#the way i SCREAMED he shows up with a title that says ���’Death From Above’

[noobiestnoober]

Last Minute Leon (Leon X Reader)

When it comes to love, some people write poems. You? You dive headfirst into bioweapon-infested nightmares just to see if Leon S. Kennedy will show up with his signature smirk and a terrible pun. In this hilariously chaotic comedy/crack one-shot, you keep testing fate—and Leon’s patience—by staging the dumbest, most dangerous stunts imaginable. Will he always come to the rescue? Can one survive love and Umbrella’s traps at the same time? With flying kicks, fake kidnappings, and sushi plans on the line, one thing’s for sure: it’s never just another day with you.

There were a lot of things you could say about yourself. Bold. Daring. Maybe even slightly unhinged, depending on who you asked. But above all else, you were consistent—consistently putting yourself in the most absurdly dangerous situations just to see if Leon would actually show up every time like some gun-toting, government-issued Disney prince with an arsenal and perfectly timed slow-motion entrances. Today? Oh, today was no different.

You dangled upside down from a rope trap—again—in the middle of what looked like a half-collapsed, Umbrella-owned abandoned science lab. The place was straight out of a post-apocalyptic fever dream: flickering lights, ominous sirens, and several suspiciously intact glass tubes filled with questionable goo. Because of course it was.

"Note to self," you muttered aloud, blood rushing to your head as a loose wrench clanged to the floor. "Next time, skip Reddit threads titled '10 Toxic Ways to Test His Love.'"

From somewhere deep in the facility, you heard the click of tactical boots, followed by the unmistakable swoosh of a door being kicked open. Leon S. Kennedy stormed in like a leading man who showed up late but insisted it was all part of the act.

Wind—there was always wind when Leon arrived, somehow—blew in dramatically, tousling his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Heard you were in a bit of a bind," he announced with a smirk that could probably be weaponized.

You groaned. "That pun hurt more than the rope burn."

With one smooth motion, he unsheathed his knife and cut the rope like it was warm butter. You landed on the ground with an unceremonious grunt, arms flailing.

"You alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, clearly used to this by now.

You dusted yourself off and gave a casual thumbs up. "Physically? Mostly. Mentally? I've had healthier coping mechanisms."

This wasn’t even the first incident this week. On Tuesday, you infiltrated a Plaga-infested chicken coop wearing feathers strapped to your back because, quote, “Leon needs to witness me in my avian prime.” On Thursday, you sold your own location to a black-market merchant under the condition that he reenact a hostage scenario—complete with rope, duct tape, and fake demands. Leon showed up with two pistols and one-liner energy to spare.

"You know, there are easier ways to get my attention," he said now, sliding a flash grenade into his jacket pocket purely for dramatic effect.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Yeah, but where’s the fun in not risking tetanus every time I flirt with you?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then gave that tired little smile—the one that screamed, “I should report you to HR but I’d probably follow you into a volcano first.”

You scooped up your slightly-burnt backpack and peeked through a cracked window.

"So… sushi after this?"

Leon tilted his head. "You just got nearly decapitated by a ceiling saw blade."

"Exactly," you said. "Nothing says ‘date night’ like dodging death and then drowning our trauma in soy sauce."

He sighed and checked his ammo. "Fine. But if I have to dive across a sushi conveyor belt to tackle a guy in a hazmat suit again, I swear I’m charging you hazard pay."

You saluted him with two fingers and a wink. "Deal. And I’ll even throw in a free wasabi dare. Bonus points if you don't cry."

As you both headed down yet another hallway littered with debris, flickering lights, and probably radioactive vending machines, you mentally mapped out your next big stunt. Helicopter ride. No doors. Just vibes. And maybe a flying kick for good measure. And, if he was lucky, you’d let him make another cheesy one-liner.

[tarabyte3]

Remember You Are Half Water

Pairing: Kino Loy x f!Reader

(7.2 k words)

AO3 link

Summary: Drowning is easy. It's surviving that's hard. Or: After the prison break, you and Kino hide out on Narkina 5.

Warnings: (18+) Explicit, angst, enemies to lovers (kind of), they argue and not in the flirty way, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, grim realism, survival situation, descriptions of drowning, descriptions of resuscitation, cpr, thoughts of death, thoughts of dying, talk of dying, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of imprisonment, themes of death, themes of drowning, description of pain, dreams, nightmares, illness, self-indulgent melancholia

A/N: I accidentally wrote this after getting a random idea in my head while working on I Want You to Show Me Weak (my brain will do anything but finish a fic 😌), so have a surprise Kino oneshot. Just please mind the tags, especially with the events currently happening in the real world. This isn't a dark fic, but the tone is quite grim. (Mostly. I am still a filthy hopeless romantic, after all.) Also, I'm well aware of what Narkina 5 is supposed to look like, however I simply Do Not care 😌

Fic title is from The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. Collage quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Ocean.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

- e.e. cummings, maggie and milly and molly and may

Your lungs burn.

There's a weight across your shoulders, pulling you down and under the waves. Your arms are spent and heavy with exhaustion. You have no idea how long you’ve been swimming—dragging something through the water, but your muscles are on fire. Your lungs are on fire. It would be so easy to just give up.

To just let go.

Because you're so tired. You’ve heard drowning isn't so bad. Like going to sleep, they say. You can do that. That's nothing compared to this.

You catch sight of a face at your side, barely breaching the surface. His face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slack. Like he's sleeping.

You go back to swimming.

“Breathe, goddamn you!” You sob. Even though you're numb from the cold, your hand is trembling as you pound against his back with your fist. Between the shoulder blades, behind his lungs. Every hit makes a wet slap. His white uniform is soaked through and nearly translucent. It clings to him. The water, greedy, still won't let him go. “Don't you fucking do this, you prick! Wake up!”

He doesn't flinch under your assault. Not even when you roll him back over onto the rocky sand and press a rhythm into his ribs.

This is worse, you think, because now you can see his face and feel the ghost of his angry stare, even through his closed eyelids. His skin is grey and clammy, his lips nearly blue, and his beard and hair are slick and dark with water. His expression is relaxed. Peaceful. Not asleep. He's never looked like that before. This isn't how he's supposed to look.

The only movement beneath your hands is the jolt of his body from the compressions.

You let out a scream of frustration.

The waves lap at your face, forcing salt up your nose on an inhale. You splutter, losing your grip on that arm slung around your shoulders, and for a moment it slips. You kick frantically at the water as you scramble for him.

“No—” Your voice gets choked off by the whitecap of another wave.

You grab at his face, drive it back above the surface, even as you plunge below it. Whatever else you were going to shout is lost in a cloud of bubbles. You're the only thing keeping him from sinking to the bottom now. Just you, clinging to the hope of life.

You can't think about that dead weight.

You fight back to the surface with a cough, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. You have to keep moving. You have to keep—

You’re being shaken awake. The hand on your shoulder is warm, but the grip is almost harsh—unforgiving as the fingers dig into your flesh.

You blink your eyes open to find Kino staring down at you with a frown. The light from the small fire throws shadows across his face and deepens the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth and along his forehead, making him look even more severe than he usually does.

“You were dreaming again,” he grumbles. Then he releases your shoulder without warning, nearly shoving away from you in the process, and he shuffles back across to his side of the small cave to resume lying down.

Now that you're conscious, all of your injuries and pains from the past few days come rushing back to fill your awareness. You let out a groan as you push yourself up off the cold stone floor. Not that sitting is any better—there’s a rock digging into your ass to prove your point, and you send it skittering. It doesn't make a difference. With a sigh, you rub the heels of your hands into your heavy eyelids in an attempt to clear the blurriness from your vision.

“Sorry,” you try, your voice hoarse with sleep. You quickly clear your throat and try again. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

He only grunts in response.

The sky at the mouth of the cave is a slate grey. It’s been raining the last few days—as if the water is trying to follow you ashore—so you aren't sure if the muted light is the growing dawn or due to the thick storm clouds that leave the landscape darkened, no matter where the sun is overhead. It's made everything damp and chilly, and you can feel it in every joint and bone. Between that, your desperate and adrenaline fueled escape from the prison, nearly drowning, and laying on the hard, rocky ground, your entire body aches.

You're both still wearing your white and orange uniforms, though they're worn and filthy now. More brown than white. The fabric is also next to useless outside of a temperature controlled environment, but you have nothing else to keep you warm and nothing at all for your feet. You’d gotten lucky that there had been driftwood piled inside the seaside cave, brought in by the tide and left safe from the rain. Kino had found several more pieces along the beach on that first day and dragged them into the shelter to dry out. Neither of you dared to venture any further afterwards, either from fear or exhaustion.

The last of the wood is burning between you, and, when it’s gone, there won't be anything left to keep the chill at bay. You know you’ll have to recommend sharing body heat at some point soon, but you're reluctant to do so because you also know it won't go over well. You're certain it's the last thing he wants, even if the alternative is stubbornly dying from exposure.

“Think they’ve moved on yet?” You ask, just to have something to distract you from your thoughts.

“Doubt it,” he replies in that gruff voice.

“Yeah,” you sigh. You slump forward and let your forearms rest on your knees, suddenly weary. “But we're going to have to leave eventually. We need food and real shelter.”

“You’re too weak to walk it,” he says to the cave wall.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

Kino's head whips around, and he meets your eyes with a glare. “No, you're not.” You let out a noise of disgust before you can reconsider, and his jaw clenches in response. “You nearly died.”

“Don’t start this again.” You mean it as a plea, but it comes out merely resigned in your exhaustion. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had this argument since you first woke up to him coughing and shouting on the beach. You don't want to have it again.

“Like you’d listen anyway,” he says. And then he scowls, like you're the problem.

Alright, maybe you'll have it one more time.

“Gods, that bit of power really did go straight to your thick skull didn't it?” You laugh in disbelief. “Why can't you just accept that it was my choice? Mine!”

“I’m well aware of your poor decision making!” He shoots back. Then he sits up to face you, and now it's a proper fight, you think. “I’ve already told you, no one was supposed to die because of me!”

“And I already told you to get over yourself!” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I look fucking dead to you? Hmm?”

“Don't act like it wasn't a close call!”

“I never said it wasn't.” You pinch at the bridge of your nose in an attempt to keep your frustration at bay. Screaming won't make him listen to reason, no matter how good it will feel. “What would you have had me do, Kino? Just let you drown?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation.

“Well, I didn't.” Your arm flops to your side, too heavy to hold up now. “So maybe you should just consider being fucking grateful instead.”

“I didn't ask for this!” He snaps. It's followed by an immediate look of regret.

Oh. That's new. You take a moment to study his face—the way he can suddenly no longer meet your eyes, like he's ashamed of all things.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You ignore his sardonic, “You.”

Because you don't understand him. Is he really this upset or his pride so wounded over the fact that he needed to be saved? Is he truly this angry just because someone—or more specifically you—saw him when he was weak after being in control for so long? Those are convenient reasons. They're probably even contributing to his horrid mood, but they don't feel as if they’re the reason. It's almost as if—

“You wanted to die.” The shocked realization tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

There's a long, deafening beat of silence.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he says quietly as he gathers those strong arms around himself and crosses them like a shield.

Part of your mind is screaming at you to just drop it. You’ve entered new territory. You've never made him defensive like this before, and you don't know how he'll react. But based on all of your previous interactions with him, you know it won't be pleasant. Which is an understatement. The stubborn part of you, however, hopes that this means you're actually making progress. And if you’ve come this far…

“Is that why you won't even try to leave this shit hole again?” You press. “Is that why you're trading one prison for another?”

“That has nothing to do with this,” he says as he narrows his eyes at you, and you're almost disappointed to hear some of his anger returning.

“Yeah right,” you scoff.

“Listen, neither of us is in any condition to evade the searches. All we’re going to accomplish is getting caught.” It sounds almost reasonable, but you know better. You know it for what it really is: a deflection. You did hit a nerve.

“That's only going to get worse,” you argue back. “The lack of food is going to weaken us further, assuming we don't freeze to death first.”

“And it will still be easier if we're not being hunted. We have to be patient,” he says as his frown deepens, frustration beginning to take root once again. “Let them think we’re dead or gone.”

“And how long will that take? Days? Weeks?”

“A hell of a lot longer than three days!”

“Fine. Then we should at least go out and do some scouting so we have an idea of which way to go when the time comes,” you offer instead. “We might even find supplies.”

“It's too risky,” he says dismissively as he waves you off. You bristle against the gesture. “We’re safe here. The cave entrance is hard to find, but if we go in and out too often, we’ll draw attention to ourselves.”

“There's always going to be risk, Kino, whether we leave tonight or a week from now. If we wait, it could be too late,” you point out. “For all we know, the Empire is sending a blockade to keep us all trapped here! Then what?”

“They aren't going to send a blockade for a prison break,” he scoffs.

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“How can you?”

“Why is it so hard for you to trust me?” You hate the hint of misery that seeps into your voice and betrays how much that idea pains you.

“Why should I? If I recall correctly, your judgment has nearly gotten you killed once already,” he says in a mocking tone.

You glare at him. “My judgment saved both our lives.”

He glares right back. “I'm starting to think that was sheer dumb luck.”

Oh, how fucking dare he. After everything you went through—

“I didn't realize you were such a coward,” you say coldly, desperate to hurt him as much as he's hurt you.

The tendons in his neck go taut with rage. “Fuck you,” he spits, but he no more than gets the words out when he's racked with a violent coughing fit. The force of it makes him double over onto the cave floor, and his body heaves with each one.

You wince at the sight, feeling ashamed of your comment now. You didn't want this.

The coughing spells are a parting gift from Narkina 5—the water still won't let him go. He's had a few of them since you got him to shore and forced the ocean from his lungs, and each one sounds a little bit worse than the one before. You're no healer, but that's obviously not a good sign. He needs medicine. You also haven't broached the subject with him because you know it will just start a fight.

As if everything you say doesn't start a fight.

You lean back to wait it out, letting your head thunk tiredly against the cave wall. There's nothing you can do to help him and trying will only make it worse—you learned that the hard way. Plus, it doesn't seem fair to argue with him while he's like this, even if you're only doing it to get through to him for his own good, the stubborn jerk.

It takes several minutes before he finally stops coughing long enough to get his breathing under control. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rights himself with as much dignity as he can muster, and gives you a cold, hard stare. “Go, then, if you're in such a hurry to end up back in a cell,” he grits out, his voice a strained, wet gravel.

“Fine,” you huff, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here and waste away if you want. See if I care. I can find a way off this slag heap by myself.”

You almost make it past the mouth of the cave.

The moment your foot touches the rain slicked rock, the combination of fatigue and an unsteady gait causes you to slip. You hit the ground with a grunt, landing hard on your hip. Sharp, hot pain shoots through the joint, curling up your spine and down your leg. The shock of it takes your breath away, and your eyes sting with fresh tears.

Oh, brilliant, you think caustically. Of all the times to fall on your ass.

Behind you, Kino swears. A second later, you hear the slap of his bare feet on rock as he stomps towards you.

“Broken?” He doesn't quite snap the question at you, but it's a near thing.

“No,” you choke out.

“You have a fucking death wish,” he growls before he hauls you to a sitting position.

Despite the pain, that statement makes you laugh, though it's a bitter, near hysterical sound. You tilt your head back to grin up at him. “Guess we make quite the pair, huh?”

He doesn't respond.

He just shoves his hands under your armpits in an attempt to get a grip on you with those thick fingers. Then your laughter quickly dissolves into a wounded hiss as he drags you back into the cave with no care for your new injury. You're not sure why you suddenly expected him to start coddling you. He never did before.

He dumps you back into the spot you’ve been occupying, glad to be rid of you, and you catch yourself with your hands before you land in a heap.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

After that, neither of you speaks for a while, content to sit and lick your wounds in what passes for peace now. Eventually, the pain in your hip lessens to a dull throb and the fire is reduced to embers, the long hours sucking the heat out of both.

Outside, the sky has gotten a bit lighter, but is still that dreary mask of grey that makes time feel nebulous. Unknowable. The rain, at least, had turned into a mist about an hour ago. Without the sound of the drops echoing throughout the cave, the silence is unforgiving. Every shuffle along the rock, every sniffle or sigh, every brush of clothes is harsh between you.

“Why are you so mad at me?” You finally ask, desperate for any noise that isn't him heavily exhaling a whistle through his nose.

“I already told you,” he replies, emotionless.

“I’m not talking about that,” you sigh. “You hated me the moment I stepped onto the floor.”

In the low light, there's a brief look of shock on his profile before his scowl returns in full force. “I didn't hate you.”

“Yes you did. You could barely look at me. And you yelled at me all the time.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you continue on so he can't interrupt you. “Look, I understand, in a way. I was slower than nearly all of the men, and you were pissed about being stuck with me. But it's not like I did it on purpose.”

“It wasn't that.” There's a renewed touch of exasperation in his voice. You're intimately familiar with that tone. You’ve heard the way he normally sounds when speaking to other people—got to see what it was like without ever experiencing it yourself—but you’ve never spoken to him without receiving either his impatience or his distaste. You prepare yourself for another fight.

“Then why? Because I was a distraction?” Your bitterness bleeds from you, an anguish built from months of labor and fear. And loneliness, you think. Because, even though you’d been constantly surrounded by people, you’d never felt so completely and utterly alone.

“It's nothing.” He rolls onto his side to face the cave wall, intent on ignoring you.

“It clearly wasn't nothing,” you respond dryly.

“Just drop it,” he says over his shoulder.

“No.” You cross your arms. You're done listening to him just because he tells you to. You don't have to now. You're not in there anymore. “After everything, I think I deserve to know what I did to have you treat me that way.”

“And I don't want to fucking talk about it,” he growls.

“Well, too damn bad! Because there's nothing else to talk about, and I want to know why you hated me when all I wanted was—” You cut yourself off with a hitched breath before you accidentally finish that sentence.

Fighting is one thing. That's easy. Safe. But this is something big and messy that you're still trying to come to terms with, made all the more complicated by your current situation, which was already plenty complicated before. This will only make things worse. You know it will. And despite all the hurtful things you’ve said to each other, you wouldn't be able to stomach his rejection. His pity. His disgust—couldn’t handle being forced to endure it while stuck in this damned cave and made to wallow in the forced intimacy of the space that's anything but. No, this is the one truth you could never take back.

To your embarrassment, your voice is rough and raw with emotion when you speak again. “When all I wanted was to be treated like a person.”

“If that's what you wanted, you were in the wrong place,” he says coldly to the cave wall. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“No!” You shout. You no longer care if you’re being petulant because you are angry about it. You’ve been holding onto the feeling for months, but you're tired now. You don't want to carry it around anymore. “I won't let you bully me into silence. I want the truth.”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses as he flings himself upright to glare at you. Every bit of him is rigid with tension. Dangerous. At least he's looking at you again.

“Then answer me!” You stubbornly glare back at him. “You owe me that much.”

“Fine! I was afraid, alright?” He finally snarls, reminding you of a cornered animal, spitting as it lashes out. “Is that what you want to hear? That you were right? That I'm a coward?”

“What?” All of your anger leaves you in a sudden rush. The hiding, the running, the water—that fear you can understand. But this? You stare at him in genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Because I was scared shitless about what could happen to you! That place was cruel to the men it was designed for. Whatever it had in store for you was going to be much worse. I thought…” He runs a hand down his face and over the scruff of his beard, now grown out beyond a neat trim. The action wipes his own anger away, and underneath it is something human: exhaustion and vulnerability. “I thought, if I kept you at a distance, it would hurt less when it finally broke you, but you made it so damn hard.”

“Oh,” you breathe out in shock, as though you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you. You have, in a way, because, gods, what can you possibly say to that? It's the last thing you were expecting—realistically, you thought he was worried your lack of strength or speed would get someone else killed. This, however…you couldn't have even imagined this. The implication of it… “Kino—”

“Don't. Okay?” He cuts you off. And then he turns away to shut you out as well. “Just…fucking don't.”

So instead you sit there in the uneasy quiet of the cave, feeling adrift. Helpless. Like you're right back in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves, with nothing to hold onto to keep from sinking; there’s only water in your fumbling grasp. At least then you'd known which way you were supposed to go, it was the getting there that was the problem. Now you don't even have that. You wonder if you’d have the energy to even try if you did.

A part of you wants nothing more than to reexamine every interaction, every look, and every word he’s ever spoken to you and see what you might uncover that you'd missed, but you can't do that with him right there. His presence just muddles everything up until you can't help but mix reality and memory, past and present, assumption and realization. You're nearly dizzy with it.

Plus, knowing that things weren't so black and white between you doesn't change what happened or how you feel. You’ve been hurting and angry for a while—especially at him, and most of which he still deserves for how he treated you. That something more existed lessens the intensity of those feelings, but it doesn't erase them completely. Not yet. Reconciling what you know and what you thought you knew will only come with time.

To the rest of you, however, that reconciliation doesn't seem as important as your fear at almost losing him or the realization that there is something more than just hatred on his end. Even if that thing is nothing more than kindness and compassion, it's something. And you could have died not knowing that. Or worse, you could have lived without knowing instead.

Gods, complicated is an understatement. If only you could have wanted something easy for once. You wonder if he thought the same thing as he watched you from across the work floor. And it feels odd to think that maybe it's not such an unrealistic hope anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, breaking the silence between you at last.

He laughs, and it manages to sound condescending. The familiarity of it is grounding. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I guess…” What are you apologizing for? For misunderstanding him? For making his life harder, even if it wasn't your fault? For not agreeing with him? For being unable to shoulder his anger? For continuing to push and push and push. Maybe all of it, you realize. For your part in the making of this. “I guess for saving you when you didn't want me to,” you answer with a shrug instead.

At first, you think he isn't going to respond to that, and you can no longer find it in yourself to blame him. But then, with a voice that’s softer than you’ve ever heard from him—weren’t even sure he was capable of it—he says, “It's not that I didn't want to be saved.”

“Then why? Help me to understand, Kino,” you plead, praying that he won't clam up or lash out again. Not when you've come so far. “Please.”

He gives you a heavy, resigned look before settling his attention on the cave entrance where his gaze becomes unseeing. Though there are only a few feet between you, he suddenly seems miles away.

“When we were planning all of this, I knew what was waiting for us on the outside. I mean, they built the fucking thing in the middle of an ocean and I can't swim. How ironic is that? All that work, and I was gonna make it to the door just to drown.” Then, quietly, “I never gave a thought to what I would do if I didn't. Now I've got no clue what comes next.”

“Neither do I,” you say in disbelief.

He lets out a dark laugh. “Sure don't act like it,” he mutters.

“I’m just better at hiding it.” You give him a small smile that he cannot see.

“Maybe I should be, too,” he muses to himself. “It’d be a hell of a lot better than feeling so lost.”

“Hiding it doesn't make that go away,” you say sadly. You know that all too well.

His only reply is a non-committal hum, and it suddenly occurs to you that he has no clue what you actually went through. How could he? He lept into the water and woke up on shore with nothing but darkness in between. All he knows is that you saved him. Without the rest, he thinks he's struggling alone.

“I almost gave up, you know,” you admit quietly.

That gets his attention again. He turns to look at you, and his eyes are wide with fear and concern. “What?” He gasps.

“I could barely see the shore when the adrenaline wore off. When faced with that distance, all that water, and no strength left?” You shrug in an attempt to seem unbothered, even as the memory fills you with dread. “For one horrible moment, I suppose drowning just seemed easier.” Like going to sleep, you don't say. “But I couldn't. I looked at you, and I couldn't. Not without trying first. And before you say anything, leaving you behind was never an option. Not for me. If this place was going to win, it was going to have to take us both.”

���I never wanted that,” he says helplessly. “When I came to and saw you laying there, I thought you were dead.” His voice breaks and he takes in a deep, shaky breath, but it does little to steady him. “I knew then what you did for me, and I thought it killed you. That after everything, it was me. I broke you, and it wasn't worth it. Not me.”

“You didn't,” you insist, desperate to make him listen. You recognize that despair because it's the same one that haunts your dreams and doesn't let go when you're awake. It's the same fear that grips your chest in icy fingers whenever you catch his sleeping face or you're forced to sit by and listen to him cough—the water still won't let him go. You understand now that he needs the reassurance that it's over just as much as you do. So you push yourself to your knees and dare to move closer, despite the protest of your aching body. “I’m right here. See? I was just tired afterwards, that's all. Just tired. I’m right here.”

Without warning, he reaches for you, and, even though he's never harmed you, you flinch thinking maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. Only, he grabs the front of your uniform and pulls you to him, just as unkindly as he dragged you across the cave. And then you think he's going to scream again, but when he opens his mouth, he leans in and crushes your lips together instead.

You freeze against him.

Because Kino Loy is kissing you, and that can't be right. He hates you. His mouth can only scowl and scream and cough and—there’s a little grunt from the back of his throat as he adjusts the angle of your lips, and, oh, this is real. Without another thought, you're kissing him back.

At first, there's only tentative relief—at the reassurance, the sensation, at finally getting something you want—but heat starts to build in the breath-humid space between your bodies the longer you kiss and kiss. Something born of more than lust or desire. And though they flicker in your belly as well, it's a bone deep desperation to feel alive that drives you forward and aches to be quelled.

When you break apart to catch your breath, he rests his forehead against yours. Close enough for your noses to brush together and to feel each hard exhale—that blessed, life sustaining air—across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sob. His voice is low and thick with grief against your mouth. The sound and shape of it is so different from his anger—in the low light, only a ghost of that harshness is left, clinging to the shadowy lines of his face. You don't have to ask what he's apologizing for.

“Show me,” you whisper back. You let your lips brush over his again in invitation. He responds by delving into the wet heat of your mouth and wrapping you in his arms with a moan.

So you give yourself over to the exploration of his tongue against yours and his large, callus roughened hands as they engulf the sides of your face, caught in the whirlwind of him. It leaves you breathless faster than you like, and when you break for air again, you don't want to give him a moment to change his mind or to pull away completely. So your mouth wanders to his cheeks, the scruff on his jaw, his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat above the collar of his uniform—seeking out every bit of him that you can reach as he pants and swallows beneath your lips.

He smells like sweat and smoke and saltwater, and his skin is sharp and briny on your tongue as you lap at a spot on his neck. He tastes like drowning, and for a moment you're lost in the memory of him in the water, his weight pulling you beneath the waves. His lifeless face staring up at you from the shore. But then he sucks in a sharp breath, jolting you back to the present, and his lips are on yours again. Warm. Alive. Not the cold flesh you forced air through. Not the same shared breath.

“Wanna see you,” you gasp into his mouth as you lift at the hem of his shirt.

Without a word, he moves to obey.

You both peel away your filthy uniforms with trembling hands, revealing bodies that are just as dirty and unwashed to the chilled air, but beneath all of that is color. His flush of arousal. Bruises that are starting to fade, a gruesome rainbow of healing. The shadows playing in the shifting of muscle as he reaches for you to pull you back into the warmth of his arms. Alive.

He's the first soft thing you’ve touched after days of nothing but rock. And before that, months of only tools and labor and struggle. You bask in the sensation: The greying hair on his chest, the roundness of his belly and hips, salt dried skin, his palm on your cheek. The other on your thigh. He’s softer than you remember from when you were hauling him through the waves—

You wrap your hand around his cock, and his heartbeat throbs in your fist. Alive.

He lets out a groan when you stroke him, something deep and guttural that rumbles through the cave like thunder. The sound sends blood and heat rushing to your core, where it pools between your thighs and leaves you aching and empty. You tease the silken foreskin over his length and work your thumb along the underside of the swollen head just to hear more of it.

With a growl, he falls upon you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongues and hunger. His hand cups the swell of your breast while his thumb circles your nipple. You cry out and arch into the roughness of his hand. Then you're both eagerly groping and learning all the ways you can draw more noises from each other until you're left squirming against the insistent throbbing between your legs.

“I want you inside of me,” you murmur into his mouth.

He clenches his eyes shut as his breath hitches, and you're thrilled you can get that reaction out of him. But then he opens his eyes again and, in a shaky voice, asks, “You're sure?”

“Yes!” You growl, impatient. “Fuck me, Kino.”

He lets out a groan. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last very long.”

“Don't care as long as your cock is inside me first.”

“Fuck!” He hisses. His hips involuntarily jerk forward at the thought, and said cock grinds into the bend of your groin. “Then I'll give you what you want.”

After that reaction, you think he's going to throw you down and do just that. Instead, his touch gentles, his palm cradling the base of your skull as he lays you out along the rock. The movement doesn't make you feel delicate or like something that's injured and cowering in a cave, but rather like something to be revered.

This is his apology.

A caress along your inner knee has your legs falling open, leaving you exposed before him. Before you can be self-conscious about it, he gives your arousal a heated look that drives the thought from your mind. Then he traces a fingertip up the tender skin of your thigh, and fire licks from your thigh to your belly.

For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to have this on the other side of the galaxy. Not in a cave, but in a bed, warm and clean with a full stomach. Maybe it would be sweet like this between you the whole time rather than something that's taking an effort just to maintain. Because you know this is only a moment—a reprieve. It can't last, not when that cold desperation and panic are rebuilding within your gut.

It's a lovely thought. But by the time he kneels between your thighs, you need again. You pull him down and he goes willingly, falling to brace his hands on the stony ground on either side of your shoulders. Then you hold your breath as he closes the distance, slowly, until the length of his cock is resting and throbbing, flush against your sex.

Your hips grind up against him, trapping him between your heat and his belly so that when he thrusts back, seeking more, he drags himself along your wet folds; the sensitive head of his cock rubs against your clit. Both of you moan, wounded and strangled sounds. So he does it again. And again. Over and over until you're both gasping and shuddering at the slick friction.

All the while he stares down at you, studying you. Taking in the way your face contorts and breaks with pleasure. His eyes are sea blue, you realize—the water, greedy—so wild and deep and pulling you in. It sets your pulse racing and makes your palms sweat against his shoulders. You turn away from the intensity in that gaze.

“No.” To your surprise, he takes your chin between his finger and thumb, not gentle but steady, and he forces you to look anyway. To face him. “Let me see you.”

He holds you there with the weight of his body as he shifts to nudge at your opening. It's so close to what you need. Your legs wrap around his waist in silent encouragement. Then, once he's lined up, he sinks forward with a groan and stretches you open on his cock until you're aching and full.

His mouth goes slack. Those eyes become heavy and lidded. Not closed—alive. Which makes all the difference to your wounded mind. So you drink in the sight of him like this, buried in the tight embrace of your cunt. A ruinous look.

You're drowning again.

It scares you, just how much you want to give yourself over and let go. How easy it would be to become lost. To believe that this is something more than desperation. But then his eyes refocus and whatever tenderness had gripped him is absent from that gaze. In its place is hunger. Need. Urgency.

“Gods, you're so tight,” he grinds out from behind clenched teeth as he gives a shallow thrust into you. The sound goes straight to your core, soaking him further. “Feels so good.”

Then he finally—finally—fucks you. Hard and fast.

The ground is cold and unrelenting beneath your spine where you're folded and crushed against it. Above you, he's blanketing you in heat and the delicious slide of flesh along your nerves. A lovely contrast already, but then his hand finds your hip, his fingers digging into your fresh bruise, and you gasp from the pain—it hurts, but if it hurts that means you're alive. He doesn't stop at the sound. Instead, there's understanding in those eyes as he pulls you in to meet each plunge of his cock, and, oh, that's even better.

You spare a thought for his knees right before he shifts. Then he's dragging against that spot inside of you, and your mind goes blissfully empty with pleasure. Your head falls back, weightless with it. At that opening, he buries his face in your neck, muffling every grunt into your skin. He presses the vibrations of them into your flesh and bones alongside his exhales, the scrape of his beard, the unconscious skim and purse of his lips. You shiver.

You won't come from this alone, but you don't care. This is enough. You just need to feel something—need the proof that he's alive. That you're alive. That this IS real and not some drawn out hallucination your dying brain came up with between the span of one heartbeat and your last.

But it has to be real. Even in your darkest moments, alone in your cell, you never allowed yourself to want this—the thing you could not have. The galaxy had been cruel enough on its own without any assistance from you. So there were no images or dreams in your mind to conjure this from. Which means these messy kisses, the wet noise of your joining, your sweat slicked skin, his hair, salt-stiffened and curled between your fingers, must be real. It also means every moment of this is new and unburdened by expectation or comparison.

It's everything else that haunts you.

All too soon, and just as promised, his body grows tense, and he starts to tremble above you. Between your exhaustion and his unrelenting pace, this was never intended to last. And he's so close, but when he meets your eyes, you see hesitation. Uncertainty. When he moves to pull away, you realize he means to finish by stroking and spilling himself across your belly instead. But that isn't what you need.

“No! Don’t,” you beg. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you grasp at his neck and shoulders, unwilling to let him go with a strength that surprises you both. Then you roll your hips and grind yourself onto his cock, dragging a hiss out of him. “I want to feel you.”

He groans as he yields to your plea, too near that edge to argue, so he falls right back into a punishing rhythm. Yet underneath the hunger and determination, there's anguish now, too. As if by doing this, he remains afraid he'll break you somehow. Still, he clings to your hips as every thrust turns short and sharp with purpose until, at last, he buries himself fully and chases that relief in the depths of your cunt.

When he comes, the only sound he makes is a harsh sob. And then his cock is pulsing inside of you, filling you with warmth. Life.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He collapses heavily at your side with a few wet coughs, spent and too exhausted to hold himself up any longer. You lay there for a moment, listening to his ragged breathing, unsure of what comes next. You're afraid he’ll push you away once his mind clears. That he’ll go back to hating you from across the cave, now muggy with the scent of sex, as his come leaks down your thighs.

He doesn't.

Instead, he holds his arms open in silent invitation and you realize he's offering you a choice: move forward with or without him. And this time, you know he accepts that it's your decision to make. But you’ve already made this choice once, when you watched him slip beneath the waves. When you dove for him in the water, hauled him back out of it, and then forced it from his lungs. It was just as easy to make then. Maybe now he’ll understand what it means.

You go to him and curl against him in acceptance. He kisses the fragile skin of your temple, and then he helps you get settled by tucking your head under his chin and rubbing warmth in a soothing pattern along your stone chilled back. Your hand finds his waist. His leg entangles with yours. Back and forth until there's nothing but drying sweat between you, as if you have always fit together in this way.

You want to savor this. More than that, you want to have this if you can. If he’ll let you. If he doesn't go back to holding you at a distance out of habit and self-preservation in a day or so, always waiting for the worst to happen and scared of the hurt that might follow. As if anything could be worse than losing him now. Then he really would be the thing that broke you. A self fulfilling prophecy. You almost want to laugh at the irony.

All at once, the silence feels heavier than you can bear.

“Never again tell me you aren't worth it,” you whisper fiercely to the cave. “You are to me.”

He doesn't respond, but the hand splayed over your ribs twitches before clutching you tighter.

“We’ll try in the morning,” he says quietly instead. Under your ear, the compromise rumbles loudly throughout his chest. Beneath that, his steady heartbeat.

His statement doesn't fill you with anything as naive as hope. The Empire is still looking for you, and they aren't ever going to stop now. You’ve only traded imprisonment for the illusion of freedom. The thought claws at you, threatens to pull you under. But there's an arm around your shoulders that squeezes as it holds you close, and you remember that you can't let go. You can't lose him. You won't. You have to keep moving.

“In the morning,” you agree.

"Hey,” he said, half-asleep, “what were you before me?” “I think I was drowning.” A pause. “And what are you now?” he whispered, sinking. I thought for a second. “Water."

- Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

A/N: The song for this fic is Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish btw.

[blametheeditor]

The Little Things

The title of 'best friend' is a daunting one to live up to. Especially when it feels like you're worlds apart despite always being within grabbing range, in more ways than one.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of dehumanization. Mentions of death. Self-deprecating thoughts

I blame Jeremy _________________________

Jeremy stares at the room stretched out before him from where he stands just outside the kitchen. 

A year ago he would never be caught standing out in the open. Even though he’s standing right next to the wall with an escape exit only a foot away, he wouldn’t risk staying in a spot where there’s no shadow covering him, no ledge sitting above his head to keep him out of sight. Not only is it dangerous, there wouldn’t be a reason. 

When he’s small enough for something like carpet fibers to be cumbersome to walk over, he can’t say he really wants to be reminded of his size. Would rather stay inside the walls where it’s impossible to be constantly bombarded by items ten times his size. Stay where it’s warm, and safe, and he doesn’t think about just how miniscule he is compared to the rest of the world. 

Because on the best of days, he’s only terrified of his safety. On the worse of days, he realizes he’s nothing but a pest to be squashed without a second thought.

This isn’t a year ago, though. Which means despite his instincts screaming at him to get back inside the walls, to get out of sight and hide, Jeremy stubbornly stands away from the cabinet’s ledge offering cover in order to get a proper view. 

The living room is massive. The ceiling is so high above him he gets dizzy if he looks at it for too long, therefore any texture it possesses completely impossible to make out. The four walls stretch to reach the incomprehensible height, with the ones standing opposite of him seeming to become washed out and unfocused when he looks at them. The carpet floor stretches on for miles, the individual fibers becoming hazy to his eyes the farther away he looks. The opening of a hallway looms in the background like a foreboding creature that could form any shape at any moment. 

It’s the furniture, the items that manage to fill such an incomprehensibly large space, that are the true culprits that make him feel insignificant. The TV stand that stands a mile high with the TV itself adding another mile to the already foreboding height, the remote that controls it too big to carry. The couch that’s too far away and therefore too blurry to make out proper details casts a long shadow, promising proper shelter and items aplenty to collect. 

The picture wouldn’t be complete without a human, though. What better way to show just how small he really is than to simply have the being such items were created for sitting among its collection. 

Even as the human lies on the couch, eyes closed as they sleep, it’s all that’s needed to put everything in perspective. That the TV is no where near the right height for proper viewing. That the couch isn’t big enough to stretch out to their full size. That the ceiling and hallway can be reached either by jumping up, or taking a few steps. 

Jeremy is able to be walked toward and grabbed effortlessly. 

A year ago that would have terrified him more than anything. Now, he’s wishing this particular human was awake and spotted him already instead of slumbering away. 

Sighing, Jeremy grabs the strap of his bag before taking a tentative step away from the wall. Because it would be quicker cutting straight across rather than following the wall all the way around. But habits die hard, and despite knowing for a fact there is only one human, it’s hard to willingly walk completely out in the open. With every step he takes, he’s bombarded with thoughts of stomping shoes, grabbing hands, falling objects, but he stubbornly continues on. 

Trying to focus on something else, Jeremy finds himself staring at the human. A towering being he should be running away from, not walking toward. 

He will admit, humans are terrifying. They’re loud enough to hurt his ears without even trying, always needing to cover his ears if one starts yelling even if they’re in another room. They are capable of effortlessly pinning him down with a single finger, most of their digits longer than he is tall and always significantly stronger, not to mention too heavy to move even when there’s no force being applied. 

They also don’t enjoy having uninvited guests around, especially by creatures small enough to be crushed by shoe, a category borrowers unfortunately fall into. 

Jeremy also meets the arbitrary requirements of being a pest or a pet. Pets are anything easy to tame or control if the former isn’t possible. If a borrower isn’t willing to do tricks or behave, there’s always putting them inside a cage to keep. Truthfully, it seems like a fate worse than being viewed as a pest. To have his borrowing habits of taking crumbs of food and collecting forgotten items seen as a crime punishable by death, he would take that over being treated as a mindless animal for the rest of his life. 

...or would he? Both fates are terrifying, but would he really rather be squashed like a bug like he didn’t have any thoughts or feelings, or be locked in a cage and have his wants and desires disregarded in favor of being able to hold and pet him against his will? 

A shiver runs up his spine as Jeremy shakes his head to physically get rid of the disturbing choice. One he never wants to have to face. One that, ultimately, wouldn’t be his choice to make. 

That actually makes all of this so much worse. The fact that if he had a preference for his fate if he’s ever seen by the wrong human, ever caught, he wouldn’t be asked. Wouldn’t be treated as someone with thoughts and feelings, but as a creature or object who’s will holds no bearing on what the one with all the power wants. 

The overwhelming fear and dread gripping his heart has Jeremy freezing the moment he steps into the looming shadow the couch creates. Finds himself tilting his head back to see the monolith of a human still slumbering away before looking straight ahead at the welcoming darkness offering safety and protection. 

Once again, it’s a slap in the face seeing just how insignificant he is. That he finds comfort in hiding somewhere completely out of sight, and no one would know he was there. Not a human or another borrower as long as there’s no reason to look underneath. Something he should be glad about because that means he’s safe from being seen. Yet it also makes him want to curl into a ball knowing he doesn’t matter. 

Jeremy quickly digs into his bag to grab his climbing hook. Doesn’t let himself linger on the fact it’s tightly woven thread tied to a paperclip, both items a human would barely notice if they went missing and so inconsequential they’re continuously dropped and tossed away without a second thought. Forces himself to focus on throwing his hook up directly above him to catch it on the seam of the couch, aiming so he doesn’t accidentally hit the fingers hanging over the edge. 

He gets it on the first try, and the moment he feels confident his hook won’t fall after giving a few tugs he’s quickly climbing up the thread, not letting the twitching fingers distract him. 

Hauling himself on top of the cushion, Jeremy squeaks as a warm breath ruffles his hair, glaring at the oblivious human softly snoring. Fixing his curls, he carefully steps away from the edge, inadvertently putting him even closer to the towering being. Closer to the hand that could grab him at any moment. 

He has to admit he’s always been a bit fascinated by humans. They look exactly like borrowers, just on a much bigger scale. The five fingers on a hand are familiar, but they seem to be an entirely different entity at such a larger size. The face is like looking into a mirror, and yet it almost feels like the expressions made on such a scale are imitations rather than real emotions. 

He’s always wanted to get a closer look. It’s interesting interacting with a much larger version of someone like you. He didn’t dare test his luck walking up to an unknown human, though, even if they were asleep. The possibility of being caught always kept him far away. 

Tearing his eyes away from the monumental chest rising and falling with every breath, Jeremy looks at the hand sitting beside him. Takes a few silent steps closer until he can reach out and nudge the thumb. 

“M-Mike?” 

The steady breathing pauses, as if asking a question. Then an eye bigger than Jeremy’s head carefully opens, looking around to find who’s demanding its attention. The moment the borrower’s spotted, the held breath releases as a smirk appears. 

“Hey, Jerber. What’s up?” 

Jeremy hesitates, unsure what to say. On one hand, his instincts are screaming at him to run and get as far away as possible before the human gets the chance to grab him. On the other, he just realized he woke a human up from their nap for reassurance. 

Suddenly feeling guilty and worried that Mike will be upset for getting woken up for seemingly no reason, he physically backpedals. Squeaks when he finds himself tripping over the very thumb he nudged to gain attention, freezing when his back hits another finger as his legs lie over the thumb, trapped. 

The human tilts his massive head, opening both eyes as the smirk turns into a grin bigger than he is. “Did you want to join my nap, or do you want to fuck shit up?” 

Jeremy stares up at his best friend with hopeful eyes. “The s-second one?” 

The grin only grows wider, not a single hint of anger for having his nap cut short all because someone smaller than his hand wanted attention. “Hell yeah. Want to start with food?” 

Jeremy straightens at the offer. “C-Can you make an omelet?” 

“Omelet it is,” Mike agrees. Easily. As if the person making such a request isn’t small enough to have their voice drowned out by a heavy sigh. And yet he’s carefully sitting up, all intents and purposes to make food someone else declared him to make despite most likely not feeling hungry, at least not enough to have woken up himself. 

It’s only then as the human begins to properly tower over him does Jeremy realize what that means for him. Before he think about how he can safely run to his hook with such a catastrophic being moving around, the hand surrounding him begins to move on its own accord. Elicits a squeak of panic as the finger at his back curls around his chest, the thumb forcing his legs closer as he’s then picked up, the feeling over vertigo stealing his voice away. 

When it finally returns, Jeremy’s softly shrieking as the hand tilts back, making him fall for a breathless second until he’s tumbling into the massive palm. Instinctively he curls into a ball, the overwhelming fear of falling off the hand holding him making him tremble. He is all too familiar with just how tall humans are and how the counters he consistently scales only come up to half their height. It’s still dizzyingly high, and at least then he has a way to safely get down, not to mention it never moves. 

Sitting inside a hand of someone who could decide to drop him without warning, or who could trip from a misplaced step, there’s nothing Jeremy could do to save himself from such a fatal fall. Nothing he could do to stop the hand from turning against him to pet his hair, pinch his limbs, squeeze him mercilessly. 

It’s a terrifying thought that someone has that much power over him. But he’ll never be afraid of Mike possessing it. There’s just moments when the borrower’s fear of the what ifs rears its head and becomes impossible to ignore. 

“Here, Jerber.” 

The borrower in question immediately uncurls to see his hook being offered, pinched between two fingertips that would be impossible to take anything away by force. As he quickly sits up to accept his single most important tool for survival, it’s released into his grasp without any issues. 

“Th-Thank you.” 

The human smirks. “Anytime, asshole.” 

Jeremy doesn’t cower as Mike stands up, though his stomach flips from yet another drastic change in height. This time, he properly sits up to see the living room from a human’s perspective. Watches as the trek that took him several minutes to cross all while stumbling as the carpet fibers attempted to loop around his shoes is completed within seconds by ten effortless steps. 

He feels the tug of insignificance. The sharp pain of being inconsequential. Feels his shoulders droop with the weight of the realization that if the human had woke up on his own and walked to the kitchen before the borrower reached the couch, Jeremy could have been crushed without Mike realizing what happened until several hours later. 

At the horrific thought, Jeremy’s hands clench tightly shut, making him jump when he realizes he’s holding something. Looking down, he sees its his hook. A paperclip that are useless to humans except for one very specific purpose and even then are always overlooked. 

But Mike had taken the time to look for it and return it to its rightful owner. Even though it’s technically a stolen item. Even though the human was confused why it was needed the first time he was shown it. Even though they’re only going to the kitchen and Mike can carry Jeremy wherever the borrower wants to go afterwards. 

Not insignificant. Just...severely outmatched. 

“Have you tried hashbrowns yet?” Mike rumbles as he lumbers into the kitchen. Instead of putting Jeremy down first, the human moves to collect the ingredients needed for the food. 

Before the borrower can respond, the fridge is opening, earning a squeak as a wave of cold air washes over him. He immediately ducks behind the curled fingers, attempting to hide to keep what little body heat he has. “M-M-Mike!” 

The human laughs at his plight, but at least the hand is held closer to the towering being’s stomach to offer warmth. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t fuck with the fridge.” 

“It’s too c-cold,” Jeremy huffs, glaring as he sees containers big enough to seal him inside of being set on the counter one by one. “D-Do humans need it to be that cold?” 

“I’m not a shitty mechanic,” Mike shrugs as he straightens up. Jeremy can’t help a sigh of relief as the fridge door is closed, only to go rigid as the handle above the fridge is grabbed, unable to hold back a scream of genuine terror as the freezer is opened. 

Mike takes pity on him and closes his hand into a fist before a freezing chill reaches the borrower. It’s only a few seconds if being left in the dark and listening to something big, heavy, and frozen getting dropped onto the counter. The hand then opens after the distinct sound of the freezer door shutting, the human looking amused despite Jeremy’s scathing glare. 

“Why d-does your hot food have to be c-c-cold first?” he demands, not for the first time. 

“No fucking clue,” Mike grins. “I just know shit goes bad when it’s not in the fridge if I’m not cooking it. So do you want to supervise from my shoulder, or man the counter?” 

“Sh-Shoulder,” Jeremy replies, unsurprised when the hand immediately lifts up to his preferred spot. No deciding Mike would actually prefer it if he stays on the counter, no proclaiming there never should have been a choice in the first place. Just patiently waiting until Jeremy has climbed up to sit next to Mike’s neck for warmth and stability. 

Once he gives the confirmation he’s set, Mike takes his hand away before carefully squatting down to grab two pans from the cabinet to place them on the stove. Far too used to the motions now, Jeremy’s eyes only clench shut when the human stands back up, opening them again to see butter getting put into one before eggs are cracked into a bowl. 

“Sorry for crashing when I got home,” Mike apologizes. “Long fucking shift, and Phone Guy needed help moving shit. I didn’t see you out when I got home, so I waited for you on the couch, but then I fell asleep like an asshole.” 

“N-No need to apologize!” Jeremy frantically reassures, a pain of guilt hitting him at the realization Mike assumed he woke the human up because he wasn’t greeted. “You said you had to go in early. I kn-kn-knew you’d be tired when you got back.” 

Tired, but still checked where he walked to make sure Jeremy wasn’t crushed. Still wanted to say hi to the borrower like he usually does. 

“Still a dick move,” Mike says, carefully shrugging his shoulder so Jeremy is thrown into his neck, leaving the borrower slightly dazed and therefore unable to give a rebuttal. “Find anything good while borrowing?” 

There’s not a hint of disgust saying the word, no hint of judgement that Jeremy routinely takes lost or forgotten items. Doesn’t see it as something to despise despite anything being ‘borrowed’ most likely the human’s own things. 

“A f-few things,” Jeremy murmurs. “H-Hey, uh, Mike?” 

“Hm?” shakes him to his core, a simple hum powerful enough to drown out his words effortlessly. 

“A-Am I a nuisance?” 

The human’s head tilts, and Jeremy can perfectly picture a look of confusion. “No, am I?” 

Jeremy sputters as the question is suddenly turned toward him. “No! Absolutely n-not!” 

“Thank fuck, I was a little worried there,” Mike grins, his head turned just enough for the borrower on his shoulder to catch the edge of it. “Cause if you think you’re a nuisance, then I must be a goddamn nightmare.” 

For a moment, Jeremy stares down at the finished omelet being put onto a plate, the pan being moved away so something he’s only vaguely familiar with can be pulled closer to properly season and cook, his mouth opening and closely as he tries to find the right words. 

The only ones that come is “You’re a nuisance?’ 

“Hell yeah I am,” is said with unmistakable pride. “Phone Guy says I take years off his life. Douche Bag can’t stand being in the same room with me, and Sitches won’t admit it, but the poor bastard’s getting tired stitching my ass up every week. But I’m constantly grabbing your ass, stomping after you and touching your shit without permission. I don’t know how you stand me, Jerber, even when I make you food. Shitty food I know tastes like ass because I sure as hell can’t taste it.” 

Mike...Mike thought he’s a nuisance? To Jeremy? All because the human holds him or grabs his things? Thought Jeremy takes his food offerings out of obligation rather than gratitude? 

“B-But you’re human,” Jeremy breathes, looking up at what little he can see of Mike’s face as he desperately tries to see their friendship from the other’s point of view. 

“Exactly, I’m an asshole,” does nothing to clarify his confusion. “And yet you keep coming back despite knowing what you have to deal with.” 

And suddenly, it clicks. Mike doesn’t see the food, and being careful where he steps, and treating Jeremy as a person as a way to make the borrower want to keep coming back, it’s done out of respect. That this isn’t a luxury Jeremy should be grateful to have, but a standard to be met because they’re friends. And if Jeremy suddenly decided to move to another apartment down the wall or a house far away, Mike wouldn’t be upset because his rouse didn’t work, but because he would miss the borrower. 

Jeremy would miss Mike too. 

Straightening up, Jeremy shoves at the human’s neck for attention. “Y-You’re not a nuisance.” 

“Neither are you, Jerber.”

With it being stated so matter of fact, he can't help but agree.

Leaning forward with interest as the food from the second pan is put onto the plate, the borrower points to it even though he can’t be seen at this angle. “What’s that?” 

“Hashbrowns,” Mike replies. “They give a good crunch, but Been A Dick says they’re good. I think you’ll like them.” 

“What are they m-made of?” 

“The bag says...potato. You trying a piece?” 

“Yes please.” 

“Hell yeah. We’ll eat on the couch and put on a movie, deal?” 

Jeremy climbs into the offered hand, crouching down when it carefully moves in front of Mike’s face to not fall over on the unsteady surface. Stares up at the human waiting for his word before going anywhere. The word that will be listened to even if he asks to take his share and eat inside the walls. Even though the hand holding him could put him inside a cage and never be let back out. 

The borrower nods his head excitedly. “D-Deal."

[trippygalaxy]

4 Prompts, 4 Stories

I asked @yourlocaltreesimp for some prompts earlier and wrote a few short blurbs for them! As you can tell Im reallllly into angsting the Sacred Realm boys!

ALSO! kinda unedited so, sorry for any mistakes!

Characters: Link, Time, Sky, Worlds, Twilight (Kinda) Warnings: The Prompts Blood and Change are angsty! Blood has implied character death but open ended ending, Change has descriptions of blood/injuries!

Blood

Distant screams are muffled by the roaring thunder, the darken sky lights up with blinding flashes of white as the cold rain harshly hails from above.

If Link’s vision wasn’t already a haze with darkness creeping in at the corners, he was certain the crackling lighting would assault his eyes just the same, but now it seemed to be a guiding light as if he was a moth to a flame. He…he wasn’t sure where it would lead him, but his heavy eyes fought to follow it.

“-NK!!”

A muffle cry breaks through a thunderous clap.

“GET UP BR—!!”

A guttural demand was interrupted by the roaring storm, as distant as the clouds.

“Oh by Hyila- There's too much blood..”

A voice much closer shakes ever so faintly.

Link didn’t even notice the hasty footsteps, mud kicking up around him as his back only sinks further into it. Blood…was that the warmth he felt? He hasn’t noticed it until now but…it was nice, like….well he wasn’t sure actually.

Huh…when did th e l ight f a d e….

Care

The faint crackling of the low flame fills the makeshift ‘camp,’ its orange hues glowing in the darken clearing yet never grazing the skin of the cook. It was…calming, the quietness of night mixing with the sanctuary that came with the mundane act of cooking…though it still took Wild off guard- the whole ‘ghost’ thing.

Well, Sky was instant that they were more the mere ghosts-

“Poes are ghosts!” He sighed for the umpteeh time. “Ghosts are scary and evil, we are legendary spirits, the heroes of Hyila, the definition of–”

Rolling his eyes at the man’s voice echoing in his head, Wild normally stopped listening at that point, why should he care about titles? He lived his whole life being burdened with such things, cant his afterlife be less…labelizing? 

—

Link’s stomach growled quietly, as if it too was afraid to break the silence, but he couldn’t help it! The wild hero -or Wild as he decided- was making something truly divine! Link has never smelt something so good before, and he was eager to finally taste what the cook was making. A part of him wondered how the spirit could do such a thing…He heard stories of the hero’s strange knack for cooking but it was odd how the spiritual form could still interact with things.

Sure, Sky and Time were able to touch and carry him but everything else they just kinda…phased through. So was it a him thing or maybe because the spirits–

“You’re thinking way too hard about this.” A snort cut off his thoughts, bring the young hero back to reality. 

Feeling his ears twitch in embarrassment, Link pulled his legs closer as he averted his eyes from the hero’s back. 

“S-Sorry, Mister hero…” He mumbled.

The faint yellow glow of the spirit burns a little brighter as he faces the young hero who rested on top of a tree stump. Though the teen averted his eyes, he can feel the amused eye raised in his direction. 

“You-” A ladle is lazily pointed in Link’s direction. “And everyone in that damn medallion needs to learn to care a lot less about the little things. Also what did I say about calling me that? You already gave me a nickname, just use it.”

The lighthearted scoff caught the young man’s attention, his eyes looking back to the cook who wears a lopsided but freeing smile. 

“Sorry, I j-just–”

“And stop saying sorry!”

“Sorry–”

“Kid!” A laugh.

Link cant fight back the smile on his lips, even as his face burns with embarrassment…he cant help but admire the cook. He knows that the hero has gone through many battles, faced many judgmental eyes and been deemed ‘unworthy’ by countless but he didnt show a care. A part of Link wonders if he’ll ever reach that.

Self Care

An obnoxiously loud and long sip breaks the tension like a knife.

Two heads whip around to the source, their faces showing varying degrees of annoyance and exasperation. Sky’s brow knitted together in confusion while Time’s eyes bored into the new annoyance- he may be a spirit but he can already feel a phantom migraine drill behind his eyes. The two had been arguing endlessly about something- Worlds didnt care enough to listen but he did know that the fresh hero was sitting to the sidelines looking like a kicked pup.

Speaking of said hero, Worlds sees a faint quiver of a smile on his lips. Good.

“What in all hells are you–”

Time’s gritted tone was cut off by another loud sip as Worlds drank from his hot chocolate. Hiding his smirk behind the froth as the older hero’s eye twitches.

“Worlds…Where did you even obtain…?” Sky trails off, blinking at the hero.

Shrugging, World swirls the pretzel in the drink before taking it out and crunching down on the soft bottom, dipping it back in. This only caused the grump to bristle, his teeth grinding like goron joints.

“The kookie cook made some,” He hums, bored eyes glancing at the young hero for a moment before nodding his head behind him. “Might still have a batch left if you’re quick…”

The young hero seems surprised by the offer, eyes flickering between the smaller hero and the elders. The idea of some hot chocolate did sound appealing but…

“He has strawberries picked too.”

Worlds almost laughed at how quickly the hesitant dropped from Link’s face, his feet quickly carrying him off back to where the wild hero took up his cooking spot, leaving behind his mentors without a second thought. Shaking his head, Worlds wonder what started this obsession of his.

Silence hangs in the air after the young hero’s footfalls patter away- Well, almost silence, Worlds took deliberate sips from his drink when he sees one of the hero’s mouths open.

“Would you–” siiip “YOU LITTLE-”

Sky grabs the hero’s cloak collar, as Time tries to lunge at the smug young hero.

“Good luck with that Sky,” World snickers, turning on his heel as he takes another sip. “I'm taking a self care day.”

Change

A thick fog had suddenly flooded the chamber, rushing in like water breaking past a dam running over and past every surface and body like it was never there. That brat had touched something when Time had his back turned for ONE SECOND- he swears, if that kid didnt kill himself with his stupidity then Time would. 

The faint call of his has his eyes rolling as he turned, of course that brat was looking for him to hold his hand-

But it wasn’t Link.

Standing in front of him, bloodied and face sullen, was Twilight– no…no this was Link. This was His Link.

It was Link.

“What happened to you..” A raspy voice is pulled from the boy’s chapped lips, dull eyes staring through the hero with nothing behind them. Time tried to fight back the shiver of dread as his student’s question echoed around him. 

Link takes an uneven step forward, stumbling like his broken legs fought to stay upright even as bones stick out harshly from blood stained fabrics. Time fought every urge to rush forward, to scold and scoop the kid into his arms, to plead him to stop moving and to just let him help-

Sneering at the man, Link’s face almost seemed to melt with the fog, getting his features twisted and swirled in ways that made Time’s stomach churn before flickering back to normal. “You’re nothing more than a disgrace, tainting that tunic with every mistake…every ounce of innocent blood, every broken promise woven into it.”

“N-no…” Time shook his head, words caught in his throat as it burned with something raw and trembling.

Disgust is laced with every syllable. “You’ve changed, and the thing is? You could change for centuries and no one would like the end result. Not even yourself.”

“Link please-” Time choked

A sudden gust of wind rushed in the room, the heavy fog running away like a wounded beast and suddenly, Link– Twilight…is gone. Hes…gone…

“Time?!” A familiar voice calls. “Oh my hyila, I am so sorry! A-are you okay?”

Shutting his eyes, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, Time lets out a shaky sigh through his nose. He had changed, more than he’d like to admit and so much more than he’d ever want Him to see. 

@majorproblems77 @treasure-goblin @zelda-the-sacred-realm

[wordy-little-witch]

It’s a shame that BuggyxFem!Shanks as a concept isn’t as popular as Fem!BuggyxShanks of Fem!BuggyxFem!Shanks, because as a concept it’s just … so fun.

Red haired Shanks, empress of the sea, heiress to a title left behind by Gol D. Roger himself, a force to be reckoned with, a legend.

Buggy: “Shanks? Yeah. Don’t get me started on that cow. We bunked together when we on Rogers crew and every.single.morning she’d wake me up by letting her rankass feet dangle from her Hammock above me and rub them in my face. SHE DID THAT UNTIL WE WERE 16!!!”

But at the same time Buggy having been head over heels for her since they where 12, thinking she is the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen, not conventionally pretty in any way, too angular and sharp for that, a red headed, hairy legged, bruised little thing with a toothy grin that was missing a few, but she was RADIANT. He still thinks the same when he sees her wanted poster ages later, face scratched up and hair grimey and messy, but with a determination and confidence in her eyes that’s a far cry away from the stupid teenager he left in the rain ages ago, as an even stupider teenage boy with a crush on the girl he called his best friend.

No, Shanks has always been beautiful… and that’s why Buggy almost trips over his own feet when he sees her at Marineford again, smiling at him like *THAT* , hastily assuring her that she looks even greasier than the last time he saw her and it may be completely unprompted but btw she totally isn’t his type anyways blablabla-

(But also Buggy being so accepting of transfem Shanks even after all these years that he could be ranting about her for hours, but as soon as a crew mate makes an awful joke about her being trans he just stops dead in his tracks, grabs said crewmate by the color and just yeet!! off into the ocean you go…. Anyways GOD HE HATES SHANKS SO MUCH-)

While shipping Buggy with a lady is smth I rarely ever indulge in ((only time being when Buggy is trans too, more on that later-)), this is SO CUTE.

Buggy: gods I fucking HATE that redhaired BITCH-

Rando: *says smth transphobic*

Buggy: Ah You Have Chosen Death, I See

Just. Yes. Buggy being a mega tsundere about it is,,,,, so cute. Gosh and Shank really WOULD be a greasy woman. She's a pirate empress with an alcohol problem and manages to make the gaudy horror show that is her wardrobe WORK. Buggy cannot handle this. It's infuriating. She's infuriating. He has never once ever liked her, he swears it, he hates her so much and he'll scream it from the rooftops, he WILL, and no he is NOT BLUSHING SHUT THE FLASHY FUCK UP-!!!

And here I go ham on my own spin on this~

I'm just imagining them both as cabin brats, transfem Shanks, transmasc Buggy. They're Uncomfortable. They're each other's. Things kinda suck in a weird nebulous way, and it only gets WORSE when they both hit puberty and shit gets WEIRD.

Buggy's got some soreness on her chest, and Crocus gives her and Shanks The Talk (the horrors), and now everything is WACK because Buggy is NOT stoked about BLEEDING for a week every month what the FUCK, that's STUPID!!!!

Shanks meanwhile is gangly, is growing into his body, is so wildly uncomfortable without the words to explain it. He's struggling. He's looking to the only person he Vibes with, the only one who he doesn't need to fake it for, and he's choking on the weirdest burning feeling in his tummy. It makes him feel a little sick. He doesn't understand.

Finally, eventually, somehow, someway, they're both in their room together, laying opposite across the floor, head on each other's shoulders, Buggy's curls under Shanks' head, Shanks' locks tuckling Bug's cheeks. It's quiet. It's comfortable.

And they talk.

"I envy you," Buggy starts.

Shanks meets the admission with his own. "I'm jealous of you."

"Why?"

"It's weird."

"Yeah.... same."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Damn..."

Silence reigns. Buggy rolls over, forehead pressed to the line of Shanks' jaw. There's stubble there. It makes the younger pirate want to be sick.

It takes a while until they finally get the heads together and realize what it was. Frankly, I love the ideathat Buggy chop-chopped her tits off, claiming they got in the way during fights and so did it often to "keep up the control". Shanks finds them at one point. Buggy goes to rain he'll down on him for it. He's just.... kind of staring, though. A little pale. Shaking. Buggy isn't used to that look on him. And then Shanks asks.

"Can.... Can I...?"

"Can you WHAT, you stupid redhead?"

"Can I try them on?"

"Wh-" Buggy tilts her head. Shanks doesn't make eye contact. He begins backtracking. Buggy reaches out, pokes the other in the forehead hard enough to send him tumbling to his butt. She's blushing. "Don't tell anyone I let you.... but yeah."

"Huh?"

"Don't make me SAY IT, you moron!!!! You asked. I said yes. Get to it. Gods..."

So Shanks tries on Buggy's boobs in the safety of their room late at night. The only light cones from their lantern and the moon. It's quiet. It's peaceful.

Shanks stares at the mirror. There were no outfit changes, just a slip in and shift of fabric. Shanks is staring. Buggy is staring. It's quiet.

".... I'm paler than you," Buggy says after a few minutes of the other admiring the reflection in their small mirror. "Come here."

Shanks lets Buggy dab on some concealer, lets the other blend the color into a smooth transition. The redhead lets the blue haired pirate fix up the shirt, the breasts, the sash. Then both are turning to the mirror.

Buggy's chest is flat. Shanks's chest is not.

Shanks's clothes give an illusion of a curve. Buggy's clothes hide it.

"I look like a girl," Shanks says softly.

"I look like a boy," Buggy sighs.

They're quiet for a moment. Then Shanks decides to break the strangely fragile air. "I think... you'd look really good as a boy. If you... ya know.... wanted to be."

And Buggy side eyes the redhead for a moment before huffing. "You'd make a ridiculously pretty girl. Still gross, but.... pretty."

They share a look, then a laugh. Then they cry. Then the next thing either know they're hugging on the floor, trying to stay silent as they sob, clinging so tightly it was sure to leave bruises.

Shanks is 12, Buggy is 11, and they come out to the crew, hand in hand.

It goes better than expected. It is not, however, great.

There are many hiccups, and Roger is vehement on supporting both of the kids, on giving them the freedom and allowance to do and be whoever they are. Rayleigh is a little slower to the party, but he's getting there. Crocus tries to scare the kids with medical side effects of transitioning. Nothing dissuades them. Not much changes, but Buggy has a realization that he's maybe a little less of a MAN than something man-like. They're comfortable with themselves, and Shanks is still overbearing protective, Buggy's still explosively temperamental. ((And Shanks bit someone who called her far more ladylike than Buggy could ever be, right after insinuating that her Blue wasn't man enough. She did not apologize.))

Eventually, the crew manages to get in touch with Ivankov, and Shanks knows what she wants. Iva helps. Buggy is practically VIBRATING in excitement because Shanks looks so happy and healthy and good and is GLOWING and he wants to be just as flashy and cool and comfortable and-!!

And his body splits at the stab. He blinks. He blushes. He tries to force himself to stay together. He splits again. Iva is frowning. Buggy is trying desperately not to cry. Roger proceeds to come up with increasingly insane ideas, and they try them all, and it never works. Iva's hormones are a direct path, and seastone or sea water will negate the abilities. Buggy is.... out of luck.

Shanks tries to make Iva undo her changes. "If Buggy can't then I won't either!!"

It's not safe to immediately back-to-back change, Iva explains, and then Buggy plasters on a smile, fake and fragile and hollow and tells Shanks that if she does this, he'll kick her ass. She deserves to be happy, he says. He sounds genuine about it. Something about it doesn't feel right. The crew calls it his first "proper choice as a man". Shanks is bristling and Roger gives the men a harsh frown.

Iva considers the boy before them. "I may not be able to help this way," they admit, "but you can do it the manual way. It's medically possible. Many people do it, and there are many methods beyond just injections to achieve it."

Crocus, who had told both teens that it was impossible, tries to creep away. Roger catches him.

Ultimately, Buggy gets some T beginning at about 13. A late bloomer, Roger tells him warmly. It's enough for some mild voice changes, and Buggy is so excited, so stoked, so happy-!!!

And then he gets sick.

And then the crew goes to, names, returns from Laughtale.

And then Roger disbands the crew.

And then he and Shanks are alone.

And then two years passes.

And then Roger dies.

And then Buggy might as well have died for all that occurs in the wake of it all.

He loses access to all of his medicine, he spirals, he's essentially a dumpsterfire of a man, and then he grits his teeth, grabs the situation by the balls, and he makes his life himself.

Reuniting with Shanks at Marineford is definitely not on his list, but it damn sure happens, and he damn sure screeches his displeasure about it.

And he's only mildly angry that she manages to wriggle her way back into his heart as if she'd never left in the first place ((she didn't, but he'll swear loudly that he'd evicted her immediately)).

They keep it lowkey - at least as well as they can, between a lovesick lover girl and a flashy, easily flustered clown. Not much changes to common view, and between Buggy's rarely used network strings and Shanks' frequently underestimated poker face, they manage.

And finally? Finally, they're actually happy.

[wegeck0stewie]

That time to disect his One assination album:

IMHO: I feel like this album takes more then his ungodly trilogy:

OASU song:

"You gave us what we wished for"

Reflecting g0d -

"all your wishes will be destoryed"

echo towards the end, as the reflection shattered throughout the ensamble of Holy wood, down to the first few paragraphs of the title track.

"A few tangled strings attached" wright spider "I feed you in my doll house standing with the coccoon of the past."

"I will not suffer for your amusement, Pull back the curtian"

Easy that is we are chaos, from cover to last song.

"There is no more dreams for me to see, I chose my mightmares carefully" trickery trigger of magic and as the cups of the past filled up with the wickedness of his exes.

"You will always be entertained, everyone showed up for the excution" - His cort date, everyone jumped on twiter.

"But no one show their face, to shoot

you back of the head" - Guns god, off holy wood enterail.

"Pull me inside the animal stich it up, and shove us off a cliff, wear they tear the wings from all the sty, leaving monkeys able to fly" - Mechancial animals.

"The pilot light has flickered out and the ashes will be screaming" - disconected from "eyes of the machine"

to a point of where he is caving in.

"No one can hear my last words, and no oencore once we say goodbye." - Never back to you, you where my mechaincal bride

"You will always be entertained" - yeah no fucking shit, I want to kill you like they do in the movies.

"And cal it sacrifice, they do not deserve even to say your name" - Yeah no one ever deserves to annoucinate irl names anymore.

"sacrifice, not a sacrifice" meaning the man you fear become the boy you love?

'

No funeral without applause"

"It just started with a dotted line" when ink dries up in a dot,and flows throughout the paper, it is a dotted line over and over, a path that is not complete

ergo next line"

"Skin is whiter then a surgical glove, I need somebody to stich me up" More like in Devour of HOL.

"So I do not bleed on the one I love" meaning what kind of love he means??

"All that is lost, and all that is forgotten" - apple core.

"There will be no funeral without applause" death will be a tarot, as the lamb of god is already killed off.

"Just a little cut to make, it all feel better, there are so many scars from where it used to be " - slow motion spiral twin.

"You the only thing in this fucking world, that can fill this hole" -

Mech animals, Omega speaking with Broken needle.

"You can send away your firing squad, you are going to need it to behead me"

- Again holy wood middle tracks.

"Immoral looking to be immortal"

- comprehension of a lesser knownd demon counter clocking the swager in "This is the house of angels"

"But nothing fits to a t" anti-christ calls, and leaves a fb message .

- "Cover up all the mirrots, cuterize the lies" - Medical porcedure that involes buring body tissue using heat or chemicals to stop bleeding"

He is reflection off basically Half way 0ne step closer.

---

Nod if you understand -

"I need destruction, I want towers to crumble, nothers tossing babies from the windows above" - Angelic to demon, again the last few songs of we are cahose.

"Who would wanna wake up if ths is their world?"

- dope show, "Who knows what we will wake up with tomorrow, (non osob).

"I will not repend this is what I was sent here for" - Cryptic orchid.

"No reason to ask forgiveness, pain is the language is spoke to me, and its my time to answer" - Speed of pain.

"Look at yourself for someone to blame" - new model 15.

"Stand in your lie, I am bombing in your building" - Maybe the we are chaos song.

"You are the only one who showed ashamed"

- Third 0f seven binge "I want to scream our your name"

"Stand in your lie, I am a bomb in your building, no mercy, no pity, I do not care who survives"

- Cause in my half way frozen wax, and your artillery led -

Deep six.

"We've beem washing the floors of the slaughterhouse with buckets of dirty water"

- Covered in my money, too dumb to see my

Fionacci blinded by your jealousy, I am happy to pull my veins out and braid a rope." - Slave only dreams to be king.

-

Sickness are the secrets within"

"There is no longer just my commuion", the worms of the flesh have turned, with the sacrifices I swallow, and blodo from the cup is so cold" -

Slave only dreams to be king.

"You are only as sick as the secrets are within, it's not evil as much it's hungry, I see the bodies and bones picked clean, I build this cage we've been trapped in together, I cannot remember where I hid the keys"

=Birds of hell awaiting "Insane old phoenix baby, its your death desire"

"There is a trick to get out of your skin, you are only as secrets are sick within, but the beast is calling for us slowly assuming control"

- Folks said I, look like death lived in the hotel of my eyes painted in the spit from the earth between her thighs"

- Cupid carries a gun.

I was never your taxidermy, I am sewn in your soul, keep sleeping, I make you dream of me"

- Coma white from that line onwards towards the end of the song.

00000

Sacrilegious.

I am feeling sacrileioug, put your arms around me, I will stab

you in the back, never seen a skeleton Christ, I will be the one in bible black"

Dw ee get what we deserve? OR do we deserve what we get, steal from the last, fuck the past - Keep my head together lyrics.

"You should have treated your saviors better, with the tombs that you left behind, do you think that coffins gossip and your ghosts are blind?"

- My dirty dreams are filled with ghosts, drowning in a shallow puddle, my muck and mud ais thincker then the quickest of my demons" - Fast and ghastly -

Infinite darkness.

Are you here for the resurrection, how deep did you dig my grave?

Cancel your subscription, you are the one who needs to be saved -

Keep my head together.

"Lets get evil, I am feeling sacrilegious" - anti-christ

"You can climb to the top of my horns, but make sure you do not look down

do not spit in the face of god, when you are trying to wear his crown "

Anti christ - 1996 (non osob)

You cannot kill until it's born -

Birds of hell again.

Last verse as well.

----

Death is not a costume

is the same as kill for me, is the same reflection

as nearly the entire album of Hud.

- Meet me in Pugartory wraps up One assisnation -

Notes?

Perhaps the other albums that I have not mentioned yet hehe.

- Raise the reddish flag -

About what IT is in the past of WAC.

With the mixture of Mech animals.

- Sacrifices of the mass.

His lovely tribute to his family.

[devils-dares]

Safe and Sound

summary: what happens when matt finds a little girl hiding from her dad in her room and takes her home.

pairing: matt with unnamed!child!oc

wordcount: 2842

warnings: abuse, mentions of abuse, mentions of abandonment, mentions of death, a father being shitty to a child, crying. like a lot of crying. matt having attachment issues, mentions of bluey the show, scraped knees, ends semi-sad.

a/n: this isn't x reader, because i thought that would be kind of strange to write in this instance. this is really just headcanons turned into a fic, been sitting on it for like a month. let me know if you guys want a part two.

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

Matt couldn't begin to understand how this day was ending. A long day in court followed by anger management patrol, and now he's in some little girl's room shushing her before she cries and alerts her already drunk and aggressive dad.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, it's just me! Do you know who I am?"

"No but you look scary, please go away."

"I'm here to help you get away from your dad, but you gotta be real quiet alright?"

"Are those horns?" Matt rubs the forehead on the mask.

"Yes they are, and if you come with me I'll let you touch them, but I gotta get you out of here."

"Are you the stranger danger man?" He needed to find a way to get her out of here.

"I'll explain everything if you can pack a bag with everything you need so we can leave alright?" She nods reluctantly, grabbing what seemed to be her school bag.

"It's a Bluey bag. You know Bluey?"

"I don't."

"Boring." She walks over to him, and he takes the bag from her, slinging Bluey over the coarse armor. He steps out onto the fire escape, signaling the girl to follow him.

"Wait!" She whispers, "I'm scared of heights." He beckons her over still, yet she holds steadfast in her grip on the window frame.

"Will it be better if I hold you?" He asks, and she nods, so he picks her up, arm wrapped around her as her legs wrap around his hip and her head thunks on his shoulder.

Matt wracks his brain on where to take her for the night. He could just take her to a police department or a hospital, but there’s no evidence of harm on her, and they’d just return her. Crisis centers weren’t open 24/7, and the only place he could think of was his own apartment.

This was a stupid idea.

She was shaking, the poor girl, when they reached Matt’s rooftop. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and she was freezing cold. Her breaths froze midair, amusing her slightly as she kept making huffing noises next to Matt’s ear.

“We’re here.” He says, gently placing her on the ground before opening to the rooftop door.

“Head inside, it should be warm.” Her shoes tip tap down the stairs, pausing at the bottom.

“Where are we?” She asks.

“My apartment.” He sighs, scratching at his chin.

“Are you going to hurt me?” She asks.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but if you could tell me about your dad, I can make sure you never get hurt by him again.” Her body jolts ever so slightly at the sound of the title.

“How did you know?” Childish wonder pours through her voice, but Matt can hear the undertones of skepticism.

“I heard your mom scream.”

“Not my mom, dad’s girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Matt listens, “tell me more. Does he do it often?” She pauses, and then nods.

“All the time.”

“Has he hurt you recently?” She nods again, then pulls both her pant legs to above her knees. Matt smells dried blood.

“He pushed me.” She says simply, and Matt feels his hands curl tightly into fists.

“I’m going to get you something for that.” He walks to the bathroom, and she wraps her arms around her stomach, trying her best to make herself appear smaller.

“I got you some bandaids and some antibiotic cream, but I gotta clean it first okay?” He gestures to her to sit on the chair by the dining table and kneels in front of her.

“Do you have the bandaids with the smiley faces?”

“Hm, no. But I can draw on these ones with a marker?”

“Okay.” She did not sound amused.

“Can you take the helmet off?” She asks, touching the horns.

“I can,” he says, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?” She nods enthusiastically, and his fingers graze the helmet before tugging it off.

“I’m going to clean your scrapes now.” He says. Her whines break his heart when he presses the alcohol wipe to her raw skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He says, and he can tell her bottom lip is quivering as the smell of salt fills the air. He goes through it as quickly as possible, grabbing the marker behind him to cheer her up.

“Want smiley faces?” He asks, and her mood shifts almost immediately. She wipes her tears away and nods. She watches as he finds the edges of the bandaid with his thumb, drawing within the barrier he created with his fingers. It’s then that she notices that he’s not made eye contact with anything.

“All done.” Matt stands up, smiling at her.

“Are you blind?”

“Oh- uh- yes. I am.” He rubs the back of his neck, as if he’s been cornered.

“That’s cool.”

“Cool?”

“I’ve never met a blind person before.”

“Oh.”

“Can I ask about stuff?”

“About being blind?” She hums.

“Okay,” Matt says, grabbing her a glass of water from the kitchen and some snacks, she must be hungry, “but you gotta eat these and drink this while you ask, I don’t want you going hungry.”

“‘M not hungry.” Right on cue, her stomach growls.

“You sure about that?” She grumbles and takes the snack.

“How does the cane help?” Her voice comes out mumbled from her stuffing her face.

“It helps by telling me what I’m going over, like if I’m going to run into something, or if I’m going to hit a curb. It also helps people know that I’m blind.”

“What color are your glasses?” He laughs.

“I’m told they’re red.”

“Red glasses are cool.”

“Thank you.” She falls silent, the only sound coming from her chewing.

“Are those two the only questions you had?” He asks, amused.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, is it alright if I leave you for a bit? Just to take a shower?”

“Do you have Bluey?”

“I’m- not sure what Bluey is on.”

“Do you have a tv?”

“I have a laptop.”

“Gimme.”

He gets her set up with the show, and before he steps into the bathroom, she has another question.

“Why is there a man talking on the computer?”

“What do you mean?”

“This man is not on Bluey.”

“Oh! Those are audio descriptions, they help me ‘watch’ tv by describing what’s happening. Here, I can turn it off for you.”

-----

Matt’s rubbing his damp hair dry with a towel when he emerges from the bathroom. The kid’s not on the couch, and Matt realizes she’s rummaging around the kitchen.

“Are you still hungry?” He asks, checking the time on his watch. It was just half past two in the morning.

“I didn’t have breakfast or dinner,” she explains, “just stinky school lunch. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t think I have anything you’ll like, but I know a diner that’s still open and delivers. Does that sound alright with you?”

“Waffles and hot chocolate?”

“Waffles and hot chocolate.” He confirms, a smile growing on his face.

“Can I have whipped cream?”

“On the hot chocolate or on the waffles?”

“Both! And chocolate chips on the waffles!”

“Okay kiddo,” Matt says, chuckling, “let’s see what I can do.”

Thirty minutes later, the two of them are sitting at the dining table and eating waffles and drinking hot chocolate. Matt also indulged himself in whipped cream, and the kid was laughing from his whipped cream mustache. Her giggles are interrupted by a yawn, and Matt finally realizes just how late it is for her, even if this is normal operating hours for him.

“Why don’t you finish up that waffle while I set the bed for you? It’s been a long day.” She nods, and Matt gets up to set the bedroom for her. He’s glad he put in the investment to get curtains installed in the bedroom, so it’s easier for her to sleep. He grabs a few pillows and thicker blankets for her, as well as plugging a nightlight into the wall. She’s falling asleep at the table by the time he comes back, and he resorts to just carrying her to the bed.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, I’ll be on the couch. If you need anything you can wake me up, okay?” He explains, and she nods.

He settles on the couch, blanket up to his chin. He ventures in and out of slumber, listening in to the kid’s heartbeat until he realizes it hasn’t settled or slowed. He listens a bit more, getting up when he hears soft sobs.

“Hey,” he slides the door on its rollers, “are you alright?” She shakes her head quickly and reaches out for him. He rushes to her side and allows her to wrap her arms around his neck when he sits next to her. His hands rub up and down her back, as she buries her head in his neck and he lets her cry to her heart’s content. She cries about everything her dad did to her and his girlfriend, to her mom, she cries about her mom leaving her, she cries about getting bullied at school and being hungry all the time. The one thing that breaks Matt’s heart the most is how badly she cries about how nice he’s been to her. That the waffles were the most she’s eaten in one sitting in a month. That this is the first time she’s had clean sheets since she can remember. That he let her watch tv on his laptop.

He lets her cry until her sobs fall quiet, hiccups running through her little body. She asks him to stay, and he does just that. He props himself up against his headboard with a pillow tucked behind his back while she stays in the same position, body tucked against his, and she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder.

-----

He gets woken up by small taps on his shoulder. He jolts awake, trying to get his bearings.

“Why are you up?” He asks, hands coming up to rub his eyes.

“I have school. You gotta take me to school.”

“You have- can you miss today?”

“Nuh uh, they’ll call my dad, and plus I have a spelling test.”

“When does your school start?”

“8:30.”

“That’s in- that’s in twenty minutes. Oh god.” He springs out of bed, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

The two of them are out the door in eight minutes, Matt’s tie is crooked and his hair isn’t brushed, but the kid looks impeccable and that’s what matters.

“What time does school end?”

“Three.”

“Okay, I’ll be right here to pick you up alright? I’ll try to get something sorted for you as far as everything else goes.” She nods, hugging Matt quickly, and before he can react she runs through the doors of the school.

-----

“Do I want to ask what happened last night?” Foggy says, but Matt’s focus is on Karen.

“Can you call Mahoney up here? And also child services? I have a- case, an important one.”

“Child services?” Karen asks.

“I’ll explain everything when they get here.”

The good thing about Mahoney knowing that Matt was Daredevil was the fact that he never questioned where exactly Matt got the kid from. He knew it was probably some vigilante act, but all Brett really cared about was knowing that there was a kid out there who was safe.

“Where did she stay last night?”

“She stayed with me.”

“Okay, we’re going to have you fill out some paperwork, Mr. Murdock, and then we’ll need to talk to her. Do you know where she is right now?” The woman from child services asks.

“School. She’s at school,” he turns to Brett, “could you request a wellness check on the girlfriend?” Mahoney nods.

“I’ll call it in.”

A few hours of paperwork and worried looks from Foggy and Karen puts Matt at 2:45. He asks if he can leave to pick the kid up from school, and they agree. Brett accompanies Matt in the fear that her dad might show up to pick her up, but nobody’s there when school lets out. Matt’s relieved and also a little heartbroken for her; Jack wasn’t the best father but he was still present and loved Matt as much as he could.

“You’re here!” He hears her squeal, her body making impact against his legs, her head thudding against his stomach.

“‘Course I am,” he says, taking her backpack from her and slinging it across his back before picking her up, “told you I’d be here.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him tight.

“Murdock, I gotta talk to you when we get to the office,” Brett says, “in private.” Matt nods, and the girl peers at him.

“Who’s he?” She points at Mahoney.

“He’s someone who’s going to help put you in a safer place, I promise. Are you hungry?” She nods.

“Why don’t I meet you two back at the office?” Mahoney suggests, and Matt agrees.

“What are you in the mood for, kiddo?”

“Fries!” Matt sighs happily.

“Fries it is.”

Twenty minutes later the two of them show up, fries and burgers in tow. The child services worker pulls the kid away, and Brett finally gets to talk to Matt.

“They performed that wellness check, the dad answered, and officers were able to enter. They found a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. Matt, the girlfriend’s dead.”

“So you’re saying-”

“Kid can testify for assault and a witness for murder.”

“Jesus.” Matt rubs his forehead.

“We get her into some foster care or orphanage, we can keep her safe.”

“What about her mom?”

“Not on the records.”

“Birth certificate?”

“Was changed not to include her.”

“So she’s alone now.”

“Yeah.”

“That poor kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So what part do I have to take?”

“Nothing. As far as I know, you’re done with caring for the kid.” Matt rubs his forehead again, only looking up when the door to the conference room opens and little footsteps charge towards him.

“She said she’s taking me somewhere fun, are you coming with us?”

“Sweetheart-”

“You’re coming with, right?” Her voice softens, “he’s coming with us?” The lady shakes her head sadly, and the kid almost bursts into tears right then.

“You’re leaving me? I thought you liked me!” Her voice raises in anger and sadness, and Matt kneels in front of her.

“I do, sweetheart, I really do. But you’ll be better off with them. They’ll keep you safe.”

“You’re leaving me just like Mom did!” She bangs her small fists against Matt’s chest. He lets her, her anger bubbling over until she can’t contain it anymore. When she stops and begins crying, Matt takes her into a hug. She squeezes tight, and he lets her sob into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but they’re going to take care of you.”

“I want you to take care of me.” She says, and Matt bites back tears at her confession.

“You’ve known me for a night, love. They have the resources, I don’t.”

“I’ll be so good! I won’t ever get in trouble!” A tear does fall from Matt’s face now, and he hugs her back tighter.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he gets her to settle down slowly, “I’ll come visit. I’ll visit you all the time with chocolate chip waffles and whipped cream on everything. I’ll be there, I promise.” She nods slowly in understanding.

“You have to make a pinky promise.” He holds out his pinky solemnly, and she takes it with her shaky hands. She hugs him again, and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Time to go,” the worker says, “you get to meet new friends there!” She tries to entice the kid, but she stays glued to Matt.

“Do you want me to walk you to the car?” She nods, holding his hand as she walks with him.

The goodbye at the car was tearful. She clung to him, wishing she didn’t have to leave while Matt sobbed silently. She tugs her backpack in with her and waves bye to him as the worker rolls up the window.

Matt goes straight home. He tried to stay in the office, but Foggy and Karen told him to leave, come back tomorrow when you feel better. He throws out the empty boxes from last night’s dinner and opens his laptop on the couch with a beer in hand to distract himself with case files. Except he’s not greeted with case files. He’s greeted with the Bluey theme song.

He sits there as episode after episode of the Australian show plays, sipping his beer as tears run down his face.

“This is stupid.” He mutters. He knew that kid for less than a day and was already so attached to her. He wipes his face and cleans around the house to distract his mind.

And then he gets waffles and hot chocolate with whipped cream for dinner.

[two-white-butterflies]

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

masterlist | chapter twenty

After the conversation, Olenna left the both of you alone - she figured that giving you time to think was important. "He murdered someone. Bloody crazy." you mumbled, retracing the conversations that you had with him - searching for signs that he was only showing you a facade of what he was.

"I knew that he was unhinged, but not fucking mad." he replied rubbing circles on his palms.

When a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin - madness and greatness are their two sides.

"That could've been me," you huffed, forgetting about the coffee in front of you. Aemond has always been - different, anger pumped through his veins and his emotions changed as easily as he breathed. "I wanna get the hell out of here, Daemon." you added, finding comfort in his presence.

"I don't want to see anyone that we know. I don't wanna see Aegon, or Helaena or Alicent." you rambled off, remembering the times that they defended Aemond's hostility towards you. They didn't harm you - but they tolerated the harm that was happening to you.

He would scream at you in front of them, talk about indecent things in your presence, and all that they could say was: it was normal.

Yes, it was normal.

It was normal for Aemond to act that way, but it didn't make it right.

Daemon watches you descend into the past. His hands snake towards the small of your back, comforting you silently with his warm palms. He could see right though you - every neuron and thought that went through your brain.

"Did they know about the murder?" you ask, eyes narrowing at the thought of death. Alicent was a good person, but a mother will go through lengths to protect her children.

He leans into his chair. He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth. "Apparently, Aegon testified in his defense." he answered truthfully, recalling the words that were written in the report. "Fuck, that's messed up." you cursed, burying your head in your palms.

"I-I don't think I can ever look at them in the same way again." you stuttered, a permanent title was etched above their names. Criminals and defenders.

"You don't have to look at them again. We can move away from here - and forget all about them. You studied five-years in law. You can continue studying if you want to." he offered, retracting his hand and playing with his watch.

He's been thinking about leaving for a long time. He's been wanting to finish his Ph.D since he's stepped foot inside Dragonview. He only stayed because there was a reason to stay.

"I'd love that."

(Five-Years Later)

It's been five years since you disappeared off the face of the earth. You can still remember the day that you left: May 8, 2023 - and everything after that was pure bliss.

You and Daemon quickly moved into Switzerland, enjoying the snow - and the scenery around you. He finished studying for his Ph.D a few years quicker than he was supposed to - you however postponed finishing your law degree. Instead, you focused on teaching kinder-gardeners and healing from your scars. The both of you were lucky to welcome your first child, Maekar Targaryen.

After Switzerland - you moved to Siargao.

The warm sand was kissing your barefoot. The shoreline was beautiful in the morning, but the sun was far different than what they had in Canada. There was humidity in the air, and the sun felt like razor blades in the afternoon.

"Do you wanna go for a swim?" Daemon asks while pulling your hand closer to the water.

"It's not safe yet, I don't want to get stung." you whined but he keeps laughing and pulling you inside the water.

The water was warm - slightly colder than the sand. It was comforting to be in paradise - the constant feel of the current on your legs, and his warm hands that were wrapped around yours.

"They're not gonna bite you, I promise." he smiled, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He was enjoying life - the both of you were. "The last time we took a morning swim, I had to get hauled to the hospital." you recall and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry for that," he laughed, as the both of you walked deeper into the water. The seaweed was tickling your feet. You tried to avoid the corals and the fishes. The smell of salt-water flooded your nose. You remove your hand from his own. You lift both of your arms, holding onto him for balance.

You couldn't reach the water anymore - and he was the only person tall enough to reach it at this point. "It's nice here," you mumbled, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like home.

"Let's stay here for a while." you add, his hands wrap around you for balance. "We should live here - I'll buy a house right there, beside the celebrity's house - so Maekar can swim whenever he wants to." he imagined, earning a playful glare from you.

"And who's going to watch him?" you huffed, his hands wrap around you tighter. "Me." he answered, reaching for your jaw with his free hands - pulling you closer and bridging your lips together.

His lips tasted like salt, but his mouth was sweet.

"I love you, Dae."

"I love you too."

You walked slowly to your beach-chair - hair dripping with water. Maekar and the maid were sitting on one of the chairs, watching the sun shine. Your little boy liked being on the beach - he also hated wearing sunscreen, much to your dismay.

He was wily, and talkative. He blabbered about a subject, but none could understand what he was talking about - he was only four months old anyways. He always reached for your hair, bite his father's fingers - and laugh at everything he saw.

He was half of your soul. You love him with all of your heart.

You fish for the phone inside of your bag. There were a few notifications from work and pilates, but one of them managed to catch your eye - it was Rhaenyra messaging you from the abyss.

NYRA 5:49AM It's been a while. I was hoping that you and Daemon could come back here. It's very important. NYRA 5:49AM As you know...Alicent's been struggling with her disease for a long time now. She died peacefully inside her house. Aegon and his kids were there, but she's getting buried a few days from now and none of us know where you are. NYRA 6:00AM It would mean the world for us if you attended. The funeral's being held in the Clubhouse, come whenever. 💚

You read out the long message, tears flooding your vision as the news became too heavy for you to bear. "Daemon!" you call out to him and he emerges from the waves, wearing a badge of confusion.

"Yeah?" he asked, reaching for the towel on the sand. He wraps it around his torso - eyebrows merging into each other as he sees the tears that were flowing from your irises. "Alicent's dead." you informed, before wrapping your arms around him in grief.

"Oh no," he replied, combing through your hair.

He didn't believe that Alicent was part of the family - but she was the mother of his niece and nephews. She suffered under the abuse of her husband, his brother, and that earned her respect. Her existence didn't leave a mark on his life - but it left a mark on yours.

"We need to be there, I need to see her." you pleaded and he nodded his head. He could never disagree with you. "I'll book the tickets. We'll take the quickest flight out of here." he promised while turning his head towards his baby boy. "Hello, Maekar." he leaned down on the chair, taking the boy out of Liz's hold.

"We'll bring him. His cousins should meet him." you inform, staring lovingly at the little boy. He tried to reach for your hair, but Daemon pulls him away.

"You silly boy, always reaching for mama's hair." he chuckles, rocking the baby gently.

next chapter>>

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @namelesslosers @immyowndefender @ammo2022 @perihelioneclipse @gracielikegrapes @joliettes @ammo23

ONE LAST CHAPTER (for my own self-indulgence)

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Afraid of a little water? /// merman!Scaramouche x reader

just mermaid scara being sassy and flirting with you

༻Scaramouche༺

You were down by the sea hopping from stone to stone and gazing at the tide pools, making sure the loose clothing you wore didn’t get wet. The cool blue-green water of the ocean crashed against the sand as you heard the caws of the birds and the sounds of the waves. A small hermit crab crawled out of a small pool of water and onto a nearby rock, stopping to look at you and hesitantly moved closer.

Reaching your hand out, the hermit crept onto your hand and moved back and forth when you bridged your palms together. You laughed at how amusing it was, going to show someone when you heard a splash behind you. That caught your attention and searched for whatever made that noise.

“What was-” You trailed off and spun around when you heard another, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw it was just a boy with dark violet hair and vibrant purple eyes. Blushing when you realized he was shirtless but it made sense since it was the beach and all.

You couldn’t see the bottom half of his body as it was covered by a rock he was laying on, a smirk crossed his face and surveyed you. He was eyeing you up and down, you cursed yourself for staring but he was very attractive. “Hello~”

“Hi…” Something felt off and you carefully put the crab down, seeing it scamper off back into the seaweed-covered tide pool. You moved closer and steadied yourself so you wouldn’t fall in, despite the ocean being beautiful you had some past trauma with it and swore to never swim in it again.

“I didn’t expect to find someone so… intriguing at the cove today. What brings you here to my abode?” His abode? Your throat hitched as you realized why the bottom half of his body was hidden, he was a mermaid.

The deep violet scales forming along at his hip and ending in black, the scales shimmered in both red and gold highlights. It was genuinely beautiful the way the droplets glistened when the sun shone on it. The man caught you eyeing it and lifted his tail up and out of the water, saltwater dripping off of it.

“Hm see something you like? Why don’t you come closer and I'll let you touch it? I know you want to, it's practically written all over that cute face of yours~” He was right and you were entranced by the merman in front of you, cautiously stepping forward. His short hair damp but being blown in the wind, leaning on his elbows as he looked you up and down.

“I would but I don’t know you. You could drag me down to my watery death!” He rolled his eyes and scoffed, almost offended. “You humans will believe any old folk tale, won’t you? I have no reason to and anyway, you interest me.” You guess he was right, no one to your knowledge had ever seen a merperson and even if they did, who would believe them.

“Well, okay then but I still don’t know you’re-“ “Scaramouche. My name is Scaramouche. Yours?” Telling him your name he went on to say how some people he knew called him by a couple different titles, one being The Balladeer. You both seemed so fascinated with each other and desiring to know more.

You wished you had kept closer to the rocks and not to the water beside you had you known Scara was going to “joke” around, yanking your hand and pulling into the water with him. There was one problem, you didn’t swim and that crucial detail is why you almost died all those years ago in the same ocean and refused to go any deeper into the ocean than your knees or thighs.

Everything happened in slow motion, your instinct was to scream but your body caught itself and looked around for any sign of him before racing to shore or trying to get to the surface. Flailing your arms and holding your breath, you tried to mirror how you saw others swim just enough to reach the bottom but your foot slipped on a seaweed-colored rock, and in panic, you tried to scream for help.

Slowly, your vision became dark and darker, hoping that someone would find you or attempt to save you. Seeing someone dive in above you before blacking out and trying to reach your arm up. You could feel someone rubbing your cheek and a muffled voice trying to speak to you, a sky of blue greeted you and you felt choked up.

Turning onto your side and throwing up all the saltwater you had swallowed, your throat nearly hoarse from coughing you did. Your savior continued to comfort you as they kept mumbling to get it all out and ran their hand against your back, easing you back onto their lap to rest more. Their soaked violet dripped onto your shoulders and deep purple eyes flashed concern, trailing his hand down your cheek.

Your savior was the one person who nearly killed you in the first place and who was now comforting you as he laid your head against his dark tail, the end half splashing in the water so he didn’t dry out. Fearing he was tricking you, you sat up trying to get away from him, having arms wrapped around your waist as you struggled against his hold.

“You’re going to hurt yourself again- Wait!” Figuring that struggling against someone who was seemingly stronger than you wasn’t going to benefit you and resting your head against his chest, “Why? You pushed me in to die than to save me? What the fuck-” “I thought all humans could swim, I intended to just get you wet jokingly but when I saw you fall unconscious I knew I seriously screwed up.”

“I never meant to hurt you, well, fatally that is.” As much as you wanted to argue with him, all the energy you previously had was sucked up by being revived and laid your head against his bare chest. Scara’s hand ran through your hair and sighed, asking you if anyone you knew was here or would be looking for you.

“I came down here alone, so no. You’re not going to kidnap me are you?” Try to laugh but ended up coughing, doing your best to bring some humor into the serious situation and he chuckled as well. “No, although you are adorable enough to try to keep to myself. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to my home, you can rest there if you want or you can go back home but I just want to apologize.

You weren’t in any condition to go back home and even if you did your roommate would be insanely worried as to why you were soaked and looked dead. So you agreed but the look of hesitation he gave if he asked if you were scared of deep water might have dissuaded you, seriously rethinking your decision and how'd you even be able to will yourself up to it.

Scaramouche lifted your face to his and bit his lip, thinking over what he was about to say. “I know you have no reason to trust me but I just want to make sure that I didn’t cause any serious harm, if I did I want to help. I can help you with the breathing part, merpeople can give humans the ability to temporarily breathe underwater for a couple hours with a kiss.”

Further explaining how the kiss worked, casting something like a spell and giving you the temporary ability, saying you didn’t have to open your eyes if you were scared. A part of you did truly believe that he was sorry but the other half of you didn’t want to have anything to do with the ocean, even though it was a bit too late for that.

Reason overpowered your decision when you realized getting yourself to a medical center was going to be tough in your condition and he was your only hope. You agreed and he cupped your face, looking into your eyes for confirmation, smirking when you leaned closer and he closed the gap. His lips pressed into yours, you returned the kiss, humming when he wrapped an arm around your waist.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Blood for the Blood God

(Technoblade x Reader)

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

~~~

A young hybrid stood at the edge of the world, his pink hair tied up in a bun, face free of scars he’d acquired in his later years, and he looked decades younger. A diamond-encrusted dagger rested against his hip in its holder, his feet nervously tapped on the dirt. Silence surrounded him, maybe he should’ve told Phil where he was going, what he was going to do, the deal he was about to make. There were no trees on the cliffside, no signs of life anywhere for miles, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he stepped into another realm altogether. It was just him, the cliff, and of course the ancient scrolls in his bag. Technoblade frowned slightly thinking back on his old friend once more, would Phil’s family and his old friend be disappointed in his choices. Did he even care? He swallowed thickly holding out his hand, he pulled out a dagger from its holder, and drug it across his palm. Blood spilled from the wound, Technoblade let out a hiss of pain watching the blood pool in his palm. He held his hand out over the void and let a few drops of blood seep into space. He had long since memorized the words on the scrolls in his bag, Technoblade chanted the words written in Greek and he felt the wind begin to pick up around him. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, He was grateful his hair was wrapped up in a bun or else it would be tangled and blowing all over the place. At this time in his life, his hair was down to his ankles, getting it calm in any sense of the word was a struggle.

Dust picked up and he covered his eyes, by the time Technoblade opened them a beautiful figure stood in the void, the goddess was giant, towering far above the treelines below the cliff. A crown rested on top of the Goddess’s head, it was golden and formed a halo above her head, stars littered across her face as her eyes opened. Her gaze bore straight into Techno’s soul, her gown was a deep black with red lacing across the neckline, and it flared out at her feet. A corset tight around her waist, intricate gold was embedded into the fabric, her (h/c) hair floating around her head.

“Technoblade,” Her voice sounded like silk in his ears, and he loved the way her voice said his name. Pink blossomed in his cheeks as his eyes widened, he didn’t even comprehend that she knew his name without even asking. “Why have you summoned me here today?” The Goddess hummed softly leaning downwards her giant face in front of Technoblades, he was in awe at her majesty. He gaped like a fish for a few moments and she lightly giggles pulling away from his body, Technoblade swallowed thickly recovering from his shock.

“You’re the Blood God?” He questioned not expecting you to be so womanly, you hummed softly tapping your nails on the ground causing it to rumble under his feet.

“I go by many names young one, but yes that is one of them.” She hummed the clouds began to swirl around her head, “I’m known as the Blood God, Blood Goddess, but if we strike a deal you may refer to me as (Y/n).”

“The scrolls said you’d be a man.”

“Disappointed?”

“No, not at all.” Technoblade hurriedly corrected himself, “Just startled.”

“Men always like to change history,” She clicked her tongue in distaste brow furrowing in frustration. “Changing the great things women do, the fear of powerful women is only felt by weaker and pitiful men.” He watched the Goddess’s eyes turn blood red a smile came across her lips, “They deserve to bleed. Pitiful men don’t deserve to walk the same earth of those worthy.” Technoblade felt himself nodding alongside the Goddess’s words, she had a point. Any man who disrespects or underestimates women deserves the fate she mentioned. “Now Technoblade tell me what you need from me?”

“I wish to never die.” The words hung in the air, he watched the goddess lean back in contemplation.

“I cannot make you immortal, I’m afraid you’ve contacted the wrong God.”

Technoblade shook his head, he knew he contacted the proper God, if he tried to contact the God of Death, Phil would know immediately.

“It’s not necessarily immortality I am after,” You titled your head curiously urging the young man to continue his point. “I just want something to make me never die, whether it’s power or unaging, I need something.”

“Why? Are you aware of the consequences of becoming immoral or like an immortal,” The Goddess gently reached her hand out nudging her giant finger against his cheek, “To see those who love you die around you while you never age? Anyone, you fall in love with won’t grow old with you.”

“I don’t plan on falling in love.” He interrupted the goddess, standing up straighter. He watched her purse her lips, in a blinding flash of light a woman was standing in front of him. Technoblade felt his face heat up, in her mortal form she was much smaller, but her outfit remained the same, the crown still on her head, showing off her power.

“You cannot comprehend the ideas of the goddess of love Technoblade. She has many interesting ideas on who should fall in love.” Technoblade straightened as she leaned in closer to his face,

“I’ll fight them.”

The Goddess blinked a few times as Technoblade looked away awkwardly at what he blurted out, and you burst into hysterical laughter. You covered your hand with your mouth trying to stifle said laughter, he made a small ‘heh?’ like sound as you clutched your abdomen.

“Sorry- Sorry! I just never heard someone so willingly eager to fight the God of Love so they don’t fall in love.” Your eyes lit up with delight as Technoblade visibly relaxed, for the self-proclaimed Blood God you sure were child-like, much like Wilbur, “You’re so cute yet so naive.” He tensed again his teeth grinding together,

“I’m not naive.” He huffed narrowing his eyes not even processing that she had called him cute. You hummed a few more giggles spilling past your lips, before collecting yourself and straightening your dress.

“Technoblade, before we continue forward with our potential deal there are some stipulations.” You hummed softly holding out your hand, “If you wish for my power to never die this is what I can grant you.” You pressed your glowing red finger to his forehead, his pupils shrunk in and he saw himself in the future. Scars littered his face, arms, and back, his hair was tied into a tight braid, gold jewelry coated his ears and fingers. He had a scruff of a beard on his chin, and he overall radiated power. By his side in some form of a Tundra, was Phil, looking a little older, his right-wing shredded beyond repair. On Technoblade’s back were three Wither Skull tattoo’s one in the middle of his back and the other two on his opposite shoulder blades. A netherite sword hung on his hip and it seemed to be coated in dried blood, his arms were crossed in distaste, he caught a glimpse of three lines on his arm.

He never lost a single life. Suddenly he heard thousands of voices echoing in his head, he clutched his ears falling to his knees, all of them were screaming, pleading for blood.

Technoblade breathed heavily snapping back to the current reality, “what was that?” He panted eyes a bit frantic, “the future?”

“One version of it,” You hummed pulling your hand down to your side. “The future can change on such a whim there never may be a true future I can show you, but it was one.” His brow furrowed watching you reach out and trace over the lifelines on his wrist, a pleasant tingle was sent up his spine. “I can assure you the power I can give will not make you immortal, but it will give you the power to slaughter all your enemies on a whim. Reach your goals and make it nearly impossible to die, that is the power I can grant you.” He watched his lives glow a soft gold and he choked on his spit, another tingle shot up his body, “but there are consequences as there is with every deal one makes.”

Technoblade nodded in understanding willing to risk anything to be that powerful, keeping his life and living with Phil. So the older man won’t have to lose anyone else in his life due to his immortality.

“While you’ll be powerful and practically impossible to kill you will still be mortal. You will be able to die and will still be bound to the three life systems my brother has set up. However, you will live forever so long as that does not happen.” He felt your hand move up his arm and he involuntary flexed his muscles. “But, you’ll have to bear the curse of the Blood God,” You whispered eyes flashing in regret, “The voices.”

“Voices?” He questioned with an eyebrow raise watching you nod almost sadly.

“They will be hard to ignore and occur almost instantly once the deal is in place. There will be thousands of them, always talking or screaming begging you to kill and slaughter. Begging you to kill and supply me with the blood I so desperately crave be spilled on the land. They will say other things too, commenting on your thoughts and your life, you’ll eventually learn to live with them. Especially with my help, but they’re hard to deal with, hard to ignore their yearn for the slaughter of anything with a pulse. You’ll have to learn to get along with them, that is your only hope to not lose yourself to them.” He felt your hand up to his cheek, thumb brushing against the apples of them, “It will be painful and you’ll still need to train to gain more muscle and strength, but it will be easier for you to reach that goal. So with that in mind Technoblade, do we have a deal?”

Technoblade locked eyes with the Goddess in front of him, he could deal with a few voices screaming in his ear, after all, you’d be by his side, helping him learn and grow.

“Deal,” Technoblade spoke gruffly, “how do we go about this?” He tensed swallowing thickly watching you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re touching my face, that’s fine this is fine, not intimate at all.” He watched you raise an eyebrow,

“It’s about to get a lot more intimate I’m afraid,” You purred as Technoblade flushed red, he felt your one hand remove itself from his cheek. She trailed her hand down his neck and his body, he was a shivering, red mess, she found the dagger at his side. He watched in awe as it floated in front of her, slicing open her palm, blood bubbled from the wound it was laced with golden flecks of ambrosia. Technoblade looked at her nervously, “Drink.”

“Eh?” He made a disgusted face eyeing the blood smearing on your palm, he watched it drip intimately down your wrist. Technoblade swallowed thickly, “why?”

“You have to take a piece of me to grant my power, you’ll grow fond of the taste of blood eventually.” You smiled pityingly, another hand gently squeezing his neck and Technoblade let out a shaky breath. He placed a hand on your wrist looking up into your eyes, you hummed sweetly urging him to continue, “I don’t bite. Hard.” You mused, eyes sparkling, dangerously, the look was verging on flirty, the young man flushed. He leaned forward, hesitantly licking the dripping blood that spilled down your arm up to the cut you made with his dagger. The ambrosia in your blood tingled his tongue tasting sweeter than honey, his pupils blew wide dragging his tongue across your palm. He barely registered your hand in his hair, curling around the loose stands tenderly, and much like a kitten, he began to lap at your palm. Technoblade felt like his entire body was on fire, but the blood you possessed tasted so sweet, he felt as though he’s never tasted anything better. He drank until your body healed and he couldn’t taste any more blood, he felt a whine bubble in his throat desperately trying to get more blood from your healed cut. You shushed him softly poking his nose, which seemingly snapped him back to reality, ears turning red as a small amount of blood stained the corner of his mouth. You leaned forward standing on your tiptoes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth, tongue lapping at the left-over blood. He let out another whine as you pulled away licking your teeth, humming fondly at the taste. “Such a good boy, listening to your god,” he felt himself pant his vision blurring the praise from you swimming in his head, doing things to him he didn’t quite understand.

Technoblade’s eyes snapped open as the world around him filled with screaming voices, he yelled out in agony as a fire shot through his skull, burning his brain and licking at the top of his spine. Voice pleading and screaming for more blood, to paint the entirety of the cliffside with sweet blood, to grab the nearest thing with a pulse and tear it to pieces. His pupils shrank and his mouth began to water helplessly,

‘Blood for the Blood God! Serve her! We live to serve her, get her blood. Feed us, Feed her. Blood. Blood. Blood. Kill anything that tries to stop us. Blood. Blood. Blood.’

These millions of voices pounded heavily in his ears, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Suddenly the voices quieted and he was vaguely aware of your hand on his forehead,

‘Goddess, our goddess.’

“Shhhh,” You whispered fondly and Technoblade leaned into your cool touch. “Be kind to this one, he’s special.” He didn’t understand what you meant but heard the voices calm down as you spoke to them. “Play nice,” Techno realized that you weren’t talking to him but the voices in his head.

‘Yes ma’am. We’ll be good. But I want to break this one. Don’t be rude to our goddess! Bark, bark, bark. Don’t bark at her! She’s gorgeous though! Truly a work of art. We just want to provide you with blood! Let us play with him a little!’

“I know my darlings and I appreciate it.” You cooed fondly and Technoblade felt warmth flow through his entire being. “But try to get along with this one, he’s special,” Technoblade watched the goddess wink at him. He found himself asking her if he would see her again and she snickered softly,

“Of course you will. We’re interconnected now,” you took his hand, allowing his bigger one to encompass your own. “I’ll see you again soon, try not to die.” In another flash of light, the goddess was gone, he was left alone with the roaring voices and deep-seated loneliness that he was not accustomed to feeling.

It only took a few weeks for Phil to find out about his meeting with the Blood God herself he was immediately worried for his friend. Scolding him for doing something so stupid and reckless, even if what he was preaching was largely hypocritical. The newly acquired voices seemed to have a different interpretation of his nagging, instead, they urged Technoblade to call the man Dadza. Behind Phil his crows cawed and flocked around the both of them, Phil’s brow furrowed and squeezed Technoblade’s shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing mate. Dealing with gods is a dangerous game,” Phil sighed “I know that better than anybody. You need anything, contact me immediately.”

“I will,” The young man nodded in response to his old friend, “Trust me.”

“You know I do.” Phil responded his wings fluttering anxiously, “Just know how dangerous the Blood God can be, the voices granted to you will be hard to resist.”

“She gave me the spiel Phil, I can handle a few voices.” Technoblade scoffed crossing his arms over his chest, “Have a little faith.” Phil only grew more concerned watching Techno’s hand twitch, he could only hope he knew what he got himself into.

~~~

“Oh, Technoblade what have you done?” Your voice echoed in his head as he snarled loudly, red eyes blazing fire. Corpses littered his feet, blood staining the floor and walls, he was older than the last time she had visited. Hair was tied in a braid, scars littered his face and arms that seemed to only accentuate the blood staining his face. His ax was in the corner of the room blood stained the weapon as well, “You poor man.” He turned towards you and snarled the voices in his head roared needily, his head and heart were pounding, “Use your words.” You commanded hardly red mist swirling around your fingers, it hit him square in the chest sending him flying backward into a wall. Behind you stood a taller figure, in his state Technoblade could only make out a mask with a large ‘X’ carved into it.

“Your little plaything seems to be struggling with your curse dear sister,” XD mused from behind you, “Your supposed prodigy seems to have lost control.” You clicked your tongue in distaste sending your brother a look.

“Technoblade come back to your God.” You commanded your voice harshly seeping into his ears, he only roared in response, steam coming out of his nostrils. “I’m disappointed in you all,” the voices all at once stopped their screaming and Technoblade fell to his knees the sudden shift to silence throwing him off. You walked over to his crumpled body, bare feet stepping on the wooden planks marking the floorboards with your bloodied footprints. You knelt in front of him, the hybrid breathing heavily, his tusks tried to cut your skin and succeeded in pricking your fingers. You grabbed onto his tusks, those were also bigger than the last time you saw them, you tugged them harshly. He grunted in pain, “No.” You snarled looking deep into his eyes, “You slaughtered an entire village of innocent lives! That is not in my plan or my wishes you stupid mortal!” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, his clarity was slowly coming back to him. “There were children here! Children you tore apart, I trusted you to have some semblance of control, and you!” She pressed a manicured nail to the top of his head speaking directly to the voices, “I asked for one thing from you and you make him do this!”

“Get ‘em, girl. You tell them.” XD mused from behind you, snapping his fingers almost sassily. His robes flowing around his arms, you turned over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Oh, go fuck George Lore.”

“Fuck you.” Lighting cackled from behind the God of the SMP his long nails digging into the flesh on his arms. You huffed glaring at your older brother, from behind you Technoblade tried to lunge at God for disrespecting his Goddess. “Watch your dog,” He scoffed another growl bubbling in Technoblade’s throat.

“Techno.” Your voice filled his ears again and he fell against your shoulder, “I haven’t been a good Goddess to you have I?” You spoke softly, his entire body relaxing into you as he listened to you. “You cannot handle the voices on your own that was my mistake, I will train you so this doesn’t happen again that I can promise you.” Your fingers gently played with the hair on the back of his neck,

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled groggily,

“There he is, welcome back to the real world.” The goddess pulled away from his beaten body, he looked around seeing the blood and the bodies. His ears twitched something akin to guilt curled in his stomach.

Had he done this? To a village of innocent traders?

“Did I..?”

“You lost control I’m afraid.”

“I- that’s impossible, I was doing so well I had control-”

“Technoblade!” A voice called out pushing past XD, an older gentleman with messy blonde hair a bucket hat. “You’re alright!- Who the hell are all of you?” The man seemed to realize they weren’t alone and his eyes locked onto yours. “(Y/n)?”

“Philza Minecraft. Long time no see,” You hummed a smile spreading across your lips, “Kristin says hello.”

Phil’s entire face flushed to the tips of his ears and he coughed nervously, “Er...tell her the same and that I miss her.”

“I will,” You gave a little bow of your head, “Is Technoblade your son?”

“More like an old friend, but I see him as such.”

“Shut up old man,” Technoblade grumbled sitting up on his knees without you to support him.

“I didn’t realize you were the Blood God,” Phil continued dropping by Technoblade’s side the old man was missing a few of his flight feathers. A large cut was gouged into his shoulder, that was it that was the trigger, something must’ve hurt Phil and caused the halfling to snap.

“That seems to be a common theme,” You frowned a little with a gentle sigh, you tried to glance at your brother, but XD had long since disappeared from the doorway. Most likely because he was bored and wanting to go bother Foolish, “Philza.” You declared as Technoblade glanced over at you through hooded eyes, “Will you allow me to train and help your son."

“He’s not my dad-”

“Of course Goddess, whatever will help him stay in control.” You nodded your head at the consent, in a flash of light your entire appearance changed. You looked much more human, with a simple yet sophisticated outfit that fit the period

“Then let’s begin.”

~~~

The sun began to rise above the cliff where Technoblade had first summoned his Goddess. He took in a deep breath inward and then let the breath outwards after a few minutes of holding it. He sat criss-cross on the cliffside letting air into his lungs as he remembered the meditation techniques you had taught him many years ago. The voices were particularly antsy today but he had learned from the best how to control them, to quiet them down, talk, and reason with them.

‘The sun is rising. It’s very pretty, can we please just spill a little bit of blood?’

“No.” He murmured under his breath, “We get to see (Y/n) today. Don’t ruin this for me. We need her help.”

“They bothering you?” Your voice flowed through his head like butter, and warmth engulfed his entire being,

‘We are not! Come on, we love you! E!!!! Don’t be mean to us!’

“They said you’re being mean.”

“Am not,” You snorted wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and fell across his broad shoulders. Surprisingly the goddess’s touch comforted him, while others’ touches felt like fire, yours was pleasant. “Just want to make sure my prodigy is safe and in control,”

“I am thanks to your lessons.”

“Good, now. You said you wanted to talk to me about something important. Do tell, I’m very curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets from me.” A feather-light kiss was placed on his cheek as you moved from behind him to the front, he adored you. The sunlit up your cheeks and framed your head like a halo, it was like everything on earth was made to make you look perfect.

“I have a predicament,” He tapped his nails on his knees as you hummed thoughtfully, “There’s a war brewing between the government of ‘New L’manburg’ and myself. The government killed Wilbur, drove him so mad that Phil had to kill him to stop his nonsense.”

“I remember that,” You said with a stern nod, “there was a lot of blood spilled that day.” The people who fought in the war lost a lot of lives and you remembered it vividly, XD watched the battle with you from above, you wanted to keep an eye on Technoblade. When the battle was over and his allies betrayed him it took all of your willpower to not go down there and kill them all where they stood.

No one touches your prodigy.

XD had to physically hold your powers away from you, it was the closest you’ve come to losing control of since you were a young Goddess.

When Technoblade escaped to the Tundra that’s when you appeared in front of him, giving him a bone-crushing hug. He grunted at the unfamiliar body but there was only one person that he knew of who could appear out of nowhere and that was his Goddess. You remembered him apologizing to you, fearing you’d be mad at him for failing to kill all those who opposed you and him. You shut him up with a searing kiss, he was dizzy as you pulled away,

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” he murmured still recovering from the shock of the kiss, recovering from how much he enjoyed feeling your lips press against his own. “I won’t disappoint you again,”

“You better not.” You cupped his cold cheek with your hand, he nuzzled into it, “You have so much more to give.” Technoblade gave a stern nod as the voices urge him to kiss your forehead, and he listened. “My strong prodigy,” you recalled how he shivered at your words “Are you mine?”

“Only if you’re mine in return.”

“I can live with that.”

His big hand cupped your cheek and you snapped your attention back to the mortal in front of you, you smiled and kissed one of the scars on his palm. Techno brushed his thumb across your cheek, the stars on your face left his fingers tingling. “I need your help, they tried to execute me and hurt Phil they need to be taught a permanent lesson. Please fight by my side,”

“Love, you know I’m not allowed to interfere with wars of mortals. My brother will demote me.”

“I know that,” Technoblade assured reaching out to squeeze your hand, “that’s not what I mean or what I want for you Goddess.” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head,

“Explain,” consider your curiosity peaked.

“Grant me more of your power, fight through me, my dear.” Your eyes widened as his eyes flashed red,

“That’ll tear you apart, you will not be able to handle that.”

“I will.”

“Techno-”

“I trust you.”

Your lips dipped into a tight frown, “I don’t trust myself.” You admitted closing your eyes, “I’m called the Blood God for a reason Technoblade.”

“You’ve taught me how to keep control, I know you can as well darling. Please.”

“Fine,” You agreed after a while looking at the ground, “I’ll let my power flow through you on one condition. You only use it once when it’s life or death.”

“I promise you,” he leaned forward and kissed your lips causing you to purr happily. “I’ll only use it once just keep an ear out for when I call for you.”

“I will.”

The battle came much faster than Technoblade would’ve liked, he had Dream, Phil, and the dogs by his side. They would blow the government to smithereens and won’t stop until they hit bedrock. Above the clouds, he knew his Goddess was watching over them, there was no way they wouldn’t succeed. He felt the voices yearn for blood, yearn to serve and please their god, to wreck the entire governmental system. Dream told Technoblade and Phil their duties, which consisted of distracting the government with as many Withers as possible, so Dream could set up the canons. Technoblade could feel the buzzing in his skull knowing the voices were itching to set off the Withers and conquer. They gathered the wolves from underneath L’manburg and Technoblade ruffled their fur and gave them each some last-minute treats, he hated to think of that as a last meal for some of them, but that’s essentially what they were. As he made his way into the country Phil had squeezed his shoulder, a gesture meant to be affectionate in nature.

“Try not to die.”

“You too old man. You still have the totem I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Now let’s kick their asses,” Technoblade grinned viciously. He looked up into the swirling clouds in the sky, crows screaming overhead, “Watch over me, my goddess.” His head filled with warmth and he knew you were by his side like you promised you would be, Phil smiled over at Technoblade and looked to the sky as well.

‘Watch over him (y/n), Kristin,’ He thought getting into a position to release his Withers onto the world.

Technoblade followed suit, the citizens caught onto his presence almost immediately, ready to battle him with weapons drawn. Luckily the dogs took care of anyone who dared try to get a hit in, ripping apart any exposed flesh and spilling their blood on the ground. The dogs allowed him to set up two Withers and send them into the battle, exploding and targeting individuals in their line of sight. Technoblade escaped into a small area by a river and was suddenly attacked by Sapnap. The fire demon spawn’s eyes were alight with bloodlust, seemingly from slaughtering half of his pet wolves singlehandedly.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Sapnap grinned swinging the sword in his hand, fire sparking from the horns on his head. Technoblade had no time for the cocky man’s small talk as he charged at him, he blocked the blow with ease, golden ring glinting in the fleeting light. “Not much of a talker huh? No matter,” Sapnap snickered, “I’ll be the one to take your first life.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Technoblade snorted pulling away to kick Sapnap in the chest, he stumbled back but he was known for his quick recovery time. He grunted a little and sent a trail of fire-spitting towards Technoblade’s feet. Technoblade was distracted by the fire and it allowed the demon to slice a deep cut into Technoblade’s chest, the man didn’t have time to block. He grits his teeth and felt blood seep across his chest, pain ricocheting through his body. The voices roared to kill the idiot, to get up and give him a severe wound back, but before he could he was kicked in the chest by Sapnap and fell to his back. The sword was pointed at his neck and it dug in just deep enough for a droplet of blood to bubble under the sword.

He was fucked.

‘Call her. Call (Y/n). Call the Blood God. Call our Blood God. Blood for the Blood God.’

“Any last words?”

“(Y/n) I need you.”

“Who the fuck-” A blaring light blinded Sapnap as he stumbled back, squinting his eyes he could barely make out Technoblade in front of him. Technoblade’s eyes blazed a scarlet red, the wound on his chest healing over rapidly like he just ate two god apples. That wasn’t the worst of it though, Sapnap stumbled back some more, above Technoblade’s head was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her hands were cupping his head, red seeping from her fingers and licking at Techno’s head like flames. The Goddess’s eyes were closed as her hair floated around her head, framing her face beautiful, she was terrifying calm,

“What the fuck. Who the fuck?” His voice cracked watching the being open her sharp eyes, a bloodthirsty grin appeared on her lips. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Technoblade. Kill the idiot man, who dared to try and kill you. That is my command. Give Blood to your Blood God.”

Technoblade’s lips curled over his tusks, he was salivating, the voices were roaring. “Blood for the Blood God,”

He spoke and the last thing Sapnap saw was the shine off Technoblade’s blade, and the glowing eyes of the Goddess herself before the world around him went dark.

Technoblade was breathing heavily, the voices wanted more blood, he felt the pull from you as well, you wanted more blood spilled. Steam curled around his nose and he shook his head, ‘no. no more. Thank you.’ He licked the blood off his sword and the voices quieted, satisfied with the taste on his tongue.

“Stay safe,” Your voice echoed around the battlefield, some chose to ignore the booming voice of the female but others turned to look. Staring in awe at the sight of the goddess, many not knowing her origin or what she was but felt her power over the battlefield. “Don’t disappoint me,”

“You know I won’t.” He grinned blood staining his teeth, behind him an explosion rang out, Dream was ready with the TNT cannons. He heard a familiar cry from who he assumed Tommy and when he turned back to face you, you were gone.

They will forever know that Technoblade serves and is dating the Blood God.

~~~

Tag list: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

[zodiakuroo]

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences.  That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would.  Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice  that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours.  Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots  that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine.  You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle.  Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea.  He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.  

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it.  He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”.  All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”  

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt.  You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.  

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

[doctorofmagic]

So, in fairness to this ask, I haven't read strange #1 BUT I'm losing it at the idea that Clea just hurt Victor's feelings so badly he lost his motivation to fight her 🥺. And like, ok 2 things because I'm losing it but:

1. Victor losing any motivation to fight Clea after she basically said that Stephen doesn't trust or even like him (VICTOR!! Victor who is in that weird space where he is better friends with Stephen than most other heroes are. Their connection is truly bizarre but hey, that's magic, also you force a guy to sleep over at your house for a month and you think he understands the way you work, and then his wife shows up and tells you "nah fam he's always thought you were way too sketchy and specifically did something to stop you because he doesn't trust or like you" and apparently it makes you so smad you storm out without accomplishing anything you were gonna do lmao.)

2. I'm LOSING it Victor's doing it again HE'S DOING IT AGAIN!! Victor is going through the exact same process of grieving he did with Tony in Infamous Iron Man!! He is here to steal their signature things and take on the mantle to HONOR THEM HE'S DOING IT AGAIN YOUR HONOR (I know there's a LOT more perks to being SS (including the title) and Victor definitely wants those things but JUST. From a meta standpoint!! This is the second time Victor has lost a superhero friend he considers CLOSE TO HIM and the first thing, the FIRST THING HE DOES IS TRY TO FIND WAYS TO HONOR THEM I'M FUCKING CRYING YOUR HONOR) listen just. It's just me reading into it like crazy but the idea that Victor could've shown up in SOME REGARD, SOME PERCENTILE OUT OF GRIEF (not SHEER grief, I'm sure) IS MAKING ME LOSE MY SHIT.

Just. Victor is definitely a man of action and most often those actions have double meanings to them!! Yes usually it's played where something that seems good may actually be bad but THE REVERSE CAN ALSO BE TRUE FOR HIM. He wants to grieve and the only way he knows HOW is to honor the fallen and it could be that ACTUALLY (he'd snap my neck instantly for saying it and of course he's hiding it all behind pomp and anger and apathy but) HE'S DEVASTATED ABOUT STEPHENS DEATH that made him leave when Clea started saying, well, mean shit Victor ABSOLUTELY has a thick skin for after years of being belittled by superheroes!! And it's not like he genuinely takes authority above him seriously!! He like, NEVER has cared for someone being "above" him before!! the only example that comes to mind of Victor respecting someone higher up on a totem pole than him was FOR STEPHEN AS SORCERER SUPREME!!! so, SO! SO!!!

(this is such a long incomprehensible ask and I'm so sorry I'm just a poor little Victor Stan screaming about the idea of him being more hurt than he appears to be about Stephens death)

Anoooooon 😭😭😭

Okay so I have a huuuuge queue of asks but listen, when people talk about my faves in such an emotional and beautiful way, they have priority, this is my blog and I make the rules /j

Apologies in advance, my reply will be a mess as well.

I didn't really know how to feel at first, truth be told. The chapter really left me in a shocked mood about pretty much everything, especially when it comes to Victor and Clea. She was really mean to him and I wonder how she knew exactly where to go with words in order to hurt his feelings. I mean, it is canon that Stephen didn't want Victor to become Sorcerer Supreme back in New Avengers v2, but that was before Secret Wars. That was before Savage Avengers and Hellfire Gala. And Clea wasn't there in any of these occasions except for Infinity War (which also means that she's aware that Doom almost died to Thanos because of his desire for power).

At this point, I have the feeling that Clea is also aware of Stephen and Victor's relationship because, well, they are married and also connected to the magic community on Earth. She kinda knows that Stephen assisted Victor plenty of times.

I'm not so sure about Jed's portrayal of Doom, if there are actually hidden feelings or just pride (because, well, as Doom stans, we know that not all writers go that deep for him). But if we analyze his reaction when Jericho became SS compared to Clea, Victor couldn't care less about Jericho's feelings because they didn't talk about personal matters. Victor only stepped back when the light of the Eye was too much for him to bear. On the other hand... Clea said it to his face that Stephen's last desire was to make sure Victor wouldn't become the SS, which is not true. And instead of retaliating, Victor just... flinched.

Also "where were you when Stephen died?" I also have my doubts here if he's sorry for not being there or he was just not interested. There's also the possibility that he was busy with the Guardians of the Galaxy, and he now possesses Dormammu's power, which could lead them to another argument. But it's true. He didn't show up when the Mothers and the Peregrine Child arrived. Victor saved Stephen's life in Savage Avengers but he was not around when he died for real.

So we have the "old" (and I use this word carefully because I do believe Victor has plenty of character development) Doom, the cold king who doesn't show emotions. And yet, I like to think that, even though he still hides his heart beneath a literal armor, Stephen is one of the few people who are able to see through his façade. Or else, how can one explain this???

This is indulgence at its finest.

What I mean is, I deeply want to believe that Victor is here not because of power but because he wants to honor the mantle and Stephen's memories. If you think about it, Victor would have to make the Sanctum partially his home since it's a place of power and artifacts. And he knoooows the heroes would retaliate to see him as the SS. It's IIM all over again deep down.

It's tricky, ngl. I need more to be sure because I don't want to have my hopes up only to read more of one-dimensional Victor, but of course my heart CRAVES it, LONGS FOR IT. I have no idea if Victor and Clea will clash again, and the whole Dormammu's power will be brought into light. But if I could choose the plot, boi, we'd be reading T&T 2.0 with both of them teaming up to save Stephen. I'm manifesting it every single day of my life lmao. Although, since it's Clea's book, it's hard to believe she will have assistance. Unless there's character development to show that it's not good to be alone when you're the SS. Stephen more than anyone else knows that.

hhhhh and I couldn't agree more! Victor never tried to steal the mantle from Stephen because the man respects him so so so much. Also, have you ever seen Doom saying these words to ANYONE ELSE????????

I'm losing my mind too sos.

Ugh, I feel so frustrated for loving a character like Victor because while we have excellent and deep perception of his character (Hickman, Duggan, Al Ewing, Stern), we also have to deal with writers like, ew, Waid (yes, people, Waid is bad both to Stephen and Victor haha) or whoever wrote that atrocity called Fantastic Four Life Story. So it's always a surprise if Victor will be an emotional mess or just a shallow villain. I'm always here for emotional mess, obviously. And I pray that Jed is also aiming for that. I want him to break. I want him to be in shambles for failing Stephen. Because I love him and this is my love language. In the end, I think Clea made him swallow his pride and showed him that he does not deserve to claim something that was Stephen's when he was not there for him. And that really hurt him, whether it was his pride or guilt. I suppose it was a bit too much but she had a point there. And I adore this kind of angst. Also... I'm not saying it's canon or anything, but what if she resents him for not being there when Stephen died? And now he has the audacity of claiming his legacy? NOT ON HER WATCH! (ah, yes, more angst, delicious food) Anyway, I didn't make any sense, did I? I just cried over them like I always do hhh I'm sorry. But I wanted to thank you deeply for this ask, it was really so so so beautiful and I'm with you till the very end. And please feel free to interact whenever you feel like it, I'm always down for it n.n

Have a wonderful day/night 🥰

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

[eligaxy]

Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

[promptsfromthecrypt]

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌   𝐵𝑌  𝐼𝐶𝐸  𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐸  𝐾𝐼𝐿𝐿𝑆      ( 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 )      ♡      𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎  𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

       ╰   *  𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧  𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘  𝗢𝗙  𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘.

the  following  starters  are  from  the  above  titled  album  by  the  band  𝗜𝗖𝗘  𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘  𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗦.  some  grammar  has  been  changed  to  fit  a  roleplay  setting.  further  changes  may  be  made  as  necessary.

𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦  𝑎𝑥𝑒 – 𝑚𝑎𝑠.

silent  night ,  deadly  night  ( 1984 )

“ you  better  run  for  your  life. ”

“  at  just  ( number )  years–old ,  my  parents  were  butchered. ”

“ he  seemed  jolly  at  first. ”

“ he  let  out  a  laugh  but  then  left  us  for  dead. ”

“ that  scene ,  so  vicious. ”

“ punish  the  wicked. ”

“ don’t  ask  ( name )’s  forgiveness. ”

“ you  will  believe  in  me. ”

“ so  much  for  a  merry  christmas. ”

“ the  sinners  scream  and  shout. ”

“ i  made  sure  the  noose  was  yuletide  tight. ”

“ so  much  for  a  silent  night. ”

“ took  my  season’s  beatings  and  now  it’s  time  to  give  back. ”

“ the  hearse  is  on  it’s  way. ”

“ you’re  a  slave  to  your  vice. ”

“ it’s  fucking  garbage  day! ”

“ fa–la–la–la–la ,  feliz  navi–dead ! ”

𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒  𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

an  american  werewolf  in  london  ( 1981 )

“ it’s  tearing  me  apart  but  it’s  us  or  them. ”

“ how  can  it  be?  the  softer  the  skin ,  the  sharper  the  teeth. ”

“ call  the  nurse. ”

“ it’s  worse  when  i’m  alone. ”

“ is  it  all  in  my  head? ”

“ i’ve  fallen  prey  to  a  curse  i  can’t  disown. ”

“ is  it  all  in  my  head? ”

“ this  is  love  i  just  can’t  live  without. ”

“ i’m  counting  on  beauty  to  kill  off  the  beast. ”

“ you  bit  off  more  than  you  could  chew. ”

“ you  taste  too  good  to  be  true. ”

“ safe  in  my  arms  you  will  lay ,  ‘cause  every  dog  has  its  day. ”

𝑖𝑡  𝑖𝑠  𝑡𝘩𝑒  𝑒𝑛𝑑.

it  ( 1990  /  2017  /  2019 )

“ allow  me  to  introduce  myself.  they  call  me  the  dancing  clown. ”

“  and  you  must  be  ( name ). ”

“ did  you  hear  my  circus  was  in  town? ”

“ it  seems  i  have  your  boat  here. ”

“ step  right  this  way ,  i’m  at  your  service  with  a  smile. ”

“ believe  me ,  it’s  nothing  to  fear. ”

“ you’ll  see  that  we  all  float  down  here. ”

“ prey  on  the  pure  at  heart ,  feed  on  their  body  parts.  ”

“ i’ve  got  some  big  fucking  shoes  to  fill. ”

“  follow  me  and  i’ll  show  you  the  truth. ”

“ catch  me  at  the  big  top. ”

“ you  know  i’m  not  clowning  around. ”

“ even  with  a  smile  ear  to  fuckin’  ear.  ”

“ it’s  everything  you  know ,  it’s  everything  you  fear. ”

“ it’s  more  than  just  a  costume  and  red  balloons. ”

“ it’s  coming  back  around  every  twenty–seven  years. ”

“ you  know  what  makes  me  smile?  devoured  juveniles. ”

“ chuckled  so  hard  i  choked. ”

“ they  say  that  laughter  is  the  best  medicine. ”

“ it  is  the  end ,  it’s  come  again. ”

“ believe  it  or  not ,  you’ll  all  disappear.  ”

“ it  cannot  be  fought ,  we  all  float  down  here. ”

𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟  𝑛𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟'𝑠  𝑢𝑝

scream  ( 1996 )

“ hello  there. ”

“ soon  you’ll  discover.  ”

“ i’m  sorry  sir ,  but  i  think  you  have  the  wrong  number. ”

“ tell  me  your  name  and  i’ll  tell  you  mine. ”

“ my  name?  but  why? ”

“ you  picked  up  the  phone  when  mom  and  dad  left  you  alone. ”

“ i  wanna  know  who  i’m  looking  at. ”

“ when  your  number’s  up ,  it’s  time  to  scream. ”

“ don’t  you  know  not  to  ask  those  questions? ”

“ what  will  become  of  me? ”

“ you  ought  to  know  it’s  a  sure  death  sentence. ”

“ have  you  not  seen  this  movie? ”

“  freddy ,  michael ,  jason  voorhees–––  learn  from  those  who  came  before  me. ”

“ i’m  hangin’  up  the  phone. ”

“ my  mom  and  dad  will  soon  be  home. ”

“ i  won’t  fall  victim  to  the  blade. ”

“ i  wanna  see  what  your  insides  look  like. ”

“ how  could  you  be  so  evil? ”

“ our  film  is  nearly  finished  and  for  you ,  there  is  no  sequel. ”

“ guess  i’ll  leave  your  body  on  the  cutting  room  floor. ”

“ all  bets  are  off–––  i  just  buried  drew  barrymore. ”

“ when  the  cops  find  the  phone ,  the  call’s  still  listed  as  unknown. ”

“ it’s  the  end  of  the  line  and  all  that’s  left  is  a  dial  tone. ”

“ the  knife  in  you  brings  out  the  life  in  me. ”

𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟

cover  of  “ thriller ”  by  michael  jackson

“ it’s  close  to  midnight  and  somethin’  evil’s  lurkin’  in  the  dark. ”

“ under  the  moonlight ,  you  see  a  sight  that  almost  stops  your  heart. ”

“ you  try  to  scream ,  but  terror  takes  the  sound  before  you  make  it. ”

“ as  horror  looks  you  right  between  the  eyes  you’re  paralyzed. ”

“ this  is  thriller  night. ”

“ no  one’s  gonna  save  you  from  the  beast  about  to  strike. ”

“ you  hear  the  door  slam  and  realize  that  there’s  nowhere  left  to  run. ”

“ you  feel  the  cold  hand  and  wonder  if  you’ll  ever  see  the  sun. ”

“ you  close  your  eyes  and  hope  that  this  is  just  imagination. ”

“ you  hear  a  creature  creepin’  up  behind–––  you’re  out  fo  time. ”

“ darkness  falls  across  the  land ,  the  midnight  hour’s  close  at  hand. ”

“ creatures  crawl  in  search  of  blood  to  terrorize  your  neighborhood. ”

“ whosoever  shall  be  found  without  the  soul  for  gettin’  down  must  stand  and  face  the  hounds  of  hell  and  rot  inside  a  corpse’s  shell. ”

“ i  can  thrill  you  more  than  any  ghoul  could  ever  dare  try. ”

“ so  let  me  hold  you  tight  and  share  killer  thriller  tonight. ”

“ the  foulest  stench  is  in  the  air. ”

“ grisly  ghouls  from  every  tomb  are  closin’  in  to  seal  your  doom. ”

“ though  you  fight  to  stay  alive ,  your  body  starts  to  shiver. ”

“ no  mere  mortal  can  resist  the  evil  of  the  thriller. ”

[imthatchishiyasimp]

I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh shit” was all I could say, looking at the now crimson red-hoodie.

“You better fix that”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi!!! Had this idea and couldn't resist writing about it, also the title helped to develop it hahahaha.

it's not NSFW, but it hints a bit about it at the end, so be careful. Also, TW: death and blood are both mentioned and described.

The previous game night I got my sweatshirt broken, and since then I had been borrowing people’s clothes. I wasn’t able to search for a new decent one and I was planning on scabaging a few stores on my way back to the Beach after this game.

I had managed to steal a few clothes from Kunai and some other people, and they didn’t mind. No one minded but Chishiya, that bastard. His hoodies were so clean and soft, wonders where he took them. So, given that he didn’t want to lend them over, I broke into his room and stole the best one. It was pure white, big and comfy with a front pocket and a hood.

He wasn’t supposed to go out and play tonight, so it would have been fine. He wasn’t even in the car when I got there. But, out of nowhere, he was at the lobby of the game arena I was supposed to clear.

I mean, the mad look he gave me? Dude, I was scared.

We were playing a spades game, an easy one. In total there were eight participants, two of them were new to the games and scared to the bone.

“REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED. THERE ARE A TOTAL OF 8 PARTICIPANTS. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

I looked around and saw a path going up the stairs and into a wide corridor. Two small tables were placed at the bottom of them, one holding the phones left after we all took our own, and the other one with several collars. I had heard of them in other games, but I didn’t have the pleasure of trying them on.

While the phones were informing us of the difficulty of the game, I got closer to Chishiya, step by step, judging if he was mad enough to give me the silent treatment. Apparently not, because he didn’t push me away nor did he go to the other corner of the mini crowd we formed. I tucked my hand into the pocket and balanced on my toes, listening to the rules of the game.

“GAME: TARGET SHOOTING.”

“PLEASE, PUT ON THE COLLARS PLACED ON THE TABLE”.

Reluctantly, we all clasped the collar around our necks. It felt wrong and cold, like the hand of a murderer patiently waiting to squeeze harder and harder until you died. I swallowed hard, rolling my head and trying to get used to the feeling. My eyes drifted to Chishiya’s form and I wasn’t surprised to find him unaltered. His hands were hidden in his pockets, his face covered by the hood, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes.

He looked at me, from head to toes. Would he forgive me because I looked good in his clothes? Probably not, but I could wish.

“RULE: MANAGE TO SHOOT ACCURATELY TO THE TARGET WITH THE CROSSBOWS LEFT IN EACH ROOM”.

“CLEAR CONDITION: PASS THE 10 ROOMS WITH PERFECT AIM. IF YOU FAIL, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED. IF YOU MAKE ANOTHER PLAYER SHOOT IN YOUR TURN, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED”.

“TIME LIMIT: 30 MINUTES, EACH ROOM HAS A MAXIMUM OF 3 MINUTES. IF YOU DON’T CLEAR THE ROOM IN THAT TIME, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED”.

“THE GAME WILL START ONCE YOU OPEN THE DOORS”.

Without a word, we all took the stairs up to the first mark pointing to door number 1. Some guy opened it and we walked inside. It was almost empty, leaving one table with a crossbow and a handful of arrows. At the end of the room there was a kind of dart-board, but the red center was way bigger than usual. Just a few steps from the door there was a mark with two feet, signaling the shooting position.

Our phones chimed with the time starting the countdown. Below the time apparead the face of one of the players, giving him the first turn. A black haired boy took the crossbow with confidence, getting the arrow ready and shooting with efficiency.

“Are you mad at me?” I whispered to Chishiya.

He gave me the eye and grunted. “I clearly remember telling you not to steal my clothes. Are you going deaf?”

I giggled and hid my nose in the hoodie. It smelled like him, one of the very first reasons why I stole it. I love the way he smells of new things, undiscovered fragrances and fresh days. It brought me peace and calm; I felt safe.

“I was cold and couldn’t find anything else. You weren’t supposed to see, I thought you weren’t due yet”.

The first three participants did well, the last one getting too close to the limit but managing anyway. I was next.

Taking an arrow and getting ready for the shooting, I placed myself on the mark and breathed deeply. I didn’t like guns, but I had a good aim when needed. With a clear shot, I gave the crossbow to the next player.

We all passed the room within the time limit and left for the next one. Given the easiness of the first room, a bust of confidence started to grow in each player, so when the target became a pain to shoot, panic bursted in the room.

It was room 4 where the first player died. An old woman that was trembling with fear and exhaustion missed the red circle. She dropped the crossbow and looked at us in fear, grabbing the collar and pulling with force. I walked backwards until I met the opposite wall. Chishiya was next to me, with his eyes locked in the body of the lady going down after the bomb exploded. I couldn’t look at it.

The next player had to move her body to be able to step on the mark, and that was when all of us were aware of the situation. While I knew what the collar meant, some of the participants didn’t.

“I will return it after the game, I promise. Just wait until we finish and I’m able to take something from some mall” I told him walking towards room number 6. No one was talking, so my voice was easy to pick up above the steps of the players. They looked at me from the corner of their eyes, wondering how I was so calm, how I was able to think of something else apart from the game.

Chishiya brought my hood up and placed it on my head, covering my hair with it. “If you don’t bring it back, you will face consequences” And then he walked faster to the next room. I gulped, not wanting to know what would await me if I didn’t. The feeling of his fingers through the strands of my hair still alive on my mind.

Room 8 only held four players. Chishiya and I were with the boy with shooting experience and a girl with short hair. Both of them were young and composed, getting through the game without a word from their lips.

It was getting noticeably difficult. The target was in higher places and getting smaller by the point. A headache was starting to grow and it made me clench my fingers more often, almost making me shoot a moment before I was ready. The pressure of the time was smaller since we were less people, but it meant we took more time to get ready and I was getting nervous.

The four of us made it to room 10. It looked like the last one, extremely difficult with a very small target and too high to comfortably shoot. The boy was called first and he got ready to shoot. His confidence had wavered in the last rooms, same as the rest, but he still made an effort on showing a calm facade.

I was sure he was gonna clear the game. I think all of the players in the room thought so. And I was behind him, waiting for my turn, looking anxiously at the time getting close to the end. But also, we all thought there wasn’t going to happen anything else. No one saw the vents opening and giving a rush of air, making the arrow go a bit to the left and missing the target. It was a soft breeze, but enough to change the course of the arrow.

“No. No, no, no. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen! They didn’t tell! It’s not fair! I was the first one to shoot!” He shouted. He started screaming at us because now we knew about it. He died in the middle of a cry, shaking me from the shoulders. And I just stood there, listening to his cries and too shocked to fight him.

I got all his blood spattered on myself, his dead eyes printed on my mind.

I don’t recall what happened after. I just remember throwing the body of the dead player to one side, taking the crossbow and shooting to the target. I almost missed, having miscalculated the force of the air released by the vents. I think the girl went after me and cleared the game too. We waited until Chishiya shot and stood there, listening to the beeping sound of the phones.

“GAME CLEAR”.

“CONGRATULATIONS”.

Leaving the hotel next to Chishiya was a bit awkward. He was playing with the card in his hands, looking at it with an interesting face. And he wasn’t talking, not even humming. He liked to point out things about the game after he cleared them, about the rules, the players or the place we played in. But he didn’t. We arrived at the nearest car that was going to the Beach and I made a move to get in. I wasn’t in the mood of walking all the way back, but Chishiya stopped me before I could open the door.

“Nope, you are not coming” He told me, pushing me away from the car.

“What? Why?” I asked, frowning my eyebrows. He pointed to my chest and I looked down. “Oh shit” It was so far gone. There was not a single white spot in the hoodie. It was absolutely red. “Oh fuck, oh no, I’m so sorry”. I looked at him, my face showing full remorse, big eyes asking for forgiveness. I tried to reach him, failing when he moved out of my reach.

He just smirked and shook his head. “I will wait until tomorrow night. You better fix that before then”. And he got in the car, leaving me alone in the street, hands still in the air.

“Chishiya you bastard! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

So there I was, going into every shop I could find, searching for an identical hoodie and taking advantage of the trip to pick a few things for myself. It wasn’t a special hoodie or something, but most of them were either the wrong size or too dirty. I took my precious time looking for a perfect one, also taking some more to give as an apology and for me to match. We would see who would try to steal then.

I had miscalculated the time it would take me to walk back to the Beach. The ride to the game arena was a bit longer than usual, but I didn’t think walking would take me that much.

The sun was going down when I reached the Beach. I was famished and thirsty as hell. I was only able to take a fast lunch and I walked a too long distance. I went straight to the kitchens and I gulped down a full bottle of water with some snacks.

After I was satisfied, I stood and took my bags to my room, putting away the clothes I picked and changing into something clean. Taking the ones I chose for Chishiya, I left my room and went to his.

I knocked and waited until I heard footsteps coming to open the door. I fought a smile miting my lip and tried to remain calm. He opened the door just a bit to see who was knocking, opening fully seeing me there.

“Do you like this one?” I said while turning around and opening my arms. “It’s exactly the same one, size and all, and don’t forget the hood and the pocket!” I watched him lean into the door frame and smirk behind his hair. He gave me a look crossing his arms and letting out a breathy laugh.

I remained serious and gave a sorry look. “I mean, if you don’t like it, I have a few more for you to choose. Here, let me try them on so you can see how they look” Taking the sleeves, I pulled my arms out and started to take the hoodie off in the middle of the corridor.

I heard him moving just when I was about to take it off. Suddenly I was being dragged by the arm and thrown into Chishiya’s room.

I laughed out loud, almost tripping because of the strength and the lack of vision due to the hoodie being over my head. His room smelled like he did and I was high on it.

“Do you need to be such a pain for me to do something?” He said with a smug voice, taking the hoodie completely off me. His dark eyes checked me out and I felt so vulnerable under his gaze that I felt chills running through my body.

Could he be any more handsome? The way this eyes held the whole world’s knowledge made me shiver in both fear and awe. The white strands of hair dancing around his face, making him shine even more. His smile, a rare but precious sight.

His touch was warm and delicate. His fingers went through my hair, to my cheekbones and to my neck, going slowly and leaving me breathless.

I took a step forward and grabbed at his clothes, feeling brave for a moment, getting close to his ear to whisper with a soft and heavy voice: “It worked, didn’t it?” Besides, now I know what it takes to bring you down”.

“You’re on”.