#that she's trying to sort of distance herself from the depths of her own feelings in case this DOESN'T work out

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of my favorite things about pride and prejudice is that in the last third of the book Elizabeth’s internal monologue about Darcy is her admitting that she’s in love with him but also putting all sorts of qualifications around that statement that kind of ...tamp down the level of emotion (the “feelings, if not as tender as Jane’s for Bingley, at least as just” line, even the whole thing about her and Darcy being well-matched objectively speaking) and as soon as she’s engaged you get the unbridled joy in the narrative about her own joy, cc: ���I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh.” 

[team-avia]

Interview with the Vampire(s)

You flipped open to a fresh page in your journal, a newly sharpened pencil in your hand, with two more tucked precariously behind each of your ears, and another one shoved in the front pocket of your lab coat.

The room was dark, save for the lone candle illuminating the desk at which you and your guest sat at. Rain pattered behind the closed window, branches moving in the slight wind.

“I have some questions I'd like to ask you, about yourself, about Novit,” you told the person sitting in front of you. They held a long and delicate looking porcelain pipe in their hand, sweet smelling wafts of smoke pouring from their lips as they exhaled.

“I will answer any questions you have to the best of my ability. Though this knowledge is not something you should share readily with the humans in your world.”

You nodded your head. You understood how dangerous this information could be falling into the wrong hands. But you also knew how big a wave this could make in all the fields of science. You'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Clearing your throat, you pressed your pencil to the page. “For now, I merely need a few details about yourself.” More in depth questions would come later once you knew what to ask about this mysterious new world and its occupants.

“My name is Cordelia,” the woman in front of you spoke, her piercing blue eyes glowing in the dark. She held herself with a sense of importance. “I am the head of this coven, and I own Corville manor. I am originally from a beautiful and serene island country called Yupin, before moving to Piedamonte to fulfill my duties.”

You scribbled down her words.

“I keep the peace between your world and Novit, and have been doing so for many decades. I have seen both the truimphs and horrors of man and I seek to prevent tragedy from befalling either worlds. Though there are those of my kind that seek to bring about chaos. It is why the rest of the coven and I fight diligently to keep them away.”

The scene changed and another vampire had taken Cordelia's place. This vampire wore a charming grin on their face, long brown hair swept up into a ponytail. “My name is Natalie and I hail from Cuniso, an island nation that curates the pursuit of knowledge. I feel you would love it there very much, given your curious mind.” She flashed you a bright grin. “Perhaps I could take you on a date and show you around sometime?”

You flushed at her words, clearing your throat awkwardly as you turned back to your notes.

“What do you do in the coven?”

“You could call me Cordelia's right hand person. She gives us orders and I make sure everyone falls into line to follow them. I'm a peacekeeper of sorts in the group.” She placed a hand to her chest, proud of this fact. “Someone has to keep Victoriqua in check. You know how Drunians get.”

“Natalie said they were Cordelia's right hand person?!” the red head's nostrils flared as she crossed her arms over her chest tightly. “I'm Cordelia's right hand person! I was there almost from the start, helping her build this coven, helping her build the defenses to keep the humans safe!”

“Uh, could we maybe move on from-” you began, not wanting to continue listening to this rant.

“I'm going to find her and shove my fist up her-”

“Where are you from?” you interjected loudly. Victoriqua glared at you.

“You're trying to distract me from giving her an ass kicking and it's not working.”

She hurried away from her chair, making it rock back and forth, before she slammed the door to the room shut. You sighed, wondering how badly things would go after this.

Willow was next and she sat stiffly in her chair, a semi vacant look in her eyes. You could hear crashing noises and muffled screams in the distance and you really hoped that someone would intervene between Victoriqua and Natalie.

“Mind telling me a bit about yourself?” you asked Willow hopefully.

The woman with white hair and dark circles under her eyes, sighed gently to herself. “I am Willow of Prevenio. I have been alive longer than several generations of your family.” Her voice was whispery, scratchy, as if she didn't use it often.

“Why did you join the coven?”

“What other option did I have?” she poised and you scratched your cheek with eraser of your pencil. Huh?

“Willow-”

“I must leave,” she said, already pushing her chair back. “The mirrors need a freshening.”

Now what did that mean?

Willow was barely out of the door when another vampire bounded into the room, sitting down hard and fast in the chair, almost crushing it with their strength.

“I'm Sierra!” she cheered, hand in the air, smiling sharp fangs at you. “I'm from Piedamonte.” She put her hand down. “I'll tell you anything and everything.”

“Are you...okay?” you asked in mild concern, noting the trickle of gold red on her shirt.

She glanced down. “Ah man, I'm gonna have to wash that. It's one of my favorite shirts too.” She looked up at you. “I'm fine. Vic-a-dic and Nat-a-lie we're going at it, so I kinda jumped in to give them the biz and they got annoyed I was getting involved so they chased me away and I had to run around the manor to lose them. Cordelia caught them tho and she gave them a thorough tongue lashing but it's all fine now cuz she made them apologize to me and I wasn't even mad at them.”

“Sounds like you were busy,” you said, noting this down.

“It's always a blast around here, human,” Sierra smiled. “Stick with us, and you'll never be bored...”

The candle on the desk flickered and gave out at this, throwing you both into the dark, leaving Sierra's pink eyes staring unnervingly back at you.

A little taste to give some more context about the setting and characters in MHD...

[missfrieden]

Tech as a father Chapter 45

It is short, but I am not the best at writing good byes.

Masterlist

Chapter 45: Strange siblings

As the troops packed up their equipment and prepared to leave, the tension in the air was palpable. Tech had to take Orion away from Amanda once again, and the heart-wrenching moment of saying goodbye weighed heavily on them. They couldn't show any emotional connection in front of the troops, despite the fact that they were now married. What felt right, despite the dangerous secret it is.

Tech held Orion close, his little son nestled against his chest, and looked at Amanda with a mix of love and sadness in his eyes. Amanda tried to maintain her Jedi composure, but her eyes betrayed the sadness she felt. "Until next time," Tech said softly, masking his emotions. Making sure only Amanda heard it. "May the Force be with you," Amanda replied in a formal tone, struggling to hide her own feelings.

Most troops filed into the transports, while some stayed back being stationed on the planet, and the Bad Batch prepared to leave Callo. As the ships took off, Tech watched the planet recede in the distance, knowing that they had to maintain the secrecy of their connection for Orion's safety. Taking the small package Amanda handed him, with a smile he looks at the content, a simple ring, engraved with just two letters, the aurebsh T and A.

Amanda, standing alone on the ground, watched the ships disappear into the sky, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She knew she had made the right choice to protect Orion, but the pain of separation was difficult to bear. Once the ships were gone, she turned and walked back to the rebuild the Jedi Temple, where the echoes of their time together still lingered. Amanda knew that the love she felt for Tech and Orion would always be a part of her, even if they could only be together in stolen moments like these.

As Alma rushed towards Amanda through the newly rebuilt Jedi Temple, her face flushed with excitement and her big grey eyes shining with joy. She couldn't contain her enthusiasm any longer. "Amanda! Amanda!" Alma called out, reaching her mentor.

Amanda turned towards Alma, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "What is it, Alma? Why are you so excited?" Looking at Alma’s usually soft pink cheeks, which are now way darker, be it from running or whatever mystery she wants to share.

Alma took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "I know it's against the Jedi code, but... I can't help it. I feel attached to Orion. He's like a little brother to me. I can't explain it, but every time when I held him, it was like a connection, a bond."

Amanda smiled warmly at Alma's confession, understanding the depth of the emotions that had developed between her Padawan and Orion. She reached out and placed a hand on Alma's shoulder. Amanda always considered Alma as a sort of daughter, knowing that most likely she projects her feelings, but she accepts them. "Alma, the Force works in mysterious ways," Amanda said gently. "Sometimes, it forges connections that go beyond our understanding. Your attachment to Orion is not something to be ashamed of. It's a sign of compassion and love. Just remember to find balance in all things, as the Jedi teachings guide us."

Alma nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you, Amanda." Amanda squeezed Alma's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. "You're welcome, Alma. Now, let's continue your training and honour the Force in all we do." As they walked together through the rebuilt Jedi Temple, the bond between Master and Padawan grew stronger, and Amanda couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected connections that had brought her, strange family closer together.

Chapter 46

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter @moonwreckd

One more episode... and honestly I am not sure if I would even be able to write about Plan 99. Or what will happen. I have a general idea for when my beloved Tech may not return... but it feels so overly used.

Also I am cooking up some short Hunter drabble, hopefully it does not stay a wip

[araneitela]

/breathes. This icon is called killme003.png for the sake of this post because honestly, where yesterday I was rather demotivated from writing up more meta, I woke up today with the strength of all Aeons in existence (and... not-so-in-existence-anymore) for intense research. So I put my thoughts through the sternest 'let's try to shake and shoot up the perspective/logic/theory' process that I could manage, and it's still standing. If anything, I'm more certain than I was yesterday or a week ago, that MHY is doing something substantial, and vastly nuanced with this damned character. I thought I had big-brain thoughts on/for Guizhong, but I don't know if those hold a candle to the ones I have for Kafka (actually, they really do). My issue with this lady in wine though, I don't know where to start writing it all down. It's like 10 messy whiteboards that are hypotheses on her trailer, the words she uses therein, "Don't be afraid, listen to me, wasn't it you, who invited me?", "Destiny has thousands of faces, why does it choose to wear this one?", "Stealing a glance?" during someone's final moments during her spirit whisper? Like, come on, you can't tell me she doesn't play into fate somehow beyond what we've all obviously gathered. You can't tell me that there isn't a more authentic face that has been staring right at us this entire time. She borderline if not directly says it right to us, but we're almost taught to not listen anymore, to think that there's more to something, but what if writers are using that against us, what if this is an instance where we should take words at direct face value? On top of everything else, of course. Fate is "inevitable" and right in front of us always, after all.

God, imagine a being tied so intricately woven into fate (vastly differently from Elio, mind you), speaking quotes upon quotes about the inevitability of fate, and being tied to nihilism, and yet firmly holding some sort of faith into choice, and hounds us on it. I mean come on, one of the main quotes in the entire story of HSR are her words: "When you have the chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won't regret." And she directly tells us in her own SQ, and it is a confirmed truth and not a lie, that Kafka herself does not believe destiny to be predetermined. Now to what capacity? We don't know. But the contrast of this, the rich nuance in this drives me insane. The duality of this woman, the spider (which itself is already a duality of a creature) and the butterfly (not necessarily as juxtaposed as one would believe, it all depends on perspective), the curiosity/fascination opposite her boredom, the ease of her killing which is reinforced with the emotional distance of her submachine guns, and yet she speaks how we should "let morality be our (your) guide", which fits perfectly alongside the decision of having her wield a katana, a blade that was worn by those following the highest code of honor? Speaking of emotional distance, the way she speaks of humans and humanity feels so distant, along with her talk of fragility. God, I just, want to shake HVY very firmly and fiercely. The fact that her eyes are highly likely to be concealed (hello, red), the fact that her voice is altered consistently, and yet we're shown the depth and warmth of her actual voice, and the empathy it holds consistently around primarily one person (almost two).

I love writing meta, but I don't know where to begin. I don't know where to start, but I'll get there. I just wanted to show how messy my mind is, I suppose. It makes perfect sense in my head, I've seen the dots, I've connected them, I see you MiHoYo, and you're giving me everything my brain needs in terms of latching my claws into something. But my god, where do I start writing it all down.

[ladylyra]

I'm ngl I've been dying to ask about them and I love when you talk about your characters so I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested in talking a lil about Lucille, Lihue, and Souta? I'm kinda curious about their dynamic but also just them as characters so it's up to you how you want to answer!! Thank you!

i'll talk about them independently and then their dynamics!! thank you for asking!! sorry i talked a lot not a little

lucille is a very others-focused person; if she has the opportunity to help someone out, she will. she enjoys feeling like she is doing the right thing, of course, but she also craves the praise and attention that comes along with it. she's very expressive and silly, which can make her 'funny' to observe, but she's got a different sense of humor than someone like souta; i can't really imagine her ever making a habit of serious jokes at someone else's expense. she really just wants everyone to feel welcome and like they have a place. her greatest weakness is probably her lack of focus and her need for external validation; she has a lot of ideas in her head of what she feels is right and what she should do, but heavily relies on the discipline of others around her to help with implementation and "streamline" her goals and formulate concrete plans. She's gotten better at doing this on her own with age and experience, though, so she's been able to be more independent and an effective leader. she's constantly trying to see the best in others, and their potential, so she can get caught down rabbit holes of situations she may be better off abandoning.

lihue is all about self improvement and efficiency. she hates wasting her time and if she's involving herself in something, it is usually because she feels like there's something she can learn from it. to her, skill acquisition is how she gains self-sufficiency; relying on others too much makes her uncomfortable and she has huge issues with vulnerability. she tries to approach all emotions from an analytical lens and can come off as insensitive as a result. while this emotional neglect impacts others, it has also impacted herself greatly; she is normally very decisive, but her reluctance to pay mind to her emotions has left an experience gap, making her hesitant, scared, and unsure in vulnerable exchanges she considers far outside her depth. rather than wade through her emotions, she holds others at a distance. this is her biggest fault, and something she is actively working on; despite her attitude, which can sometimes come off as if she thinks herself better than others, she is highly self critical, and she doesn't feel like she can ever do enough to distance herself from her past actions.

souta can come off as a "just here to have fun" sort of guy on the surface, but he's far more deep than he lets on, and he takes a lot of enjoyment in seeing others try to understand him. a lot of the things he says and does are to see how others respond, noting their patterns and behaviors, information he stores for use later. because of this, it comes off like he always has a reply to whatever is thrown at him--some detail said offhandedly in a previous convo? he probably remembers that. some nervous tick? he saw that, too. as you may expect, he has a teasing problem, which can make serious conversations a struggle to attain; sometimes, this is just him getting caught up in conversations he sees as games he can win, other times it is a deliberate effort to obfuscate since he does have, to a smaller degree, vulnerability issues like lihue. because he has no memory of his life as a human, he places a great value on his current life and works to carve out a unique identity and purpose; whether that past person was good or bad, he does not want to define himself or be defined by others as someone he doesn't even view as himself. he likes to maintain a sense of independence and control over his life--he loathes ever feeling obligated to do something, and he would rather everything be a product of his own choice. to him, that makes his loyalty worth even more, right?

OKAY NOW THE SEPARATE DYNAMICS

lucille and souta have definitely gotten the most time together. he finds her authenticity and self-sacrificing nature admirable and she's very fun to watch. she's expressive and doesn't tend to hide her thoughts, so it's instant gratification whenever he does something. i don't see him as someone who is super approval-seeking normally ( he's pretty confident on his own) but i think he is a little desperate (won't admit it) for lucille to like him and to find him funny. she was definitely the one most interested in learning about his past life / backstory. the attention was a feeling he got hooked on and got really into baiting, until the point that it began to make her overthink things and for him to start feeling not seen for who he was in the present. they both enjoy being around someone they can have fun with, so they can sometimes forget to GET SERIOUS but they have some good serious moments too (she makes him more committal and honest, he makes her more introspective, both start to think a little more long term because they want the other person there, ect). i didn't plan them from the start, and i only began to explore them after lihue had left. i think comparing them as lucille's 'options' is natural as a result. souta offers a lot that lihue never did; he's a little evasive when hes a tease, but he also doesn't hesitate to validate lucille when she needs it, and he finds her reactions as a result just as satisfying. his decision to follow her also means a lot to her; she's someone who values loyalty highly, and it is difficult for her to let people she loves go. with him, she doesn't find herself questioning loyalty or if he loves her, which means a lot to her.

lucille and lihue were far more planned early-on. i feel their personalities compliment more obviously: high extroversion vs high introversion, lucille is more head-in-the-clouds, lihue is more practical and efficient. lucille's warm and accepting, lihue is critical and severe. with them, i think a mistake would be to believe that lihue was somehow the more mature one. lucille is more upbeat, seemingly "gullible", and allows her herself more vulnerability, but this permission to feel isn't immaturity; it is an acceptance she may be hurt, but she'll take the risk because she wants the chance to connect with others. lihue runs from situations she is scared of and hurts people like lucille as a result. even as she learns this to be wrong, she feels she can never recover from what she has done. it's a game of lucille forgiving and giving chances, and lihue feeling she doesn't deserve the chances or isn't ready for anything lucille has to offer. there's some merit to this; lucille shouldn't have to tolerate being hurt because she is living for someone's potential, but she truly does want lihue in her life, whether it be as a friend or something else, so she's just working on being a good person and someone lihue can rely on once she allows herself that vulnerability. another thing with them is sorting through if you still like a person or if you like your memories of them, since they did originally like each other when they were younger, and a lot of time has passed since then; they are trying to navigate this as more mature people. definitely a big hurdle is that lihue's past behavior does make lucille paranoid about the future, but she's managing this by just being realistic with her expectations and accepting she can't control lihue, only herself.

well well well……….souta and lihue. souta does not feel threatened by lihue at all; he sees her as highly predictable, easy to run circles around, and definitely easy to poke fun at. he'd probably be more inclined to be 'harsher' to her than to lucille because lihue wants to act tough all the time. since she's so self-critical, she'd probably expect that he'd be more confrontational toward her over lucille (she deserves it right?) but he isn't actually. he talks to her about it casually or just makes small jabs about it, but nothing that would start a fight. serious fights aren't his vibe and he thinks lucille can voice her feelings herself. lihue might feel a little jealous that he offers a lot that she feels she cant. BUT BESIDES THE LUCILLE FACTOR. i did intend them to be friends early in the comic. they often appeared more as a pair before lihue left the team. lihue sees him as someone who is highly intelligent but who wastes his time on things that are too inane. she doesn't see the logic in his behavior and feels he wastes a lot of time on things that don't matter. like lucille, he's distinguished from lihue by his extroversion, but he's less silly; he's also a little bit more intimidating because he doesn't see the need to be careful with her. likewise, she also doesn't waste time sparing his feelings, so i can imagine their exchanges coming off as incredibly harsh or direct, and potentially off-putting to outsiders. i think they have a 'bite' to them which has its own appeal--i think she'd eventually catch up to his teases and try to be just as ruthless back.

i definitely have my personal biases for what i feel is 'best' for certain characters and what is most narratively satisfying (whole separate conversation), but i enjoy exploring them all and think they've got interesting drama. i think about them a lot. they have a playlist. i have songs. theyre always on my mind

[bunnygirlwhore]

Royalty kink

Your queen seems worried about something as you help her out of the ball gown.

"Is there something on your mind my queen?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just hoping one of the potental suitors at that ball would be of interest to me."

"My queen, you know that the kingdom cares not if you are wed."

"Oh, my precious maid, I had a compltely different sort of interest in mind."

You aren't sure what she meant by that, so you continue to help her out of the dress but you pause before leaving the room... It couldn't hurt to ask... "My queen, is there anything I could do to be of assistance?"

She looks at you, her gaze piercing. She seems to be taking stock of you almost. You feel like a cornered prey animal for a moment and then she beckons you closer, "I think so, just one last thing I need to check. Come here."

You cautiously move closer, keeping a respectful distance. She moves closer, placing her hands on your shoulders. She gently pushes you towards her bed, sitting you down. Your heart is racing. You almost ask what she's doing and then she pulls you into a kiss, her tongue plunging into your mouth and pressing down on yours.

When she pulls back you're left reelinng, she gives you a brief command. "Strip."

You start to do just as she commanded, she starts doing the same. You're too focused on getting off your uniform to notice her finishing getting undressed before you. She takes a moment to watch you fumble, her royal ten inch rod fully hard and dripping with pre. Then she bats your hands away and starts swiftly undressing you the rest of the way herself, the process is slow and sensual. Her hands frequently take breaks to admite your form, gently squeezing your hips, running a thumb over your lips, grinding against you from behind. "Do well enough and I just might have to make a wife out of you... Im shocked I never noticed my own maid was so adorable sooner than today."

"Thank you, my queen." A blush that had already appeared on your face intensifies greately.

She sits down on the bed with you in her lap, her hands on your hips, "Tell me, you've always been so very loyal. How much would you do for your queen?"

"A-anything for you, my queen.."

"Then sit still while I grope this ass of yours." Before you know it she has your face shoved into the bed and her hands are gowing to town on your ass. You can't help but moan. She gives your ass a rough smack. "I said no moving, that includes making sounds."

After ten long agonizing pleasurable minutes of sitting still while your queen goes to town playing with your butt to her hearts content she says "You may moan now," then slams her length into you up to the hilt all at once. You moan so loud and so whorishly that Angels hear you from heaven and that Demons are impressed by the depths of your lust. She lets out an amused breath and then starts thrusting, rough and fast. Her hands are gripping your hips, roughly, painfully. You try to say something but its drowned out by more of your own moans.

"Gods above you're such a good fuck! You're my consort now, understood slut? You live to worship me, and my wife once I find one, whenever we please and however we please."

You manage a simple, "YES!" as she slams into you and starts to pump you full of her royal seed.

"Oh you are going to serve your queen so well~ Now then, get ready for your second load of the night." And without any warning she starts up again. You'll be a perfect consort for your queen.

[nohara-rin-dot-mp3]

Ok okie okay OK..... MANY questions for you if that's alright, because I've recently seen your blog and your view of Rin as a character is very intriguing to me. It reminds me of the depth tora-the-cat here on Tumblr gives to Sakura, and I mean that as a high compliment! So without further ado: 1. Do you have any idea what caused this gaping void in Rin and whether she was born that way or made? 2. How much of everything about her is artificial? Does she kinda view herself in the sense that she's like a character in a book-- that she always has an ever-present audience viewing her, even when alone ala Margaret Atwood, except instead of the voyeuristic gaze of a man in a woman viewing herself, it's the voyeuristic gaze of humankind in one she watches instead? 3. Why does she try so hard to play a person when so much of it seems like drudgery to her? Is it out of a fear of consequences, because it's a game everyone plays but she wants 1st place, or is it just that she has nothing better to do/no strong whims to propel her in a solid direction? 4. Do you think she and Kabuto, (my personal blorbo), would study each other like bacteria in a petri dish or repel each other like magnets, had they known the other existed? (They seem to have A LOT of similarities but their cores feel very different to me...) 5. Why does she get so angry when people remember her? Is it that she's remembered incorrectly or the idea she's remembered at all that upsets her? If it's the former, does she hope someone can see through her facade and find the "real" Rin? 6. What's her philosophy on life? 7. Does she have opinions on both White Zetsu(s)/Black Zetsu and vice versa? If yes, what are they? Depending on the AU Kaguya would likely keep both groups around the same time she keeps Rin, so what in god's name is going on there???? 8. Do Kaguya and Rin keep Toneri as a pet?

And I've got more but this thing's long enough so I'll save those for later; thank you for your time! :>

kicking my feet twirling my hair ect ect. oh anon i am SO glad you asked

1- rin's apathy is made of a lot of different things mixing together. some of it is innate; she genuinely doesn't care about a lot of things that most people would. she doesn't get the same fulfillment out of doing things that most people do. however, in a world where she wasn't forced to be child soldier, she probably wouldn't have fallen into quite as extreme a mindset. a lot of the apathy is a (bad) coping mechanism that builds on traits she is already predisposed to. so... both, i guess? rin is already kind of apathetic and empty, and then work as a ninja causes her to use the apathy as a shield.

2- rin doesn't really see herself as a character, per say- it's more that she views the *facade* she puts up as a character. "rin" as everyone else sees her is an artificial construction that rin is able to control, which is really important to her. she doesnt view herself as a character, but she does view the persona she puts up as a character, if that makes sense. she puts a distance between herself and the people she's acting for.

in regards to the sincerity of her actions; well, rin kind of thinks that if she chooses to do something, that negates the intent behind it. which... is arguable, to an extent, but also ultimately untrue. when he's teaching his own team 7, kakashi hides behind a mask of a lazy troll- but he also *is* a lazy troll. the fact that he's using those traits to divert attention away from other traits doesn't negate the honesty of them. to rin, though, even if she *would* do some of the things she does if she wasn't playing the role of "rin", the fact that she is choosing to do them to project a specific image invalidates them. there's a lot of things that she does that she doesn't mean at all, too, but to rin those aren't any different to the things she only sort of means. lmao. there is something so wrong with her <3

3- the facade started as a way to avoid judgement, yeah. rin's mannerisms when she's not masking are unnerving to a lot of people. as time went by, though, she got Weirder about it and started keeping up the persona because she doesn't know who she is without it, and is terrified that she doesn't know. this creates a really weird mindset where rin ends up stuck playing her facade because she's scared of putting it down, but also she hates it and wants an excuse to drop it, but also she hates everyone around her and doesn't want them to figure out that she's been deceiving them, but also she's mad that they're falling for her persona. truly she contains multitudes

4- never considered it before but. oh god. bro. you are on to something. im hardly a kabuto expert, but from what i understand, he is also a big 'putting on masks' person so. 👀 . i think that kabuto has a lot more internal drive than rin, and even if he hasn't exactly ironed out every kink in his plan, he knows that he wants SOMETHING!!! honestly now that you've brought it up i can't stop thinking about the parallels... kabuto disregarding the fact that he isn't sure exactly what he wants and focusing on acting because there is SOMETHING that he wants, and he can't have it unless he acts vs rin hyper-focusing on the fact that she isn't perfectly sure what exactly it is that she wants and letting her masks drag her down. autism to autism communication.

5- 👉👈 if i said "a little bit of both its kind of complicated" again would you be mad lol

so, yeah, the idea of people remembering her facade instead of her is absolutely sickening to her. rin really, really, really wants to be known, but she can't *let* people know her until she knows herself, and also she would rather die than take of her mask. people remembering her persona instead of her is basically proof that she failed, that she never understood who she was, and was therefore never able to share that understanding with others. yes that's what happened in canon lmao.

HOWEVER. even if someone did come around and understand rin beyond the mask she puts on, rin wouldn't want to be remembered after she dies. to rin, grief is... unnecessary? like, when faced with a problem, rin likes to Fix It. if there's no solution, or if the solution is more effort than it's really worth, she will simply choose to stop caring (oh yeah there's that emotional disassociation). anyways, that's a *very* unhealthy mindset to have, and also is the cause of a lot of resentment between rin and people who she might have otherwise come to befriend, even if it is kind of out of a place of care (she doesn't want people to keep hitting a wall they have no way of climbing).

tldr: she doesn't want people to remember her facade because she hates that thang. she doesn't want people to remember *her* because she doesn't want them to be sad when repressing their emotions is an option and its sooo easy too

6- big question,,, honestly, a lot of the way i characterize her revolves around the way she *can't* answer that question. i think that in canon, she never really develops any philosophy towards anything. in aus where she lives longer, i can definitely see her leaning towards a utilitarian viewpoint- being able to recognize that not feeling the "right" emotions behind an action doesn't negate the action would go a long way for her mental health lol.

7- rin doesn't really have strong feelings on either of the zestu. black zestu is... kaguya's will, right? which is not something that makes sense to me at all and it probably never will but you know. you know. i guess she'd probably view him as something similar to one of kaugya's shadow clones? the white zestu are mostly just old, chewed up corpses and if there is one thing about rin to remember it is that she does NOT want to be remembered after she dies. so of course she will be extending this same courtesy to others. they're just tools to her, because thinking of them any other way would be *disrespectful* (she has problems)

8- you know i've never really given much thought to toneri (i had to google him to remember who he was lol). he seems lonely. a bit of a silly little hypocrite which is admittedly a great kind of guy. apparently he shows up in boruto too but i haven't read it so idk if anything changes there. depending on his attitude towards them, i certainly think they could be convinced to let him hang around. if he's nice i think kaguya would treat him like an annoying little cousin more than a grandkid of anything, and if he's rude i think she beats him to death with hammers. i don't think rin would have very strong feelings on him? maybe she'd be a little pissed at the way he idolizes hinata on account of her knee-jerk reaction to anyone (besides her) failing to treat anyone as human and nothing more or less, but in any au where kagurin are just chilling hinata's probably dead lmao so im not sure how that'd affect things.

this got long but its fine aljfghsdajkgkjdkg. thank you so much for the questions, they were actually really compelling!!

[awynter]

Despite the annoyance towards Sarah and Gregory, Anne couldn't help but soften when her attention returned to Ben. It was hard not to stare when he was in such a state of undress, but Anne was determined to keep her eyes from lingering for too long. This was not the time nor place for such impractical desires.

"You don't normally swim, or you don't normally swim in such a bold fashion?" She bit at her lip to hide the teasing smirk that threatened to take hold of her features. If the roles were reversed, she would be mortified. However, Anne had a feeling that a man would be slightly less ashamed of being caught in such a manner than she would be. From her experiences, men were often shameless, while women were taught to be ashamed of everything. Even if that were the case, it didn't make it any less humiliating for him.

The toes of her boots nearly touch the water before he urges her to stop. She blinks, trying to figure out what exactly she had expected to do when she reached the water. What was her plan? To throw him his clothes? To wade into the depths with him? The thought was certainly tempting, but not here. Not now. Not like this.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her own foolishness and she takes a step back. Anne had missed him. She supposed she merely wanted to touch him, to make sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination. She'd been yearning to see him for the past fortnight, desperate to speak to him one more time. But for this to be how she encountered him... It was safe to say she was a bit caught off guard.

"So, I suppose this means I'm not invited to join you?" The taunt slips out before she can think better of it and she immediately averts her gaze. Setting his clothes down on the ground, Anne backed up, still facing the water but her eyes glued to the earth. This was not the appropriate time to be making such jokes and yet she couldn't seem to hold it in when it was him on the receiving end.

"I'll... I'll stand at the hill to make sure no one starts this way. I'll shout if I see anyone approaching. And... Y-You just let me know when it's safe to turn around." Wringing her hands, Anne finally turned away, settling her eyes on the looming Bridgerton house in the distance. She could only pray that her words had gotten through to Sarah, that she would make sure to wait ample time before allowing the girls to come running down to the waterfront. Lady Sarah's prank had served its purpose, Anne assumed. She had certainly managed to embarrass Ben and, although Anne supposed he did deserve it to some degree, it didn't quell the irritation in her gut. It didn't stop the pang of guilt at the entire ordeal. It was her fault that he was stuck in such a situation, even if indirectly.

"I'll be sure not to relay the events of this afternoon to Harriet, lest it become a major plot point in the next play." She cast her gaze upwards, squinting as she shielded her eyes from the sun. Although her back was turned to him, Anne couldn't help but smirk as she teased. Adding such a story hook to the Fairy Princess and the Frog Prince would certainly be something the young Pleinsworth girls would do if they caught wind of his utter misfortune. Selfishly, Anne didn't mind keeping this secret to herself. Especially when it meant keeping her inappropriate thoughts hidden as well.

"It seems we both have taken her play to much to heart." It was an understatement, she thought, but Anne didn't have the courage to explain further. How had Frances seen what was between them before they did? How had a child managed to sort out her feelings before Anne herself had? Tossing another comment over her shoulder, the smirk returned to her expression. "If this is a common happenstance for you, I should discourage you from reading The Shepherd, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII. As marvelous a story as it is, I am rather fond of my head."

What happened next was but a blur. Although Benjamin wished to make a joke, it was rather difficult to be merry when he was wading there in a pond, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the very woman who'd long since haunted his every waking thought.

Embarrassment nipped at his cheeks, and when Anne glanced toward him in between her scolding, the vivid red spilled toward his neck and chest, making him nearly glow with humility. Good God, this was mortifying...

With Gregory and Sarah gleefully making their way back to the manor, Anne approached him with his clothes. If she was amused, she thankfully didn't express as such. "It seems like it's my turn to rescue you," she said.

"I...suppose this seems a little hard to believe," Benjamin called over to her, his expression sheepish. "I don't normally swim -- and least especially on someone else's property -- but...I haven't actually done anything like this in years, and it would seem that little bugger knew exactly how to prey on my weaknesses."

Once Anne reached the edge of the water, Benjamin immediately lifted his hands, entreating with her to stop. "Please don't," he begged her. "I don't want you getting wet...though naturally, I also don't think it proper for me to just wade forward and take my clothes."

Clearing his throat, he glanced around them, assessing the scene, before offering, "You can set everything there on the bank, and then maybe hide behind that tree? And if God is on my side, I won't end up flashing all the Pleinsworth girls when they make their triumphant arrival."

Finally, he grinned, a self-conscious laugh bubbling in his throat. "If nothing else, you'll at least have blackmail on me for the rest of my days." Meeting her gaze, Benjamin finally seemed to remember his physical state and ducked back down into the water, ensuring that he was covered up to his chin. "Um...I'd ask that you forget this ever happened, but I'm afraid that seems relatively impossible." Smiling shyly, he added, "And I never thought I'd become the Frog Prince quite in this way...perhaps I took Frances' play too much to heart."

[portaltothevoid]

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Chapter 3 - Chains of Misery

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Kat Ramsay), sequel to Foolin’

Summary: Details from Kat’s past are revealed. Tension between her and Eddie leads to an interesting revelation. 

Warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff (if you squint)

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter song: Chains of Misery by Iron Maiden

Tag list: @munchabunch @madaboutmunson @michele131 @riffcrusader @idiot-parade @prettyboyeddiemunson​

 “Alright, so this is what’s called a sensory deprivation tank. This will allow your mind to expand and you can see into the past and present. Once your body relaxes, I’m going to play some security tapes of that day and hope it will bring back the memories of what happened,” Hank instructed.

Kat nodded as she got into the salt water pool that had overtaken her garage. The space heaters at every corner of the room did little to keep out the biting winter cold. Hesitantly, she got in. Luckily the water was at a bearable temperature. She floated on her back, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. The TV powered on in the distance, the whirring of a tape being put into the VHS player filled the room. She lost herself in the white noise.

When she opened her eyes, she looked down at her body. She was a lot smaller and in a hospital gown. “Where am I?” she wondered aloud. There was no response. The children all around her were keeping to their own devices, keeping themselves occupied with various activities. Glancing around the room, she saw a rainbow lining the wall as well as the floor. 

A middle aged man wearing a suit walked into the room. He sat down next to her as she was by herself. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it?” he asked.

As confused as she was, she went with the flow. Sitting in a chair, she realized she had a Magic 8 ball in her hand. She didn’t respond to the man’s question. When he was fully seated next to her, he asked another, “How are you feeling today?”

“Okay…” she replied slowly.

“Are you up for some more lessons?”

In response she shook the 8 ball. They both looked at its answer: “Signs point to yes.”

“Alright then,” he said getting up, “let’s go.” He held out his hand, which she took. She was led through the doorway and down the hall. On the way to wherever they were going, the pair passed a woman with another child.

“Dr. Ellis,” he greeted with a nod.

“Dr. Brenner,” she returned with the same gesture.

The man, this doctor, brought her to what seemed to be a testing room of sorts. He put a device on her head that measured her brainwaves. It was here that she realized her hair was buzzed. Wherever she was, she was calm. In the back of her mind, in her current body, the anxiety was creeping in.

She sat patiently, her eyes closed. The man cleared his throat. She heard the scratching of something writing on paper. “Okay,” he started, “what do you see?”

Her eyes moved back and forth rapidly under her closed lids. It was as if she was searching the depths of its darkness for an answer. 

“Don’t force it. Let it come to you, just like we practiced,” he encouraged.

A simple, crayon drawing of a sun flashed through her mind. “It’s…” she started still trying to hold on to the information that was rapidly showing itself to her. “A yellow circle? A sun! It’s the sun.” 

“Very good, very good,” he commented. She heard some movement on the table. “Alright, let’s see…” He paused a moment before speaking again, “Okay, now what do you see?”

This image was harder for her to decipher. The man was clearly a scientist as his artistic abilities were lackluster. She furrowed her brow. “Um… a cow?”

“It’s… supposed to be a dog.”

She smiled in amusement, “It looks like a cow.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I never was much of an artist,” he admitted with a laugh. “Let’s try something a little bit more challenging. Is that alright with you?” he asked as he scribbled something down on a notepad. She nodded her hand. “I want you to find Dr. Ellis. Can you do that?”

Again, she nodded as she pulled her eyebrows together in concentration. Her eyes darted back and forth under her lids again. Clear as day, she was able to see the woman from the hallway.

“Have you found her?”

“Yes.”

“What’s she doing?”

“Lessons with 006 in his room.”

“What kind of lessons?”

“006 is trying to move a block, a red block.”

“Can you hear what they’re saying?”

It was as if she was in the room with them, a fly on the wall. She was in the corner watching, listening to them. Her breath became short, her heart rate increased. Looking around, there was blood on the walls. The lesson was cut short by a threat. “Something’s wrong…”

“If you’ve lost the visual just let it go. Try to reorient.”

“There’s screaming,” she divulged as she heard the distorted sounds in her mind. An impending feeling of doom was slowly creeping up her body. “He’s coming.”

“What? Why are they screaming?”

Her palms began to sweat. Her heart felt as if it was going to beat out of her chest. She could feel the warm crimson liquid drip from her nose as she tried to stay in the room, watching. 

“010?” The man addressed her as the alarm simultaneously rang through the building. He jumped up immediately, going straight to an intercom. “Peter? Alec? What’s going on out there?” 

“Sir, we’ve got a situation,” a voice responded. The connection was weak as it was coming in and out, breaking up.

Her eyes fluttered open. Fear etched on her face. She looked over at him. “006… Dr. Ellis… they’re… they’re dead. They’re both dead. I saw… He’s coming!” she repeated.

A loud thud could be heard from outside, followed by a scream. Kat immediately pictured a surge of impenetrable energy surrounding her body, encasing it like a bubble. Slowly, the doctor moved toward the door. He inched closer and closer to the constant screams coming from the other side. He was scared. He couldn’t even hide it. Another drop of blood leaked from Kat’s nose as she kept the forcefield around her. 

Then the door was blown open.

It knocked Dr. Brenner out, he laid flat on his back. Kat’s eyes widened in sheer terror. With the force of the blast she flew backwards, knocking over the monitors and other lab equipment in the process. She felt nothing as she was protected by her own energy. She also knew it was invisible to everyone else, but her. Tightly shutting her eyes, she let herself fall to the floor.

The sound from the TV cut out and she thrashed in the water as she pulled herself upright. Her breathing was labored and heavy. She looked around for Hank. “What the fuck was that?” she demanded.

“You were reliving a memory,” he said simply. “That’s enough for today. I have this feeling once you fully unlock what happened that night, the rest will come back and you won’t have to go through this.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m doing that again,” she said curtly as she got out of the pool.

“Kat, it’s the only way. You may still have your powers, unlike 011, but you don’t understand your full potential. In order to beat whatever is coming, you need to know what you’re capable of.”

– – – – – 

“Munson! Turn that fucking shit down!” They heard someone yelling outside the trailer. It was a tight squeeze, but the weekend following band practice, Eddie convinced Kat to buy a drum set and set it up in his trailer. They pushed as much furniture as they could against the walls, leaving just enough space for him to play his guitar against the kitchen counter that separated the two areas. 

“What? Turn it down?” he mocked as he went over to his amp to increase the volume. Kat laughed as he started to play the “Master of Puppets” guitar solo. She followed suit jumping in with her drums. 

The music wasn’t enough to hear the shooting of a gun not too far off in the distance. They immediately stopped. Eddie just hung his head while Kat wasn’t sure if she should be scared or not. 

“Uh, that’s gonna be it for tonight?”

“These fucking drunk hicks just can’t mind their own goddamn business,” he said with palpable irritation. 

“I can go fuck ‘em up, if you want?” Kat offered, getting up from the stool.

Within seconds, Eddie had a vice grip on her arm. “No.”

“But I–”

“It’s different when there is a shitfaced asshole with a gun, Kat,” he warned, tightening his grip even further.

“Ow, okay! I got it,” she said, forcing her arm out of his hold, “I got it, Mr. Protective.” She eyed him wondering what the hell had gotten into him.

He left the room to put his guitar back in its rightful place. Wordlessly, he then dragged his amp back into his room. Kat, also silent, broke down the drum set.

She handed the last bag to Eddie as he expertly arranged them in his closet. “There. Fits pretty perfectly for a shoe box,” his tone terse. He knew taking out his emotions on Kat was the last thing he needed to be doing, but he was so fed up with himself having been left to his own devices for most of the day. The neighbor was the last straw; he couldn’t hide what he was feeling.

He worried about her. She wasn’t even trying to hide the smoking around him anymore. When he made a comment, she just shrugged it off and switched to joint after joint. He couldn’t help her, because he didn’t know how and it was eating him alive inside.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by saying that yesterday…I didn’t know it was gonna bother you so much,” she said meekly, clearly aware his mood had gone sour.

“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know that through your bitchy sarcasm?” Immediately he winced once the words were out of his mouth.

“I– Excuse me?” she said, taken aback by the venom in his voice.

Instantly he deflated when he saw how hurt she looked, letting out a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. “I’m sorry I… I’m scared too, okay?” he admitted as he sat next to her on his bed.

“What? Why are you scared?”

“Because I see what’s happening to you. How you’re coping. And I…” His voice dropped to a whisper as he avoided eye contact with her, “I don’t– I know I can’t help you. There’s nothing I can do…”

“Hey,” she murmured, reaching up to gently turn his head so he was looking at her, “just being here with me? Just jamming with me? That helps more than you know. I don’t have to hide from you like I do everybody else.”

He nodded even though that would never be enough. If he knew how to take her fear and her pain away, he would. That’s all he wanted to do. But he was powerless. His face puckered when he remembered, “You never told me what you were working on with your Uncle last month.” 

“Oh… That… We were– He was helping me remember…what happened the last time I lived here…” she struggled to get the words out. The silence was deafening around her. She feared even just mentioning it could bring about something catastrophic. He grabbed her hand, encouraging her to go on. “I blocked a lot of it out, but it never affected my powers. Or so I thought. Um, but yeah… Remembering what happened helped me discover more about myself, I guess. And then we worked on strengthening what I can do until he got called back to Nevada.” Now it was her turn to avoid his gaze.

“So you’re even more of a badass than we thought, huh?” he smirked as he lightly bumped her shoulder with his. 

“Yeah,” she let out a laugh through her nose, “you should see me when I’m sober.”

Any lightheartedness flew out the window when she made that comment. The pain returned in Eddie’s eyes and Kat’s gaze was far away. Blinking quickly, she brought herself to look at him. “Look, I’m gonna be okay. This… this is nothing compared to how I was just before I turned sixteen or even last July. I feel crazy, but not that crazy. I just…hope it doesn’t get to that point…I haven’t had another nightmare, so… Maybe this just has to run its course.” She tightened her grip on his hand, anchoring herself to him for comfort.

“Well, if it does, you’ll tell me?” 

“Probably. Unless you’re gonna stop me, then… probably not,” she winced at her own words.

“At least she’s honest,” he said, ruffling her hair and wrapping his hand around her head to pull her close to him. “Wait, you turned sixteen in ‘83 right?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“That’s when really weird shit was happening here. Like really weird. Like the Byers kid went missing and then was found dead, but somehow that was a mistake and he was alive. And then July… there was some really weird mall fire at Starcourt. Brand new mall just totally went up in flames. A bunch of people were there too somehow after hours? It never made any sense, but what if…”

“What if it had to do with what my dreams are about…” she finished for him, pulling away to look at him. Shock dawned on her face.

previous chapter | next chapter

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you write the sensory overload prompt with fallout new vegas companions as well (including benny)? and maybe butch deloria if thats not too much ^^

Romanced! FO3 & FONV Companions React to Autistic!Six/Lone with Sensory Overload Anxiety

Whoops, I ended up doing all of the companions from FO3 as well, my bad 🤷‍♀️

But here they are! Thank you so much for the ask, and I hope you enjoy!

This prompt with FO4 R!Companions

FONV

Arcade:

The doctor would want to help, would actually know how to help, but he may just get overwhelmed as well. He tends to focus on Six themself, rather than the situation surrounding them, that’s where the panic tends to get to him. But Six, he can deal with. If possible, he will try to remove his companion from their stressful surroundings, but whether or not he is able, Arcade tries to stay calm, using his voice, and breathing techniques and exercises he’s read about to try and deflate their rising anxieties. He tends to make sarcastic comments in the aftermath, more so to expel his own pent up anxiety than to help Six, but they don’t need to know that.

Benny:

He's scared out of his mind the first time it happens. Six is pretty much invincible in his eyes, so this… just being around loud noises and such? That's what's rustling their jimmies? Wack. For a small moment, he feels like it's his fault, and even after the courier informs him that this is just a part of who they are, that they have always been this way, he still feels another dizzying pang of regret, knowing that a couple of bullets to the brain probably couldn't have helped their preexisting condition in any way. Over time, he'd get better about helping to calm his partner down, but he starts out rather overbearing, touching them too much, talking too quickly, having a panicked reaction that tends to only escalate the sensory overload they're experiencing. At least Six wouldn't have to worry about their safety in a combat situation with the Ben-man at their side. He's one of the best shots in the Mojave (if not the best). No one is getting past him. He may be an old hat when it comes to injuring Six, but he'll be hot diggidy damned if he's gonna let someone else lay a finger on them under his watch.

Boone:

First off, the sniper would try to prevent Six from entering into any stress-filled situations at all, reminding them that he is more dangerous from a distance anyway. However, he knows that, in the Mojave, avoiding dangerous or overwhelming environments altogether is damn near impossible, so he’ll try to be prepared. He’s dealt with his own vicious bouts of PTSD long enough to have developed coping mechanisms to help him, and has actively used tools like sunglasses and ear plugs in his time with the 1st Recon, which he would recommend to them as well. Boone would approach his partner in their time of need, trying to refrain from being overbearing, but ultimately his support wouldn’t waver as he helped Six try to come down from their state of panic.

Cass:

She honestly doesn't understand how Six has been able to survive in this world with their sensory overload anxiety, and she respects them even more now that she knows they have managed to. She may not be the best at helping them handle their stress, so she usually leaves Six to their own devices while she works on removing anything that could be causing her partner's apprehension. Once the threat is gone, she'll stand nearby until Six has managed to calm themself down, just to cover them and keep an eye out. When it seems to be over, she likes to bring them somewhere to unwind; and enjoys simply sitting with them and maybe having a drink or two as they recover their strength, and bearings.

Raul:

He’ll talk them through the whole ordeal. Is he nervous about their state of panic? Probably. But his partner doesn’t need to know that. The ghoul doesn’t know a lot in terms of dealing with meltdowns, but for Six, he’ll try. Whatever sort of exercises they start to engage in to get their anxiety under control, he’ll be beside them, trying to participate, to help them through it if they seem to be struggling. He’ll get better at dealing with it over time, but it always scares him a bit to see his partner this way. Evidently, he will become more and more aware of his surroundings the more they travel together, and will try to keep them away from the situations he finds tend to set them off.

Veronica:

Whatever it was that seemed to have Six panicked, Veronica would seek to expel it in whatever way she can (but she's most enthusiastic when it involves punching). Her physical assault of the enemies responsible would be relentless, but should the episode be caused by something else, Veronica would be less comfortable dealing with it, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try. She mostly leaves Six to figure out their meltdown on their own, maybe going through breathing exercises with them and sticking by their side, but letting them calm themself of their own accord. Her involvement with the Berotherhood has taught her enough to know not to add any pressure to someone enduring this amount of stress. However, when they do eventually tell her that they are through the worst of it, she would try to give them some form of physical contact to help reassure them that she’s there for them, if they are comfortable with it.

FO3

Butch:

He’s known Lone a long time, and since they were kids, he’s been learning about the sort of situations that set them off. Now that they’re together, he’ll try his hardest to think back to all the times they were overwhelmed, and would attempt to keep them from these types of environments as best as he can. That doesn’t always work though, given the differences between the vault and the unpredictable outside world. Despite this, he also tends to remember the way their father used to help them when they became panicked like this, and will try to replicate these actions in order to best help his companion. Once he's succeeded in helping them calm down, they might have to return the favor, as their panic tends to do a number on Butch. Though he has seen them in such a state more than a few times, that doesn’t mean he likes it one bit, or will ever be truly used to it.

Charon:

Calm and collected as ever, Charon would systematically eliminate all stressful factors that could be affecting Lone. When he had seen to that task, he would turn to his partner, standing by their side and waiting for direction of how best he could help them. If they can recover on their own, he’ll be nearby to cover them, but if they are in need of his assistance, as long as they tell him what they need, he will oblige. In the aftermath of Lone’s meltdown, Charon would keep his blue eyes locked on them as his worry wears away at his stoic exterior. They will need to tell him that they are okay, or else he will refuse to carry on with their travels. Until he knows they can handle it, he won’t allow them to set off again.

Clover:

The poor thing would do everything wrong in this instance. She would try so damn hard to help her partner in their time of need, but ultimately she would prove to only add to the list of overwhelming factors surrounding Lone. As soon as she saw the panic wash over her companion, she would be by their side, speaking to them quickly, and as quietly as she could, but her own anxiety would cause a high pitch to sound from her throat as she tried to talk her companion down, running her hands over their arms as she does her best to support them, her frantic touches only serving to quicken their heartbeat further as they felt trapped by her concerned caresses. Once Lone finally does manage to settle down, Clover would be almost hurt by their lack of reciprocation when she tried to aid them; that is, until Lone explains to her that there are better ways for her to help. Now Clover just has to remember this for future instances...

Cross:

She’s been a soldier long enough to know how to deal with stress on the battlefield, but it’s somehow different when it’s her partner going through the ordeal. She’ll be uncharacteristically tender as she takes them through the motions she was taught to use in order to calm her fellow soldiers’ nerves. Her voice would remain soft, her touches gentle, her brows knitted together in concern until Lone finally showed signs of calming down. The paladin would release a long breath, as though finally expelling her own apprehension at the situation, and then would straighten herself up, returning to the seasoned soldier she was in order to face whatever was left of the situation at hand.

Fawkes:

The super mutant has a difficult time with subdelty, and would be worried about overwhelming Lone from his own loud tendencies. Should they start becoming uncomfortable while in his presence, he would actually distance himself from them, trying to turn away any additional factors that could be playing a part in their overload. Once they appear to have calmed themself, Fawkes will check in, apologize, and ask if there was anything he could do to prevent such occurrences from happening while they are in his company.

Jericho:

Fucking hell. We live in the Capital Wasteland. The whole damn place is just one big ass stressful situation. Are they serious?! He’d be confused, and a little pissed off, but if he has a soft spot for anyone, it’s Lone. Dammit. He won’t really know what to do, but he’ll try his best to cover them and keep them from harm’s way as they attempt to calm down and deal with their overload. Afterwards, he’ll gruffly ask if they’re okay, telling them that what they did could’ve gotten them killed, his expression would be a combination of sternness and annoyance, but his body would betray him as it shook in relief at the sight of his companion standing uninjured in front of him. Jericho would nod for the pair to continue on their way impatiently, but his eyes wouldn’t leave Lone as they set off in front of him, concern shining in their depths when he knew no one was there to see it.

[writerfreak001]

#5 (hiccstrid) for the Kiss prompt pweaase😚

5. Angry Kiss

Hiccup was silent the entire way back, and Astrid could barely stomach the guilt swarming inside her gut. Not only did he strictly ordered everyone at the Edge to lay low and not follow Viggo and Ryker's ship after spotting it in the distance, but she knew he expected much better from her after she deliberately went behind his back to do exactly what he said not to.

She thought she could handle a simple stakeout to discover where they were going, but against her better judgement, she had fallen straight into the brothers' trap, almost losing her life and Stormfly's in the process.

Thankfully, though, Hiccup discovered she was missing not too long after she and Stormfly left and wasted no time in flying after her. If it wasn't for Toothless' quiet speed and Hiccup's determination to find her, she could have drowned into the depths of the ocean.

Astrid was in no shape to fly back home on Stormfly after the injuries she sustained from Ryker's gruesome interrogation so she had no choice but to hang onto Hiccup as he flew Toothless away from Viggo's blown-up ship with Stormfly following behind. Halfway to the Edge, Hiccup lowered Toothless onto a small island.

Astrid finally spoke. "Hiccup?"

The Chief's son slid off of Toothless' back and helped Astrid down before answering her in a quiet, clipped voice. "We're stopping here for the night. We're both exhausted, and I can tell you're about to pass out, and I absolutely don't need to fish you out of the water again.... so... we'll camp out in that cave over there," he pointed past Astrid's shoulder. She turned around to see what he was talking about and quietly nodded, not wanting to upset Hiccup any further.

She slowly trailed behind him with Stormfly as her walking aide as he marched forward with Toothles next to him. Astrid had almost stumbled a few times, but Stormfly was quick to keep her from flying forward.

When they were closing in on the cave, Hiccup sent Toothless in for some reconnaissance to make sure the cave was free of threats. When Astrid stabilized herself with a large boulder, she also sent Stormfly in to assist Toothless should he need it.

Without warning, Hiccup stormed towards her, planting himself a few feet in front of her. After a chilling, quiet moment, the Shield Maiden finally took courage and met her boyfriend's angry, fiery eyes.

"What were you thinking, Astrid?" His tone was short but measured as if he was trying to keep himself from shouting at her. She wished he would, though. She deserved shouting. When she didn't answer him, he continued. "For the life of me, I can't understand why you would deliberately disobey my orders and go after Viggo and Ryker. You're my second in command. You should have known better!"

"I know," was all she could say.

"Then why? Do you... Do you just think I throw orders around for the hel of it?"

Astrid slowly shook her head.

"Then why?"

Astrid inhaled a sharp breath and winced from the twinge in her ribs. "Because I didn't think I would get caught. I know, it was stupid and foolish, but I honestly thought I had a chance to see where they were going without compromising my position."

Hiccup gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to keep his anger in check. "Sneaking off isn't like you Astrid. You have never gone against my orders before so why now? Why are you so desperate for attention?"

Astrid balked. "D-Desperate for attention?!" She clutched the throbbing pain in her side as she moved away from the boulder. Almost falling over, she braced herself against another rock form. "You think I put myself through this for attention?! You're out of your mind!"

"No, you were out of your mind!" Hiccup couldn't take it anymore as his voice exploded in anger. "I could tell Viggo and Ryker were setting a trap for us to follow the moment I spotted their ship taunting our line of sight, which is specifically why I told everyone - including you - not to go after them! Where was your sense, Astrid? Did you get hit in the head a few too many times? Are you bored with the Edge? I just need some sort of explanation that makes sense to explain why you snuck away behind my back!"

"Well I don't have one!!!" Astrid fired immediately. "Sometimes I have to follow my gut and just go. Granted, this time was against my better judgement, but I won't apologize for my instincts to follow them."

"You're instincts?!" Hiccup was incredulous. "What instincts?! YOU ALMOST DIED!" The Chief's son slammed his palm against a large rock, and she jumped a little from the sudden impact.

"But I didn't!"

"Maybe not today but what about the next time you choose to disobey my orders? If you are so keen on following your instincts instead of following my lead, then maybe you should rethink your position on my team!"

"FINE! MAYBE I WILL!" Astrid shouted back. She held her breath and, with all her strength, marched into the cave, called for Stormfly and grimaced as she climbed onto her dragon's back. "I"m going back to Berk. You obviously don't need my help!"

"Oh no you don't!" Hiccup grabbed Astrid's arm before Stormfly could lift off and pulled her down from the mount. "You're too injured to fly no matter where you choose to go. I"m not going to allow you to get into another position where you might drown from your injuries!"

"LET. GO!" Astrid elbowed Hiccup in the ribs and tried to climb back onto Stormfly, completely oblivious to her bleeding wounds. Hiccup wrapped his arms around her, locking her against his chest, but she tried fighting him. Fishbone Hiccup was no longer Fishbone Hiccup, but despite his overwhelming strength against her own, she refused to be manhandled by her so-called boyfriend.

"Stop struggling, Astrid! You're reopening your wounds!"

Hiccup knew his girlfriend was a force to be reckoned with and at full strength, she would totally send him flat on his ass, but even though she was struggling to get free from his stronghold, he too was struggling to keep her from freeing herself.

"Let me go, Hiccup! Please, just let me go!"

"NO!" Hiccup was out of options. Without thinking, he grasped Astrid's cheek a little too roughly than he wished and kissed her hard on the mouth, pouring everything he was feeling into it. Yes, he was angry. Angry at himself for almost losing the woman he loved. Sad for Astrid, that she couldn't trust him when it mattered most. Thankful for finding Astrid in time before she sank to the bottom of the ocean floor. And grateful... Grateful for being able to spend this moment with Astrid, no matter how difficult she was being. The mere fact that she was alive was relief enough.

Astrid eventually gave up, and despite her injuries, she eventually melted into her boyfriend's arms as she found a strange feeling of solace in his kiss. She could feel all the feelings he was feeling as he kissed her and she kissed him just as fiercely, wanting him to know just how sorry she was for not doing as she was told.

When his lips eventually parted from hers, he did not release her from his embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered into his ear. "We all make mistakes. Please don't go back to Berk. I... I need you here... on the Edge... I... I can't do this without you."

"I won't go," Astrid muttered just as Hiccup released his hold on her.

"Oh thank Thor."

----

WriterFreak001: I know this feels a little unresolved, but I felt like the focus should mainly be what led up to the kiss. Regardless, I hope you like this short story. :)

SEND ME A PROMPT!

[greyias]

Prompt: "Can-can you hold me?" "Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Of course, come here." Hiya! Idk if you're still doing prompts but I saw this on Pinterest and thought of you and the F!JK x Theron ship. I thought it was such a good prompt for possibly newly married Theron x JK full of feels and fluff 🥺. Ty! 💕 -athunter99 (I really need to get a Tumblr and start writing fanfic myself 💀)

Hello there! Good to hear from you again! This prompt response is definitely more in the spirit of the prompt, rather than the exact wording. Hopefully that’s okay!

Takes place after the events of the “Secrets of the Enclave” Flashpoint, and is partially me grousing to myself about some of the odd writing choices foisted upon the player character.

As a Jedi, some things should have been simple to summon.

The ability to calm one’s own mind and find peace within the Force, or the power to focus one’s thoughts on a task to the point where there was no thinking of anything else—those should have been simple. However both calm and tranquility seemed out of reach after the events deep within Enclave’s ruins. Her nerves felt nearly on fire — not in the electric, literal manner she had felt when she was electrocuted on Iokath, but in a far more unsettling way. It was as though something had seeped into her bones during their voyage to the depths under the old Jedi Enclave. Something dark and angry and foreign that made her skin crawl and left her adrift.

In these moments, a Jedi should take a minute to breathe and connect to the Force in order to anchor themselves in the present. Unfortunately, the pervasive sense of wrongness accompanied her every time she tried to sit motionless, close her eyes, and reach out to the all-encompassing thrum of the universe surrounding her. If she tried to bring herself back to the moment as she faced off against the Imperial colonel down below — it was as if whatever darkness that clung to the walls of the Enclave invaded her mind, and the anger would bubble back up within her.

That anger pulsating within her veins, pounding within her head, driving out reason. It was at once foreign, and yet a part of her. Like some invisible puppeteer had been pulling at a string, and her baser instincts had responded immediately. Even now, with time and distance between the Enclave, it was hard to sort out if everything down there had been just her, or if some outside machination had been working her like a marionette.

She opened her eyes to take in her room on Odessen, letting out the breath she’d been holding as a long, tired sigh. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, her normally tamed hair mussed and askew from too much time spent in bed, on the floor, and every position in between to try and find some peace. Despite the late hour, the lights above gleamed brightly because right now darkness felt at once too metaphorical and yet also too physical and altogether too suffocating.

For not the first time tonight, she glanced at the empty bed with a sense of longing that had little to do with the yearnings of the flesh, at least, not in the most lascivious sense. In some circles, it might be sacrilegious, but in recent years she had come to find that connection to the Force came in many forms. It was more traditional to find solace in meditation, but sometimes when the mind could not be tamed, the physical embrace of another was as much a balm to the soul. For if the very nature of the Force was connection, then in some ways, it could be the basest form of meditation.

Grey ran fingers over her face as those thoughts ran through her mind, briefly distracting her from darker concerns plaguing her mind. Stars, if some of the stricter cudgels back from her Padawan days could hear her thoughts, she was fairly certain they would have been apoplectic at the notion. The barest hints of a smile quirked at the corners of her lips at that thought — even half a galaxy away, somehow Theron could still manage to distract her.

He was still back on Coruscant on one of the rare moments of his time off, visiting with Satele. An even rarer occurrence, as they had only reconnected in the past few months after years of silence and separation. Theron repairing the strained and troubled relationship with his mother had been one of her secret desires, perhaps in some way, a twisted wish fulfillment on her part. Living vicariously through him what she could never have. 

It was inevitable that visiting Dantooine and its Enclave would drag her thoughts in that direction. And perhaps that was the true reason for her unsettled state. In the most normal of circumstances, a visit to Dantooine had a tendency to stir the festering wound in her soul of what had happened to her parents. Everything there seemed almost designed to remind her of the happy memories and life that had been shattered when her parents had been taken from her and her brothers. 

This time, her short exhalation turned into a snort as she yanked her thoughts out of the vortex that threatened to drag her deeper into the dark mood that was threatening to overtake her. She needed movement, action, to cut this off at the pass.

Heaving herself off of the floor, she trudged to the large holoterminal in the corner of the room. Her fingers hovered several inches away from the keys to operate the device as she worried her lip between her teeth, debating on whether she should actually use it. Her hesitation stemmed less from the time difference between Odessen and Coruscant, and more from not wanting to shatter any peace Theron had achieved during his absence.

After everything that had happened with Theron on his undercover stint, and all of the fallout and healing they’d done together and separately, they had made a promise to each other to be more open with their struggles. It was inevitable that he would find out about the mission to Dantooine — the man was practically addicted to his datapad and intelligence reports. The relevant reports would arrive in his inbox probably before the morning. While as the leader of the Alliance, and a grown woman, she had no need to check in with her husband nor get permission to undertake her duty. Nor would he ask her to shirk it.

But he was a protective man by nature, of her perhaps more than anyone else. He more than anyone else understood the hold her past had on her, despite her best efforts. He had unfortunately been a witness to her breakdown during a relatively simple mission on their last visit there. If he were to find out from a report that she had gone back, and had said nothing to him… she could only imagine the look of hurt that would cross his face.

And that imagining had her finishing the call before the thought even finished.

The blue light in front of her flickered as the connection met on the far end, and the hologram shimmered to life in front of her. A familiar visage met her, although Theron’s features seemed to pass from inquisitive to concern in almost a millisecond.

“Hey,” she said casually, even though a million thoughts and worries had already churned through her mind. In some ways, the appearance of his face was a relief of its own.

“Hey yourself,” he said, although she could see his eyes narrowing, as if taking everything in. Even though the fuzziness of the image over the long distance left a lot to be desired in terms of clarity, it seemed that he could still make out enough to jump to a few conclusions. “Not that I’m not always happy to see you, but… isn’t it a bit late on your end of the galaxy?”

“I…” she hesitated, before deciding to plow ahead before she could talk herself out of the rest of the conversation. “I had a long day, and just wanted to see a friendly face.”

“Ah,” he said, and she could already see the concern still etched on his face, even though he tried to hide it. “What happened? Everything alright?”

“We found Malgus,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “On Dantooine.”

A moment of silence passed, his expression clouding over as he seemed to process that. “I’ll be on the next flight back. Satele will understand—”

“No,” she said quickly, “you don’t need to—we already… I already went. And came back.”

“What?” The question seemed to have come out sharper than he intended, because he winced right after the word left his lips as if an apology of sorts.

“Everything happened so fast,” she explained, but the words sounded like a hollow excuse to her ears. “We couldn’t let the trail get cold.”

“No, no. You’re right. It’s just…” He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I would have gone with you. You shouldn’t have had to go there alone.”

“Arn was with me.” It was said lightly, an attempt a humor and to forestall him trying to place any accountability on his shoulders for a situation that was out of his control. “And Aryn Leneer.”

“Who? Wait, never mind, I can pull that up myself in a second. How are you?”

That was the question of the moment, wasn’t it? As she tried to reach for the words, to try and find a way to explain everything that had happened in the Enclave, that inexplicable anger and darkness that had pervaded not just it, but seemingly into her, this call almost seemed to be an exercise in futility. Perhaps this was just a ploy of her subconscious to assuage the lingering guilt and doubts plaguing her. Or even worse, pass it on to him without intending to.

“I am,” she drew the statement out, still unable to articulate her issue at hand, “unsettled.”

That prompted a deeper frown. “In what way?”

Her resolve to continue the conversation was rapidly waning. In person, perhaps this would have gone the same way, except she could have found her cheek pressed into his chest. Could breathe in his scent as she tried to gather her thoughts, feel each beat of his heart like a steadying metronome. The intervals between her words would be filled with continual reassurances of his presence, rather than unpleasant silences.

“It’s difficult to put into words,” she said after a long pause. “Force stuff,” she added, a feeble attempt at humor in response to his grimace.

The deep set look of concern didn’t falter, if anything, his lips pressed together in a familiar brooding expression. Even when they were in the same room, she had a hard time trying to decipher whatever thoughts went behind that mask. Worlds apart, it was impossible.

“I can get all the details of what happened from the report, which I will read on the flight back,” he said. “But that’s a secondary concern right now.”

She dropped her gaze as she fidgeted, her voice coming out smaller than she liked. “You do not need to return on my account. I do not wish to pull you away from your visit with Satele. Your time together is already short.”

“You’re avoiding the subject,” he admonished gently. “And considering Malgus is our top priority right now, I’d be on my way back regardless of whatever my stubborn bride says.”

She fixed him with a look, which he just returned with an arched brow.

“Besides,” he added, “I can always schedule another visit. I’m pretty sure my boss back on Odessen will give me the vacation time. I think she likes me.”

Despite herself, that elicited a snort of amusement. He always had a way of defusing tension with just a sprinkling of dry wit, and in a way, it helped loosen her tongue. “I am having a hard time sorting through some pieces of the mission. Everything down there just felt… wrong.”

“How?”

She shrugged helplessly at him. “I don’t know, the Force was… not right. Everything and everyone was just so aggressive and angry and—I do not know if Malgus did something to that place or if it was just me and…”

Theron reached out through the hologram, as if on instinct, and then dropped his hand when he seemed to realize his error. “You’ve got history there. It’s understandable for that to get mixed up into everything.”

“No, no, it’s not just that. There was this Colonel for the Imperial Reclamation Service there. We fought and disarmed him and—I was going to strike him down. It was like I didn’t even think there was another option.”

That frown returned, lips setting into a thin line as he regarded her from the other end of the holo. “I’m booking my flight now. I’ll be en route in less than an hour.”

She opened her mouth to argue one last time, but his stern expression silenced it before it even left her lips. “Okay.”

“It’s late,” the sternness in his voice gentled, “you should get some rest.”

“I tried,” she admitted quietly. “Didn’t work.”

“Go get a sleeping aid from the infirmary,” he said. “You need rest.”

Grey nodded before the hologram flickered out, and she was once again left in the darkness of her room. She stared at the spot where his image had been for a long moment before turning away. He was probably right about getting a sleeping aid to knock her out, but just the thought of something else taking away another shred of control was a bit too much. If she couldn’t meditate, and she couldn’t sleep, and wouldn’t take something to sleep, then just needed to keep moving.

With nothing else to do, she planted her feet in the center of the room, and began to work through a series of movements that she’d seen Theron do on many a late night when sleep evaded him. The Matukai form of moving meditation was all about creating balance and harmony between the spirituality of the Force and the physical body. Even if her husband could not wield the Force as she did, he still seemed to find some sort of comfort and solace in the movements, and so she moved through the complex positions and dizzying movements, over and over again until her body was moving on autopilot and her mind was finally, blessedly, empty.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing in the middle of her room, but the soft swish of the door opening behind her brought her back to reality. Her muscles protested as she turned to see Theron standing in the doorway, a weary look on his face.

“I thought I told you to get some rest,” he said as he stepped into the room, dropping his travel bag to the floor unceremoniously.

“Got a little distracted,” she protested weakly.

“I’m also hazarding a guess you didn’t visit the infirmary.” At the silent shake of her head he let out a wearied sigh. “You are so stubborn sometimes.”

She was a bit too tired at the moment to argue against that so she just shrugged.

“Come here,” he said, somewhere between exasperation and fondness, holding out his arms.

It was a long moment before she managed to make her feet move, but when she did she rushed into his arms, pressing her face into his chest. The simple act of having him nearby calmed her, and she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. The warmth of his embrace was a balm of its own, and she practically felt herself melting into it. She took a deep breath and then another, letting everything else fall away around her. It was easy to become lost in him, in the scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat. When he spoke next, she could feel the rumble of his words against her cheek.

“C’mon, let’s at least get you off your feet.”

As if in a trance, or maybe just pure exhaustion, he led her to the bed. She felt the weight of the world fall away as she sank into the mattress, and the act of crawling under the covers was an almost insurmountable task. He slipped into the bed next to her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The warmth, both of the blankets and his body was a cocoon, and she could feel her jumbled thoughts begin to loosen into actual words. 

His fingers trailed through her hair as she relayed her experience, until slowly the words and syllables began to run together, and didn’t even notice when she finally succumbed to sleep mid-sentence.

[rhysanoodle]

Between Light and Shadow

(Banner by the lovely @sncinder​​ 💕)

Elriel’s story after ACOSF

Word Count: 2612

AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4

What was Elain thinking, giving both herself and possibly Azriel this tiny kernel of hope? But she couldn’t help herself. As much as her heart ached every time she had to face him, one thing was inexorably clear to her. She was not over Azriel, and it was growing harder with each and every day to keep up her mask of cold indifference.

Oh, she would still make him sweat because she knew—she knew—that his rejection had felt final, and that there seemed no way to reverse his decision. But … was there room in her heart to bring him back in as a friend?

Everything in her mind was just so muddled and frazzled as she sorted through her feelings for him while trying to protect her vulnerable heart.

Though he still maintained that haggard appearance which Elain had noticed was his constant companion since he came back into her life, Elain couldn’t help but recognize a glimmer of something else in his eyes as he greeted her this afternoon.

And that proper human lady still lurking within her had been unable to completely freeze him out. He had certainly worked some witchcraft on her with that offer of friendship.

So she had greeted him back, timidly, and avoided his gaze at all costs, lest his swimming amber depths threaten to reel her too far in and drown her. But she could remain in the same room as him and yet still keep enough distance for now to keep herself safe.

Elain perched on her usual seat on the couch, allowing Azriel to take up his own habitual lookout and began. She breathed deeply, emptying her head of all essence of herself, leaving behind only her desired target. Koschei. His lake across the sea. The girls he kept hidden there. His secrets.

It was a long and drawn out process, but finally, she found a thread to tug on, and she opened her mind fully to it.

She saw a dark shape of a man, vaguely humanoid but blurry around the edges. And he was raging, still pissed at Briallyn for squandering their hold over the Crown and their chance at obtaining the other pieces of the Trove. If only the woman hadn’t been so greedy, so prone to gloating … They could have ended that Archeron girl and the threat she posed along with her.

If only … If only …

Elain did her best to look around at his surroundings, for any clues as to where he was or what he was doing, but her head began to swim, the edges of the scene in front of her darkening until she lost vision entirely.

And she opened her eyes to find Azriel beside her, a map beneath her outstretched hand.

***************

There was something eerie about watching Elain fall into a waking trance. He had never witnessed her work before, though he had been notified of how she had located the Suriel for Feyre during the war.

The glaze which overtook her eyes threatened to unmake him, as did the preternatural stillness which took hold of her. Though he knew she was not in any true danger, it was difficult for him to reconcile that.

But none of that mattered as Elain’s hand began moving, inching its way towards the map sprawled on the table.

Azriel rushed to grab it, and brought it to her, lest she fall and injure herself. Wherever the Cauldron was guiding her, they needed to make note of it.

Her hand jerked about, as if she were unable to fully focus, but one thing was very certain. Whatever she was seeing, it fell somewhere in the middle of Rask. He took out a pen, marking faint dots on the map at each point where her hand deemed to pause.

And then suddenly, her body jerked in its entirety, and he saw the film lift from her eyes.

“What did you see?” His voice was edged with demand. Time was of the essence here.

“Koschei is angry.”

Azriel snorted. “I could’ve guessed that much. We have the Trove. We have the power of the Cauldron on our side. Briallyn proved to be a useless pawn.”

“Yes, but he’s still livid about losing them. Even all these months later.”

“Perhaps that’s why his leash is tightening on Vassa. We took from him, and he intends to force us out in the open. Otherwise, he has nothing we want. I’d be content to let him rot in his lake for the rest of eternity. What else did you see? What of his surroundings?”

Elain cocked her head, eyes tight with concentration. “Not much. Everything around him was blurry. It’s not like last time when I got a good look at the lake. I couldn’t for sure even tell you if he was there or not.”

Her eyes suddenly dropped to the map he was holding practically in her lap, and her hand jerked back, as if the nearness of his own burned her. Not that it should come as any sort of surprise to him. He did not deserve her. Her lovely hands, calloused and marred in their own way by her work, still were far too beautiful to be seen next to anything as hideous as his own.

He would always be shrouded in this darkness, and her own reactions to him were just a reminder that it wouldn’t have worked between them anyways. She perhaps saw his handsome face and lusted after it, but she could never truly love what lay beneath the surface, in the darkest depths of his soul. He would do well to remember that.

“All the markings. You were reaching for the map, pointing them out. Do they mean anything to you?”

Elain shook her head, her curtain of hair cascading over her shoulder, and jasmine and honey hit him sharply in the face. Not yours, the shadows whispered to him, darkening his mood even farther.

“Then I’ll just have to investigate what they mean,” he offered, rising from his seat.

“But didn’t you just say that he wanted to lure us out?” If Azriel hadn’t known any better, he would say that Elain almost looked worried about him.

“Time is of the essence. We’ll just have to hope that he was unaware of your intrusion.” Because Mother help them if Koschei knew exactly what power they had on their side … If he decided to go after Elain as he had Nesta … No, he couldn’t think about that right now. “Besides, it’s my job to take these risks. Yours is to stay here and continue to glean as much as you can.”

She frowned but complained no more, likely recognizing the safety he was at least leaving her in, appreciating the distance that would be put between them for a few days, a reprieve from Rhys’s orders. “Be safe,” was all she offered him before he spirited out of the room and up to the training ring above the House of Wind.

Cassian looked up from his mate, positively curious as to why Azriel was returning so quickly after his departure halfway through their lessons earlier. He couldn’t blame him. Usually, Azriel was done training with the Valkyries at eleven and off on other business for the rest of the day.

“I have business elsewhere for the next few days,” Azriel informed him, launching into a brief description of what he wanted the latest newcomers working on, as Cassian’s eyes hardened with the clear question, What dangerous shit are you getting into now?

Not that Azriel could mention it in front of everyone here. Even though they had no reason to distrust the priestesses or Emerie, some things were better left kept firmly in the Inner Circle, at least until the full extent of the threats posed could be discovered.

“Talk to Rhys,” he offered in a low voice. “We’ll debrief later.”

Cassian nodded, and Azriel began to descend into the House to gather a pack of supplies when a soft hand pulled him aside.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Gwyn quipped, following him down the stairs.

“Cassian is going to have you run an extra lap for breaking formation.”

“Oh, please.” The priestess rolled her eyes. “Nesta’s gotten away with much worse.”

“And you think that’s not because they’re mates? He’s only gone soft all over in the ring for her. I wouldn’t expect the same treatment.”

“A male can be more nuanced than merely panting after the female he loves.” Gwyn picked at her nails and fixed him in her gaze.

“I’m not so sure,” Azriel muttered. “My brothers seem to have lost their edges since mating. Perhaps it’s a burden more than anything.” He shook his head. Not to mention that he had gone all soft around the edges whilst pursuing Elain for the past couple of years. It hadn’t shown in his work, but … he didn’t think anyone would deny that his demeanor around her had been different, though he did his best to hide it when they were under prying eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be.” And Azriel swore he could see a glimmer of amusement in her eye before she continued. “Well, I just didn’t want you disappearing without a proper sendoff.” Her words may have been nonchalant, but there was a stiffness in Gwyn’s shoulders. “See you in a few days, Shadowsinger.”

She turned and made her way back up the stone staircase.

Azriel’s wings bristled, as he quickly grabbed supplies, filling Rhys in in the meantime.

Good work, Rhys responded.

It was all her. I just helped her with the map.

We’ll make sure she has some support while you’re gone. Be safe, Az. 

Azriel could feel the unspoken words there. His role monitoring their sessions was easily filled if needed. He had only been given it because he was the spymaster and would need to question her for his own needs anyways that his leash around her had been loosened.

Rolling his shoulders, he stepped out onto a balcony and launched himself into the sky.

***************

Elain supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Lucien and Vassa arrived the next day to join her. For some reason, everyone in this house still thought she needed to be coddled, that if she slipped into a trance, she wouldn’t be perfectly capable of awakening and marching up to Rhys’s office in order to relay her information.

She sighed, supposing that she would just have to continue proving herself. It did grate her that neither of her sisters seemed to live by the same rules. Hell, Feyre had saved Prythian from Under the Mountain, and Nesta had survived the Blood Rite. But Elain had killed the king, yet that didn’t seem to count for much anymore. Not when Nesta had taken the knife and severed his head.

She put it out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about that dreaded day. It still appeared to her often enough in her nightmares that she forced it down in her waking hours in order to live some semblance of a happy life.

And it fooled them all. Nobody tried to butt into her personal life if she appeared like she had it handled. There was no longer the constant watchful eye which had hovered over her when she was sick with longing for Graysen, refusing to eat or leave her room.

No, as long as she carried on with everyday life, no one batted an eye at the sweet little gardener who hid such agony within, forced down so deep that it would never emerge in front of them.

Working with her hands helped though. It also afforded her the space to deal with her emotions if a wave ever swept over her outside of the privacy of her bedroom. She rarely had company, and even if she did, pruning and ripping weeds out by the roots worked wonders for stress relief.

She could just pretend they were the King of Hybern, the Mortal Queens, those guards who had captured her, the Cauldron itself, her cursed mating bond. Nothing was off limits.

Elain filled them in on what she had seen the previous day, though she could tell by Vassa’s frown that none of the information was new to the queen.

How could Elain finally do something useful yet still have it feel so useless?

“And all these points on the map … Azriel is looking into them?” Lucien asked, something tight in his voice.

Elain nodded. “He’s over on the continent now. Do any of these mean anything to you?” She pointed her question at Vassa.

Vassa shook her head. “Not more than what we already knew. Koschei’s lake is somewhere on the continent, but he obscured the location even from those of us who were trapped there. I was winnowed in by Koschei himself. Somehow, your father walked in … but we were winnowed out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your father had found his memory of his journey there lacking.”

Right. Her father. The man who had neglected them for so much of their lives had suddenly turned around the course of the war by hunting down this queen of fire. But he’d given his life in the process.

Elain steeled herself, knowing that she’d done her best to come to terms with it. It still stung though, that he would miss so much of their lives just as they were beginning. To think that her father would never get to know Nyx or any of her future children. Neglectful though he had been, Elain had loved her father, and his loss was still a dull throb afflicting her heart, worming its way through her chest.

“I’m sorry.” Elain must have accidentally dropped her mask because she found Vassa’s hand atop her own, rubbing soothingly with her thumb. “It was insensitive of me to mention him.”

“No, no. It’s good to talk about him,” Elain reassured her. “It helps preserve his memory. I sometimes forget that he means so much to you as well.”

“Well, he did get me out of there.” Vassa offered her a grin. “Now, it only makes sense that you’re helping to keep me out. And I’m not sure what this one is doing here,” the queen quipped, tilting her head at Lucien.

“Females,” Lucien grumbled, but the mood in the room had lifted, Elain finding her heart buffeted just the slightest bit by this queen who had a gleam in her eye and who brought energy back to this suffocatingly stuffy room.

Vassa burst out laughing, her laughter contagious, and Lucien’s cheeks heated, as he made some vague excuses about meeting with Rhys.

“Pity you couldn’t be here more often,” Elain offered, still on the verge of giggles. “If I’d known this was all that was needed to keep these stuffy males at bay, I would have insisted on your presence ages ago.”

“That can be arranged,” Vassa replied with a smirk.

“Would you like rooms here?”

“Oh, no. I still need to stay down south, but I’ll try to needle Lucien to bring me more often.”

“Please do. I can’t stand being trapped in a room with them everyday.” She huffed.

“Even your handsome Illyrian?” One of Vassa’s eyebrows cocked.

“Especially him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t on the best terms anymore. If he squirms, then so be it.” Elain didn’t offer her any more than that.

“Oh, you and I are going to have such fun together.” The grin on Vassa’s face couldn’t be described as anything other than devious.

***************

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[lfzyxf]

My turn

Summary: It’s your turn to save humanity as you land on a foreign planet with Natasha and Clint.

Natasha Romanoff x reader, Clint Barton x reader

Word count: 1.1K (angst)

Masterlist

The three of you were standing before the ship, eyes looking around you, taking in the view. Under different circumstances you’d be happy standing there, the purple planet is beautiful, you hadn’t seen anything like it before.

Clint turns around, firing a Pym particle which makes the ship shrink. He walks towards it before kneeling and picking it up. An arm rests on your shoulders as you watch him, Natasha holding you closer to her, a bad feeling in her stomach.

“Alright, let’s go” the man instructs, moving pas the two of you. Natasha squeezes your shoulder shortly before following Clint.

“Really starting to regret my choice here” Clint speaks up as you see an archway of some sorts in front of you. “Yeah. I’m gonna bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain” Nat sighs, eyebrows narrowing. “You know, technically he isn’t a raccoon…” you look at her as you speak, a small smile resting on your lips.

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes “he eats garbage”.

A sound makes the three of you silent, weapons are pulled from their places on your suits as you look around. A knife rests in each of your hands, gold lines adorning the handle.

“I assure you; you have nothing to fear from me” a hooded figure speaks up, face hidden from your eyes. “Creepy” Clint says, making you nod. “Welcome Natasha, daughter of Ivan. Clint, son of Edith. Y/n child of y/p/n.”

“Creepier” you whisper to the two older figures next to you. “Who are you?” Natasha asks, eyes narrow as she glares at the figure, one of her arms stretched in front of you, ready to pull you behind her.

“Consider me a guide. To you, and to all who seek the Soul Stone.” He answers, your thoughts racing, wondering who else had been here before you, why had they all failed?

“Great. You show us where it is, and we’ll be on our way.” Nat lets her guard down a little, moving more in front of you. The mysterious figure speaks up, “Oh, liebchen. If only it were that easy...” He removes his hood as he speaks. Revealing himself, a familiar face stands in front of you all. Your voice is soft as you speak “Red skull.”

All of you stand near the edge of the mountain, the view in front of you enchanting. “What you seek lies in front of you. As does what you fear.” Red skull speaks, something he must have said before.

Natasha looks at him, “the stone is down there?” “For two of you. For the other...” he smiles. “The Stone demands a sacrifice. In order to take it, you must leave behind that which you love.”

He points one of his thin fingers to the depth below you, “a soul for a soul.”

You look at Clint and Natasha, the two of them staring down at the never-ending depth, the end for one of you.

You sit in front of Natasha, she herself sits on one of the many rocks around you. “Maybe he’s full of shit” Clint speaks up, he walks up to the two of you, closing the distance.

Natasha sighs “I don’t think so” “Why because he knew your daddy’s name?” “I didn’t.”

You take a deep breath before speaking up “Thanos left here with the stone, and without his daughter. You really think that’s a coincidence?”

Natasha looks down, “Whatever it takes…” she says under her breath, Clint and you look at each other before repeating her, “Whatever it takes…”

Nat stands up, walking to Clint “If we don’t get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead” “Then I guess we both know who it has to be”.

You walk up to both of them, taking their hands in your own, “I’m starting to think we don’t mean the same person” you speak up.

“Natasha looks at you, before looking at Clint “For the last five years, I’ve been trying to do one thing get to right here. This is all it’s been about. Bringing everybody back.”

“Do not get all decent on me” Clint says, glaring at the woman in front of him. “You think I want to do it? I’m trying to save your life you idiot.” “And I don’t want you to,” “Nat. You know what I’ve done. What I am now. Your life’s worth ten of mine”

You don’t speak up; you don’t know what to say. The people you love the most are fighting over who is to die and who is to live. “I don’t judge people by their worst mistakes” Natasha says, he didn’t judge her past, why would she judge his.

“Maybe you should” “you didn’t.”

The two of them look down, sharing another moment. “You’re a pain in my ass you know that?” You look at Nat, watching as she relaxes, but just then clint sweeps out her legs, holding her down.

The two of them continue, a fight breaking out while you stand behind them. Eyes tearing up you make up your mind. You know what to do, it’s the only way.

Clint has a family; one you are considered a part of. You love all of them as if they were your one, and so do they. His children are waiting for him to save them, his wife is waiting for him.

And Natasha, she’s like a mother to you, always taking care of you from the moment you joined the Avengers.  She has never had a family of her own, not even knowing their names. Growing up being controlled and brainwashed, only to then be found by people she eventually called her family.

You cannot take that away from her. You can’t take it away from them. there is only one option, and you know it’s the right one.

So, you start walking, you start running. You run past the both of them, closer and closer to the edge. And as you stand there, ready to jump you turn around.

Two pairs of eyes are focused on yours, “y/n, don’t-” “I love you both, so much. Tell the rest I love them, I know you will save them, save the world.”

“No-” the simple word fades into a scream, quieter and quieter as you fall. Your eyes open, taking in the beautiful world in front of you.

As you near the ground you slowly close your eyes, one last breath before your eyes close one last time.

Clint and Natasha lay in some strange water, their eyes open slowly, looking around. In one hand, lays the stone. They did it, she did it.

@dpaccione

@capsnacklepop

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 10

masterlist

Warnings: arguing, smut, pregnant smut, lactation kink (if you squint) 

hello my darlings, so I did a thing, a thing I did not know that I was going to be doing, but enjoy!--- chaotic puff 

She’d had some time with the other ladies after her appointment was over before Miss In ushered everyone out claiming that Y/N needed rest. Rest was well and good, but she would have preferred having company. She detested bed rest, but it was made better by the presence of a certain orange bundle of hate that had driven her regular fluffy white companion away. 

Hoseok had come to get Iyla, and he’d brought with him Chester. He shoved the cat into her arms muttering something about taking her demon cat back, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she held the grumbly little cat. She couldn’t blame Hoseok for wanting him gone. Chester liked very few people. He liked her best and then Iyla. Jackson had been tolerated, but Chester was her little grump, a little grump who had set up shop half sprawled across her belly and refused to move, meowing unhappily anytime someone got to close. This was how Namjoon found her later that night. 

She was content as she could be given the situation, curled up a bundle of yarn and a crochet hook when Namjoon walked in.

“I’m sorry I was away so long.” he sent her a tired smile, crossing the room to kiss her forehead only to jump back as her little orange protector hissed at him. “What is that doing back here?” he asked, taking another step back to put a little more distance between himself and Chester. The cat might not have been in the estate for long, but everyone knew that he was a bad tempered little demon. 

“Hoseok brought him over when he came to get Iyla.” she hummed, gently scratching under Chester’s chin earning herself a contented purr from the cat. 

Namjoon sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t Hoseok take it back?” 

“No.” she huffed, sending him a dark look. 

“You have Moni.” 

“I also have Chester.” 

“Chester is a living horror.” Namjoon huffed, staring at the cat with distaste. “I  can get you a new cat, a better cat.” 

“I like Chester. Picked him up from the streets. He was a skinny little thing then.” she mused fondly, pausing the repetitive motion of her fingers so she could give the cat a little scratch around the ears. 

“No. No street cats. He could have diseases.” 

She scoffed, picking up the crochet hook again. “I’ve had Chester for years. He doesn’t have any diseases.” 

“I’ll get you a puppy.” he offered, practically begging her to send the nightmare of a cat back to Hoseok. 

“I already have a dog.” 

“A dog who is terrified of that thing.” Carefully, Namjoon approached the bed again, wary of the cat. “It’s a street cat. I can find you something better, something nicer.” 

Her hands stilled, her shoulders suddenly pulled back in a rigid posture that matched the incredulous look in her eye and the flash of ire in their depths. “So that means I’m free to go.” 

“What? Of course not...”

“I lived on the streets, so did Iyla. Who knows what kind of diseases we could be carrying? You can find something better.” 

He was silent, letting her words sink in, very quickly realizing the error of his words. “That’s not… I’m sorry, jagi. That’s not what I meant.”  She huffed, refusing to answer him as she kept her jaw set in irritation, picking up her project again, aggressively working through the next couple of stitches. “Jagi…”  He took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed reaching for her only to draw his hand back as the cat took a swipe at him with an angry yowl. 

“Careful. He’ll get you.” she scoffed. “And you never know what sort of diseases we could be carrying.” 

“Jagi, I never meant…” 

“Then what did you mean?” she looked up, quirking a brow. “I think you were quite clear on your feelings about it.” 

“I would never… I didn’t mean.” he sighed trying to collect himself. “I could never find anyone better than you.” 

“Go to the bad part of town and you’ll find a dozen girls just like me, just like I was all those years ago.” 

“But they’re not you.” he urged sitting on the bed despite Chester taking another swipe at him. Joon had other ideas though. Quickly and carefully as he could, he removed the cat from her belly, earning himself some scratches in the process as the cat tried to take a bite out of him. 

“What are you doing?” she cried setting down her project again. 

“I’d like to talk to my wife without your little orange demon keeping me at arm’s length.” he huffed practically tossing the cat off the bed. As soon as the cat was out of the way, he took her hands in his, urging her to look at him. “I never meant to insult you or your past. I know how hard it was for you, for Iyla. If I could have taken you away from that, I would have. Marcus never would have laid a hand on you.” he reached up a hand to cup her cheek even though she turned away from  his touch. 

“You can’t change the past, and who even says I would have wanted you?” 

“I love you, jagi.” he promised, turning her face back to his. “If you would just let me…” 

“You’d what?” she asked, voice harsh and brows scrunched together. “You’d give up your business? You’d let Iyla leave? You’d let me have my freedom? What would you do?” 

“I would give you the world.” 

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want the world. I never did. I just wanted my family to be safe.” 

“I can keep you safe. I will protect you and our family.” he urged. “Nothing will ever hurt you while I’m here.” 

“Except for you?” 

He tensed but forced himself to relax. “I don’t want to hurt you, jagi. I want you safe and happy, you and the baby.” 

“We were happy in Italy.” 

“Happy with me.” he amended, slightly annoyed by her mention of Italy. He was still silently fuming about having to release Mark, and he didn’t want any reminders of her time away from him,  not when they were so close to having their perfect little family. “I could make you so happy, jagi.” 

She rolled her eyes again, turning her attention back to the project at hand, taking her other hand away from Namjoon so she could get back to work.

“What are you working on?” 

“If all goes well? It should be a teddy bear.” 

“For the baby?” she hummed her assent. “How did the appointment go?” he asked, settling himself on the bed beside her. 

“Baby’s fine. I’m fine.” 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side as she continued with her stitches. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I have to get things in order for the birth, so I can be here with you and the baby. Did you get a picture?” he asked hopefully. 

“It’s over on the table.” she nodded. “Healthy baby. The doctor said that she should be here in about five weeks.” 

“Five?” He asked, turning his attention away from the ultrasound photo. “I thought you were due in six.” His eyes darted between her face and the belly, before he froze his eyes, wide as saucers, slowly settling on her face. “She?” he asked, voice barely above an awed whisper. “It’s a girl?” 

A bright smile spread across her features as she nodded. She couldn’t be mad when she was talking about her baby, her little girl, and she couldn’t deny his awe was endearing. 

“A girl.” he whispered, eyes drifting down to her belly in awe, hands settling on it as he bent down so that he was eye level with her bump. “Hi, princess. Your mom and I are so excited to meet you, but you need to stay safe in there for a few more weeks okay? You have to stop giving your mom and I such scares. You’re giving me gray hair.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her belly. “You can do that for me. Okay, princess?” 

Y/N suppressed a laugh, and Namjoon looked up at her with a big grin. He was different now than when she left. He was less soft, more chiseled. His features had become sharper, and she could definitely see the muscles straining under his suit jacket. She had to admit, he looked good, a little tired, but good. Their time apart had changed both of them apparently. 

 “We’re having a girl.” 

“We are.” she nodded with a grin of her own, only to be caught off guard as Namjoon darted up and caught her in a deep kiss,  entangling his hands in her short hair. 

“We’re having a girl.” he murmured again once he pulled away before diving in for another kiss. “I love you, jagi.” he went in for another kiss, only to be shocked by the moan that Y/N released. He pulled away slightly looking down at her, the cogs in his head turning. 

Slowly, he slid a hand down to rest against her breast giving it a tentative squeeze and was rewarded by a gasp from his wife. “So sensitive.” he praised, feeling the weight of her breast in his hands. They were definitely bigger now.

“Namjoon…” she warbled, bringing a shaky hand up to his shoulder in a weak attempt to push him away. She would have been lying if she said she wasn’t horny. All the hormones rushing through her body had left her a little more than frustrated for a lot of her pregnancy, but Mark had taken care of some of that. Mark wasn’t here now though. Namjoon was. 

“Shh, jagi.” he purred, trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at her pulse. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“Namjoon… the baby!” she gasped, fingers clutching the material of his suit as he bit down on her collarbone

“The baby’s fine. The doctor tells me things too.” he pulled away to look up at her with a mischievous grin. “You’re leaking, jagi.” he chuckled, rolling her nipple through the thin material of her nightgown. 

“Namjoon!” she scolded, pushing against his shoulder again. 

“It’s good.” he grinned. “You’re getting ready for our baby.”  

“It’s embarrassing.” she hissed. 

“It’s natural.” he pulled down her nightgown to expose her breasts. 

“They’re sore.” she warned, trying to steer him away from her chest. 

“I can help with that.” he grinned, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling the bud around with his tongue. 

“Namjoon!” she cried, her hands flying up to his hair. 

“You taste divine, jagi.”  he purred looking up from her breast. 

“Stop.” she gasped as he leaned down to pay attention to her other breast. “We should stop.” 

He paused, looking up at her with that same mischievous look on his face. “Why?” he asked. “You’re my wife, and I want to make love to my beautiful,” a kiss was placed on her neck. “Pregnant,”  Another kiss. “Wife.” by this point he had worked his way up to her face again, placing the final kiss on her lips. “Will you let me do that?” he whispered, forehead pressed against hers. 

“Okay.” she whispered.

She could regret it in the morning, blame it on the hormones or the rush of endorphins or just the general horniness she’d been feeling for months, but for now she was going to let a very attractive man make love to her and pretend like this was normal. She was going to pretend that she was happy and in love and celebrating her baby girl with the love of her life even if she wasn’t. She could regret it in the morning. 

Namjoon didn’t hesitate once he had her permission, getting to work relieving them both of their clothes, cursing himself for the three piece suit he’d chosen that morning. It had too many layers, too many buttons. This was the first time in months he was going to be able to touch her, to make love to her, and he was the idiot wearing a three piece suit. 

He’d noticed during their bath the changes to her body, but it was fascinating to see them up close, to be able to worship them as he should have been able to do from the beginning. There were stretch marks on her hips, extending up her belly, and he made sure to press a kiss to each one. Her hips were fuller, and her belly, god her belly, it was glorious, round and soft and all because of him. That was his child, his daughter, in there, the perfect little angel that he and Y/N had made. He still couldn’t believe it. A daughter, he was going to have a daughter. He could practically see her now. She’d have her mother’s eyes and his dimples, and she’d be quick as a wip. She was going to be beautiful, just like her mother. 

“I love you.” He murmured against her belly as he practically ripped her underwear from her. 

It had been a long eight months without her. Yes, there had been other women, but they couldn’t compare to her. No one could ever compare to her.

“Namjoon.” she mewled a tone of neediness in her voice that he had never heard before, and he swore under his breath catching sight of what waited for him between her legs. 

“You’re dripping for me, jagi.” he growled, rubbing two fingers over her slit. “Soaked just for me.” she whimpered, her hips bucking up a little in search of something more than the light touches he was giving her, and Namjoon was more than happy to give that to her. 

She was wet enough that he had no problem plunging two fingers directly into her heat eliciting the most enticing moan from her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her right there and then, but he knew she needed to be prepped before he could do that. He didn’t want to hurt her, not again. The last time they’d been together had been traumatizing for her, and he didn’t want anything to hurt her during their first time together again. 

His thumb rubbed circles around her clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her watching closely as she came closer and closer to coming undone. Just before she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled away, and Y/N cried out in protest.

“I want you to come around my cock, jagi.” He growled, flipping her over gently, helping her onto her hands and knees so that there would be no strain on her belly.  “Can you do that for me?” 

“Please, Namjoon.” she begged, resting on her forearms forehead pressed down onto the pillow as she stuck her ass out. 

“Anything for you.” he promised, pressing a kiss to the small of her back before lining himself up with her entrance. 

They both groaned as he sunk into her. “Shit, jagi. You’re still so tight.” he groaned, forcing himself to keep still as she adjusted to his size. “So tight for me.” 

He was careful as he began to move. He went slow, each thrust deliberate, enjoying the feel of her around him, enjoying the sounds she made. Slowly he began to pick up speed, one hand kept still on her hip while the other reached between them to play with her clit building her back up to the orgasm that he’d denied her before. He was reaching his own high embarrassingly quickly, but it had been so long since he’d had the privilege of being with her like this. 

He could feel her shaking, her walls spasming around him as she trembled on the edge of her high. “Cum for me.” He growled, his thrusts picking up speed. “Cum with me, jagi.” 

It wasn’t long before they were both crying out in pleasure as their orgasms ripped through them. Namjoon kept thrusting lazily into her, dragging out her pleasure as she shook like a leaf beneath him. 

Once they had both caught their breath, Namjoon eased out of her, carefully helping her back onto her side, wedging a pillow under her belly to help ease the weight of it. 

“I’ll be right back, jagi.” he promised as she whined reaching back towards him. “I need to get you cleaned up.” 

He was quick, washing himself up as swiftly as possible, and returning to her with fresh pajamas for both of them, and a wet washcloth to clean up the mess he’d left between her legs. 

“Joon.” she whined, flinching as he cleaned her up, and he whispered apologies knowing she had to be sensitive. 

Once they were both cleaned up and dressed, Namjoon settled them both down under the covers, pressing her back to his chest so that he could wrap his arms around her, so that he could keep both her and their daughter close. 

“I love you so much, jagi.” he whispered into her neck as she hummed sleepily. “So, so much.” 

part 11

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Only Living Thing

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Language.

Synopsis: You’ve been friends with BIlly Russo for as long as you can remember. Then, on that one night in New York, feelings get mixed up with the liquor that burns and everything spins out of control. So much for being the only living thing that Billy Russo has ever cared about... Or is it?  A/N: This just sort of happened. I may be writing more if you guys want, I think I can definitely take this further? I have a pretty hectic schedule but I might make it happen x

Song : Adam French - The Only Living Thing

New York, November 2019. 
 

Breathtaking. 


You are breathtaking, like the most beautiful view from atop the mountain or his biggest fear coming alive under his stare. 
 You’re a mix of excitement and terror, and you are enchanting enough to keep him on the tips of his toes, second-guessing everything, his every decision and every word... 

You are meant to leave him wanting more.

The night New York has never looked so good on a woman before.

Billy’s vision goes blurry for a second, his stomach hot and heavy.

You are glowing.

You radiate a kind of a warm sepia glow, so beautiful and genuine and so fucking effortlessy...

Smooth and unapologetic.
 


Messy strands of hair framing your face, your blushing cheeks, as you laugh your heart out, throwing your head back. Your pearl teeth flash in the dimness of the bar. Your thin black tights are torn at the thighs, your lips are red and irritated as you sink your teeth in, again and again.

Your laugh is flamboyant, intoxicating. Raw.

You are something else...

When suddenly, you see him, your black eyelashes fluttering as you wink at him. Billy’s chest feels too wide, too fragile and too hot. Do you see those unspoken words shining out of his drunken eyes?

When you make your way to him through the crowd, he’s paralyzed, afraid to move forward, afraid to scare you off, but mostly, afraid to let everyone see how desperate he is for your touch.

This is wrong, so fucking wrong, but why in hell when you come over, throwing your elegant arms around his neck, your cute perky nose touching his chest - it feels so. fucking. right?! Like you were custom-made for each other?...

Before he can stop himself, he slides an arm around your waist. You say something to him, something funny, for everyone around him snorts and chuckles, but his mind, his entire world - suddenly comes down to that spot just below his cheekbone where you plant a soft peck of your velvet pouty lips.

“Those twenty bucks we bet on? I win,” you half laugh, half exhale in his ear, your lips brushing against the lobe. “Madani is fucking obsessed with you”.

“Ah,” Billy smiles, both of his hands snaking around your waist now as he looks down at you.

...And I am fucking obsessed with us.

“And you just enjoy rubbing us - this! in her face right now, aren’t you?” he mutters instead, his temples buzzing with the gin and tonic he has been downing all night. 

God, he hopes you’re too buzzed to have noticed his slip of fucking epic proportions.

He promised himself he wouldn’t drink, not with you still around - because whatever it was that he felt for you mixed with liquid that burned equaled a very bad outcome. 

He might be well into the tipsy territory by now but Billy isn’t delusional. The chances that you would go back to his place or even kiss him back are entirely too slim.

Because friends don’t do friends.

Friends might as well become a new f-word for all Billy cares at this point.

When you throw your head back in an explosive laugh, Billy’s distracted. He gets an extensive view of your elegant neck, your delicate collarbones, but mostly - of the swell of your mouthwatering breasts, as your black silk top tightens over them. 

Fuuuuck him.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you echo his thoughts somehow as you wink at him once you’ve restored your breath, not stepping away from his embrace, however, letting him keep his hands on you. 

It’s always like this between the two of you. You’ve known each other for a while now - four, five years? After Billy bumped into you at a brunch at Liebermans’ and spilled his frappuccino all over your gorgeous rack. He wasn’t even going to come - but boy, was he glad he did - even though you wasted no time opening that sassy mouth of yours and verbally eviscerating him.

This wasn’t a love at first sight. 
 For you, at least.

“At least buy me a dinner first,” Billy barely manages, his vision a tad blurry.

He notices you giving him an unimpressed stare. Feeling stupid all at once, Billy blinks quickly and lets go of your waist...

Only to tremble on his feet and almost fall on his face.

“Heyyy,” he registers your breath on his cheek before he hears what you’re saying, your small hands holding him in place. Your touch burns through the fabric of his button down shirt as your palms slide up his sides to his shoulders. “You okay there, Russo?”

Billy squirms, chomping on his bottom lip as he grabs you by your elbows.

‘’M fine”, he says quietly, but doesn’t let go. When he lowers his stare to meet your eyes, he almost wants to cry. There’s concern in their bottomless depths, worry for him and desire to make it all better. He just wishes there was more heat there, and less of that f-word that ends with -riends.

“You don’t look fine, lover,” you retort, wiggling and pushing and pulling onto him until you’re snug under his arms and carrying his dead weight to the exit. “Let’s go get some fresh air, come on.”

Billy utters something half-heartedly, his head feeling like it’s filled with cotton. He didn’t even drink that much, as least he doesn’t think so. Must be your fucking intoxicating perfume, sweet but voluptuous and so fucking tempting...

Pure sin. 


Even drunk out of his fucking mind, he’s still the envy of every guy at that bar because he’s with a stunning, breathtaking, prettiest woman in the whole damn world that is you.

“If you were able to stand right now, that line might have gotten you laid,” you inform him with a laugh, basically carrying him to the exit on your shoulders.

Through the drunken haze, Billy realises he might have spoken those words out loud, but the terror is quickly replaced by...

“Are you shitting me?” He slurs, trying to stay vertical. “Are you saying you want me?”

By the time the words escape his mouth, you have pushed the exit door wide open and nudged him to step out. Losing his balance, Billy crashes into Frank, Stein and Madani, smoking outside.
 Dina’s eyes flash mischievously as you step out of the bar, immediately throwing your arms around Billy protectively, helping him to steady himself.

“Oh, so it’s common knowledge now, then?” Dina ventures, licking her lips bloodthirstily, her eyes never quitting yours. “You’ve finally admitted you want to drag that fine Caspian ass in your bed?”

The running joke aimed at Billy looking like a Disney prince feels out of place; all conversation is silenced out as you narrow your eyes at Madani, your grip around Billy’s waist instantly becoming tighter. Frank clears his throat in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness, but doesn’t intervene.

And Billy is... well, happy. Over the moon, actually, and still drunk off his ass.

Apparently, you have been wanting to drag his ass into your bed for a while now!

That does mean you see him more than a friend, right? 

What if... What if all this time you were just as hung up on him as he was on you, but neither of you had the balls to say anything?

In his picture perfect drunken world, Madani makes sense and his heart sings.

You want him.

If it were a Disney cartoon, animals would be singing and dancing around praising your couple. 

Frankie would have probably made a sick unicorn.

“Oh Dina”, suddenly your voice cuts right through Billy’s happy fantasy, and there’s way too much sass in that voice for it to belong to a Disney princess. “Just because your friend Sam here and your own desperate fan-girling ass carry a boner for some fucked up teenage fantasy that involves boinking Prince Caspian, doesn’t mean all women have that same one-track mind. Some of us can actually look past a dick and see a friend. So why don’t you lay off that Cosmopolitan and fuck off, vodka-cranberry sure ain’t making you brighter”.

Billy frowns, deep lines creasing his forehead.

Frank snorts with laughter, not even bothering to conceal his reaction. 
 
 You hold Dina’s hateful stare.

“Whatever, bitch” the latter one finally utters, throwing her cigarette away. “I never fucking liked you. Maybe after this your little fanboy here will see you for what you really are - a fucking coward and a tosser”, Billy’s stares at her in disbelief, his mind still foggy. Madani’s dark eyes flash dangerously in his direction. “Of all women, Russo... Karma is a bitch, isn’t she? Your little princess here only loves herself, lover. Get out while you fucking can”.

Smashing her shoulder into yours, Madani goes back into the bar, leaving equally dreary and awkward silence behind.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Frank isn’t laughing anymore as he folds his hands on his chest, giving you a questioning eye. 

You roll your eyes dismissively. 

“Well, she’s obviously shit-faced,” you shrug, sliding your hands off of Billy. “What, you’re surprised she hates me?”

It’s a whole another world there, in Billy’s head. Have you just distanced yourself from him after what Madani said? What, you thought he’s so drunk he wouldn’t fucking notice?

“...so just because I have basic restraint and actually appreciate a man as a friend, I’m a damaged bitch with a twisted sense of humour? Look, I don’t know, Frank”, you rub your eyes tiredly with the back of your hand.

“I do,” Billy suddenly chimes in hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot and dark, darker than usual, as they narrow at you. “Know. I know.” Billy stutters, then takes a deep breath. “That’s all I am to you then, sweetheart? A friend?”

Billy wavers a bit as he speaks, but his words are deadly. Your eyes pop wide open at his words, like Russo has just grown a penis on his forehead. Frank’s mouth forms a silent O.

And just like that, the tension is back.

“Well, of course you are my friend,” you say slowly, stretching out your hand in an attempt to grasp Billy’s wrist. Your eyes are searching his face, but he’s locked, like a goddamn prison cell. “You’re my friend and I love you”.

Wrong answer, if Billy’s expression is anything to judge by as he recoils  from your touch. His face is a mix of disappointment and anger, his lips a thin line as he turns away.

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath as he turns on his heels and makes a tentative step towards the bar. Only his body is ruled by gin and whatever shit he chased it with, so his feet get mixed up together. Billy trips over his own shoes. 

“Hey, easy there, tiger”, Frank, who’s been standing closer, grips Billy by his arm to help him keep his balance. “What’s gotten into you, man?”

Billy chuckles, throwing his head back, and that has got to be the most bitter sound you have ever heard. You shudder involuntary, watching Russo like a hawk.

“I would have given you the fucking world, you know that?” Billy stares you dead in the eye, grabbing the door handle in front of him. “You just keep fucking with my head like a fucking sadist, and I live by the shit you give me!” you blanch as Billy goes on with the program, hurt dripping from his mouth. “Must have always thought that should be some spectacular pussy you’ve been packing, totally worth all your shit”.

“Bill!” Frank calls him out sharply, his expression terrified. 

But the damage is done. 


Your eyes are brimming with tears, but you stay silent, unblinking. Your chest seems a little caved-in, but you hold your chin high as your trembling lips start to move.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you spit, “Fuck you, friend”.

The next thing he knows, Billy explodes in a fit of bitter laughter - even though all he wants to do is fucking cry.

This just goes to fucking show there’s no such thing as Disney fairytale in real life, is there?

“Oh don’t worry, friend, somebody will,” he promises you, swinging the door to the bar wide open. “Gonna go help Madani fulfil her teenage fantasy. While you can stay here, think about us fucking like rabbits and feel better about yourself”.

With those words thrown over his shoulder, he steps into the crowded bar, the sound of the door shutting behind him sounding final. 

Plot twist. Curtain falls.

Frank can’t even venture a look at you - he doesn’t even hear you breathing.

“He’s just piss off drunk, that’s it. He doesn’t mean it,” Castle attempts to do some damage control, even though he knows that that ship has most definitely sailed.

“Thanks, Frank,” he hears you say quietly, and as he raises his eyes, he catches the sight of you wiping your cheeks quickly.

You inhale slowly, closing your eyes and fisting your hands.

“Tell Karen and the guys I wasn’t feeling so hot, okay?” you ask, and there’s definitely pleading in your voice.

You never plead.

Before Frank can ever mutter anything about Karen having his head if he lets you walk away at night all alone, you wave at him dismissively. 

“I’ll see you”, you say as you collect your hair in a ponytail and walk off, your silhouette soon lost in the bustling New York night.