his cock in your walls.

the drizzle slows as the clouds stop their weeping, puddles on the pavement being the only evidence of the earlier downpour. neuvillette is finally granted his release and paints your insides white after what felt like hours of torment. you collapse on top of him, legs quivering from your own high, and neither of you says a single word as your breathing slows to normal.

"you think they'd need an umbrella again anytime soon?"

© vulturv0lans 2023, do not copy, steal, repost, or translate.

m.list | neuvillette m.list | inbox requests open!

[sky-kiss]

YAS! Free time is best time! Hmm for prompts, I love the idea of low intelligence Tav and Raphael? Like Tav convinced Raphael is a Fae? Man offered her food, won’t call her by her name, rhymes, and wants to make deals. He’s totally a fae, and he gets so pissy she won’t be convinced otherwise.

Or for spicy prompt. I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but innocent Tav being deflowered by Raphael as part of a deal? Or cockwarming, that’s my favorite as well.

A/N: Had to fight, had to actively restrain myself for going for one of these prompts. Will do the scenario though. And I weep. But when Idiot!Tav calls, I answer.

______

R/T: Local Devil Tries to Flirt; Local Idiot Too Far Gone for Banter

______

There are mortal eccentricities he finds charming. Ambition, for one! Their pluck! The gods create meager little creatures, soft, small, and weak, yet they forge ahead! Unconcerned by their relative lack of status in the universe! He'd go so far as to say he admires the trait. And there is something endearing in their youthful naivete, comparative ignorance of the outer planes. Raphael is not so proud as to admit he has not actively exploited this lack of knowledge in the past. It's always served his best interests! 

But it can be, and currently is, a double-edged sword. The cambion strokes his chin, lips pressed to a thin line, as he surveys his champion. His little mouse regards him with narrowed eyes and a vacant stare. "Come, my dear! Eat and make merry for tomorrow," he prolongs the sentence, letting it hang between them with a practiced theatricality. "You may die." 

"Is that a threat?" 

Raphael chuckles, shifting his weight to the back foot, his right hand pressed to his sternum. "From me? Have I been ought but a friend? A champion, an advocate, in this your hour of need?" 

She huffs, "I can't see that you've done a thing for us. You dangle a deal and won't let me take it!"

"The thrill of anticipation, sweetling. Best in all things." He winks. 

She does not reciprocate. Her brows pulled together; she frowned, arms crossing her chest- not the body language Raphael wanted. In truth, he's been finding the whole arrangement a touch challenging. There's no back-and-forth or witty banter- not like he planned it. Tav shakes her head. "And that's another thing. I'm not your sweetling. Or your dear. I'm Tav. Can you manage Tav?" 

"We're certainly feeling combative, aren't we?" The devil narrows his eyes. 

"You can do it, can't you?" 

And he's momentarily struck by the notion that she isn't challenging him; she's genuinely curious if he can do it. Raphael hums, "Nuanced as it is, I am perfectly capable of naming you, Tav. Is that satisfactory?" 

She shakes her head. "I don't trust you." 

"Clever girl. Only you don't have to trust me. There is something deliciously illicit in such partnerships—a hint of intrigue. A flash of- "He leans nearer, flourishing with his right hand. Sparks dance from the tips of his fingers. "Danger." 

"No good ever came from the fae-folk." 

"My dear, I assure you, I…" Raphael cuts off, brain catching up to his tongue. "Beg pardon? Fae?"

"Fae," she repeats. Tav eyes him with renewed caution, hand slipping to the hilt of her (comically ineffectual) cold-iron knife. "I'm many things, Raphael, but I'm no fool."

"Truly." He licks his lips. It's rare for him to be purely baffled, but here it is. Nothing about her suggests she's joking. A quick peak in the little idiot's head suggests she believes her statement with absolute certainty. He crosses his arms over his chest, indicating himself with a hand sweep. "My dear, what do you make of all this?" The horns, red skin, the tail…clearly infernal. 

She shakes her head. "A devil would deal more honestly. I'd be more inclined to trust them. This is…a glamor. Convincing, but false."

He blanches. "What." 

"You bring me here. You make me pretty promises and ply me with wine and sweet words. You speak in riddles and songs!" He wants to argue that those are all devilish traits, but gods, why bother? Raphael pinches the bridge of his nose. "Devils may be evil, Raphael, but at least they're honest."

"To their detriment, apparently." He sighs. "Pet…" 

"Tav." 

"Tav," he corrects, feeling his temperature rise in response to his temper. "I have offered a contract, its terms clearly stated."

"No. You've offered me a deal. No contract, no terms. And the matter with the Orthon! A purely verbal arrangement. No devil worth their salt would go along with that." 

"How dare you! Impertinent, thoughtless…" Raphael catches himself. He makes a mental ten count and assures himself the deal will be done shortly. It all comes back to the crown. He needs them. He…gods, he has to play along. It tastes like bile on his tongue. "Fae, yes. You've found me out, pet. A…creature of chaos. Such am I." 

Tav nods. "Thank you for your honesty." 

He honestly considers strangling the little idiot. 

[glassrowboat]

Our Adventure. Venti.

Summary: A child of Mondstadt has recently been gifted a vision. A gift from the gods. Yet all she views it as is a decorative charm that invokes ire and fear in her very own heart, a babble she can't even control. The solution? The best bard in Teyvat, obviously!

Word count: 2400+

Authors note: Basically, I've been toiling away in my head what would happen if a vision user was struggling to use their newfound gift and I wrote this :)

The wind had a habit of carrying many things along it's ever flowing breeze, from leaves to the sweetest of songs, from love confessions to the dandelion seeds that truly marked Mondstadt as a land full of endless wishes and freedom. Tonight, however, there was a cry, a wail that even a banshee herself would be incapable of making as it rang in the young bard's ears. This was how the archon had come to know so many secrets that lay in the land he called home, and this was how he ended up below a closed window with pebbles in his hand.

A small thud could be heard on the sill, bouncing off the wood as Venti tried his best to not get hit with the smooth stone hurtling back down to the ground. When no answer came from that still weeping woman another pebble was tossed.

What plagued her was already known by many, far too many if anything. Gossip spread fast in these stone walls. Drunkards would talk about how they came across a random patch of grass just outside the city's gates dried out beyond compression. The local carpenter would talk about how he had to chop down a tree that suddenly became too unstable to be allowed to stand any longer, only to find out behind the untouched bark the inside was lacking any moisture that was so characteristic of fresh wood. The most notable of all however was the knights who said they had to escort a young woman home, too weak to walk as she knelt down right inside a ring of brown blades too stiff to wave in the wind like the fields of green typically would.

(Y/n), a child of Mondstadt recently gifted with a hydro vision.

The very same person who was on the other side of that window was struck with knock after knock as she glared at it with pure contempt, nose still running even as she picked up a random shoe. A heel with its pointed end should do some decent damage, right? So she held it tightly in her grasp, that is until the window randomly opened as if Peter Pan himself was trying to sneak into her darkened room. No candle lit to truly brighten up the scene of a red shoe hitting a green figure square in the face.

“No, no, that's some vampire shit I ain't about. Go find some other woman to prey on I- I ate garlic bread for dinner ya know?” Even with your vision blurred by tears you quickly grabbed the other shoe, getting ready to throw this one too.

Vampires can't enter without permission, right?

Well nevermind to that idea as the green figure landed on the floor having successfully passed through what was supposed to be a barrier of protection. All the while he was beaming at you with a smile that would make anyone want to punch him, even with his hands up in the air.

“That's not allowed….”

“Hello to you too.” Ah, you recognize that voice. The little pest that would run around the cobblestone streets all the while humming a tune that would be running on replay in anyone's head for hours after. “Can you put the other shoe down? My face already hurts from the first one.”

“I think you deserved it, you oversized fly.” Letting go of the shoe you let it fall to the ground as you got back up from what was an admittedly cowering position on the floor.

“Come now, what happened to you calling me a grand poet the likes no one has seen in this modern age? Am I not the next-” and you ended up throwing the shoe at him in the end- “Hey!”

You just shrugged, hands raising in the air in what could only be described as a whatcha gonna do about it motion.

Venti looked down at the shoe for a moment as it fell to the ground before kicking it back over to you, giving you free ammunition. “You could throw that shoe at me again or you- I was joking about the shoe! Please, spare me.”

“Flies usually get swatted.”

“Okay….different approach then.” Sighing to himself Venti walked over to, hand ruffling with something in his pockets before pulling out a handkerchief. The white square of cloth held out to you as it swayed in the wind coming from that still open window. “A fair maiden such as yourself shouldn't be crying, so I offer you this: let the best bard in Teyvat whisk you away on an adventure for the ages. We can make our grand escape right away!”

That's a great way to have missing person posters plastered up right next to the ones of the travelers sibling, and how well have those worked so far? Therefore your answer was an obvious “fuck that.”

“Please, with a cherry on top? And sprinkles too.”

Grabbing the handkerchief, and half tempted to throw it right back at him, you brushed it against your eyes. The fabric is surprisingly soft for something a bard who can barely afford a drink would be carrying, yet the lack of an abrasive texture appreciated nonetheless. “Why are you even here?”

“Well,” with a giggle Venti held his hand up, like he was in a play about to recite a sonnet in the middle of a stage with hundreds of eyes on him and him alone. If it was any other situation it could be an amusing sight, but he's still trespassing. “Let's say the wind guided me to you.”

It was hard to pinpoint why it felt so off-putting the way he said that, wistful in a way, but you didn't really get the chance to think on it more as Venti opened his mouth again. “What bard can stand hearing a fair maiden cry and not try and cheer her up with a song or two? Certainly not this one.”

“The wind?”

“Yup. Or maybe even Barbatos himself.”

“Have you ever gone to a doctor to see if you're clinically insane? Or have you just been hanging around Barbara and her musings of the church doctrine too much?”

With that Venti leaned over, a hand held up right next to his mouth so he could whisper, “the results came out inconclusive.”

Wait. What?

“Now come on! We have to get going before the sun fully sets and we have no light to help us see.” After all, who would want to be running around tripping over the loose cobblestones in the streets? “Walking through the dark is only romantic on beaches and sneaking around back alley ways to meet your lover, you know.”

So, he is insane.

Yet here you are taking out the hand he was holding out to you, letting that bard whisk you away on this promised adventure as he drags you out the window. (Trying your best to pretend you didn't notice him grabbing the vision you had tossed on the bed as he did). So while you didn't trip over the loose stones, at least not this time, you did fumble over roots as Venti pulled you under windrise. Leaves occasionally fall down from the tall tree, flowing back and forth as the wind catches the thin object before it finally settles down amongst the grass you two were trampling over as he pulled you to sit down.

Your knees hitting the dirt right before the stream winding along the plains to the coast, water softly rushing past you both as the sound hits your ears almost like a melody. Though a certain drunkard would be aghast to hear you say you prefer this over the strumming of his lyre he'd be plucking at any other time, even if it was just as a joke. Though admittedly it was odd not to see the ducks wading around, having gotten so used to seeing them so often from past visits trying to steal your lunch when you weren't looking.

Pesky little things they were, just like this brat.

“So, what's with the field trip?”

“I can't just pull you along for a midnight trip to my favorite spot?” The answer was clearly an obvious no. Not without a reason of course. “I give, I give, just don't have to glare at me like that. I've heard around town that you had a little incident.”

Oh great, so the rumor mill was doing its thing. What a goody. Just the thought of that scene again, of the hydro vision being cradled between your hands as the grass beneath you withered away to the point a patch of dead, dried out flora has your nose wrinkling. Not wanting to go over the image that played in your head like a highlight reel. A movie dedicated to your own inability.

“Is this the part you impart on me some sage advice?”

“I can.” With the wave of his hand, or more like a flutter of the earth's breath itself as a breeze swayed past you both, catching his braids and making them dance, Venti summoned his lyre. A certain blue glow reflecting off the wood from the gem sitting between you both. “Or we can sit here while I play a tune. It's up to you, (y/n).”

“I'd pick the latter in an instant.”

“But?”

“But it won't get me anywhere.”

Somehow even just the gold encased vision (or maybe the casing was a part of the vision, you didn't really know much about how that all worked) had a certain aura about it that felt daunting. Just an item. Just something as useless as an accessory if it wasn't being used by its owner. It was like instinct to avoid it, just like when you were a child and you had to learn the hard way not to touch that pan that had just been pulled off the still burning hot stove. For the two instances to be so comparable was like a funny, passing thought, but to you it certainly wasn't.

How can one laugh at their own misery without doing so just to mask their pain?

“Venti, what was it like when you first got your vision?” It felt like a natural question to ask, but he didn't really give you much of a real response to that besides strumming that lyre. A tune playing between you that you had heard at the tavern a good handful of times before.

“Let's just say I have always been a natural.”

“So you're useless to me.”

“Sounds like it, doesn't it?” Reaching over Venti picked up a windwheel aster only a little bit away, close enough he didn't have to shift at all to simply pluck it from the ground. “Though I wouldn't call the company of a friend useless.”

You couldn't help but huff at his statement, annoyed by the fact he had a point. “Fine. Sorry.”

He nodded in turn, not bothering to say anything about your mood today. Not when you both knew why you suddenly turned into such a grouch. “I can still explain how it feels for me.”

“As long as you promise not to say something cheesy like I become the wind itself.” That would surely make anyone in your position a little peeved. A prodigy sitting before you who has the ability to so naturally have control of something that threatens to turn on you. The claws of a wild animal that one can never say for sure will come to you for help or to attack.

“I can try!” Holding the flower out, those same orange petals that had become second place in the walls of Mondstadt began to spin. Turning round and round as you were left to stare at the little demonstration. “Like freedom itself has graced me. I can feel wind under my fingertips just as easily as I do strings or this flower for an example.”

“(Y/n), you may not currently know exactly what melody you are trying to share with the world yet, and that's fine! We all have to start somewhere.” Giggles came out between his words, easing the tension you couldn't help but feel at being so blatantly called out. “But just like always, a tune will still play, or in this case the sound of rushing water will be the music you grace me with. Either way, I can't wait to see what you can come up with.”

“My, how sweet, I almost want to wretch.”

“Hey, I was being serious for once!”

That's why this entire interaction feels so wrong.

Still, you glanced back down at the blue gem, watching how it glows so the grass it lays on is tinted with its color. Would it do the same to your garments once you get brave enough to hang it from your clothes like you've seen Amber doing? It was still a burner after all, but even a burner will cool. It just takes time.

“I wasn't expecting to see this side of you today.”

“Like what you see, my lady? Next, all we have to do is throw you in the water and see what happens.”

“I swear to fucking god-” No, you are not down for being thrown around by his wind currents. Just having to ride down one as you left your apartment to get here was enough for one day.

“Easy! Easy! We won't go back to throwing shoes at me, right?” He asked, hands in the air. Already surrendering just in case. The flower hanging in the air between you both. His doing, obviously.

“You're infuriating sometimes.” With a huff you snatched the flower from the air, pulling it close so you could look at it properly. It still had life left in it, still had water coursing through that green stem.

Your eyes were so focused on the petals you didn't even notice the smile Venti was giving you, soft in nature as he watched you stare down at the gift with a pout. You didn't need to know that he was just happy to see you free from tears again, to no longer have you be locked up in your own room from fear of something new. As for Venti? He didn't need to know you couldn't help but think maybe Barbatos did send him to you.

No, not all.

So just like any silent night at windrise, or as silent as can be with you two mouthing off at each other, the leaves rustled as branches swayed back and forth, and a tune, for the wind had a habit of carrying the sweetest of songs.