#though only VERY VERY LOOSELY so. enough to bother *me* if i don't do them in order

[beatcroc]

comic planning/roughs on the clock at work 👍 ok. this one's still a few posts out though

[atrwriting]

rivalry — blackwood and bracken arranged marriage au

pt. 1 — bracken!reader x davos blackwood

au where two marriage pacts end the rivalry between the blackwoods and the brackens (i don't care if this has been done before this is my version gbye)

as always, warnings: misogyny, davos is a fucking FREAK, smuuuuut, dirty talk, breeding kink

lmk if u want pt 2 — aeron bracken x blackwood!fem!reader ;)

my fiancé actually loosely edited this for me so if this sucks it's his fault

____

“let’s get this over with.”

you gulped. you had been dreading this moment ever since your father announced there would be a peace treaty between your family, the brackens, and the blackwoods. the ceremony, the feast, and the dancing were not your biggest concern — but your wedding night? nothing could stop your hands from shaking — and your new husband, davos blackwood, surely wouldn’t step forward and aid you in your time of anxiety.

you folded your lip in between your teeth, playing with the exquisite shift that was custom made for this exact night — a night supposed to be consumed by the throws of pleasure and a hopeful future, possibly in the form of an heir. you couldn’t believe the brokering of peace came in the form of a marriage pact — to someone who would never see you as anything but a bracken, his enemy.

two marriage pacts, actually — you married davos blackwood, and your brother, aeron bracken, married davos' sister. two feuding families. bound not just by one marriage pact, but two — because everyone knew that only one marriage would not have been sufficient for peace. not only was he forced to spend his life, or the rest of yours, with a bracken — but his sister? forced to marry a bracken, as well? aeron bracken? of them all?

you could see it on his face — gray with sick. it turned your stomach as well — to realize you were loathed so much.

“i can’t change who i am,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes on the floor. “nor my heritage. i understand you loathe the sight of me, for what it reminds you of — but i can’t change that.”

he didn’t respond. he just undressed with his back turned to you, save for his pants and under shirt. you watched the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as he tugged off the garments, preparing for bed. you couldn’t see his face as he undressed — and you weren’t sure if it was good or bad. good because you could speak boldly — bad because he refused to look at you, and possibly would refuse your request.

“but as your wife... even if it’s the one you didn’t wish for…” you sighed, losing your thoughts and confidence. “i promise to not be a bother to you — the only thing i ask… is…”

he turned towards you then, but not completely. it was like he gave you his attention, but was fully aware of what he withheld from you — even though you were practically baring your soul to him. you weren’t in his head, you couldn’t be sure… but his silence was enough of a signal that he most likely would not understand a woman’s anxiety in a moment like this.

here goes absolutely nothing, you thought. you mustered up whatever courage you had — albeit very little — and continued, “you do not owe me anything — but i… i…”

“spit it out,” he bit.

your mouth fell slightly agape with his tone. it was the way feuding men speak to each other — not a feuding husband and wife. it was like you were stripped of your femininity and your new identity as his wife, and replaced with that of a rival male — causing you to come to the realization that this feud ran so deep that not even two marriage pacts with the hope of inspiring peace would be sufficient.

he would always hate you. always.

he’s going to hate you as if you’re your brother anyway, you thought. might as well have the stones to match.

you clenched your jaw, raising your eyeline. you refused to cower to a man when it wouldn’t make him hate you less — and especially not if it definitely wouldn’t get you what you wanted. you were afraid, and out of options. with a sigh, you responded, “be gentle with me the first time. just the first — that is all i ask.”

you held his gaze then — refusing to look away. he needed to know how desperate you were, to avoid that unfathomable pain as much as possible. you’d look him in the eye, the eye of the enemy of your family for the last few centuries — because otherwise the shame and dishonor was too great, and too heavy for a new wife to bear.

if you weren’t so intent on not seeming weak, you should have looked — actually looked — at your husband. at how broad his shoulders appeared in comparison to his lean waist and hips. his light eyes that seem to pierce you in a way that only a dagger could; sharp, and forever on edge. how he was so handsome that you might done anything to see him smile or laugh… but you couldn’t. wouldn't. you most likely would never get that chance — but you bet that he looked so handsome when he smiled.

but he would never smile for a bracken.

“be gentle with you?” he asked, accusation already in his eyes. his fists were bawled at his sides as he walked towards you. “as if your craven brother would be gentle with my sister?”

“how dare you even insinuate my brother would treat his lady wife with anything but kindness and respect!” you spat, leaning towards him with anger dripping from your pretty lips. “he may not like this situation any more than us — but he would never harm a woman, no matter what family she came from.”

he shook his head, glancing away from you. “you are actually naive enough to believe that?”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “if you’re stupid enough to believe that of him — then why would you want to be the very thing that you hope does not enter your sister’s bed this very same evening? — do you wish to be as despicable as you believe him to be, my lord husband?”

“watch your mouth, wife!” he spat through gritted teeth. “you would do well to mind your craven tongue.”

you mouth fell agape at his words. “my craven tongue, blackwood?” you scoffed at his words, suddenly too angry to be in the room with him. you didn’t want to get this angry — you wanted this to be as peaceful as possible. “i suddenly find myself wanting to leave this room — do enjoy our wedding night by yourself husband. i’m sure you’re well acquainted with your hand —“

you went to push by him, but he grabbed you by the elbow. he refused to let you pass, but you did not press the subject with words or jerking movements of your body. you did not know your husband — only his reputation from the mouths of kin. you did not dare push his anger — not when he could do with you as he pleased in this room, with no consequence outside these walls.

“i have been made very well aware of a bracken’s inability to perform their duty — but you will not stop me from performing mine, wife,” he grit, glaring down at you.

“i asked you to perform it honorably, husband! — if you can’t, then your reputation precedes you,” you spat. “so what will it be? i put the cards in your hands — so deal.”

his nose curled into a snarl, matching the hateful expression on his face. hatred poured from his veins, while you could feel your own resolve slipping away from your face. fear was creeping back in, as boldness only got a woman so far in the bedroom of an angry man. fear, fear, fear. it leaked from every one of your pores like tears, but you fought those. you blinked several times in order to hide what you could. if he saw the fear on your face, his own expression didn’t change.

…unless he knew the fear was always there, and he didn’t care.

“…please,” you whispered, anger still on your face but your voice threatening to break. “just tonight, husband — please.”

“i would never hurt a woman,” he spat, the flames on his face beginning to subside. “only a bracken —“

“i didn’t think you would hurt a woman,” you spoke, trying to soften your voice. “i asked — because others have described this pain as one of the worst. i was afraid, lord husband — but not of you.”

while you intentionally softened your voice, your husband did no such thing. he merely let his anger die with your words, most likely at the fact that you were the one to admit weakness. you were the one to admit vulnerability. you were the one to have to beg. you had won, but at what cost to your pride?

it didn’t matter now. all that mattered was getting this done. quick, done, and over with.

“lie on your back,” was all he said, holding your gaze.

your lips parted as your eyes looked down at the floor. you turned in place, and began walking towards the bed. you laid down on, fighting the urge to twist your fingers together in anxiety. you kept your head forward, but your gaze down and to the side. out of the corner of your eye, you could see your husband walk over to the bed and climb on top of you.

he unlaced his leathers as he spoke, both of you avoiding the other’s eyes. “avoid allowing your muscles to tense up — it will only make it worse.”

you whispered a small “okay,” barely audible.

you opened your legs, lifting up slightly at your hips for him to rest comfortably. he adjusted, before you watched him bring his hand to his mouth. you couldn’t help yourself — you watched as his lips sucked his long fingers past their opening, lubricating the digits. his eyebrows knitted together with the motion, before his fingers found their way between your thighs. you fought the urge to jump or squeal when you felt his warm, wet fingers thread through your folds.

he let out a sigh of discontent before glancing up to your face.

“trust me, alright?” he asked.

you didn’t verbally respond. you simply looked at him with your lips slightly parted, eventually nodding.

that was enough for him. he climbed down the length of your body, settling himself between your legs. he raised the length of your shift up to your stomach, leaving your bare from the abdomen down. in your nervous state, you took it as a cue to slip your dress off. when he saw the cool air hit your naked breasts and harden your nipples into a peak, his own lips parted — and you felt a growing mass harden against your leg.

“you’re beautiful, wife,” he spoke — seemingly without realizing it. you almost thanked him, before he added, “...for a bracken.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, ready to respond — when he dipped below your navel.

you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise — you couldn’t help it.

his tongue licked up and down the length of your slit, and dove in between your folds. you immediately covered your mouth with your hand, all of your muscles going tense. davos had wrapped his arms under your thighs, hoisting them around his shoulders. his tongue was thick and messy against your folds, causing them to glisten in the flames of the nearby fire.

and once his tongue made contact with the pearl at the very top of your slit, you let out an exhale of ease. it was not lost on your husband — who drew a circle around the circumference of the bud. when he noticed you relaxed more, he drew another. when he noticed you fought the urge to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, he drew yet another. he knew what was happening — but he wasn’t sure if you did.

when you began to fist the sheets with your one free hand, he didn’t stop drawing.

he locked his head in between your thighs with them thrown over his shoulders. your cunt was dripping juices from your sweet, untouched hole — and davos found himself ashamed to admit that he lost himself in the act. for a moment, he couldn’t help but forget the name of the girl above him — the one taking everything he gave her, and acting so grateful with the way she couldn’t stay still.

but after that moment… he could’ve ripped away and plunged into you, making the act become done and over quicker. he could’ve… but he found himself enjoying it.

he continued to draw those circles — those small, tiny, wet circles that sent you in a haze — as he slipped a finger inside your cunt. and then two. he was greedy for your reaction. he was greedy for the way he knew, he fucking knew, that you had never experienced pleasure like this — not by you or anyone else. him, a blackwood, would be the one to make you feel so good you would forget your name and house for even the smallest moment — even the smallest moment would be a win for his pride and for his house.

a small part of him hoped you’d feel shame at the fact he’d make you succumb to the throws of pleasure... but a larger part of him wanted to make you feel so good that you allegiance to your house wavered. ...but when he began to suck on your clit, sounds filling the room — he knew it would be both.

from below, he watched you shove the side of your face into the pillow and pull at its threads. your hips began to ride against his face, coating his chin with everything you could give him. he held you down the best he could — bratty little thing you were, but it was difficult as he also wanted you to lose control. he watched as you tried to bite your lip, harder and harder and harder — before you gave up. you left out a sob into the pillow, legs still shaking, and davos kissed your clit.

when davos crawled back up to meet you, every nerve ending had pins and needles. you were warm from head to toe — no longer in need of the fire, your shift, or any blanket. you were shivering, but not from the cold — but from the comedown, a stranger to passion and lust and pleasure. all three twirled around in your womb like a fire that had never been lit; a treasure to be discovered — only by davos.

“can i kiss you?” you asked before thinking it through.

davos had a look of being caught off guard. he wasn’t expecting you to ask, and you saw it flash on his face. you suddenly grew worried —

he didn’t let you finish your thought. davos leaned forward and kissed you.

he kissed you in the way you would expect a boy you love to kiss you — sweet, gentle, but with a growing passion that could only be shared in the bedroom. he held his weight with one of his strong arms, the other tucked behind the back of your knee. he pulled your knee to his hip and you wrapped both legs around his hips. you pulled him into you and felt the skin of his pelvis brush against your cunt.

“you’re so sweet,” you spoke against his lips. with obvious sarcasm, you added, “...for a blackwood.”

he laughed then. “you’re obedient for a bracken.”

you flicked his stomach, causing him to yelp — but you didn’t let him pull away for long. with both hands, you pulled him back to meet your lips. it hadn't even crossed your mind to ask him to wipe his mouth, for you did not want to. the old gods and the new would surely curse you for such lust filled thoughts — but you didn't care. how could you care when you had found a way to bring peace between a blackwood and a bracken, even if it was temporary? how could you care when you sharing one of the most holy of relationships, being the intimacy between husband and wife? how could you care when this night was going better than you could have hoped?

you could sense him bring his own hand down to his large member, feeling his forearm brush your thigh as he fisted his length. as much as you wanted to reach out and pleasure him — you were worried for what came next. the pain. the inevitable.

davos lined up the red tip of his cock with your tight hole, barely stretched out by his fingers. he slid his cock up and down the length of your slit with the intent of collecting as much of your juices as possible. with a slight push, he entered you.

you immediately let your head fall onto the pillow as the stretch began to burn. the pain on your face was evident, and davos guided his hand to draw circles on your clit once more. your muscles loosened, welcoming the pleasure that davos brought you.

“please,” you gasped, flicking your eyes up to him.

he stared at your face with an intense look of study. with his eyebrows knitted together, he brought one of your legs over his lower back and held you by the back of your thigh. the stretch was felt in the length of your cunt, as it stretched to fill his size.

davos was concerned for your well-being, of course, but something was beginning to curl in his lower abdomen. he wanted to take your by force — prying your legs open, holding your thighs in place, and drilling his cock into your swollen, dripping cunt. he wanted you to moan his name in his ear and pull at his hair or scratch his back — but he couldn’t, not yet. not just yet. not when you were you worried before, especially now that your attitude had been lost.

he had half a mind to point that out — lest that return.

“keep going,” you spoke.

“what if —“

“i’ll tell you to stop if it hurts,” you interrupted. “it’s all felt so good — i don’t want it to stop.”

he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is my wife claiming to know more than her lord husband?”

you squinted your eyes at him, ready to bite back. “i’ll have you know —“

but he didn’t wait for you to finish.

he leaned forward, placing both forearms on the side of your head. you could feel his lips against your earlobe, causing a quick intake of breath to overtake you. as he leaned forward to your ear, his hips leaned forward as well. his large cock was fully buried inside you now, rocking back and forth as it hit a spot so deep inside you that you didn’t know how he was able to fit. it felt like it was right behind your tiny pearl, which was being nudged by your husband’s pelvic bone. the combination was driving you crazy, only nonsense poured from your pretty lips…

“you’ll take what i give you, my pretty bracken wife,” he spat. “or should i say, blackwood, hmm? no longer craven?”

you wanted to bite back. you wanted to slap him. you wanted to push him from between you and make him finished himself off — but you couldn’t. you couldn’t fight your hips as they raised to meet his own, holding still as he pounded into your pretty cunt.

“a cock made you forget where your loyalties lie?” he questioned with a scoff, but never forgetting to smirk. “that’s all you need, wife? no one’s ever made you feel like this before?”

“you fucking —“

“say it,” he spat, almost growling against your lobe. his hips were snapping against yours as your cunt milked his cock, hoping for the spend that would seal the accomplishment of the marital duty. you were almost in tears from the frustration and the pleasure — not sure how to channel it, not sure what to do with it. “say it!”

“no one, davos,” you cried into the open air above you. “only you, only…”

his hands were tangled through your hair now, keeping your head upright as he sucked on your neck. little nips and bites sent shockwaves throughout your body, and your hips began to stir in the familiar way they had moments prior. davos’ weight held you perfectly still and taut, subjecting you to the pleasure his cock brought in the most perfect way.

“bet you can’t stand that you’re buried in a bracken right now,” you bit, almost succumbing to tears. “— can’t stand that only my womb will give you an heir —“

he yanked on your hair then, extending your neck so you were at his mercy. a strangled gasp left your mouth as you clung to him, which surprised you. you once asked for gentleness, kindness, sweetness… but if you had known how good this would feel… you wouldn’t have even bothered. you would’ve pushed and pulled him all night — subjecting him to the same insults that he hurled towards you if it meant he would fuck you this good.

“and i’ll coat your womb in everything i have, wife,” he growled, pushing his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. “everything i have — until you’re full of blackwood seed. until there's blackwood in your veins. a full blackwood honorable enough to give me a blackwood heir.”

“i’ll never be —“

you couldn’t finish your sentence. the combination between his large cock taking you and his skilled fingers working you… it was all too much. you couldn’t handle the pleasure and the bittersweetness of his attitude, as you were already so close to your peak and losing to him. you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as spreading throughout your womb… ready for him…

“davos, please — “ you cried. “i’m so close. please don’t stop…”

“tell me you’re a blackwood,” he spat. “say it — or i’ll stop.”

“you wouldn’t —“

“i would dare, lady blackwood,” he spat, interrupting you. “now tell me who you belong to — or i’ll leave you unsatisfied with this pretty cunt dripping.”

he immediately began to slow down his hips, and you felt his fingers begin to slow as well. you tried to fight the incessant need to have him continue, but it proved difficult. soon, frustration replaced pleasure. anger replaced lust. need replaced pride.

“i’m yours, lord blackwood — !” you cried, pulling his hips back into yours. “please —“

he didn’t let you finish. immediately, his lips were on yours. he tangled your tongue with his until you could feel it down your throat. his tongue, his fingers, and his cock — they filled you whole, leaving you wanting for nothing. he held you to still so tight that all you could do was whatever he wanted. his own hips were thrusting against yours — chasing his own pleasure while you unraveled like pretty thread.

“this tight, perfect cunt…” he growled. “so many little blackwood heirs will bless this womb… seven hells…”

he kissed you once more, and you felt something break inside you. your head threw itself back against the pillow as every muscle in your body tightened and stood still. a sob left your mouth, incoherent — but when davos heard it, heard it crying for him and only for him, he broke as well. the heat and passion between two sworn enemies threw you both into climax that neither of you had ever experienced before. you pulled at his hair, while he bit down on your shoulder. and there was your bond — sealed in pain, pleasure, and blood.

when your peak had cooled, you found yourself clinging to your new husband as he still laid on top of you. he was breathing heavily, having expended much energy and couldn’t bring himself to leave your warm embrace. you began to scratch his back, hoping to relax him and get him to stay on top of you…

“that feels good,” he grunted from his spot in your neck. “are you sure i was once to hate you, wife? i find myself unable to remember why our families hate each other at this moment.”

you giggled. “we might not be able to help them… but i don’t see why it must carry into our union.”

“oh, wife…” he spoke, kissing your neck once more. “if our fights always lead to that — i believe our union will be forever blessed.”

____

lmk what you guys think!! who's ready for pt 2 w aeron?? - L xo

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 1/?

Wordcount: 2,057

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★

★ - Also on AO3! - ★

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58879087/chapters/150070549

The cottage you moved into was poorly constructed and had many openings to various rooms because of the peeling wallpaper. It was partially why you chose to reside there after many weeks of venturing the forest once your parents kicked you out. 

You lived with your parents in a tree until they decided it was time for you to make your way in this world. Oh, how you could imagine the looks on their faces if you told them the mess you got yourself into this time. 

Your family chose the safety of trees and burrows rather than living in the walls of creatures that could kill you without so much as a flick of a wrist. 

You wouldn't call yourself one for adventure, quite the opposite. Humans terrified you to your very core. You’ve been a first-hand witness to what they are capable of. When the cottage was in the process of being built you watched many trees torn and splintered by their impossibly large machines. 

You rather despised humans. What you didn't despise however was routine and having access to food much easier than foraging. 

Life in the cottage was relatively peaceful, it was about as peaceful as you could get for being only a few inches tall. You swore your species was doomed to fail if it wasnt for humans influence. 

The scientist who lived in the cottage was paranoid, that much was obvious. Even when you first moved in after being kicked out he stayed up much too late and consumed too much coffee to be considered sane. You brushed it off because, after a few days of scoping out the walls of the cottage, you realized he had a very precise schedule that made borrowing easy. 

He would wake up early, and go to bed late. Usually uttering to himself before going down into his basement to do who knew what. It gave you a lot of time to yourself, and a human with a predictable schedule was hard to come by. Most had kids or animals, both very dangerous to someone like yourself. Fortunately, this human only seemed to have one friend who came around periodically, but they stayed downstairs. 

You had noticed that night you were running low on thread and crackers, and the human was in his basement. Of course, night turned into day much quicker than you predicted. 

The shock and horror of hearing the vending machine door open while you were in the middle of climbing up into his shelf literally by a thread still shuddered through your body even now. 

…So what if you screamed and ran off despite him shouting for you? So what if you have to move homes? It didn't even matter much to you that when you let go of the thread you landed on your foot and wrist wrong. 

The faint memory of his hand reaching for you did rattle you to your core, despite how much you insisted you could escape him even if he did grab you. 

The way his eyes bared into your very soul, the way even his shadow in the early dawn lighting engulfed your entire body. Your shaking hands as you pried the loose wood plank off the wall just as you could feel his body heat emitting from his hand radiating on your back. 

… 

 …You push the memories away lest you give yourself another panic attack. You tried to not let it bother you much, though you would miss the plentiful amounts of jellybeans and other snacks he kept on the shelves. 

No. What bothered you the MOST was the fact every little detail, every little move you made before you ran off into the wall, was now being documented. 

You looked down from the crack in the wall with a grimace. There was a foul taste in your mouth as you saw the human below taking vivid and rigorous notes while sitting at the kitchen table. His pen scratched the page so hard you believed it would rip. 

The red journal he carried with him was the bane of your existence. If any information about you or your species was going to become mainstream, it would doom your life as you knew it. Not to mention shatter any dreams you had of a normal life. 

You weren't in any position to do anything about it yet. The effects of the adrenaline pumping through your veins were slowly ebbing away. Leaving a dull ache in your head and a nasty sprain on your wrist and ankle. 

With a sigh, you pushed off the wall and made the long trek back to your room. Deciding that before leaving, you had to get rid of the page in his journal. He had to leave it unguarded at some point. 

Your room in the walls wasnt much, but you spent a lot of time working on it. You hollowed out a space inbetween a few support beams and insulation and put a few pieces of cloth on the walls. 

The pin cushion you called a bed practically screamed your name as you pushed your makeshift cloth ‘door’ open. You broke off a piece of a cracker you swiped a few days prior and shoveled it into your mouth before collapsing on the bed. 

Getting that journal was your only hope. Ignoring the chalky residue left in your mouth by the dry cracker sleep soon found you. 

… 

That man did not leave his journal for one moment. 

It's been two days since your last encounter with the human. You tried so hard to stay patient in the walls and bide your time until you could get ahold of the cursed page, but your rations were running short. 

So you threw on your satchel and stabbed a needle in your pants just in case he was out. You used to not carry it, but you weren't taking any chances. 

Pressing your hands to your eyes you tried to gather courage as you walked in the dark pathways of the walls. You tried not to think about what would happen if you were caught by the scientist. 

You’ve seen him take creatures like yourself down in his basement, and they never come back up. 

Despite this, you still for whatever reason chose to stay. You wished you never stayed. More than anything you wished you had just found a nice, abandoned burrow like your cousin had, and stayed in the woods. 

In your frustration you kicked a piece of rock, it hit a nearby pipe with a satisfying twang. 

There were more predators in the woods but atleast they would just kill you. There was no telling what the human would do if he caught you. 

Taking a deep breath you consoled yourself, if you played your cards right and stayed out of sight this would turn out like it usually did. 

You would take a few crackers and leave, that's all you had to do. 

As you pressed your hands against the wall and shakily pushed, you felt the loose wood disconnect with a satisfying crack while you poked your head out.

You squinted as the bright light from the kitchen flooded into the wall and onto your face.  

Everything seemed completely normal, which should have relaxed you, but it merely put you more on edge. 

This human wasnt normal. There was no reason everything on the countertop was tidied away. He usually left dishes in the sink, and from where you stood you saw none. 

You where about to slink back into the wall and go out a different time before you heard his voice. 

“...It was bipedal!- have you ever-” 

You were quick to pull yourself back into the wall, your hand slipping on the wood and giving yourself a splinter. You sucked in a breath and held your yelp as you heard footsteps coming closer. 

“I know, you haven't stopped talking about it for three hours..” 

The other human's voice sounded southern, you recognized it as the main resident's friend, or ‘associate’ he sometimes said. 

You could hear them picking up various glasses and cups, if you had to guess the humans were probably making more coffee. Your hypothesis was only confirmed as you heard the cursed machine whirr to a start. 

You finally let out the breath you were holding as you felt the splinter that now lodged itself in your palm. Wincing as you continued to listen. 

“I know, I just wish I was able to capture it! I could put a more accurate sketch, what if its the only one of its kind?” 

Predictable as always. 

“Ford, I'm sure you already went scarin’ the thing half to death. I wouldn't be shocked if it left,” 

Ford. The scientist was named Ford. As you picked at the splinter you internally berated the name, yours wasnt much better but atleast your parents loved you enough to not name you Ford. 

…Maybe you where being a bit mean. 

“I doubt it, more than likely I can catch it again early morning. It seemed shocked I was there, it more than likely has a schedule it keeps to.” 

Or maybe you weren't mean enough. Seriously who did this guy think he was? You had half a mind to march out of the wall and stab his stupid hand.

You didn't bother listening to the rest of their conversation, too preoccupied with picking at the splinter. Trying to pull it out with little to no light proved itself to be difficult. 

You could head back to your room, but the string lights in there had limited battery, and you tried to save it for only special occasions. 

To your relief, the pair left a few minutes later. Only when you heard the vending machine door clunk shut did you press against the wood plank. 

Using the small sliver of light provided you pulled the splinter out with your nails, flicking it away before turning and looking at the counter. 

…He left a dish. 

A dish in front of where he last saw you. A dish full of various snacks, ranging from two jellybeans to crackers and cheese. 

You weren't some domesticated house pet. You scowled at the dish as if it had personally scalded you before walking past it. 

You walked quietly despite there being no reason to. Wishing you had your fish hook and thread to get up on the higher shelf. 

You could manage without it though. You only made it a few months prior so you were skilled enough to find some scraps on the counter usually. 

To your dismay, though he seemed to have done a thorough cleaning, and without your hook you had no way to reach the shelves above to gather your food. 

You pressed on and walked over to the sink, careful to balance on the edge. You looked at the faucet and walked over to the handle. Gently and carefully push it just a smidge before taking out a small thimble you used for water. 

After drinking your fill and putting the thimble away, you turned the water off. 

…Not fully though, he could deal with a leaky faucet for a few hours. 

You where going to go back empty-handed until your stomach growled looking at the crackers he left out. 

Surely taking one wouldn't hurt, if you left a message. 

You picked up one and stuffed it into your bag, contemplating taking a jellybean but deciding against it. Right before you went into the wall you kicked the dish off of the counter. Shattering on the floor with a satisfying clatter. 

Snickering to yourself you slinked off into the walls. You’d check back on the human that night to see if he left his journal on his desk this time. 

… 

A few hours later Ford had finally gotten to a stopping point with his research. Thoughts of the little creature in his walls beckoned at his mind as he rode the elevator up. 

He sent Fiddleford home with a goodnight before practically sprinting into the kitchen, seeing the mess left by the mischievous thing. 

One thing on the counter caught his eye in particular. 

As he picked it up he examined it thoroughly. 

A small splinter of wood, ever so slightly tinged at the edge with red. 

“...Fascinating..” 

---

Thank you for reading!! Ill more than likely be updating this when i can, but be assured Chapter 2 is already being written with plans for three others!

Hope you Enjoyed!! My Askbox is always open if you want to hear me ramble more about borrowers! V●ᴥ●V

[nayomi247]

okay okay that uh ideal partner headcannon post with lucifer where you said he would fall for you over your smile got me REELING. Can you do some headcannons (maybe a little story if your so kind o great one) about a reader who doesn't smile/laugh very often and one day Lucifer sees them just totally let loose; like maybe they see an old friend or they get super drunk or whatever, but basically they are nothing but smiles and giggles and Lucifer is 100% smitten.

You've Got A Smile That Could Light Up This Whole Town

A/N: THIS IS SO CUTE. Definitely one of my favorite requests that I've gotten. Writing Lucifer as a complete simp is my kryptonite. Thank you so much for the ask btw<3

Pairing: Lucifer/f!reader

Contents: Fluff, Pining, drunken confessions, alcohol, drinking, Lucifer being a simp

Work under the cut🤞🏻

You had never been much of a smiler. You weren't depressed of course, and you were a happy person, but you just.. didn't smile.

A lot of people had asked you if you had some sort of trauma, or even if you had something wrong with you. You never let it bother you though. You knew it wasn't necessarily 'normal' but you didn't care, you were happy with who you were.

Now, here in hell, not many people smile, for obvious reasons. It's easier to blend in now and not have to deal with constant questions. Though many people at the hotel you're staying at think it's a bit odd. They have one person who smiles constantly, and another that doesn't smile at all. They think it's best not to question it.

Though one person, Lucifer, thinks of it, or more specifically you, more than he probably should. He may be the devil, but he still smiles and what not.

You're sat at the bar, a drink in hand and chatting along with Husk. Angel sits beside you, also pitching in every once in a while. Nearby, Lucifer sits in the lobby mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

He looks up every once in a while, occasionally listening in to what you have to say or what the conversation topic is.

After a while, and an amount of drinks that you can't even count, you start to loosen up. A small smile here or there at a story Husk tells or a little giggle at Angel's jokes.

Lucifer decides he's had enough of whatever he was doing, making his way up to the bar and sits down on a stool beside you. He doesn't say much, only smiling a bit at your soft smiles or chuckling along with you.

As time goes on, your laughs get slightly louder and your smiles linger for longer. But after Husk tells what your drunken self thinks is the funniest story ever, you burst into laughter.

It takes everyone by surprise, seeing you, the person who never smiles turning red and shedding tears over a story.

Lucifer though, turns a deep shade of red at seeing you like this. You're smile is beautiful to him. He wishes he could see it all the time. If this is the way to get you to smile and laugh, then by God he'll drink with you every night.

You continue to laugh, almost on the floor as he stares in awe. Why don't you smile like this all the time? Are you insecure? If so, you shouldn't be.

Finally realizing that he's staring, like a creep, he quickly turns to Husk. He needs more alcohol in his system if he's gonna see you like this all night.

"Uh- Husk?" He stutters out and Husk looks over to him a bit confused, as well as Angel and you. He flushes a bit more at the sudden attention, but quickly composes himself.

"Can I get an um.. a- drink..please." He once again stutters. Get a grip Lucifer! "Sure.." Husk replies, almost as if to question him. "What kind?"

"Hm?" Lucifer asks, thinking he was already done with having to talk. "What kind of drink?" Husk says almost like it's obvious, which it kind of is.

"Ah, okay.. um, anything apple flavored...please." Husk nods and Lucifer pulls out his phone, trying to act like he isn't a complete mess just by hearing you laugh.

Meanwhile, you start a conversation with Angel, your laughs and snickers filling the room once more. Lucifer doesn't even pay attention to what's on his screen, instead he listens in to what you're talking about. He doesn't even really care what the topic is, just that he can hear you.

Husk hands him the finished drink and he downs it like a man who was deprived of water for days. Husk, a bit surprised, but used to seeing people this way, makes him another.

A similar cycle continues for a while, you laughing, Lucifer finishing his drink, and Husk making him a new one.

Eventually, Lucifer gets to the point where he can barely remember where he's at. The only things remaining on his mind are you and your sweet laugh.

Husk and Angel finally decide its time for bed, leaving the two of you alone, still sitting at the bar. You scoot a bit closer, changing to a chair that's beside him.

You notice the way he seems to be out of it. His eyes half lidded, mouth slack, and breathing labored. "You okay..?" You ask. Your thoughts are also all over the place. You probably won't even remember this interaction tomorrow.

He shakes his head and looks to you, blinking himself back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm good." He laughs and takes yet another sip from the glass in front of him. You've been watching him subtly throughout the night, surprised he hasn't killed himself yet from the amount of alcohol he's consumed.

"I'm surprised you're still conscious." You chuckle, and he remembers why he started drinking in the first place. The light redness on his face from the alcohol burns darker. He chugs down the rest of what's in his glass.

"Uh- yeah.. haha. I have a pretty high tolerance with this stuff." He hiccups, his words slurring ever so slightly. "Y'know, being-" another hiccup "The king of Hell and all." He finished.

You giggle lightly, the liquor in your system making you feel fuzzy and light. He smiles at seeing that he was the one to get that reaction from you.

You both continue to talk for a while, well you do, he mostly just listens, only really focusing on your features; your eyes, hair, lips, anything he can.

Then, out of nowhere, "You're really pretty."

"What?" You ask, a bit flustered. "Where'd that come from?" You question, a small smile still on your lips as you tilt your head.

"I just-" hic "Think you're.. beautiful." He confesses. Your face flushes pink as you rack through your brain trying to find a response. "O-oh.. thank you!" You curse yourself for stuttering.

He leans forward, face only inches from yours. His face is red and his eyes are droopy. He looks like he's about to pass out. "And- your smile. Its gorgeous. It's-" hic "A shame you don't smile often. If every word I said could make you smile, or laugh, I'd never stop talking." He slurs.

"Lucifer, what are you on about?" You question with a bit of a nervous giggle. He smiles and brings a hand up to hold your cheek. You don't protest.

"I mean I like you. Like, really like you. I don't remember the last time I ever felt this way about someone other than Lilith." He smiles softly at you. "You could even say that, I love you."

You freeze and your brain short circuits. He.. loves you? The king of hell, loves... you? You can't wrap your head around it at all. Seeing how you react, Lucifer somewhat comes to his senses. "Shit. I- uhm." He pulls away from you and looks down to his dangling feet. "I probably shouldn't have came on that strong. I'm sorry. I understand if you don't wanna-" He's cut off by the feeling of your lips on his. His eyes widen in surprise, but his hand eventually finds it way back to its previous spot on your cheek and he pulls you in closer.

Once you pull away, he comes back to reality and he tries to speak, but fails to form a single word. You take it as an opportunity to talk instead. "I guess you could say that I love you too." You smile widely.

Lucifer just pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and vowing to never let you hide that beautiful smile of yours ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so glad I was finally able to get this out. It was a bit rushed at the end, and I'm not too haply with it but I figured this is the best it's gonna get so mind as well not fuss over it anymore.

Once again thank you so much for the request, and for anyone else that has sent any in I promise I'll start working on them and hopefully have one or two out by the end of this week.

Just a warning that I do have finals coming up, so as before I might not be as active with writing, but I'll try my best to do what I can. Sorry I was gone for so long!!

{Taglist}

@wonderlandangelsposts

[bandgie]

Ghost in the Night

Ghostface!Jeongin x fem!reader

AU 1 | AU 2

synopsis: Keep your doors locks, shut your windows, don't go outside after sundown. Rules were quickly put in place when a killer, known as 'Ghostface,' began terrorizing your city. You listened to all these rules until finals night, but still, there's no way in hell Ghostface could get to you. Right?

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBCON/NONCON, breaking an entry, implied kidnapping, PIV, forced oral (m! receiving), face slapping, blood/murder, face fucking, slight pain during sex (no prep) crying/begging, cumming inside, degrading words (slut, bitch, etc), not proofread,

4.1k words shheesshhh

Another college student was found dead. Their throat slashed along with their stomach. The police found them in their apartment with the words 'COME FIND ME' smeared on the walls with blood. The story along made you queasy. This killer, who the town nicknamed Ghostface, has been on a spree for about two weeks now. It really happened out of the blue. One day, you're attending college parties, and the next, you're too scared to even shop for necessities.

Rumors began to speculate about who it could be. Many people thought it was the rival university, some thought it was the son of the dean who couldn't get into the school, most thought it was just a psycho. The question remained though, why did Ghostface only go after college students?

Your friends dropped out of college upon hearing the news. They urged you to do the same, but you were so close to graduating that you decided to push through. After all, most of the students attacked were sorority or frats, you weren't either of them. If you kept your head down, didn't attend the stupid parties students kept throwing because they liked the thrill, you would be fine.

So here you were, on the second floor of the library late at night. You're thankful your library had open hours until midnight, it was great for last minute studying. The librarian was very friendly, even offering to drive you home. "I hear about what's been happening," she tells you as she rubs her trails hands.

You shake your head, "Thank you for your concern. I really don't wanna waste your time, I'll be fine." She eyes you cautiously, as if hoping you'd second guess yourself and take her offer. When you don't, she sighs. "Fine, deary. You be safe out there." You nod your head and watch her descend back to her from post.

-

A few hours pass before you decide to head home, your brain fried from all the studying. You wave the librarian a goodbye and exit the doors, greeted with the moon and stars in the sky. Had there not been a killer loose, you would have loved to admire the view. It's a blood moon tonight, and you pray that it's a good omen.

While walking back to your dorm, you couldn't help but hear music blasting. You pass one of the frat dorms, watching as people passed out in the front lawns and other vomiting. You grimaced at the sight. How could they party like this when people were being brutally murdered? You ignored their hollers and whistles to continue on your path.

"Hey!" One of them shouts at you. You ignore it, walking faster to get to your safe place. "Hey! I'm calling you!" Still, you maintain your pace. If you keep walking fast enough, you'll be able to-

"Damn girl! I'm tryna talk to you," the guy had caught up to you. He held you by your upper arms stinking of booze. You turned to face him in an attempt to intimidate him, "I'm not interested." You try your best to sneer, but he only laughs. "Never said I wanted you to be. I was just gonna say you shouldn't be walking all alone." His ominous statement send chills down your spine.

"I appreciate you tryna be my hero, but like I said, I'm not interested." You sternness throws him off, and he quickly lets go of your arm. "Bitch," he mumbles, "I was just tryna help." You don't bother replying, quickly turning around to escape his presence. You can't trust anyone, you can't take your chances.

You make a sharp turn, hoping that you're out of his sight. It doesn't take long to hear the familiar steps behind you. Rather than ignoring him this time, you turn around quickly to confront him. "Didn't you fucking hear me? I said-" You stop yourself. You were fully excepting to see his drunk ass behind you, but instead your faced with nothing.

You shiver, whipping back around to scurry home. It was just the wind, you think. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, feel the blood that pumps in your veins. No no no, calm down. You're fine. There's nothing here. Even while you try to relax your heartbeat, you start hearing the footsteps again.

Too scared to turn around, you run. Maybe there's nothing behind you at all. Maybe you're running like a manic only scaring yourself more. It doesn't matter though, you're filled with too much fear to think rationally.

Another turn, and you can see your dorm complex in the distance. You stop running as fast, convinced that you're just overreacting. You do keep a fast walk though, still unsure if you could really walk so carelessly. Your gaze is up in the sky, watching how the moon gets bigger and bigger.

The sky provides a good amount of light as you finally make your way to the front door as your house. You reach for your keys only to see that your front door is already open. Your eyebrows raise, unsure if your roommate just got home and forgot to close the door. You push it open, taking a peek. The lights are off and it's quiet. Perhaps they just forgot and went to sleep.

You walk in and flick on the light, setting your bag down. It's not until your eyes are better adjusted in the lighting that you see your roommate. She's hunched over, limp on the couch as if she was waiting for you. You gasp at her, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god!" You breathe. "Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta me." You take steps towards her waiting for her response. There is none. "Hey, girl you good?" You reach out to grasp her shoulder and the little contact makes her fall on the ground. It's then that you see the blood that pool on the couch, how easily her head lolls to the side.

You fall to the ground with her, flipping her around to see a giant slash across her neck. Her eyes are wide with fear, her mouth open as if she was screaming. You can't help but try to shake her despite it being in vain, tears falling down your face. You're so caught up in your mourning that you don't hear the footsteps that come towards you.

A shadow hovers over you, and you turn around to see the familiar descriptions you've seen in the news. A black cloak, gloved hands, a white mask with a permanent open mouth. You cry even harder upon the sight. A part of you doesn't think it's real, that it's all just a sick dream you're having. Even as the killer kneels down towards you to stare at your face, you pray it's just a nightmare.

"I had to come pretty quick, you were almost home," it speaks. You don't really register what he's saying. He straightens back up, "You know, I also killed that dude back there that grabbed you. Guys like that piss me off. They have no respect for personal space ya know what I mean?" Perhaps he said that as a joke, considering this man literally killed your roommate mere moments ago.

"Please," your voice is horse and thick with emotion. "I don't want-want to die." You start sobbing, bloody hands cradling your face in an attempt to comfort yourself. The masked man cocks his head to side, seemingly intrigued by your cries. "You think I'm gonna kill you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, yanking your head up by your hair. You whimper and nod, vision blurry with tears.

You try begging more, but all that comes out are garbles sentences and pathetic wails. Ghostface is rather enjoying the show, smiling behind his mask. "You've got a good crying face. Keep begging," his grip tightens on your hair. You do, and honestly he didn't even need to ask. In the midst of your sobs, you can feel the cold edge of something sharp against your throat. You feel it slowly dig into your neck, but not hard enough to break the skin.

The contact makes you freeze up, eyes wide with absolute terror. Ghostface literally moans at the sight. "Fuck, I love that look." He makes the knife dances around your neck, staring at how your pupils dilate. Pleasurable shivers travel his body, and he can feel the blood traveling to his cock. Killing you now would be a waste, he should at least have some fun first.

He removes the knife from your neck throws it across the room. You jump at the clattering noise, almost missing how he uses his now free hand to yank his pants down. On your knees, your face-to-dick with his half hard on. You almost throw up at the realization, eyes staring into the masks eyes pleading.

He shoves his crotch closer to your face, smearing his cock on your face. You keep your mouth closed, determined to keep your dignity intact. Ghostface doesn't like this, and pulls your hair back so hard you think you'll go bald. "You think this is a fucking game?" He forces you to look at him while he speaks. "You wanna end up like your bitch roommate? Huh?" You shake your head as you sob.

"That's what I fuckin' thought, get to work slut."

You don't think you can manage to even keep your mouth open with how violently your sobbing, but Ghostface doesn't wait for you to open up all the way. He quickly shoves his half hard in your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, trying your best not to gag. A part of you thinks about biting down on him, and he must see a glint in your eyes because he yanks your face off him.

The force of his pull makes you cry out, but he responds by slapping you hard across the face with his free hand. Pain surges in your face, and you can't help the continuous tears that fall. "If you fucking bite me, I'll make you choke on your own insides," he threatens. If it wasn't for the corpse of your roommate mere feet away, you would still believe him because of the look in his eye.

"I won't!" You speak through your cries. "I promise I promise just please don't hurt me." Ghostface smiles under his mask, giving your cheeks three more light slaps before shoving your face back on his cock. Determined to prove your life is worthy, you stick your tongue out to lick his underside. You can tell he surprised by the way his breath hitches.

You let your lips run over his length along with your tongue. Salvia quickly begins to pool in your mouth, and you spit on his dick. You carefully reach your hands up, scared that he might slap you again. You can tell he's watching with judgement as you grab the base of his cock with one of your hands. Your other one steads on your thigh as you let your mouth fall open.

Working in one fluid motion, you bob your head to the speed of your hand. His cock is smooth, save for the pulsating of his veins. He's completely hard now, and it's pretty difficult to get more than half his girth between your lips. Your hands become sticky with precum and spit. You can feel how your drool dibbles down your cheeks as you continue to take him in your mouth.

Now there's two hands in your hair, and he's started pull you closer and closer to him. A particular thrust of his hips has you gagging, nearly coughing his cock out. He doesn't let you pull him out, instead forcing you to keep a couple inches in. You're making noises that both sound like moaning and suffocating, and it turns him on a lot more than he'd like to admit.

Watching you try your best to suck his cock like your life depends on it makes him feel alive because, well, your life does depend on it. You doe eyes wide with fear and concentration amuses him, makes him feel almost bad for the fact that he's still going to kill you when you're done. Not to mention your lips, how swollen and red they are from pleasuring him.

A part of him wishes he could take his mask off, make you look him in the eyes rather than his mask. The clear view could possible make him cum quickly in your mouth. Instead, Ghostface makes do with your current state. You're dripping in him and your own liquids, hands feverishly moving easily in the slobber.

All you and him can hear are your choked sobs, wet sucking, and the occasional movement of his hips hitting your face. To both of your shock, you find yourself getting aroused by his cock in your mouth. The fear in your stomach slowly begins to bubble into desire. Your panties getting slightly damp. You can't stop yourself as you clench you thighs together to get some friction.

You try to convince yourself that it's normal to get like this in a life or death situation. There's been cases of people's brain getting so scared that it gets sexually stimulated. You pray that this is the case now because you're starting to think how pretty this man's moans is. He sounds breathy, needy, desperate. Like he hasn't gotten much action in a while, or at least not to this extent.

A self-defense mechanism, you try to tell yourself as your pussy begins to seep through your underwear.

Ghostface suddenly thrusts his hips into your face, his cock hitting your throat deep. You throat contracts around him, and the pressure has him pulsing. You think you might suffocate with how he just keep shoving his dick into your mouth without caring how you claw at his thighs. Then he moans, almost sings his groans as he shoots his cum down your throat.

If you thought you were suffocating then, you must be dying now. His hot cum chokes you and slightly trickles down your chin. Your wide eyes have now rolled to the back of your head, and your chest began burning from lack of oxygen. Perhaps this is how you go out, dead by dick.

Just before you can feel yourself lose consciousness, he pulls away. You gasp and cough for air, hands grabbing your throat. Ghostface takes a few steps back as if he was surprised by his own orgasm. You heave, lungs burning from the intake of fresh air. Before you have the chance to fully recover, he pulls you up by the back of you head and harshly throws you on the couch. You hate how your shirt begins to grow damp with your roommate's blood, but you try to persuade yourself that it's just sweat.

Ghostface is between your legs in a matter of seconds, lifting up your skirt to expose your underwear.

You're still trying to catch your breath as your hands aimlessly attempt to push him off. You hear him snicker, gripping your thighs tightly to pull them apart. He sighs dreamily, "You're so wet baby. I can't tell if you're that turned on from sucking my cock or if you're so scared you pissed yourself."

Shame overtakes you, and you fight even harder to push him away. He only laughs at your attempts, releasing you for just a second to wrap his hands around his throat. Your finger try to pry him off, but all he does it squeeze harder. You can feel your face turning read, the familiar sensation of suffocating returning.

"I thought you would have learned to be nicer to me by now," he tsks. "Be a good girl and let me fuck you. I would rather like to fuck this pussy warm and alive." You can't verbally answer him since he's crushing your windpipe, so you meekly nod. He released your throat just before your vision went fully dark.

His gloves hands trail over your body, cupping at your breasts before continuing on their way down. You're scared that moving would make you faint, so you stay still as he explores your body. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the latex. How strong his fingers are as they reopen your legs. He rubs a thumb on your clothed pussy, keeping on hand on your abdomen.

Then, he does something even he knows he shouldn't do; Takes off his mask. If you weren't so oxygen-deprived, you could probably see his clearly. All you can make out is his dark hair, thick eyebrows, full lips. His specific features are a little hazy, but you can see enough to know that despite your better judgment, he's not bad looking at all.

He throws the mask onto your face, blocking your vision. "Don't take it off," he commands. "Take that mask off and I'll rip your throat out with my hands." You nod as shivers run down your body, "I won't." Those are all the words he needs to heat before moving your under to the side. The sight of your aroused clit has his breath caught in his throat, he's never seen anything as beautiful.

"Oh baby," he practically moans. His fingers feel a little uncomfortable as he plays with your lower lips, but it's not painful. He smears your wetness all over your pussy and thighs. Ghostface is amazed at how much your pussy was drooling for him. Maybe you're sick too, just like him.

Your cunt feels cold when he withdraws his hand from you, and your body reactively chases his touch. You hate how you hear him chuckle at your actions. He takes his finger and shoves it into his mouth, curious about your taste. You can't see too clear, but from the way his eyebrows go up, he likes what he ate.

"I'd kill to eat your pussy," he compliments. "Don't have the time to though, maybe next time."

No prep, no lube, just this man precisely angling his cock to your soppy entrance. You're whimpering quietly, little sounds as if to say please don't when it only entices him more. He lets out a soft groan when his tip enters your soft walls. You try to close your legs, but now with two hands gripping the back of your thighs, you really don't have a choice.

He pushes in, and you use both your hand to cover your mouth. He has more length than girth, so it feels never ending as he slides in. It's slightly painful at first, but you find yourself feeling satisfying full. Your assaulter can't fit himself all the way since you're too tight, but it's enough for him to rock his hips.

There's no warm up to his strokes, and your thrown in forced pleasure all too quickly. The feeling of his sliding in and out, how he manages to get deeper and deeper each time, the bruising grip on your thighs. Now you're covering your mouth to suppress your moans rather than cries. Even though, he can still hear how you squeak and groan as he pounds into you.

He watches as your breasts bounce from underneath your shirt, the way your body completely shifts every time he thrusts into you. You can say you want him to stop all you want, but he can feel how inviting your pussy has gotten. Almost begging in to stay inside, to pump you full of his cum.

Now he meets you at the hilt, his pelvis slapping against your ass. It's getting hard to breath under his mesh mask, but you don't dare to take it off. You should be ashamed with how you look up at him, practically admiring his expressions and how he groans. From what you can see, his mouth is fallen open as he moans carelessly. Like he didn't just make you take his cock, like he didn't just kill your roommate without remorse.

The pain is completely gone, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been in pain to begin with. He's so good with his cock, like he knows where in your cunt you like it. His hands stay at your thighs, but you wish he could use his gloves fingers to rub your clit. You might've been gripping his by his broad shoulders if you weren't too busy quieting yourself.

Even without the stimulation on your lower lips, you can feel your stomach tightening. The warm orgasm slowly collecting in your abdomen. You let your legs fall open even more, eager for him to drive deeper into you. He accepts happily, laughing maniacally. "God fuck, I knew you were a fucking slut. Putting your nose in a book, acting like a good little girl when you're just as sick as me."

'W-What?" You can't stop from questioning him. Has he been watching you this whole time?

You don't think he's going to answer you with how hard he's driving his hips into you, but he does. "The library. You- ngh fuck!- rather be a fucking loser than party. That scared of me huh?" He cackles. "So scared that you take my fat cock." He stops talking for a few beats to focus on fucking you.

"Aw shit, I'm gonna cum inside you." A statement, not a request. His thrusts become sloppy, aggressive. You cam feel his tip in your throat with how deep he is, and you lose your composure. One of your hands whisk down to rub your aching clit. The movement startles him for a second, but then he smiles once he realizes.

You're despicable. You should feel huge amounts of disgrace as you finish on his cock, but you don't. Instead you feel bliss with your walls squeezing around him. The sudden pressure of your pussy makes him whimper, then cum right after. He's so warm, so lively that you forget that he's a serial killer.

He gives you a few more deep strokes to ride out his high, making you tremble. Your legs shake as he slowly pulls out, but his grip on your legs in firm. He watches as his and your cum oozes out, like blood from a gash. He moans at the sight, feeling his softening cock twitch.

You're breathing heavily under him, still whimpering from the aftershocks. The post nut has not hit yet, and you're tying to relish in his body warmth. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that he's just a hook up. You can tell yourself that you'll get Plan B after this, that you'll take a shower and go to sleep. And when you wake up in the morning, it'll be like nothing happened.

That's not true though, and your fantasy is quickly shut down when his hands wrap around your neck. You gasp at the feeling, your weak hands clawing at his wrists. You both know your fighting is in vain, he was going to kill you regardless of what you did. Tears spring your eyes as you come to terms with your fate. So much for graduating on time.

Maybe it's your tears that have an effect on time. Maybe it's the fact that your pussy is still dripping with him, but Ghostface is having a change of heart. He uses one hand to rip the mask off your face to look into your eyes. It's his favorite part when taking someone's life. Yours though, are not the same. Yes he can see the sadness, the pain, but he can see something he hasn't seen before: Acceptance.

With the mask off, you're able to see his face clearly. He looks like he's thinking with the gentle creases on his forehead. His nose is scrunches and his eyebrows furrowed, and you can't help but think he's..."Cute."

It's the last thing I.N hears you say before you pass out, face turning a purple color. He quickly releases his grip on you, pressing a finger under your chin to feel for a pulse. When he feels it, he sighs in relief. Killing you was on his list since he first saw you weeks ago at the library. You did party, he's seen you before. Yet, watching you turn into a hermit because of him was romantic. He loves having that much power over people, over you.

I.N knows better than to play with his food, but he might make an exception this time. After all, he does have a spare room waiting to be used.

a/n: this took a few days and I feel like I could have done better but here ya go, feeback is appreciated update: au part here!

[swannieluv]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜ Wasted youth.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Platonic!Ajax x GN!Reader

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 11k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: violence, blood, death.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐀/𝐍: IT'S FINALLY HERE! I hope everyone can enjoy this <3

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩. 𝐛𝐲 Tempo Perdido - Legião Urbana

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Snezhnaya is not exactly a friendly nation. The cold that seems to run from the veins to the depths of people's innermost being brings with it a certain hostility towards those who don't know the heart of the land. But within Ajax's distorted childhood perception, Snezhnaya was like a gentle mother, protecting its children under icy embrace.

But then, why did such a loving land allow its own child to fall into the deepest depths of the Abyss? Like drowning in freezing water, a child who survived Teyvat's darkest and loneliest place would certainly not come out of it the same as he went in.

"Ajax" was still Ajax, wasn't he? The same child, named after a hero from ancient tales, full of compassion and empathy, now carried with him a gaze that was deader than the fish he caught on ice.

Joining the Fatui wasn't in his plans for the future; being one of them wasn't so bad, although he wasn't expecting much for the future. But what he didn't like was being the youngest in the unit, it was a complete humiliation.

Not that the seniors were a challenge for him, but being constantly underestimated was... infuriating, to say the least. While his strength was admirable — thanks to Skirk, he would thank her someday — Ajax felt constantly bored, with no meaningful challenge ahead of him.

"Redhead!" The call was accompanied by a snowball, which hit him square in the face; his moment of peace was interrupted, though it didn't really matter.

Ajax could only sigh before letting out a soundless laugh, knowing exactly who had hit him: [Name], a recruit not much older than him, maybe a year or so. Being under the same division, it wasn't unusual to bump into them. "Here it comes..."

They weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances. However, they also kept in touch enough to be just "acquaintances". Never friends, perhaps not at all.

As if he had some kind of radar, [Name] always appeared whenever Ajax had his rare moment of philosophical thought of questionable quality. Usually to disrupt the whole process.

" Damn, looks like you really found me," he laughed, turning to look at them.

"That's the third time I've had to look for you this week," they complained, carefully preparing another snowball to throw at him. "I always get scolded because of you, you know that?"

They weren't exactly wrong. Whenever Ajax wandered off the map, it was [Name] who had to look for him in the frozen woods. Not that they really bothered to do it, but it was tiring going around in circles until they found him.

"Look at it as part of your job."

"Babysitting...?"

"No, looking after your companions."

"... How idiotic."

"How heroic. It's very noble to look after your friends, you know?" Ajax corrected. His eyes returned to scanning the surrounding trees in a relaxed manner.

"Not when said 'friends' get into trouble all the time," they retorted.

"I always come back, it's not like you need to hunt me down like I'm some criminal on the loose." He shook his head briskly, brushing the snow off the top of his hair. However, he was greeted with another sharp shot right to the scalp.

"Look... So, all due respect, but you're not far off being one, you know?" they shyly replied. Not in a rude way, but still a little offensive to whoever it was directed at.

He didn't know whether to laugh or feel offended by what they said. Maybe both? Well, they weren't exactly wrong... Ajax was already considered a marginal project, or at least it seemed that way.

"Why did you do that?"

"What? You have to specify or I won't know,” his smile fell, replaced by a neutral expression. He tried to feign ignorance, but it didn't work very well.

"Don't be cynical. You beat up an older soldier. Aren't you a little ashamed?”

Which soldier were they talking about? It didn't matter to him anyway, as he'd lost count of how many he'd challenged and won — it wasn't a difficult task, they were never a match for him.

All too often they were weak, and [Name] was the worst of them all. That's why Ajax didn't even bother trying when inviting them to a duel, because the result was obvious from the start. The last time they sparred, it was be boring, easy and not worth the effort.

"Should I be? If a soldier almost two meters tall can't beat up a 14—year—old, then that means he's a weakling, doesn't it?" Ajax crossed his arms. "Besides, he called me names before, so we're even."

"Seriously..." they sighed, "Seriously, try not to make such a fuss. The Fifth can get you out of most trouble, only until you do something, let's say, really catastrophic."

"Something catastrophic like...?" he asked curiously, his gaze fixed on them.

"Like... burning down the Zapolyarny palace?"

His jaw dropped in shock, and a touch of offense showed on his cold—pink face. That was the most absurd thing he had heard in recent times. "What?! Why do you think I would do something like that?"

"Because it's you we're talking about, redhead."

"What's with the nickname?"

"I think it's funny, don't you?"

"You know... whatever." Ajax put his hands on his waist, shaking his head slightly. "I'll take that as an excuse to put a nickname on you too."

"So you're going to stop with the ' comrade' thing and come up with something even worse? Really?"

"Maybe so... maybe not. Who knows?"

The boy gave a relaxed smile, patting them on the shoulder before moving on. His heavy footsteps in the snow served as a background noise to the uneasy silence around them.

"I found it."

"Hm? Found what?" Ajax raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

[Name] pulled out a red scarf, so familiar to Ajax, from inside their backpack, carefully tying it around his neck. The fabric was warm, or perhaps it was the feeling of zeal, or also the nostalgia it brought.

Ajax hadn't realized he had left it behind. And when he realized it, the difference between the cold air and the protection of the scarf was remarkable — was he so distracted that he didn't notice?

The boy's gloved hands touched the soft fabric of the scarf, bringing it closer to his face and snuggling into the warmth. "Where did you find it, comrade?"

" Somewhere, it doesn't matter." They put their hands in the pockets, looking around at the landscape around them. "Aren't you afraid of getting lost in the forest?"

Ajax let out a genuine laugh when he heard their question, as if it were something ridiculous. "Getting lost? I know my way around pretty well."

[Name] narrowed their eyes, firmly disbelieving Ajax's words. For them, the scenery remained the same, no matter how far they went — well, they didn't go very far at all.

"What? It's all the same, like... just trees and snow everywhere."

Ajax held back a laugh, as if what they'd said was completely dumb. "You're not from Snezhnaya, right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Were you trying to hide it at all?" He couldn't help but laugh at the redness that appeared on [Name]'s face.

They were almost the scarlet color of their vision, which they proudly carried on a chain attached to their jacket. Pyro and Hydro, it was yet another thing that made them so opposite from each other.

"You know what, never mind! Just follow me." They extended a hand towards him, an almost forced offer.

Ajax hesitated, staring at the hand in front of him for a few long seconds before accepting it. He held it with some hesitation, not wanting to apply more force than he should have. He didn't mean to hurt, but he also had moments when he couldn't control his own strength.

They walked together through the snow, their steps in perfect sync. He noticed these small details as he looked down at the ground, thinking over and over again about an endless cycle. Sometimes, he just let that little silence take over his head, alone without direction, lost in the image of his own breath coming in the form of fog.

[Name] mumbled something, Ajax nodded, but forgot all about it soon after. They knew he wasn't paying attention, but didn't care, increasing the strength with which they held his hand.

"You don't like it here? Is that why you keep running away?"

"It's not running away if you come back.”

[Name] genuinely felt like punching Ajax in the face every time he opened his mouth and let out some stupid reason like this, but they would obviously leave it to imagination. The willingness wasn't lacking, but the courage was.

Perhaps if they were stronger, braver, they could say what they really wanted. But they weren't, and that kept them behind a fine line between the two, where Ajax always seemed to be in the front.

Everything in Snezhnaya, absolutely everything, filled them with an internal revolt. The cold that seemed to freeze them inside, the infinitely same path that seemed to lead nowhere, not being taken seriously — but for now, they would do anything to please those on top, especially since they were the ones in control of everything anyway.

"Don't ignore my question, go on. I know you heard me."

As soon as they arrived at the camp, they were greeted by an angry soldier with a large purple eye. That was the man Ajax had hit, and clearly he didn't look happy.

"Look, the bastard's really back," he said sarcastically, snapping his fingers. "Are you going to come at me for no reason like a savage again, like you did earlier?"

"Liar," they retorted, shaking their heads in denial and pointing a finger at the soldier, "you previously morally attacked Ajax, an exemplary boy..."

Ajax nodded, crossing his arms. Exemplary was by far what he was, but he had to agree with those who defended him. What he didn't expect was that they would retract their words soon after.

"...sort of."

"A... gentle boy?" They gave him a sideways glance, as if for confirmation; all he got back was a slight shake of the head.

"sort of..."

There was a lack of good adjectives to describe what he was — what he had become.

It would be less work if they just called him strong, but they didn't. They didn't want to reduce him to something. They didn't seem to want to reduce him to something the soldier in front of them already knew. Or rather, they didn't want to reduce Ajax to a simple strong boy.

They cleared their throats with a smile, grabbing Ajax by the collar, "Give us a second!"

Honestly, he was expecting a beating, not a strategy meeting behind a bush — not that he was going to complain, but at least he was hoping for a fight or something. His clenched fists contained the real desire to punch that soldier right in the face, but unfortunately he couldn't do that.

"'Sort of', really?" Ajax mimicked with a playful tone.

They rolled their eyes, fidgeting. "One of two ways: either I lie by calling you dumb, or I lie by calling you stupid!"

His jaw dropped for a moment. Was Ajax that stupid in their eyes? Not that he was the most self—controlled or straightforward person, but that dumb was an insult. "Oh, but I'm not dumb!"

"Perfect! Then you're stupid!"

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Just as they didn't understand him, Ajax didn't understand them one bit.

"Seriously, I'm trying to help you... but then you have to help me help you."

"I think you've got it wrong. I appreciate the attempt, not to be rude... but I don't think I asked you to help me in the first place." He tried to smooth it over somehow, with that annoying little smile of his.

They felt their eyes ticking just hearing him, but soon pulled themselves together and returned the smile with a sarcastic tone intertwined with the words, "Really?”

"Mhm!" Ajax smiled. "Then I'm going for it, you said!"

Ajax ran off, abandoning them behind the bush to do whatever he wanted. Training, fighting, getting into another fight... it was all very unpredictable when it came to someone as peculiar as Ajax.

[Name] stood there, letting out a sigh as he thought about how weird this boy was. But there was no denying that Ajax was truly exceptional at getting out of trouble, and that made them more and more curious about him.

Sometimes, before going to sleep, Ajax would close his eyes and think about the day he'd had. He would ponder how small details were so easily erased — he couldn't remember who accompanied him on the march, or the name of the guy he had hit. But it was okay, it was fine not to remember.

The important thing was to keep going, without wasting time, and to move on. Ajax didn't need anything else, or anyone else, just himself to become very strong.

"Here you go, redhead." He was called by [Name], who threw a pillow right in his face.

" Man, you really like throwing things at me, don't you?" complained, pulling the pillow away from his face, "Have I become a punching bag now?"

"You forgot your pillow. If you wake up with a stiff neck, you'll be complaining in my ear all day tomorrow."

"I don't complain—"

"You think you don't, but you nag like an old man!"

Ajax threw himself backwards, lying on the mattress hugging the pillow close to his face. He muttered irritably to himself something almost inaudible, something that [Name] could only wish weren't curses in their direction.

"Look, I don't know what kind of problem you have," Ajax began, rolling his eyes in frustration, but soon changed his tone to something more playful, "if you want to settle something with me, come fight. Unless you're too much of a chicken not to fight someone younger and stronger than you."

"Whatever" [name] grumbled as they adjusted the flame of the lamp with their vision, "I already know I have zero percent chance against someone like... you."

"Why, comrade? It's not like I'm going to kill anyone in sight or anything like that." He smiled, giving a slight chuckle.

"Yes, of course, and I'm a slime" [name] sarcastically answered.

"Honestly, I don't mean to offend you or anything..." Ajax sat up, running a light hand through his hair to remove it from his face. "But I really wonder how someone so coward got into Fatui. I mean, you're afraid to even hold your own bow."

[Name] listened attentively to his words, but kept their gaze fixed on the lamp in her hands. It was the only source of warmth between them at the moment, and they couldn't let it go out so soon.

"The reason I'm in Fatui..." Their eyes did not leave the flame in hand, carefully observing the orange color that reflected on everything around him. [Name] avoided this question whenever it was asked, because they knew they weren't strong, and didn't force themselves to be, but the truth was too shameful.

"I believe I am indebted to Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa. I must render my services for her generosity, and also... for this little thing here, which has guaranteed me everything I have now."

They picked it up and swung it around, the vibrant red gemstone seeming to emanate heat in a veritable mirage. Even though the temperature was almost below zero, it still retained its tiny hints of flame.

"Well, I guess that's it. I was born like anyone else, subject to mistakes and defects. But I don't think I'm worthless, after all..." they paused for a single second, letting out a sigh before continuing, "even doormats have their uses."

Ajax's face softened as he listened to them. He was speechless, sincerely mute without an answer to their words. No silly comment came to mind, just nothing. He waited a while in silence before finally asking: "Wow, that was something..."

"I think we've talked enough about me, what about you?" They asked with a little smile, and Ajax relaxed a little.

"About me? Hm... I think I have several stories! Like today when I punched that guy!" he cheered, throwing a fake punch in the air to represent his fight.

[Name] let out a simple laugh, amused by his actions. They thought the boy was a piece of work, silly but very funny; also very intriguing in every respect. At fourteen, joining the Fatui and doing well was something out of this world from everyone else's perspective.

"No, silly! I don't care about that sort of thing." They shook their heads in denial.

Ajax blinked twice, confusion clear on his face. "What...? So what do you want to know, anyway?"

They patted his head lightly, making Ajax turn as red as a tomato. It was unexpected, and he didn't know how to react to it, he wasn't prepared, but it wasn't that bad either. For the first time in a long time, Ajax allowed himself to receive a bit of care.

"Tell me, redhead," they called him by that silly nickname again, getting a funny look from him, "do you miss home at all?"

"Homesick? Hm... I don't know, I don't think so."

"Lying to yourself is always the worst kind of lie, so don't do this."

"If I really miss home..."

Home. Did Ajax really miss home? It was very hard for them to guess what was going through his head when all he did was fight and cause trouble. Although he had his ridiculous faults, there was still a gentle child inside, deep down.

Ajax was about to answer when it finally hit. It was the kind of question that nobody really asked in the Fatui. Everyone usually acted in accordance with their situation, there was no room in the Camp for whining.

The only tears were those that were left on the pillow, turned upside down as soon as the first rays of sun appeared in the morning. Hidden, sealed away from the gaze of others, while everything continued in the shadows.

He remembered perfectly the day he left home, beginning his career as a soldier.

Ajax checked his appearance one last time in the mirror. He didn't mind the state he was in, with a few scars on his hands and small scratches on his face from the mess that had occurred before he was enlisted — but he couldn't look relaxed either, Ajax needed to look presentable for some reason.

He could hear some whispering, not so quiet, of children behind him. He could see their reflections, curious as ever, but pretended not to have noticed, not wanting to end their failed attempt at spying.

When the clock finally struck a certain time, he knew it was time to go. Ajax had been preparing since the day before, when he received the news. It hadn't been easy to accept, but Ajax had no voice after everything he had done.

It was easy to feel the blood on his hands, even though he had washed them over and over again. While his combat skills were fascinating, it was frightening to see how easy it was to seriously hurt someone.

But at the same time, he felt the adrenaline of fighting pulsing through his veins, bringing with it an insatiable desire for battle. He didn't have a strong enemy, he didn't have anyone who could challenge his skills in this little corner of the world he lived in. Being the strongest shouldn't be so boring, at least not for him.

When he stepped out of his room, the first thing he saw were his little siblings. Their faces were full of questions, asking for an answer as to where he was going, why he was leaving and other questions that Ajax wasn't allowed to answer, nor was he in the mood to answer them.

This was what he really dreaded, the farewell.

He hugged each sibling as if it was the last time seeing them, his eyes filled with anguish disguised as emotion and tears that weren't exactly shed. He felt a knot down his throat — how hard it was to try and keep a smile, with such a conflicted feeling in his chest.

Perhaps that was the hardest part, because the younger ones had no idea where their older brother would end up. They didn't know that he was going where no other child should go. The only excuse he could come up with was something about a fantastic toy factory, and they bought it.

He swallowed it all, keeping his typical charisma in a comforting smile. Blindly lying to himself that all that was to come was just a distraction where he could meet stronger people, bigger obstacles and climb them without hesitation.

He ran down the stairs as if it was the last time, and it would be, because long gone was the boy who once smiled here. Hearing the children's voices saying casual goodbyes, as if it were just another ordinary day and that he would be back soon. Touching the banister, sliding along and feeling the texture of the wood, brought a little sadness. It was full of scratches and loose splinters, just the way he would remember it.

Taking a deep breath, he let the smell of wax invade his lungs for one last time. Little did he know, but this would become another moment for nostalgia in just a few days.

He hesitated to leave that warm place, so precious and cozy that it was the only thing capable of bringing a tear to his eyes after leaving the abyss. Not all things in life work out the way we want them to, and he needed to learn that, if only in the harshest way possible.

"Discipline" was what it was supposed to be, a form of punishment for all the trouble he had made. Like a staircase, Ajax climbed step by step in his acts of violence until he reached the irreversible point of his insatiable hunger for battle

But life always takes its toll. And for Ajax, life decided to give, demand and take away almost instantly.

Saying goodbye to his mother, who wrapped a red wool scarf around his neck, Ajax could only keep smiling. If it hadn't been for the hesitation and worry in her eyes, distressed that her young son would end up in a place like the Fatui, everything would have been so much easier.

"My little warrior," she called him, a cheesy nickname that suited the wild boy perfectly. While it was ironic in the past, given that Ajax was a big scaredy��cat, today it was just dumb, "Don't cause too much trouble... please."

The last sentence came in the form of a very faint whisper, which went almost unnoticed by Ajax. A real plea, almost desperate because of the lack of credibility he had at that moment. She didn't believe in him, evident in the exacerbated concern she showed in her mannerisms.

And if to comfort her, then Ajax was willing to put on his best and most convincing cheerful mask. He had always been a boy who loved his family, and that was something that not even the claws of the Abyss could take away from him.

"Yes, Mom."

Ajax did his best not to sound the least bit false when lying to his mother — He was, he couldn't deny that — But at least Ajax did it convincingly until he could gently slip away from her gentle touch.

"I'll take care of myself. Brush my teeth, comb my hair..."

"And eat well," she added, brushing the dirt off his clothes, making him more presentable.

"...And eat well, leave it to me!"

The woman sighed, letting go of the boy. With her watery eyes turned to the side, she shook her head as if to pretend that everything was fine — an attempt to make it clear that everything was all right, that Ajax shouldn't worry. But in the end, it was to comfort herself.

"Go..." she murmured with a sad smile, shaking her face slightly to let the tears go where they shouldn't, "go with your father before you're late, and don't stir up trouble, see? Your poor mother's heart wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I'll do my best, stay super strong and—"

He was interrupted by a small smack on the head from his father; it wasn't painful, not in the slightest... but it hurt for some reason, somewhere deep inside. All he did was look up, shrug and smile as usual.

"Let's go." That was the call Ajax had been waiting for to.

This was a moment of farewell, but he remembered that it wasn't eternal. Someday, he would return home with his chest puffed out and a huge, proud smile on his face — well, that's what he hoped for.

And so, the troublemaker set foot outside his home to become what no one, not even he, expected him to be one day. Looking back at his past, his younger self, fearful and innocent, disappointed but admiring, came to mind.

An icy breeze was the first thing that greeted Ajax when he opened the door and encountered the standard whiteness of the outside scenery. It was sudden, as if to extract any remnants of warmth he felt. People would say it was a good omen coming from the Tsaritsa, a sign of good fortune on his new path.

And it's what Ajax would like to believe.

"Ajax?"

Their voice woke him from his memories, bringing him back to reality. And then suddenly, he was back in that tiny tent, the one he had never left.

"Sorry. I spaced out, didn't I?" He covered his eyes with his forearm, tiredness was starting to set in.

"Just a little bit." [Name] decided to lie down too, covering themselves with their own blanket. Their hands then went to the lamp, offering it to him, "Can you use your vision to put it out?"

"Can't we just... not put out the fire?" Ajax asked weakly.

[Name] blinked twice in surprise, then cracked a smile to tease him. "What's the matter, are you afraid—"

"No, I'm not afraid of the dark..." he cut them off in mid—sentence, turning around so that he wasn't facing them. With his face covered by the pillow, Ajax lowered his voice. "But leave the fire burning, just for now... please."

It was the first time [Name] had seen him so vulnerable, with his guard down. With such a sincere request, they were at a loss for words — even though they really wanted to understand.

"Right..." They hesitated slightly as they released the lamp. "Sweet dreams, Ajax."

Without replying, they sighed. [Name] then put their head on the pillow, looking at him with a certain empathy. But then again, it was none of their business; he would tell them when he felt comfortable.

That night would be a long one, with the two of them lying awake without exchanging a single word.

Sometimes [Name] questioned their own common sense, especially when they followed Ajax's foolish ideas. Normally, the two of them would get into trouble and be forced to do the daily tasks because of it.

But after days of insistence on his part, they had finally agreed to go ice fishing in the middle of the night because it was the only free time the both had. Did they know how to fish? No, and certainly not on ice, but there's a first time for everything.

"Hm... I don't see anyone," Ajax whispered as he looked through a gap in the tent, making sure no one was awake at this hour.

"Hang on, I can't put these on!" [Name] tried to put their boots on, but couldn't make a decent knot. They were already frustrated, tying them any way and untying them when they realized it didn't lead anywhere.

Ajax let out a chuckle, their desperation to put on simple boots was utterly comical, "Let me help you."

"I can do it myself!" [Name] stared at the tangled shoelace with a certain determination, trying to undo what they had tied.

"You said that last week, yet you couldn't do it and we lost the training—"

[Name]'s face heated up in embarrassment. What he said was true, the two of them had missed it, all because they didn't know how to put on the boots offered with the new uniform, and had to clean the weapons as punishment — not that Ajax cared, it seemed he had only focused on admiring the swords and guns rather than cleaning them.

"Shh! That's in the past!" they tried to shut him up.

Ajax shook his head slightly. He knelt down and stared at the blind knot they had tied, taking his hands to the shoelaces to straighten out the mess. "I'll teach you, check it out."

He carefully tied their shoes, making a firm loop. It was just like at home, when he helped his younger siblings put on their boots to play outside. When recalling this, an unconscious smile appeared on Ajax's lips, followed by a giggle.

"Are you laughing at me?" [name] asked, offended.

"No—" Ajax looked up, and then laughed, seeing the funny look they were making. "Yes, I am now!"

[Name] grabbed him by the cheek, hurrying him out of the tent with them. "Stop laughing, they'll wake up and it'll be our doom!"

"All right, all right!" Ajax exclaimed, removing their hand from his sore cheek. "You talk just like my mother when she scolds me..."

[Name] looked at him, smiling before teasing him. "No way, I mean, I pity your mother for having to put up with a son like you."

Ajax's frowned, he really did look offended by what they had said. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I've always been a very well—behaved child!"

"Oh, sure... if you say so, who am I to doubt it?" they agreed sarcastically. There wasn't a shred of confidence in his word.

There were endless minutes of walking and exchanging small insults. Under the moonlight, the two made their way calmly, getting further and further away from the camp. If they were lucky, no one would find out that they had run away.

They would be fishing in a frozen lake, a large mirror that reflected the light of an aurora. It was a breathtaking sight, as if they could touch the sky, and they took a cautious first step onto the it.

"Damn!" They slipped, having only the instinct to hold on to something.

"Whoa! Watch it there, comrade!" Ajax helped them regain their balance, holding them up by the arms. He took slow steps backwards so that [Name] wouldn't slip again.

[Name] smiled a little awkwardly, embarrassed. "Thanks but... This ice won't break with us on it, right?"

Ajax shook his head and firmly tapped his foot on the frozen surface, which remained intact. "It's pretty sturdy, see?"

"I see." [Name] turned their attention upwards and admired the greenish glow again. " Snezhnaya's night sky is a fascinating sight, isn't it? Even though I've seen it several times, I'm always amazed by its beauty..."

Ajax had already seen the real starry sky, the true and uncovered light of the celestial bodies. To refer to this gloomy canvas as a "fascinating sight" is an absurd statement, for it is only an empty imitation of what lies beneath the veil of the Abyss.

"You're really satisfied with anything, huh?" Ajax scoffed, with a hint of a smile on his face, "It's just floating lights, it gets boring after a while."

"Is there anything that doesn't get boring for you?" [Name] watched as Ajax started to cut the ice in a circular pattern, which appeared to be a not too difficult job for him. "Are you sure this works? I mean, it's just ice... I don't know if there's anything alive down there."

Ajax sat, eyes fixed on the hole in front of them. He hugged his knees and remained there, staring at the immensity and waiting for what would happen next. "Don't worry, we'll catch one in... a few minutes, I think."

"In about how many minutes, exactly?"

Ajax looked up thoughtfully. "A few."

"I swear to the archons, if you made us come here for nothing..." [Name] grumbled, watching the boy next to them. The way he insisted on his ideas impressed them, at the same time as it irritates; but seeing that serene face made them let out a little laugh, "Never mind, I'm the idiot one for following you."

[Name] sat down next to him, resting their face in one hand as Ajax and them waited patiently. Those moments of serenity were the complete opposite from the battles that took place everyday.

They had already seen several "comrades" fall, their lives taken while protecting the Fatui's interests. Interests that were unknown and hidden from the vast majority, concealed by individuals whose faces were unknown to many.

The Harbingers themselves were a kind of urban legends who, while everyone knew of their existence, were enigmatic and symbolic figures within the organization.

"What exactly are we fighting for?" [name] asked. There wasn't exactly a reason, because no one ever said the real purpose of the blood shed on the snowy battlefield.

Everyone's admiration and fear of the Harbingers was obvious. But just as they were feared, the kind of people whose presence is everywhere, there were more questions than answers as to their real motivation.

The closest they had seen was the Fifth, Pulcinella. [Name] didn't understand why they had been placed in his division, being a complete fool who couldn't hold a weapon without getting nervous. Even more so when, in the same division, there was Ajax.

A confused expression appeared on Ajax's face when he heard the question. Wasn't the answer obvious? At least, it was logical. "For Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa—"

"No, I know that. I'm talking about why we need to fight, the purpose of it all... We have a mission in a few days, and we don't even know what they want from us."

"I fight because I'm strong, isn't that enough?" Ajax seemed genuine in his response, with no hidden ambitions behind the battles he fought against his opponents. At the end of the day, it seemed to be all about the will to get stronger and better.

"No, it's not." [Name]'s gaze was serious, demanding an answer that would satisfy their curiosity. For them, Ajax was an extremely difficult puzzle to solve — a young boy who possessed the strength of a monster. But at the same time, had a heart as pure as gold. "Your name... was inspired by a hero, right? Do you want to be like them, the hero of the story?"

Ajax nodded, giving them a smirk. He remembered the old days, when he wasn't the least bit brave or powerful, just a fearful boy with a sword and a dream. "I think I'd rather be myself. It's much more fun when you do things your own way, don't you agree?"

"Well... it is, it really is." [Name]'s firm gaze softened. "Ajax, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

The boy froze in place. His mouth opened to speak, but the words he wanted to say didn't come out. He had no answer, even if he thought about it — Ajax simply didn't know.

"When I grow up..." he repeated to himself, looking for an answer, any answer. "I honestly don't know... I think I'll end up having to stay in Fatui."

"Idiot..." [name] grumbled, "I'm not saying you can't do what you want, but let's be honest with ourselves for a moment. Who would willingly stay in this hellhole?"

"Me," Ajax answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation in his speech, "If I go back home, I'll only make more trouble. Just the fact that I'm here makes life easier for everyone, and I can improve my skills."

"Of course you'd say that." They shook their heads, completely disapproving of his choice. They got up from where they sat, offering him a glance. "I envy you, you know that?"

"Hm? You..." Ajax looked up and pointed at them, then at himself. "...envy someone like me?"

"How can I not? You're strong, hopeful, stubborn and very proud," [name] listed, raising a finger for each adjective they found to describe him. "How can I not envy someone like you? You're like..."

"Everything I've always dreamed of being like."

They both uttered the same sentence at the same time, their voices becoming a unison sound that gave way to an awkward silence between them. Their eyes seemed to pierce each other, staring into the depths of the souls in search of some understanding.

"Trust me, I know what it's like," Ajax sighed, "to want to be braver, but at the same time to be too afraid of doing so."

Ajax turned his gaze back to the freezing water. Its darkness brought back vague memories of the abyss. The simple act of fishing was enough to push Ajax's mind back to the past, when he listened to his father's stories — maybe, just maybe, he really wanted to be as great as the heroes in them.

Ajax had once been a poor, fearful boy, terrified of the world outside, but with a spirit hungry for adventure. He had only a shortsword and a bag of bread — anyone could say that it was at that moment, before his fall into the confines of Teyvat, that Ajax began his transformation into what he's now.

"It's not a story I tell anyone, but I used to be a real coward," he admitted, letting out a sigh. "If one day you get stronger... like I did, would you duel with me?"

"Of course..." they smiled, making an x with their arms. "Not!"

Ajax's expression fell, replaced by that of an abandoned puppy. "But why?"

[Name] laughed at his face, crossing their arms. "Don't you remember when we first met?"

For them, the events that led to their current situation were clear as day. From before their enlistment, to the first day in the division.

They were born into a humble family, without any kind of comfort or privilege. [Name] grew up hearing all the stories about the archons and their extraordinary feats, about how lucky those who gained visions were. However, they never understood why their family admired such deities when all they received was misery.

Their parents, in a desperate act, borrowed a large amount of money, which they couldn't pay back. Disaster would be the appropriate word to describe what happened when the deadline for repaying these debts passed. As they were unable to pay, the two were killed by the debt collectors.

But [Name] always had somewhat of a way with their words, and that was the weapon they used to survive in a world like this. Somehow, they managed to negotiate their lives, in exchange for serving in the Fatui army instead of paying off an endless quantity of mora.

And shortly afterwards, [Name] were taken to the Cryo nation, landing in the middle of a terrible blizzard. If it hadn't been for the pyro vision they carried in their hands, [Name] wouldn't be alive to tell the tale, having become an ice statue.

And it was in an old and spacious office where [Name] took their first step towards their new reality. Quite nervously, their hands firmly held a document with all the information about their new career, leaving crumpled marks on its edges. [Name] had never thought they'd be offered to properly work, especially when the job was with none other than Fatui.

They were facing a short, stoic Fatui agent with a big nose and glasses. He seemed like a friendly fellow, but [Name] knew better than to trust someone who worked for those who had killed their family.

"What's your name, child?" asked the man in front of them, as he typed on a typewriter.

They had never seen anything like this, a machine that wrote for people? Unthinkable, it seemed magical, even. [Name] was so glued to it that, for a second, they forgot to answer.

"It's... [Name], that's all. I don't have a last name..."

The agent stopped his notes, giving [Name] a skeptical look. It was enough to make them nervous, unconsciously taking a small step backwards, lowering their head.

"Answer me..." The man went back to typing. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, sir. I'm from far away..." they sighed, murmuring, "very, very far...."

"Are you sure you'd like to join Fatui? You're still too young, don't you think it's a big responsibility?"

The agent gave them a gentle smile, different from the look he had given them before. It was as if he was truly giving [Name] a choice — but the truth was, if they didn't accept it, they would probably end up in the same shallow grave as their parents.

"Forgive me, sir, but it's not a question of wanting, it's a question of needing," they replied calmly, "someone has to pay these debts, right? Mora doesn't grow on trees."

[Name] wondered if they had said something wrong, since their tone hadn't exactly been friendly, mentally scolding themselves. But to their surprise, instead of getting scolded, [Name] heard a faint but present chuckle coming from the other person.

"You should thank Her Majesty the Tsaritsa for your kindness," he said, handing them the piece of paper he had been typing on, "how many people do you think have had an opportunity like this, to have their debts absolved and a job guaranteed?"

"Absolved?"

"Exactly, absolved. All we need from you, child, is your loyalty. I can see the potential, but it all depends solely on you." He pointed at their vision, hanging from their waist with a faint shine. "Surely, you're lucky enough to possess one of these."

For anyone else, receiving a vision is a blessing. However, being in possession of one is like having an eternal debt to the world. To be chosen is to be special, and to be special enough to receive a vision is to be distinct from the rest.

Sometimes it became a curse. One can no longer live like a normal person, because there will always be something that sets them apart from the rest. All those who are given one struggle in some way — Has there ever been a vision holder who truly lived an entire life peacefully, without any conflict whatsoever? At least in Snezhnaya, it seemed not.

"I... I accept..." Their eyes filled with hope, looking at their own name perfectly typed on the document. There was the real identity of the gentleman in front of them, revealed in a fancy signature, the Fifth of the Fatui Harbingers, Pulcinella.

[Name] signed their names in the blank space, sealing their fate within the organization. From that moment on, they would be part of the Fatui, just one more in the crowd — But if that was what it took to ensure their survival, [Name] would do it without hesitation.

The real issue, however, was on the first day of duty, and it had a name: Ajax.

[Name] had just put on their uniform, which was a little big for their size. But then again, there were none designed for a fifteen-year-old to wear, so they'd have to be content with what they had on hand.

At least the jacket they were given was comfortable, warm enough to block out some of the bitter cold that surrounded them each second. [Name] even looked like a proper person in it, which made them let out a little laugh.

However, it wasn't until they were standing in line in a meaningful formation that [Name] noticed a boy of a similar age to them. Red curls that stood out against the white backdrop, with a red scarf that was too long for his neck — perhaps they weren't completely alone in that place.

[Name] waited patiently until the time came for them to start training, watching him with eagle eyes, following Ajax wherever he went. When they finally mustered up the courage, they approached him and extended a hand towards him.

"Hello, I'm [Name],"

"Hey!" The boy grinned and shook their hands firmly. "I'm Ajax!"

"Well... looks like we're the same age, huh? How about we train together?" they suggested, thinking it was the best option.

"Sure!" Ajax nodded, putting the sword he was holding aside. "That would be, like... an invitation to battle, right?"

Technically, it was, so they just followed the his reasoning and confirmed it. "Mhm!"

"Then get ready!" he announced, preparing to throw a full punch.

[Name] didn't react immediately, surprised at the speed of the boy who had already set up his punch. "W-WAIT—"

Thud.

Complete darkness was how the first and last friendly match between the two ended, with Ajax knocking them out with a single punch. That's how [Name] would learn that fighting Ajax was a trap. However, [Name] wouldn't lie that at least it had been the best sleep they'd had in months — and the worst black eye they'd ever gotten, too.

"Teyvat to [Name]?" They awoke from their thoughts to see Ajax's hand moving in front of their face. He then tapped them on the forehead. "Is anyone there?"

"Oh, sorry, I got distracted. I was just remembering the punch you gave me." They laughed. "Speaking of which, you also punched that guy the other day too... what's with punching people, redhead?"

"I've already apologized!" His face heated up with embarrassment. "And punching is way more practical. You'd be shocked if you knew how strong a punch from me can really be, when I throw one for real!"

"Hm, sure, no doubt about it—"

"I got one!" Ajax exclaimed, trying to pull the line back on the rod with great difficulty. "A little help would be nice, you know!"

[Name] hurried, wrapping their arms around him and pulling back to bring the fish to the surface. But the animal wouldn't cooperate, even with the effort they made take it out of the water.

Ajax took a step back. "That was fast!"

"Fast? We've been waiting for almost an hour—" They slipped on the ice, pulling him and the fish along with them. In the end, Ajax and [Name] both fell flat, like two idiots.

[Name] looked at him, who was holding the fish in his hands while the animal struggled in them. It was a funny sight, which was enough to get a genuine laugh out of them.

"Haha..." they laughed weakly, then raised their tone, "Hahaha!"

Ajax, hearing the sound of their giggles, bursted into laughter. He laughed so hard that small tears formed in his eyes, "Hahaha... What are we laughing at?"

[Name] pointed at him, "At you, you fool!"

"Oh, really?!" Ajax stood up, bringing the fish in his hands near them. "Let's see who gets the last laugh!"

[Name] got up and ran across the ice, running away from him. They slipped and balanced, with an infectious smile on their faces accompanied by the sweet sound of their laughter, while Ajax chased after them with the animal.

It was moments like this that reminded them that they weren't adults, but two true children at heart.

At least once a week, Ajax and [Name] were sent on missions. They weren't often in charge of the more complicated ones, as they were still too young. However, for the first time, the two of them were allowed to take part in a more risky operation.

The two were supposed to stay with the older ones, but [Name] found themselves alone, having gotten separated from the rest by accident. In the middle of such a large forest, they could only hope that a blizzard wouldn't strike right away.

[Name] analyzed their surroundings, trying to retrace the steps that led them to nowhere and return to where the division had planned to reunite. However, they seemed to go round in circles, never reaching their destination.

That's when they noticed a coat lying in the snow. It was brown, very different from the Fatui soldiers' uniform, with a shabby finishing and a gross smell of blood.

Pow.

That's what they heard, a loud, familiar sound that sent shivers down their spines. Looking up, they saw a bullet hole in the tree, well above their heads — by perhaps two centimeters, they would no longer be alive.

"...!" [Name] instinctively looked for the source of the sound, quickly finding it.

Their desperate eyes met another's, which held no pity. Yet another soldier, wounded, carrying a gun and a tremendous amount of hatred — not everyone liked the Fatui, and not everyone had sympathy just because they were a child.

Frightened, [Name] ran desperately, followed by fierce gunfire that almost hit them. [Name] hid behind a tree and drew out their bow, but couldn't hold it properly no matter how much they tried, since it always slipped from their hands.

The enemy was indeed wounded, but armed and apparently experienced. The look in his face had been enough to send shivers down their spine, because when compared to them, who couldn't even use their vision properly, it was like facing a real monster.

"It'll be all right..." they whispered to themselves. "I just need to—"

[Name] heard more gunshots, too close to where they were. Something told them to run, but also to stay, accept the invitation and have a proper fight. If it was to survive, then [Name] would fight, they needed to.

[Name] couldn't hide forever, it wouldn't be right.

"Come on, you bastard!" [name] shouted, their voice echoing through the woods, as they aimed their bows in the direction of the enemy.

They used their vision and set the arrow ablaze, burning their own fingertips in the process. They didn't know how to control the force with which the arrow burned, but they knew it would hurt anyone who was struck.

[Name] clumsily launched the first arrow, dodging a shower of bullets headed their way. They hoped it was enough, that they had been able to send it flying at his face. But instead, the projectile pierced through his shoulder.

"Damn!" the soldier shouted, trying to reload his weapon while wincing in pain, but his ammunition had run out.

He came up and pistol—whipped them, causing [Name] to cry out in pain for a few seconds. The impact was so intense that they dropped their weapon and fell into the snow.

[Name] then felt the real despair of being weak. They could hear their hearts pounding in their ears and their eyes watering from the pain of the blows they received to the head, while blood trickled down their faces.

They grabbed his foot, applying pyro to their hands to make his boot burn along with it. When he fell, it was then that they saw their chance to stay alive handed to them on a platter.

They reached for the bow that lay on the ground next to them, firmly holding it anyway. Nothing mattered, only survival and that was all — they only needed to survive, to live long enough to prove that they were capable.

It didn't take much for one person to kill another, just despair. That feeling of helplessness and genuine dread, which would move mountains if necessary, was all it took to pull the trigger.

They violently hit the enemy in the face with their own bow, as if it were a bat. It was only when the return attacks stopped that they realized what they had done. The body below had an expression of terror, eyes wide as blood dripped onto the white snow, staining its purity with a crimson shade.

"I—I didn't... I did this...?" They stared at their bloodied hands, feeling their heart beating wildly against their chest. That's when, suddenly, an incessant urge to cough overtook them, but only blood came from their mouth.

[Name] looked down and realized that they had been shot in the chest. The bullet had gone through what seemed to be their lung, they didn't know, the adrenaline was hiding the pain for as long as it took. However, the spot hit was clearly a lethal wound.

They took two clumsy steps backwards, shaking their heads in denial. [Name] was too afraid to do anything like that, taking a life itself was too cruel an act for them, but it was done.

However, they didn't want to die as murderers, not really. So, with determination, [Name] decided they wouldn't die there.

They turned around and ran that time like there was no tomorrow, using every drop of adrenaline they still had in their bodies. [Name] couldn't see the sun shining, only the same gray clouds that covered the sky, which seemed to mock the fact that there was no light at the end.

Their only way out was to get to the camp, where there should be healers waiting for the wounded. However, it was difficult for [Name] to distinguish the landscape around them, especially in such a nervous state.

[Name] tripped over their own foot, losing their balance and rolling painfully down the mountain. They watched life pass before their eyes, each moment painful with the intention of just surviving, not living. Then they closed their eyes tightly, already bracing themselves for a more abrupt impact and accepting certain death.

They hit a tree, before rolling one last time to the bottom of the hill. Fortunately, or not, it was low enough for them not to die on impact — they did wish it had been stronger, ending it all quickly.

[Name] felt like a bird, floating in the sky with their eyes closed. They thought they had died because of the serenity felt for a few seconds, only to be crushed by the cruel reality. Their fall had been gently cushioned by the snow, but even with all this effort, they couldn't see the camp — which meant it had all been in vain.

Finally, the pain returned to their body as if it had never left. Breathing was difficult, with each breath being painful in the extreme, as if their organs were punishing them for still being alive.

"N—No," they sobbed through words, hot tears contrasting with the coldness that cruelly coursed through their veins. "I—I hate it... I wanted to die in peace, not like this... Not like this..."

Their trembling hands squeezed the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. [Name] didn't know how much time they had left, they didn't want to know either, all left to do was pray to Tsaritsa and beg for a little mercy, for a quick death if possible.

[Name] still hadn't paid their debt to Her Majesty, for the life they had been offered. For the bread to eat every day, for the tent they had over their heads, for letting them breathe, for letting them remain in existence, they had to do their utmost to repay all the favors with whatever they could.

For the gratuitously heavy insults that they had to swallow in silence because they were weak; for the mountains and snowstorms that brought them down along the way; for the disgraceful defective vision of theirs — or rather, they were the defective ones.

"P—Please..." [Name] begged the nothing, while holding their vision close to their chest, "if miracles really do exist…”

How many things had [Name] thrown away, when what they wanted most was to prove to everyone that, even if they were weak, they didn't need to prove anything to anyone? [Name] didn't know, only the bitterness of a wasted time remained in their hearts.

They let their tears fall over the flaming orb, whose glow no longer seemed the same. With one last kiss to the gem, a silent thank you, they began to weep for a life they were about to lose.

There would be no one to mourn their death, to lament the defeat of someone who had never once won. They probably wouldn't even have a funeral, but would just be buried somewhere like an animal. How terrible would it be to be completely forgotten, with no soul to remember their existence?

And Ajax, their only friend... finally acknowledged this fact. Would the boy be desolate? Grieve? Or would he carry on as he always seemed to do?

They regretted not having told him things in life that only they could say. They could only hope for the best, that he wouldn't take the news that badly — but at the same time, there was a small, selfish desire for him to feel their death. Not because [Name] wanted him to suffer, but because that way they would know that they mattered to someone.

[Name] recalled the memories they had made with him, like when they first met, when they went ice fishing a few days ago. The image of how they ran and laughed with him that night, as if they weren't the next ones to die, was fresh.

At last, their body felt light, receiving a moment of tranquillity reserved for the end of endings, when [Name] felt nothing but the slow rhythm of their heartbeats, fighting for a lost cause, as if they didn't have two holes in their chests.

"I was truly... useless until the end, wasn't I...?" [Name] murmured what they knew would be their last words, a vent to themselves and to the world. With the last beat of their hearts and the cessation of their breathing, snowflakes touched the now freezing skin. "I hope I have served you well... Your Majesty..."

They died in silence, without disturbing anyone.

Meanwhile, with the mission over, Ajax found himself extremely bored. Contemplating the pure white snow stained with blood as he returned to camp had already become a habit of his.

He could not care less that his face had a few small scratches on it. Though, he had to admit, that any kind of mission made him tired. But before he could rest, he found a place to rest. So Ajax began to look for them throughout the camp, without any success in his search.

'They must be receiving medical care...' He thought, as he made his way towards the tent where the doctors were staying.

It was a small space that was often crowded with the number of people wounded during missions. Finding any specific person was difficult, even more so when he was being pestered to be treated right away because he was younger.

"Are you sure you don't want to go first?" one of the doctors asked, placing a hand on his bruised face.

"No, I'm fine!" Ajax smiled. "I'm just looking for..."

For some reason, his eyes fixed on a particular corner of the tent. Away from the rest, it was where they put the bodies of those who had perished in combat; but Ajax had never taken much notice of it, so why now?

He approached slowly, in silence. Ajax felt an uncharacteristic nervousness come over him, running through his veins. The chills he felt seemed to swallow him up from the inside out, it had been a long time since Ajax had felt like this, as if something was screaming "don't go there, stay here" and attempting to keep him from discovering the truth, as he approached a particular cloth.

He stopped in front of the covered figure, noticing something sticking out of the cloth. An object, a... vision. But the only ones in the entire division who possessed one were him and... [Name].

Terror was too little to describe what overtook Ajax, who hesitated to lift the cloth covering the individual's face. He wished he wouldn't hear his head and believe that they weren't the dead man in front of him.

With trembling hands, which he tried to stop, Ajax lifted the fabric slightly. And that's when the ground really seemed to crumble beneath him — they were dead, [Name] was truly dead.

Their skin was so pale and cold that it scared him a bit. But what particularly caught Ajax's eye was the sheer amount of blood they had lost, as their face and hair were completely stained a deep crimson red; and no one had bothered to close their eyes, devoid of life and its particular glow. Now, they were just a pit of darkness that matched his own.

"..." Ajax just stared, unable to say anything. Everything was trapped inside, without him being able to express it.

Ajax tried to tell himself that he didn't care, that they weren't really friends, just work colleagues. But the sadness in his heart betrayed the stoicism he tried so hard to maintain.

Ajax closed their eyes gently and kissed [Name]'s forehead gently before covering their face with the cloth again. It was an action that any mother would take on seeing her child dead, but they didn't have one to weep over their death — and if there wasn't one, then Ajax would play his part in showing respect for them.

Ajax may even have changed when he fell into the abyss, becoming a maniac for fighting and confusion. But at the end of the day, he was human just like everyone else.

Two days later, the tent they shared was cold, without the heat of the lamp to warm Ajax up, as it had already gone out with the icy wind coming through the gap in the entrance.

It was [Name] who kept them warm in the middle of the night, using their vision to keep the fire burning. And that was just a bitter reminder that they were no longer there.

The others had taken away everything that was theirs, accommodating what would be the belongings of a new tentmate, who would be arriving in a few days. It was as if they had ceased to exist altogether.

Ajax wouldn't mind being hit in the face with a pillow if they were the ones to hit him, with that smile, with that irritating tone of voice of theirs that Ajax recognized from afar. He wouldn't mind being called "redhead" again, if it was them calling him that.

"Ajax?" The voice that called him from outside was familiar to Ajax. It was the Fifth.

Ajax promptly got to his feet, walking outside the tent and greeting him politely, a treatment he reserved only for The Rooster. "I'm here, sir."

"I heard that one of your companions fell in battle... a shame," the Harbinger said, as he searched for something in his pocket. "Well, here it is..."

The man handed him a gray envelope, a letter. In the corner was written in almost illegible handwriting the names of the sender and recipient, respectively: [Name] and Ajax.

"Thank you, sir," he nodded, holding the envelope tightly in his hands.

"You were both very similar ages, you and..." the Rooster paused, having forgotten their name.

"[Name]." It was the first time Ajax had said their names, having called them "comrade" all the time since they'd met. Honestly, it hurt a little, how difficult it was to utter a simple phoneme.

A few minutes later, Ajax said goodbye to the Harbinger and entered the darkness of the tent again. He left out a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was written inside that envelope.

Ajax could no longer remember what The Rooster had talked about, only that the exchange of words had been short, like all the others before. He didn't even have the mind to think about it now, he could apologize later if he forgot some important information.

But right now, the only thing that mattered to Ajax was [Name]'s letter. He opened the envelope, trying to be careful not to tear it, but in the end he did. Ajax strained his eyes to read what was written there, in a handwriting as bad as theirs.

Dear Ajax,

Should I start a letter with "dear"? I don't know, honestly, I have never written one. Well, if this letter found you, then that means I must be dead by now. I'm sure you're glad I did, as you'll now have the whole tent to yourself.

I've written this because I know that, in life, I might not be able to say what I think. I believe we're already friends, don't you too? That's how I feel about you, I think you're my only friend, and I've been very happy about that. Thank you, thank you very much, for the joyful and humorous moments you've provided me with in this little end of the world that is Snezhnaya.

I asked you the other day if you felt homesick; you may deny it, but I can understand how you feel, away from everyone you love in a place like this. Know that whatever may happen, I believe that the same people you miss feel the same way you do.

Don't listen to that little voice in your head that whispers "you're nothing but trouble", it's stupid. When I look at you, I don't see a troubled boy, but a boy with the heart of another. That day we were late for training, you could just as well have walked away and let me be punished for being late, but you didn't. We cleaned all the weapons by ourselves. We polished all the weapons alone, for hours, and you never complained. Why was that?

I don't know, but I'd like it to stay that way, so keep going! I'll be cheering you on from wherever I am, because you're the best warrior I've ever had the honor of meeting.

I end this letter with my admiration and gratitude to you; and never forget: we have our own time!

With much care,

[Name].

A single tear fell onto the paper, right below their name, accompanied by others that would soon form a hot waterfall in his eyes. Ajax didn't know how to respond to this, covering his face with the paper, as if he was embarrassed to end up being seen like this

Perhaps it was for the better, a reminder that life really wasn't fair, and that Ajax had strayed from the path he was on. He didn't want to care so much, but at the same time he did.

Ajax wanted someone to comfort him, to tell and reassure him that it was all right, that this sort of thing did happen, but at the same time, it didn't. It was hard, very hard, to face it. It was difficult, very difficult, to face the loneliness that he tried so hard to hide behind brute strength.

Anyone who saw him like that would doubt that he was the same person who ravaged the battlefield with his bloodlust, the boy who seemed like an uncontrollable monster with an indomitable spirit, causing trouble wherever he went.

But for one last time, in the darkness of that tent, he allowed himself to be... Vulnerable.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Noticed something about zutarians: for people who claim to be "THE femist ship" they spend too much time praising Zuko for doing chores, being empathetic, supporting women and other stuff he didn't really do in canon all that much.

Like, feminists would consider these a basic level that any normal person, man or woman, should do for their own's sake without any praise. Oohing and aahing "look, he spends time with his own child!", "oh, you washed the dishes, my hero!", "where would I have been if you didn't do the laundry, my knight in shining armor, you really are a savior!" is... very sexist, actually! And zutarians do just that. It’s not enough for them to write him doing chores, they have to emphasize this, compare him to Aang/Sokka/anyone else who of course doesn’t do chores (because no one except Katara and Zuko ever does anything chorelike in these fics it seems), or just outright praise him for that.

Of course, zutara never was a feminist ship, so my observation doesn't add anything new. I understand that zutara kinda fits "female gaze" or whatever, though, it's a women's dream about a perfect partner, which is totally fine by itself – it just has nothing to do with Zuko (and, dare I say, Katara – I doubt she would be so ecstatic about a guy doing "women's chores", she is used to dividing the work around camp and takes it for granted). And that's why I cannot read even relatively harmless zutara fluff – it very often is very focused on this exact subject. I like Zuko for who he is and the truth is 1) he's flawed even after his redemption and 2) a huge part of how he sees himself is his prince title. Nothing of it matches zutara fantasy of a male housewife, so they have a whole other character named Zuko to fit into their imagination land, and I just have no interest in that.

I'm still impressed by that one fic (not in English) where Fantara was 100% sure that Fanfic-Firelord-Zuko will never ever "force any hapless woman" to take care of his newborn daughter (as opposed to her awful, awful husband, Fanfic-Aang who can't even feed his son, who's still eating only breast milk, for several days while Fantara decided to be away). Sure, girl, he's a fucking ruler, he has a whole country to think about, tons of very important shit to do every single day, a full palace of servants, of course he will always personally change diapers, no doubt. I bet he'll even do all the breastfeeding by himself, since his wife died at childbirth and forcing other women is out of the question.

I'm bitter now, and maybe taking it too far but what if – just "what if" – there are very few people who actually ship Katara and Zuko? Because it seems that most content creators in zutara fandom actually ship their two OCs who are very loosely based on these two characters (but don't I dare tell it to their faces, haha, they are under impression that their image of Zuko and Katara is somehow the only correct one).

Just one little disagreement: Zutara doesn't fit the Female Gaze because there's no such thing in the first place. There's not a single trope, way to direct a scene, or romance formula that universally appeals to women, and the same thing can appeal to different women for radically different reasons.

"Male Gaze" and "Female Gaze" were supposed to be a way to point out sexism (and sometimes straight up abuse) in film-making, but it honest God became some bullshit gender-essentialism nonsense REALLY fast. We gotta let that "That is for boys, this is for girls" mentality die.

Aang does chores with Katara. That is completely irrelevant to me shipping Kataang. Aang is not sexist. That doesn't even reach my top 50 reasons to love him as a character. Aang does a lot of things that don't match the idea I was raised to have of a "manly man" and I could not give less of fuck about it. It doesn't bother me, but doesn't particularly appeal to me either.

But for lots of people that is HUGE and some of the main reasons why they love his character and his romance with Katara. And notice I said people, not women.

I like plenty of enemies-to-lovers ships - I don't relate to a single meta/analysis I've ever seen of "Why women like bad boys/enemies to lovers/redeemed villains so much." It all rang hollow to me. But to plenty of women it hits the nail right on the head.

Hell, 50 Shades of Grey is a "romance/erotica" full of accidental misogyny, abuse-apologism, and slut-shaming yet the fanbase is 90% women from all kinds of demographics, and the main thing they praise about these goddamn books/movies is that it did NOT make them feel like they should be ashamed of wanting to have kinky sex with a hot guy.

The Female Gaze isn't real.

[strange-guy-in-the-forest]

harper appreciation/analysis rant

i think harper would hate anything that would make them feel weak or vulnerable BUT they would get turned on by it. they'd be mortified but also grateful for the unique experience then go jerk off about it or maybe make their patients re-enact it for them.

i also don't think they mind appearing weak. they are after all just a humble doctor who takes on tough cases like traumatized orphans, not a mayor or high elk or whatever, despite being a skilled hypnotist. as long as they feel in control in a situation, it doesn't bother them. probably because they think they're the smartest person in the room and out-scheming everyone else.

they're also just, so, so, so. all of the harper love points are gotten through being sexually receptive to harper, in situations where harper is in complete control. harper is vulnerable when they're overtaken by lust! they're stuttering and no longer the logical doctor so it makes sense that they'd much rather enact their lust through voyeurism + masturbation where they don't have to look like a fool. or they only enact it on people (cough cough orphans, the insane) whose opinions don't really matter. harper feeling affection for a pc who sees them in this maximally-controlled vulnerability and is responsive to it, is just, cute.

im sorry-not-sorry but harper is an evil monster but an adorable pathetic evil monster.

but like the patheticness doesn't detract from the scariness and that's like the best part! harper is deeply bitchless BUT you're going to be their bitch whether you like it or not. and, you will like it soon enough.

i just love the combo of them being this evil pervert with a need for control. they are so excessive in their lust and it's just boiling under this professional persona. like you can guilt Harper over the fact that they're a doctor into not abducting PC! they do seem to take actual pride in their work, it's not a complete farce. they're very against even letting other people directly force PC to do things. the elk cult seems like it's existed in some form for a long time, i wouldn't be surprised if harper's thought the cult was inevitable and that they were being a good person by hypnotizing sex slaves into enjoying it, so everyone's happy.

harper actually considering morals in their actions is just the cherry on top. im trying to avoid referencing the q&as as those aren't canon, but vrel has said that harper has a code of ethics and that harper's greatest flaw is that they don't do the right thing when no one's watching. like you're telling me harper feels GUILT when they're being a shameless rapist. that's fucking delicious. like their giving into their lust not only overpowers the ability to appear professional and intelligent it also causes them to loose their actual morals. like the guy who is trying to get people to give up their minds to lust is actually also giving up their mind to lust too! that's like the one morally consistent thing harper does actually!

and i dont think sexual abuse occurs because people "give into lust" or whatever, you can just get a dildo (at sirris' shop! but this isnt going to turn into a sirris post). harper's abusing their institutional power because they can get away with it. but this analysis is in the context of a game where there is evil magical horny corruption. though, i will say institutional violence is a big theme in dol, especially in relation to harper.

i just love the tension between harper's intelligent kind professional persona and their animal lust. the lust threatens to overwhelm this doctor who i think actually thinks of themselves as kind and intelligent. it's just we see pc's POV where they are cruel to the "lessers" of society. they are in a situation where they can abuse anyone and in a way their freedom to give into their lust, controls them! honestly, it probably scares them, going back to them feeling out of control from their lust. it's why they're a voyeur and why they prefer their sexual partners hypnotized or drugged.

harper isn't trying to fuck pc, they have these ethics where they think turning PC into a happy brainless slut is the right thing to do but they understand its wrong to take advantage of their patients, but they just can't help themselves to have some of pc too. and so them abusing their power to have sex with pc is also, a vulnerability and corruption of their self.

anyway i feel like im reaching and/or repeating myself now so this is all to say:

Harper is both very powerful and very vulnerable when they're lusting over PC and so PC should fuck them in the ass and take their virginity. 😋😋😋

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Young and Beautiful

Alec Hardy (Broadchurch) x Reader

Synopsis: DS Y/N Warner uses DI Alec Hardy’s flat for some late night work

Word Count: 4890

Tags: fem!reader, fluff, smut, praise, sweet, very sweet smut, if your name is Becca look away

She didn't even bother to knock, not knowing or caring if he was in, she just slid open his sliding glass door and let herself inside. Then she plopped the case files on his sofa, pushed his coffee table to the side, and laid them all out in front of in her. He'd come round about an hour later, when all the papers lie in their own stacks across his rug, Y/N in the middle eating a slice of toast with a wild look in her eyes.

"Warner, what're you doing here?"

"There's something we're missing, there has to be, and I'm so close to it!" She said, her baby hairs frizzing wildly as her hair came loose from her ponytail. She either didn't care or didn't notice as she stood up, a paper in hand. DI Alec Hardy stood in his own doorway, flabbergasted to his DS rambling in his room at half past 4am. "I think it has to do with Aaron, it's got to be. His alibi doesn't make sense, he won't tell us where he was, and he knew Sophia well enough. At least more than some of the other persons of interest. I've tracked down the local cab company and one of the drivers says he remembers giving a bloke a ride late that night, said the lad was proper out of breath and not exactly chatty. I've already got him lined up to come in tomorrow for more information. As for the trace amounts of DNA in the victims mouth we don't have a match yet but the lab did say it wasn't as disintegrated as they'd initially thought which gives me hope! I've got -" 

"Warner!" Hardy shouted, interrupting her speech. "What the hell are you doing in my house half past 4?"

She gestured around her as though it should be obvious, "working."

"And you can't do that at your own flat?"

She giggled, and continued to ramble. When she was really tired, like proper one second away from passing out tired, like she was now, she couldn't shut up. It didn't matter if the person she was talking to didn't want to hear it or wasn't listening or couldn't hear it - having a deaf cousin worked to her favor in these instances - she would continue to prattle on about what she needed to, "no. My roommate's got her boyfriend over and they were proper loud. Could practically hear the bed rattling, and it wasn't doing me any good. You don't sleep anyway so I figured I could use the space to lay it out. I didn't think you'd not be home. Why're you dressed nice? Did you come from a date? Is that what this is? Is there some woman waiting outside?"

"No!" DI Hardy looked halfway offended at the suggestion. "I've just got back from work. Was gonna make a cuppa then keep going til you showed up."

She squealed and went for something on the floor, lifting it up then crawling to a different paper,"I take two sugars."

"I know your bloody order. Shouldn't you go and sleep?"

She waved a hand, "I'll sleep when I'm dead. What I really need is for the world to be open 24/7. If I could only call this bloke right now and half my questions could be answered. You know my order? That's sweet."

He scoffed, "it's not unique. Warner, when was the last time you slept?"

"Uhh, I slept a few hours on Tuesday. Why do you look all high and mighty? You don't sleep either, don't eat. You're practically a miserable little skeleton carting your life way through life."

"I am not -" he stopped taking. Partially because she hadn't stopped either, continuing to chatter about whatever her heart desired. And partly because he didn't know if he was going to refute the miserable part, the little part, or the skeleton part. Or if he even could refute it. He snorted, well he wasn't little. He was over 6 foot. And he could eat more, he knew that. But he often forgot about food until he had to.

"I know a fellow who took nine sugars. Can you imagine that! Nine sugars! You're drinking piss flavored juice at that point. Pardon mh French, sir. He was very strange... called himself Witchfinder as though you couldn't search on the web magic shops. Maybe we should start calling ourselves Crimefinders. Criminalfinders? That doesn't roll off the tongue, now does it?"

DI Hardy realized Y/N wasn't going to answer any of his questions in this state, so he shuffled over to the kitchen to make some tea. He took his coat off, tossing it on whatever available counter space there was with a yawn. He wanted to sleep, knew he probably had to, but he'd probably dream of something he didn't want to dream about. Lately it'd been odd mental pictures of his coworkers all hurt, Y/N choked, Ellie crying, hell even Brian made the scene with a glazed look in his eyes. He didn't know why he had these thoughts, he'd never considered himself a particularly caring individual over his coworkers. But it had haunted him off from sleep for the foreseeable future.

He made two cups of tea, disposing two sugars into Warner's as she said. Then he walked back over to his living room and sat down, elbows on his knees as he scanned her work.

"Thank you!" She said, grabbing her mug and take a large gulp of it. "What do you think of this, sir? He doesn't strike me right. Can't place it."

"The name is familiar," Hardy admitted. He went to his laptop and started typing away, trying to place the name. "Ah, he's been arrested for aggravated assault. Both charges dropped, looks like some brawls in the pubs."

"I s'pose that doesn't suggest he murdered a girl."

"Doesn't rule him out either, if he's willing to punch a stranger in a pub what would he do to someone he knows?"

She giggled and scrambled for her pencil, "I should write that down for my novel!"

"You're writing a novel?"

"Mmhmm, started it tonight. 'Adventures of Harner and Wardy.'"

Alec set his mug down, and took hers from her hand as well. "Alright, time for bed now."

"What? No! I've got more novel to write and crime to solve! We've not even started discussing the potential that Louise is lying about her husband's alibi. I mean really? She says he binged Big Bang Theory with her all night and I'm all for binging telly but of all the shows you choose that one? The laugh track is funnier than the actual show half the time - is this your bedroom?"

Hardy had helped Y/N to her feet and led her to his bedroom in the back. She was still rambling about the most irrelevant things when he guided her to sit on the edge of his bed. He didn't often make it, so he was glad to note that it was done up well. Warner hadn't slept in almost a full 48 hours and he knew that even with a brain as sharp as hers, it was dull as Katie's without sleep. He got on his knees before her, carefully untying her shoes and sliding them off her feet. He put them by the door and helped her out of her coat jacket.

"What're you doing?" She finally asked as he hung the jacket on the back of the door. "Are you hitting on me?"

"What? I -"

"Because if you are hitting on me that's totally okay, but I should warn you I'm getting sleepy so I might not be the best lay. But you are proper good looking so I wouldn't say no." She made a face, "my boss wouldn't like that would he? Noooo, can't call someone proper good looking. I'm not trying to be a knob, just communicating that you've got no problems in the looks department. None, like ever. Personality maybe but you took my shoes off for me so that gets you at least a few brownie points."

Alec felt like he was malfunctioning, his arm stuck out, frozen midair from her words. She just called him attractive. And not just good looking, but good looking enough she'd want to sleep with him! He'd never been used to such straight forward compliments and didn't quite know if he believed it. So he just worked on autopilot, helping tuck her into bed.

"Go to sleep, Warner." He flicked off the lights and closed the door. What the hell. What the hell. Alec blinked rapidly like that would make any of what just happened make any sense at all.

He stood awkwardly outside the door of the bedroom. Should he - is he- what's the proper procedure with this? He should know, he was married once, had enough sex to have a child! But it seemed all that knowledge left the moment Claire stole back the pendant, fizzling his marriage, his life, his career. Now he was left taking uneven breaths as the sun crept up, an employee who's attracted to him sleeping in his bed after 40+ hours of not sleeping.

He found himself back at his laptop, slowly typing out what to do when someone admits to fancying you. But the results were not his thing, videos of very forward men and women moving very quickly into other actions. Alec was not opposed to the action, sex. But he couldn't fathom how to get there. So he sat in his kitchen drinking old tea, and staring at his door.

An hour later he crept in to grab a different tie for work, and saw Y/N completely passed out. She was curled in a ball, cradling his pillow and lightly snoring. She looked content. It made him smile against his better judgment. He left her in there, scribbling a note on a piece of paper he taped to the bedroom door before he left for the station.

Y/N Warner woke up nearly 12 hours later. It was practically dark when she opened her eyes. She blinked away the sleep that threatened to creep in around the corners of her eyes, and propped herself up on her elbows to survey the scene around her. She didn't recognize the room she was in, blank walls and bland sheets. There was no personality to it. For a moment, she wondered if she'd gotten a hotel room and just had no memory of it.

Then she smelt a familiar, faint scent. She couldn't place it or really describe it other than she liked it, it was warm. Stupidly, she let her face fall into the pillow to inhale the scent. Oh my god.

She shot up quickly, realizing where she was. The memories of last night flooded her mind.

"Shit, shit, shit." A hand flew to her brow as she tried to process. She'd come here to work because her roommate was fucking her boyfriend into the oblivion. DI Hardy came back, made her a cuppa. She wouldn't shut up, kept rambling about the Big Bang Theory (why?) and Witchfinders (how?) before he guided her here. Then she - "no." She said audibly, she did not make a pass at DI Hardy in his bed, late at night and practically drunk on exhaustion. Her eyes flit around the room before landing on the one piece of decoration, a framed photo of Hardy and Daisy, his daughter. "No." She said again, as though it could stop her ramblings.

Y/N rushed out of the bed, scrambling to find her shoes before she saw them neatly lying next to the door. She was usually very professional, if not a little eccentric. But no one could fault you for being a lot when you were good at your job and solved cases. She brought justice to people, she knew she did. And she might have risked it all because she worked herself too far and hit on her boss. Regardless of how stupid attractive he was, that was still work place harassment.

She shoved her shoes on, forced her arms into the holes of her suit jacket and ambled out into his living space. There were papers everywhere. They covered the floor like a new rug, slouched over the chairs and clung to the walls by hall dead pieces of tape. She looked for her mobile, patting her pockets. Shit, she must have left it in the bedroom. When she turned she spotted a note on the door.

'At the office. Feel free to not come in.'

Oh she was dead. She'd lost her job forever, she would never work again. This stupid blasted career she'd worked so hard on gone.

She ran back and found her mobile among the sheets, shoved it into her pocket and ran to leave the home. Then DI Hardy stood awkwardly at the front door, bags of Chinese hanging from his hands and a weird not grimace not smile expression. He didn't look pleased to see her, but he didn't want to kill her. Good news, right?

"Sir, I am so sorry about last night-"

"Don't worry about it." He waved his hand, coming in to set the food on the counter. He got a lot of it.

"No, I can't not worry about it. I came into your home, made a mess, took your bed and propositioned you-"

"Warner, we've arrested a man for the murder of Sophia Garcia. It was Aaron Baker, his dad's golf clubs, just like you'd said."

Her mouth fell open, "shit, really?"

Alec gestured to the mess of papers while he spoke, "you'd mentioned something about the cabbie last night. When I went in I gave them a ring, and while there was a driver who picked up a grumpy lad it wasn't Aaron. Sounds like a Christie book but it was his twin. Aaron was cross town cleaning up the scene."

"Not good enough," Y/N said softly.

Alec nodded, "not good enough."

"I'm sorry, sir." She said again, her voice still quiet and meek.

He didn't answer her, just stared for a beat before gesturing to the food, "I didn't know what you liked so I bought two of everything."

"All this is for me?"

"You solved the case, Warner."

She shook her head, "I ... you let me sleep in your bed? I ransacked your house, I propositioned you, and you let me sleep and brought me food?"

Alec scratched the back of his neck. He did not like how often Y/N asked questions. It stressed him out, like he had to have an immediate answer to every single one when he figured his actions spoke. But she looked so confused. He just gestured to the food and went to grab plates.

She sat down in surprise, blinking quickly as she watched him come over. "Just a, uh, an egg roll and cho mein please."

He nodded and shoved two of both onto her plate before giving it to her. He didn't put anything on his plate. Y/N sighed and scraped off half of hers onto his.

"Eat, sir. Please."

He blinked, "wot?"

"I've known you for years and never seen you eat. Just eat the egg roll."

He stared at the greasy food. He can't eat that, he thought and was about to say as much when she shot him a dirty look. Tentatively, Alec took a bite of it. He cringed, he didn't quite love the taste but Y/N seemed pleased he was eating so he finished it off just for her.

When they both finished he cleaned up, and she stayed seated. Then he moved past her to the bedroom, undoing his tie and tossing it, along with his jacket, onto a chair in the corner. He started to roll his sleeves up round his elbows when Y/N waited by the door.

"Thank you, sir."

"No need-"

"Let me. Thank you, sir. For the food and the sleep and, uh, well thank you for everything."

"Of course, Warner. I take care of my people." Not typically this much care, but he didn't want to make her feel bad. He focused on sliding off his shoes, shoving them out of his sight.

Alec jumped - well, Alec never really jumped just blinked harshly and cocked the one eyebrow - in surprise. Y/N was now closer to him, her chest heaving as she stared up at him. She was shorter than he remembered.

"I-If I may, sir?" She asked, lifting a hand.

He had a feeling he knew what she was asking, but didn't know for certain. But all the same he nodded. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in, going onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He hadn't been kissed in a long time, and the surprise of her initiating it made him stand there and accept her soft lips against his. When she broke, he could see the fear in her eyes as though she had done something wrong. Alec hadn't kissed in a while, and he felt the anxiety creep in that he didn't remember how. But the look in her eyes made it worth the fear.

He plunged forward, grabbing the back of her neck gently while his other hand came to cradle her jaw. Her skin was soft under his touch, melting as he held her. Y/N's hands came up to hold his jaw, scruffy and itchy in the most delightful way. Her mouth melded with his as his tongue licked along her bottom lip.

She cherished the way his jaw scratched against hers slightly, sighing when he broke to trail soft kisses down her jaw and the length of her neck. The scratch was enough to make her giggle like a schoolgirl, holding his shoulders. He shot back up, hair slightly wild but nothing compared to his eyes as he looked into hers deeply. He needed to be absolutely certain. There was no time for messing about and hurting anyone.

She smiled. He was so handsome to her, but in an understated way. She took the moment to run a finger on his sculpted jawline, along his freckled cheeks and down his crooked nose. No, not everyone might look at those features and call it handsome. But to her, he was everything. Smart, kind, and good-looking as sin. Her finger fell upon his lips, slightly open and let out harsh breaths as he searched her eyes desperately. Alec always wished he could read expressions better, he was terrified he'd make the wrong decision somewhere down the line.

But Y/N smiled, and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his nose before taking a step back. Then she toed off her own shoes, shucked off her own jacket, and began to undress.

He followed her lead, removing his shirt and pants. Eventually, they both stood in front of one another naked. Y/N felt that pang of anxiety in her chest at being bare in front of a man. She'd made it very clear to Alec that she found him to be hotter than hell, but did he feel that way about her? She wasn't ugly, she knew that, but she wasn't a showstopper.

And yes, she could see the surprisingly length of him hardening before him. But didn't every man get hard when sex was on the table?

Alec came forward and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her forward as his eyes took in every inch of her. He ran a hand along her stomach - an insecure area for her - and up between her breasts, before settling it on the base of her neck. The simple action left her breathless.

His eyes were still on her body before he brought them up to hers. She was struck by how deep his were, how warm and brown, they seemed to go on forever.

"Look at you," he said hoarsely, his accent suddenly get thicker. "You're gorgeous."

"You think so?" She felt stupid asking it. She should be confident, she should pose seductively and tell him to strap in the way girls do on the telly. But this felt real and raw, and raw didn't shy away from the insecurities. Insecurities laced with cellulite and hair, parts that feel too pudgy there and too concave there. Never quite where it needs to be, never "ugly" enough for the world to tell you you have a right to complain.

"'Course. 'Course, look at you. You think I'm g-good too?" He asked back.

Y/N smiled, "thank you for saying that, most men don't."

"Don't they?" Alec asked in surprise, figuring that was just a part of the experience.

She shook her head and let her gaze trace along his body as well. He was lean and tall, with thin legs and arms wrapped in gentle muscle. His stomach was slightly pouchy and soft, beneath it his length was already hard at the sight of her. She ran a hand up from his stomach to his chest, mimicking his actions, and let it stay on his heart. Beneath her touch it thumped violently. Then she looked up to see his face, her favorite feature. His eyes were warm and gentle even when they didn't mean to be. "All of you is handsome to me, all of you."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, "you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. And if it isn't too crass to say, I'd fuck every inch of you."

It was too crass to say, and even a little cheesy, but it made her blossom with a smile. She threw her arms around his neck and let herself fall into one of his all encompassing kisses she was starting to like the taste of too much. Alec's lips were firm but not overpowering as they engulfed her, setting a tingle from her toes all the way up to her head in a heady giggle. His hands held onto her waist, grasping the flesh there with a sweet intensity. His lips parted with a deep groan.

She walked backwards to the bed, leading Alec until he was over her. His arms were poised by her head, his neck brought down as he peppered open mouth kisses along her neck. She laughed lightly at his scruffy beard, moaning when his lips found the spot between her neck and shoulder that shot straight through her. Y/N writhed under his touch, heat searing her skin. His hands were everywhere, branding her, skating up her waist to grab a handful of her breast, down her back to cup her bum, and feather like fingers traveling over the top of her thighs to the place in between. She gasped as he ran a finger down her slit.

"So wet..." he murmured, not expecting her to be so aroused by him. He'd barely done anything for her, hadn't touched down there at all. Yet she was slick to the touch, heat and arousal. Alec loved the way her chest flushed, her eyes closed tightly as she savored his touch on her skin.

He ran his fingers down, keeping his touch light as he experimentally nudged around. When he found her clit she gasped, her whole body tensing and focusing on the nerves right there against his finger.

"So responsive," he murmured, starting to work gently against her clit as she took shaking, uneven breaths. Alec went to speak again, then stopped. Tess never liked when he spoke in bed, said it distracted her from her climax. So he'd learned to stay silent and focus on his partner's body, her mouth as she fought her body's reaction to grind violently against his fingers. He kissed her sternum, biting at the flesh gingerly. Despite himself, Alec growled into her as she bucked her hips to meet his ministrations.

"Keep talking," she said in a hoarse voice.

"Wot?" Alec asked, taken aback.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes heady with need, "your voice is hot. If it's okay to ask, please keep talking, sir."

Alec grinned his charming, crooked smile. He bent down to kiss along her stomach as he quickened his pace on his clit, driving her faster to a climax then she was used to. That deep Scottish voice rang our praises, some loud enough that she could hear them and clench her thighs, others murmurs against her flesh that made her head feel light and airy. She giggled at the thought of all the beard rash she'd have along her body from him. All the same he told her how well she was doing, how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked squirming underneath him.

Then, as her back began to arch and she could feel the orgasm just a hair's breadth away, he stilled. Y/N whined. Actually felt herself whine in protest. He chuckled, clearly meaning to edge her, using his large hands to keep her legs wide open.

"A-are you ready?" Alec asked, his usual confidence lost to the arousal he was trying to keep at bay for her. His hands were large and warm, holding onto the space between her hips and thighs with a firm yet gentle touch.

Y/N's eyes gazed down to his cock, hard and ready. It looked about ready to burst, but Alec squeezed her thighs to look up into his eyes. They were warm and kind. Asking for consent even in a position like this. It made her all the more sure of her answer.

She reached up for his face, grabbing his jaw and planting a warm kiss on his mouth as he started to guide himself inside of her. He was slow, letting her gasp and adjust to the length inch by inch until he was fully inside of her. Alec paused. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere, pulsing desperately for friction.

She nodded, kissing Alec again. She'd never had a kiss like that, so strong and comforting. Kisses were never her thing, she hadn't understood the fuss over them. Just two sets of lips pressed against one another, the taste of the day infecting it. But with Alec it was more than the cho mein or egg rolls, and it was more than chapped lips pressed against one another. It was full of desire, trying to communicate all that words couldn't. She drank it in fully, gasping against him as he started to move inside of her.

Alec was bigger than she expected and bigger than he was used to, and she wiggled her hips to the feeling of being stretched so full like that. He cherished the feeling of her gasps and moans, dipping to kiss every inch of skin near him.

"So beautiful, so gorgeous..." he thrusted in quickly this time and saw her body tense from surprise. "You're taking me beautifully, Angel."

Y/N could listen to his voice all day. Even before she realized he was far from an ugly bloke, she fancied the way his voice poured over her in sexy waves. Deep, guttural, it was honest and raw. He didn't lie, he didn't cover it with some pretense to be sexy. Even when his voice would break, small gasps from the sensations breaking up his sentences, she found it all the better.

Alec leaned back, not wanting to stop kissing her not wanting to miss the view. He'd pulled her hips down to the edge of the bed, him standing and her legs spread wide and resting on the small of his back. With a gentle pace that started to grow more desperate he thrust into her, watching her body flush and squirm beneath him. Y/N threw her arms up, arching her back to take him deeper. Alec was enamored with the way her breasts bounced with each thrust.

"So fucking beautiful," he grumbled, snaking a hand down to stroke her clit. He could feel that he wasn't going to last as long as he would have liked, but by the way Y/N let out little moans by his feather light touch, he figured she didn't mind all that much.

Y/N was in her own world, feeling his voice slide off her skin like oil as she chased her high. His denial of her orgasm earlier made this one all the more powerful. It seemed to slam into her, causing her to gasp wildly as Alec kept firm ministrations on her clit. Then he too reached his climax, grunting in a low voice before pouring out in a shocking spurt.

Then he pulled out, falling beside her as they both gasped for breath. Y/N quickly ambled out of the bed and used the restroom before she came back in, feeling like her limbs were absolute jelly. Alec brought her back to the bed, laying next to her. His hand held hers, thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

"That was incredible," he finally said.

"You could say that again."

"That was incredible." They both paused, turning to look at one another, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Thoughts on Scriddler?

This is gonna be a long one, so buckle up...

Firstly, you gotta understand that all that follows is a recollection of the fandom over the years, since 2015 to be exact. Speaking stickily Jonathan Crane fandom, Scriddler has always been the most popular ship for Scarecrow. I couldn't give ya a beginning to this, as even back then I found years old art for Scriddler circulating. Though, tumblr as a social media is where it blossomed.

When I first started this blog, I had my OC to develop and I was very self conscious and unknowingly putting myself through trauma via art school and a lack of disability accessibility. Not gonna get into that, but I was very vulnerable as well as impressionable.

I did NOT like Scriddler, almost detested it. It seemed like it was everywhere, and this was before tumblr had a decent way of blocking. Not that it would have helped, because for some reason i liked suffering. Felt like I deserved to be depressed. Took me a long time to realize blocking content actually made life better aslhkds

Anyways, even early on I had a lot of support, people wanted to know about my OC and cared, but I always felt like I played second fiddle to the holy of holy, Scriddler. And if you've read any of my recent posts, you know I've come to accept that just how it is with OCs. But that doesn't mean I didn't get my fair share of anon hate, suicide threats, etc. The fandom was not always welcoming. Or perhaps there was just a minority who loved to abuse the anon function. (if you think there's a lot of drama today, you were not there when it was bad)

It took me a LONG time to grow to like Scriddler. I used to feel like they had very little in common, and it bothered me that most of the art was majorly sexual. That's a whole 'nother can of worms, but ya know. I don't hate Scriddler today, which should be obvious seeing as I reblog it now. Though, I like Hattercrow a tad more.

A lot of this was my own internal issues, though the fandoms penchant to take two males who never interact and ship them, suffice to say is alive and strong. Nicely enough however, there has been more "Scriddler" like content from comics. (I say this loosely, but they do interact quite a bite more than they did ten years ago)

Scriddler, and to a lesser, Hattercrow, is a ship you either love or hate. Except me. I kinda fall in the middle. Though I feel it's worth mentioning that Scarecrow has had his fair share of female/female presenting ships too, and as much as I hate to say it, they're generally disliked by the greater fandom. (or simply ignored) We all know why. I've mentioned this before. :/ and I've had close friends give up on their ships because of it. Just like me. I gave up. I hat admitting that, but I can't compete with Scriddler.

I wish there was a way to change that, but I wouldn't know were to start. That's why I try to support OCs for example, someones gotta do it. I can't let another person go through what I went though.

TL;DR: Sciddler is not a bad ship, I don't dislike it anymore, but don't think I'm not silently side eyeing the loud minority who shit on anyone for even thinking Jonathan could love a woman. Ya know, despite canon only showing evidence for that.

[the-s1lly-corner]

alright, so i completely understand if you don't wanna do this since you have been getting a lot of tadc requests, so feel free to leave this in your inbox for a while but its worth a shot i guess.

tadc x angel reader? but im not talking about the cute and adoring ones, moresore the bibical angel type. kind of like principalities angels if you know what that is. scary stuff.

thanks for all that you do btw, i love your writing and as a fanfiction writer myself im amazed at how quickly your able to pump out requests

thanks for reading

TADC cast x angel!reader !

took me a hot minute to find it but someone asked for the same/very similar request for zooble so!! that post is going to be linked in place of their segment! yahoo! uhuhuhuh!! admin must admit, he does not know much about actual angel lore so hes gonna be real loose with this </3 aaaand to the last part!! its the silliness... i cant contain it... sobs...

CAINE:

now i dont know what kind of personality the reader has, but imagine your wings stick out and fluff up when he decides hes bold enough to compliment, or even flirt with you... has probably led to him getting smacked by your wings and being sent flying... the price of being small, sadly... though he did kind of have it coming for standing where he was/j

sometimes, you guys fly together, since caine very rarely walks around on the ground and kind of just glides around... its nice having someone who can accompany him around... doesnt think your intimidating, if anything he thinks you look interesting... hes probably unphased by most of the forms circus members may take, though its rare you get someone who does look unsettling... shrugs

POMNI:

honestly probably a little intimidated, and perhaps even unnerved in the beginning. like not in the "im deeply uncomfortable" way but more like "oh. so thats a thing" if that makes sense? does try to be nice and kind to you, though, since she does understand that this isnt what you really look like and you cant really... control it... probably has sneezed from the feathers of your wings, if you have any.. in fact you might have accidentally smacked her with them, since shes so small.. you didnt mean to..! honest! caine and pomni just got cursed with the shortness... no thoughts, only angel reader protectively shielding someone with their wings, this can apply to any of the characters... probably one of my favorite tropes for characters with large wings tbh

RAGATHA:

if you can swap out your clothes or have clothes that are detachable (since clothes are canonically stuck to the bodies) shes definitely going to make you some clothing that you can easily slip over your wings, and still have them out! plus spending time with you making the measurements and trying out patterns and fabric is nice! thinks your wings are soft... probably a little put off by your appearance and vibe at first, but ragatha being ragatha shes not going to let it bother her for long, and she makes sure youre welcomed to the circus with open arms... i mean its not like you have a choice to leave... may as well be as inviting as possible..!

JAX:

drum roll please! its the admins favorite jax headcannon that always rears its head in whenever the admin writes a reader who has some extra body part or fluff or accessories or a combination! the fidget/fiddle headcannon! this man is likely going to stroke and mess with your wings, a lot. congrats, youre his new fidget toy/j. has probably accidentally, or perhaps no so accidentally, pulled a feather out. granted im not sure how much it would hurt, i think it would be akin to plucking hair with a tweezer, but the point still stands..! has probably asked you to fly him up somewhere... totally not so he can do some mischief... probably doesnt know much about angels (like the admin LMAO) and probably labels you as like. sterotypical cartoon angel personality (forgiving, kind, good, ect. basically everything that isnt jax/j) but whether or not thats true its up to you... though it would be a little funny for the person who looks like an angel being a trickster... shrugs

KINGER:

FEAR!!! okay... well i think thats a given when theres a new circus member around, since kinger is a little... eh... you know? probably takes some time to warm up to you, but given how he speaks to pomni in the pilot within the first few minutes of her being there, i dont think it would take long for him to approach you. definitely polite, probably even more so thanks to your angelic appearance. mmngh.. soft feathers... shares the jax fidget headcannon with the silly chess piece... bonus if you actually are really kind and protective, this man would be hovering around you since you kind of represent comfort to him... thinks...

ZOOBLE:

right here!

GANGLE:

while most of the others are a little intimidated i think gangle actually likes the aesthetics of angels. maybe thats just the artist in her; like every artist ive met either has a soft spot for angel or demon characters... sometimes both.. admins no exception, its like. mandatory artist trait/j

i had a winged reader request somewhere, where gangle puts the readers fallen feathers into art work and gifts it to them. kind of like how people used to put the hair of their loved ones in jewelry... i think that would also apply to an angel reader! similar to kinger, if youre protective shes going to gravitate towards you... given that shes made of ribbon and fragile... and because of SOOOOOMEONE (glares at jax)... very nice dynamic/relationship material here, me thinks

[cocktailjjrs]

So......

Since I've been suffering with these angsty thoughts... i though i would invite you all suffer with me...

It's about Chuuya...

I was doing some research for my fic (mainly going through bsd novels, blogs, tags and all) and came across this one Insta post in passing (sorry, i don't remember the name).

It was about BSD's cycles.

First, cycle of abuse, going from Mori-Dazai-Aku-Kyouka

and Second of rescue, going from Natsume-Oda-Dazai-Atsushi-Kyouka.

And then they highlighted a third category, the one's who are not saved - including Chuuya, Aku and Q.

At that point i didn't think much about it, just another post while scrolling Insta.

But now it's keeps bothering me, a constant reminder, whenever i read something BSD.

And It's so heart wrenching.

It also hit me, Q and Aku can still be saved.

Q, while we don't exactly know where they are right now, there is a chance of them getting their own arc, backstory and then being saved.

Aku, while still in Mafia, his partnership with Atsushi is his saving grace already. He is making an effort to not kill, just for their deal/bet. By the end of it all, he will be in a better place than he is now.

But Chuuya. (Spoiler's for light novel's if you haven't read them)

I remember very clearly, when in Stormbringer (don't ask me why i remember this byheart), when Murase dies Chuuya says, "Hey Detective, Weren’t you gonna arrest me?! Weren’t you gonna bring me into the world of light"

Don't get me wrong, I still believe Chuuya belongs to Port Mafia, the darkness suits him better than light.

But that does not mean he never wanted to get out of that darkness. This one instance in SB was proof enough. Makes me wonder, if things had gone even slightly differently, would he be in a better place than he is now? Is there still a chance?

What's even more tragic is that after the whole SB thing, no one seemed stick around enough to help him fight his own demons.

And he definitely has MASSIVE DEMONS.

His whole life seems to be one catastrophe after another! Don't believe me?

His first group, whom he called friends, betrayed him. Classic stabbed by poisonous knife in the back.

Hardly a year later, his second friends group, Flags, was killed by an emotionally unstable man-child seeking validation, insisting on calling him brother.

He went through a horrid ordeal, having to learn he was a lab experiment, seeing your clone vaporise to nothing but bones in your own arms, having to fight those same bones. And as if this was not enough, then fighting the monstrosity of a singularity and in process loosing the only chance to determine your humanity. (Actually whole of SB is dreadful, i don't think it'll ever get worse than that - i really hope it doesn't)

Then, given by the timeline, another year later, his third group of friends was killed by Shibusawa.

And again a year later - his partner, who brought him in all this madness, just fucking leaves without a word. This is the least tragic thing that has happened to the boy, i swear.

And I'm sure it didn't end there.

There must have been so many things going on behind the scenes in those missing years, hell even after the series began, Chuuya has been out of scene because something or the other was going on.

Now you have Fyodor fucking shit up for no apparent reason. With this shitshow, many mafia men, some of whom Chuuya might have developed a relation, are definitely dead. Not to mention the mental gymnastics going to trying to at least be on the same fucking chapter as the two geniuses.

AND ALL OF THIS IS JUST IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE. Don't get me started on BEAST VERSE!!! (That's a can of worms I'm really not ready to open at this point)

The thing with Mentally strong individuals is, they have abnormally high emotional intelligence, they are unnaturally resilient, they can compartmentalize their grief, they empathise with great deal of people, think rationally at any given point and think of ways to make things better.

What many people fail to understand is that no one is born Mentally strong, it's the circumstances that make them as such.

It can happen even through small things.

No one being there for you to express your deepest fears. No one just listening to you, even if they have a solution to your problem. Or having seen other's nightmares come to reality and feeling your own are much smaller, or having made to fell that way.

It creates the mentality of never sharing your fears, your insecurities, your discomfort - because at the back of the mind you keep telling yourself - oh, this person has gone through so much more than i have, my fear is nothing compared to it. I can handle it on my own, they have their own problems to handle. Everyone is busy, i don't think they have time to listen to the same problem I've been facing for years now. I've manages so far, i think I can manager just fine.

You start to undervalue your own feelings and start to fell like you'll burden them. Start to feel like you NEED to handle it on your own.

Now, i don't want to go into a spiral of mental health, but when you look at Chuuya, you can't help but marvel at that kids Mental resolution.

His first action after being stabbed in back was to make a deal with a demon to make sure he doesn't harm them, because they are just kids.

His first reaction to being provoked into revenge was to say Fuck off to his manipulator, not falling for the temptation and doing what he felt right.

He even forgave the killer of his friends (And also the one who tried to kill him) for gods sake! Understanding what he was going through.

He even walked away after knowing his parents are alive (oh the irony) not wanting to put a target on them. (I'm actually on fence with this, the chances of it being a manipulation tactic from Mori is just as high as it being the truth)

He had tremendous mental fortitude.

But you still see the cracks in his emotional state,

He was desperate to know if he was human or not, inclining towards the later.

He didn't know, that your friends can do some nice things without expecting anything in return. They can go above and beyond your regular stuff just because they are your friends, there doesn't need to be of anything at stake in friendship.

Hell, there was a point he believed having a Heart was too sophisticated for him, that he can't be that human!

I can go hours and hours about this.

What i can say for sure is, he has demons in all sizes, shapes and forms, something that he has stuffed in his closet only to deal with them himself, not letting them see the light of the day.

i just don't see anyone actually being there for him long enough for him to trust them fully with his demons.

No, not even Dazai. Dazai himself was a walking cry for help, like hell Chuuya is adding to that pile. He may have found a constant in Dazai in three years, seeing as all other's met their end in one. I believe in those three years, somewhere Soukoku began to feel like his safe place, somewhere he didn't had to think about his demons only by the virtue of dealing with one made of flesh and bones. But then even Dazai left.

I don't think even Kouyou was there for most part. And considering her obsession with a flowers of dark with Kyouka, i think it pulled Chuuya more in her own tragedy. Afterall, she also was never saved.

Mori is there, but Mori is a Demon in his own rights. What we've seen is their interactions have been those of a boss and his close confidents, nothing personal or emotional. Which also makes sense when you think of Mori's theory of running an organization. Chuuya, all things considered, the most powerful member of PM and he is treated as such.

The other significant members of PM, the guerrilla squad, black lizards or Kajji - all of them may know him better than most, but he is still their executive. If a 15 and younger kid took the title of being a protector of his rag-tag group seriously, being a responsible and dependable executive comes with higher stakes. He will carry out his role as one, even if it's the last thing he does.

.

.

.

That was me rambling.

My point is, i wanna give Chuuya a big hug, tell him it's okay to fell tried sometimes. To let himself be vulnerable. That his fears are not invalid. That he is not invalid. That he isn't the problem, never was.

That he will still be valued and wanted, even if he one day looses his ability or he is no longer the strongest.

Can someone please save his boy?

[crusty-chronicles]

hii! i really love your airhead s/o series!! especially that ging one, perhaps can you make a part 2 of airhead s/o x ging? i really love it😭😭

You know what, why the hell not. There simply isn't enough of this stinky man out there and I truly do love him. He's cute in the feral rat kinda way 🥺

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Ging part 2

Like a thorn in his side, you simply won't leave

He doesn't recall how exactly he met you, but he does remember what he said that started all this.

"Keep up with me if you can."

And keep up you did. A little too well. And now he was stuck with you.

Buys plastic plates and Styrofoam cups because you can't break them.

Seriously, every good dish he had is shattered in the trash somewhere.

No plastic spoons or forks though

He tried that once and you had broken them, unawares that the extra crunch to your cereal was plastic

Is amazed and a little curious to find out you set the sink on fire.

Like honsetly, what the fuck???? Should he be impressed or scared.

Ging is a lazy stinky man

He has you in one of those backpacks with leashes when you go out in crowded places.

Cannot be bothered to go looking for you, so the next best thing is to leash you so you don't wander far.

You'll see something you think is cool and rush off, only to be stopped by a small tug pulling you back.

"Can you focus for one second?"

And for the first time he actually looks the part of a parent as he tugs you back towards him.

"Quit running around, pup."

God forbid the leash is detachable and you find out how to get free

"Yes, I need some help. My idiot got loose and I can't find them."

"Sir this is a Mcdonalds."

The one thing he made sure to tell Gon atop the Great tree, was to make sure he found somebody who always kept him on his toes.

"Why?"

"Life is better when the person you're with makes it interesting." Completely unaware you were only a few branches down listening.

Panics when you leave for hunter business because of that one time.

"Pick up your phone, idiot!!!! Damnit! How many times have I told you not to go by yourself!"

Waits for you like an upset parent that just caught their kid sneaking back in

Arms crossed, sitting on your sofa style

Waiting impatiently as you bump into the vase by the door after breaking the lock to get in.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

And you stare up at him with puppy eyes holding out a small box.

"I got you a souvenir." 🥺

And it's most likely broken but he appreciates it anyways.

All great hunters are liked by animals.

You get adopted by nearly all the apex predators you come across

And Ging is distressed because 'That is a fucking lion, Y/n. You can't just cuddle it.'

He tries to take you away from it, only for whatever creature had you hostage to growl at him.

Then it continues licking you and eventually whines when you get up to follow a very perplexed Ging.

(He secretly thinks it's cool)

Ging knows you're stupid, but that you're not an idiot

He knows you get lost on missions frequently and for the life of you can't not break something for five seconds.

But he also knows that you can tell when people are lying and being disingenuous

You hate Pariston for a reason

That and he lied to you once about something which resulted in you refusing to talk to him for weeks

He totally didn't care

Totally didn't try to send you a message only to see you'd blocked his number (how you accomplished that, he'd never know)

Totally didn't ask Kite to check up on you and make sure you hadn't died or something

What him? Never

And he also totally didn't swing by your apartment to leave a box of your favorite snacks on your doorstep

Couldn't be him 🙄🙄🙄

Yeah, he never tried to lie to you after that.

He refuses to baby you, but if someone makes fun of you for not being able to do something, he's kicking their ass

Makes you teach Gon some of your nen tricks

Just because he knows you're capable enough to do so

You're not a two star hunter for nothing.

Plus it means you two get to bond. Which is something he'd deny to his grave

Him, wanting his partner and son to be close???

You're delusional, he doesn't care 🙄🙄🙄

Yes he does and what he lied to you about was having a kid in the first place.

He just knew you'd spill the secret on his whereabouts is all

Gon thinks you are the coolest person he's met so far.

Alluka, who can grant wishes? She's cool

You, who took him fishing and caught an alligator by wrestling it????

You're his idol 🤩🤩🤩

And Ging is so damn proud because the next day his son brought home this huge sea monster he caught with your help.

"Why wouldn't I settle for a capable partner," is the biggest compliment he'll give.

He is a man child who fights for your attention with anybody. Not even poor little Gon is safe 😞

The barista's hand brushed against yours while handing you a drink?

Ging is dragging you out by your hand, glaring behind at the confused worker.

You're catching up with an old friend?

Okay, but they're clearly not that interesting if you ditched them for him. So quit wasting time and follow him to this cool thing he just found.

Gon wants you to teach him and his friend a new ability?

It's a family event now

Physically cannot say he loves you

He's just not used to it

And he can't even hint to it through romantic gestures because you don't understand subtlety

But, he's more physical with you than with most people

You get to jostle him around in your excitement and pull him everywhere you go

Doesn't mean he won't complain about it

He just won't push you off

"That's enough, pup. You'll make me dizzy."

"But I haven't seen you in a while, don't be all mean."

And he regrettably lets you keep your arms tight around him

You can't read maps and he's so surprised you accomplish anything that requires travel

Showers

He showers with you or he doesn't at all

He just wants to make sure you don't fall in there okay. 🙄You already trip on dry land, so imagine the wet tile.

It's because he likes the way you're so gentle when you wash his scalp. And because you always have the best scented soaps.

Kissed you one time and collapsed from embarrassment

Like a real kiss, not the little forehead ones he gives when you've been good.

Red in the face and unable to look at you properly

All because he said he stole your favorite sweet and taunted you for it.

You'd tackled him down and kissed him, swiping your tongue on his lips.

And he was 😳😳😳

And when you pulled away with a triumphant smile on your face, he actually did faint.

You were so confused because he didn't taste like your candy??? Did he lie to you again???

Gets flustered if Gon asks him when he's gonna marry you.

Like c'mon kid, don't say things like that!!! They're literally right there!

(Doesn't want to marry you because he couldn't take it if you decided you couldn't stand him after all. But he also really does because you keep his life interesting)

"I want what I can't have."

Didn't know he wanted an idiot until trying and failing so many times to get you to see he actually does care

MASTERLIST

[arviyya]

Twisted - @rosekillermicrofic - 999 words

⬩Twisted hearts, twisted fates⬩

There is nothing Evan wants more than to touch Barty at any given moment. 

It's like a drug that seeps through his veins, igniting that fire that makes him vibrate right out of his skin. 

The feeling is exhilarating. But it’s also frustrating. 

Feeling any feelings at all, is always a bit much for Evan, but being completely consumed by them is another pain entirely. 

And yes, it is pain. 

It would be a lot easier to feel nothing at all. 

Evan thinks that if Barty felt the same, it might be simpler. But this suspicion is baseless. Everything Barty has done has only ever solidified his belief that Barty doesn't have feelings. 

Well, except anger.

Whenever Barty is angry, it fills the very air. And despite that tangible truth, it's obvious that Barty would prefer to pretend like it doesn't exist, channeling it into whatever unhinged humor, or idea that comes to him in the midst of that dysphoria. 

Evan can tell, though. He can always tell. 

Today is no exception. That morning at breakfast in the great hall, Barty received another letter from his father. 

It's not that his dad is that awful, not as awful as Evan's, and Barty often grapples with this, saying things like, "I know he hasn't hurt me like–like yours has," this always makes Evan shift, his shoulders tensing at the memories, "but I still hate him. I can't explain it. He just..." 

“He hurts you. Don't ever downplay that." 

Barty usually responds by waving Evan off, or acting like he isn't bothered, but Evan knows it's the truth. 

Just because Barty hasn't been hurt physically doesn't mean he hasn't been hurt. 

His father diminishes everything that Barty is, always attempting to make him feel useless, and unworthy. Constantly criticizing and scrutinizing every piece that makes him, him. 

Every piece that Evan loves.

Evan knows that his father is manipulating him. Attempting to shove him into a box he doesn't fit in, and Barty only ever ends up feeling like he isn't good enough. 

He never says this but Evan sees the way it manifests in his schoolwork, always outshining everyone around him, working twice as hard to prove himself. 

Evan only wishes that Barty could see himself the way Evan sees him.

The letter he received was an announcement that his family would be dining with the Greengrass’s over Christmas.

“Of All the things your father says to you, this is definitely not the worst. Spit it out, B. What's your deal?” Evan asks as they sit against the wall in the astronomy tower, a bottle of firewhiskey held loose in his hand. 

“I've been suspicious for months that father is trying to set me up with the Greengrass girl. It's sickening.” 

“She's not so bad.” Evan attempts to ignore the way his heart sinks into his stomach. 

“She's not the problem.” Barty sighs as he takes the bottle. “Not exactly. It's just… I want to do what I want to do. You know?” 

Evan glances over at his green eyes that send him into the stratosphere–every. single. time. “So what is it you want, B?”

“I just want to be free.” 

Silence falls over them, the words hanging heavy in the air. 

Evan knows how he feels. There are expectations that pull and twist Evan’s fate too. Sometimes, he simply can't breathe, suffocating from the path laid before him. The path that was chosen for him long ago. 

Maybe it's the alcohol. 

Maybe it’s the rarity of honesty. 

Maybe it's the way his heart twists in his chest, it's shards pressing against his lungs, ripping his skin, begging to be free, begging for Barty. 

Or maybe it’s just the loneliness that prompts Evan to put his arm around Barty’s shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the curve of his neck, pulling him closer with a small squeeze. 

It’s meant to be comforting, a small gesture to show Barty that he’a not alone. That freedom is something Evan longs for too, more than Barty can ever know. 

Barty leans into him, to Evan’s surprise, and he pulls from the bottle, emptying it and tossing it aside. 

“I know, B. Me too.” Evan closes his eyes, relishing in the closeness. He knows its temporary. “What would you do with it?”

“With what?” Barty’s voice is so quiet, and Evan doesn't catch how breathless he is, his mind static and focusing hard on the moment, lost in a buzz of alcohol and endorphins. 

“With your freedom…” Evan’s heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“I think you know what I would do.” 

Evan opens his eyes just enough to see Barty gazing up at him, one hand on his chest. He can feel Barty’s warm breath on his face, the scent of oak and firewhiskey filling his senses. He hadn't realized how close they were, how close Barty had gotten. His mind unable to catch up in a moment that seemed like a dream.

Suddenly, Barty’s hand tangles in Evan’s hair, a touch so gentle yet deprived. Time slows to a standstill, and Evan’s eyes flick between Barty’s as Barty leans in, lips hovering over his own.

“What… what–I…” 

“Shh, just…” 

Barty’s lips brush over his, soft and careful at first, and Evan swears his heart stops. 

It's only quiet for a moment before they are suddenly kissing with such ferocity it's like they are attempting to devour each other. 

It's an explosion. Like stars colliding. But instead of debris flying through space, it's their love shattering the promise of time. 

Whatever paths were set for them, have crumbled to dust. 

And with every kiss, every touch, every glance, every drop of blood beneath their skin, their fates twist and wind, reaching every corner of the universe. 

Every corner of time. 

Nothing will ever be the same after this. 

That much, Evan knows.

Whatever challenges they face, it's them. Always them. And nothing can shatter what they've found in each other. 

At least, Evan hopes.

[geddy-leesbian]

SERRENNEDY POKEMON CROSSOVER AU FOR SERRENNEDY WEEK!!

As you can see above, this is very angsty. Leon and Luis both have a lot of trauma and Baggage. Luis almost has a panic attack and does some trauma dumping.

While there's no explicit smut on screen, there's a moment that gets kinda steamy and a fade to black/implied sex scene.

(oh and personally I feel very awkward swapping things out with pokemon terminology, like using "Arceus" instead of "God" so there is normal swearing here)

“Dr. Serra Navarro?”

“Well, yes, that is me, but typically I prefer Professor Serra,” His eyes wander all over Leon. “Though for someone as pretty as you, I prefer just Luis. Is there something I can help you with?”

Leon was afraid that he was going to go all the way to Alola only to find out it was all a complete waste because Professor Serra actually was just a professor unfortunate enough to share a name with a Team Rocket scientist. But that outcome is already ruled out. Either this guy is the lead he's been seeking for years, or he's an innocent professor that Leon will ask out on a date.

Due to excitement over finally finding a new lead, this trip was hastily put together, and Leon didn't realize how young Dr. Serr– Luis was. Once he confirmed that Luis was from Johto, he didn't go any deeper. He did see a couple pictures, but didn't pay much attention, and assumed the youthfulness was because they were older pictures. His assumption was very wrong. Luis is about his age and way too good-looking. The length of his grayish pink hair is braided, and the loose bangs are fluffy. His tinted glasses are a little too big for his face, but in a cute way. He's taller than Leon. And his outfit is fucking stupid. Shirtless under a lab coat. So stupid. It's hot.

A date with him will make this trip more than worth it.

“I just have some questions for you.”

“About? Are you a parent, or..? I don't think I've seen you around before, but I don't usually get anyone else dropping in on me like this…”

Shit. Leon really should have thought of a cover story beforehand. But in addition to not thoroughly researching Luis enough, he was also too high on the excitement of finally finding something after years of searching to bother thinking through what he'd say.

“Just heard about you, found your past interesting. From Johto originally, was wondering how it affected you. If you had any run-ins with Team Rocket.”

And it looks like Leon will not be going on a date with a handsome professor tonight. This is the guy. He recovers quickly, but for a split second, the phrase ‘Team Rocket’ invokes some panic in his expression.

“No. I was fortunate enough to never have encountered them.”

“You know anything about Mew?”

“Yes, of course? What kind of a professor would I be if I didn't? Mythical pokemon from deep in jungles in South America. Believed to be the ancestor of all pokemon.”

“What about Mewtwo?”

“I've heard the rumors, yes. A clone of Mew that was heavily genetically modified. But I believe that those are just that, rumors. There is no real substance to the claims.”

“Cinnabar Island. That's where you worked when Team Rocket captured and imprisoned Mew. You cruelly experimented on Mew. You helped create Mewtwo.”

“Who in the hell do you think you are, showing up at my doorstep to accuse me of such insane things?!”

“International Police!” Luis starts to shut the door, but Leon blocks the door with his foot. While he wasn't wearing his full uniform, he did bring his badge and takes it out to flash to Luis. He sees some purple fur coming up behind Luis. Must be an espeon, coming to protect its trainer. “Put that in its pokeball and open the door. Now.”

“I will do no such thing! I'm not proud of what I did back then, but I've done my best to leave it all behind, build a new life for myself. I will not allow you, or anyone else, to rip all of that away from me.”

“Not proud of what you did back then? So you admit it?”

“It doesn't matter. Arrest me if you really want, but it won't be anything more than a waste of time for the both of us. I'll maybe spend a night or two in jail, then be let go without charges being filed because I have a good reputation here and you have no evidence. If you try to tell anyone I confessed to involvement with Team Rocket, they won't believe you. You'll ruin your own reputation.”

“I do have evidence! Documents connecting you to the Mew experiments and the creation of Mewtwo.”

Luis actually starts laughing.

“You don't know as much as you think you do then. You find my name on a scrap of paper in the crumbling ruins of a lab, and think you know my life story! So arrogant! Yes, I did work at the Cinnabar lab, but I did not contribute to the creation of Mewtwo. I did not experiment on Mew. I have never had the privilege to even see the legendary Mew in the flesh. Mewtwo had already been created and Mew had already escaped before I was even hired. I can prove that your supposed timeline of my work history is impossible in court, so good luck getting a conviction!”

Leon moves his foot and lets Luis shut the door, and slinks away from his house with his tail between his legs.

…

Leon checks into a motel. He turns the TV on, but he can't focus on it. His mind can't stop wandering back to the conversation, analyzing every word. He fucked up.

“I'm not proud of what I did back then.”

He really fucked up. That could have been a very good angle. Tell Luis that this is his chance to atone and right his wrongs by telling Leon everything he knows about Team Rocket. Maybe even offer some kind of immunity deal if he still seemed hesitant.

But he had to get hot headed and fuck it all up. His first lead in years, and he blew it.

Not ready to admit defeat quite yet, he decides to give himself a day to cool his head off, before trying again. At least Alola offers plenty of distractions. He's not one for most of the tourist trap shit, but distracts himself with hikes through some scenic, and more importantly, rugged terrains. Pushing his body always helps him get his mind together. It's isolated enough that he can let all of his pokemon out too.

Something else Alola offers is a brutal sun. Leon didn't think to buy any sunscreen, and has a bad burn across his face by the end of the day. He's been through far worse, the pain is nothing to him, but he is annoyed at himself for being so stupid. His pokemon were quite happy with the exercise and exploration though, and his head feels clearer, so overall it was a pretty successful day.

…

A knock at Luis's door again. Rattled by yesterday, the knocking gives him a spike of anxiety. Still, he gets up to answer it, in case it's a student or parent that needs something.

He looks through the peephole and sees the same pretty International Police agent that came by yesterday. Luis really doesn't want to open the door. But he's worried it'll be worse if he doesn't and the man busts the door down. Besides, Espeon seems at ease with the situation, not alarmed and protective like she was yesterday. So he opens the door a bit, keeping the chain lock secure in case he tries to get in. (He would certainly be able to break the chain, but at least it would buy Luis a few extra seconds to try to think of a desperate plan.)

“Hello, officer! What are you here to threaten me with today?” Not wanting the agent to know how shaken he is, he turns up the sarcasm in an attempt to mask any nervousness. “Going to accuse me of experimenting on Arceus?

“No. No accusations today. Sorry, about yesterday. Wasn't polite to you. Can I try to make up for it, buy you dinner?”

“You can't seriously believe I'm going to just walk right into whatever kind of trap this is?”

“It's not a trap. Just feel bad about yesterday, I swear. I'm Leon, by the way. Think I forgot to mention it before.”

Luis goes to shut the door, but Espeon seems determined that Leon should be heard out, and telekinetically lifts the chain and nudges the door open. Leon smiles, and it cuts right through Luis's fear.

“I don't like you, and I don't trust you. But…” The prettiest man that Luis has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on is trying to buy him dinner. (The angry red sunburn on his face does make him the tiniest bit less pretty, but he's still incredibly pretty.) Whether it's a date or something else, turning him down goes against everything Luis believes in. “I suppose I'm willing to put that aside for a free meal.”

“Look, you have every right to feel that way. But I really regret yesterday, I swear. It's just this subject… My parents were Team Rocket. Died on a mission,” Leon hates talking about this. With anyone. Back in his pokemon trainer days, before deciding to join the International Police, he'd had some time in the limelight. First as a rising star gym challenger, then as a champion. He always sidestepped questions when interviewers started asking about family. He especially hates talking about it to a member of Team Rocket. But this is the price he pays for fucking up yesterday. If he wants Luis to trust him and give him what he came for, he needs to give something himself. “Never knew details until I started investigating some stuff related to Team Rocket, found out they died on one of the expeditions looking for Mew. So this whole topic just gets me hot headed and dumb and I say things I don't mean and regret.”

“Well, it sounds like you shouldn't be an International Police agent then, if you can't separate your own personal issues from the job.”

“Yeah, maybe I shouldn't be…” Leon says, because what else is there to say? Luis isn't wrong. “C'mon, dinner. Walked past a restaurant on the way here, you know if it's any good?”

“Yes, we can eat there. By the way, are you aware that your face is extremely sunburned? I have stuff I could put on to help it.”

“Food first. Maybe after.”

“Suit yourself. I'm going to change, I'll be out in a minute.”

Luis ditches the lab coat and comes out with a top on, something that disappoints Leon more than it should. At least it's just a vest that shows off a decent amount of his chest. His hair is down today, and it somehow makes him look even better.

Leon regretted the way he approached Luis yesterday, but initially it wasn't because of guilt. Even if it wasn't Mewtwo, there was something Luis was involved in. He only denied experimenting on Mew and creating Mewtwo, he admitted he was a member of Team Rocket. Luis deserved the harsh treatment, he had only regretted it because Luis could be useful to him. But he does feel a small twinge of guilt for demanding he put his espeon in its pokeball when it follows Luis out the door and he sees that it has a service pokemon vest on. Maybe Luis would have felt safe and opened the door if he could keep Espeon out.

“I can walk there fine,” Luis says, noticing Leon looking at the harness. “I have an injury from a long time ago that flares up from time to time, but Espeon can sense when I'm going to have problems with it, gives me warning, and helps me not fall on my face when it does act up and I struggle keeping my balance. But it is fine most days.”

They sit across from each other, Espeon laying under the table by Luis's feet. Leon has to keep reminding himself that this is not a date. This is an attempt to get Luis to move past yesterday's harsh treatment so Leon can have a second chance at interrogating him. Despite his attempts to not ogle Luis, Leon can't help himself, and notices something very interesting. Scars. The biggest one is on his chest, and another on his cheek.

Being in a public place seems to put Luis at ease. Somewhat, he's at least smiling and looking more relaxed. As it probably should. Leon is dying to grill Luis about the “injury from a long time ago” and the scars he's noticed since sitting down. But this isn't the time or place.

“So… Small talk time?” God. This is actually a fucking date. “How long you been a cop? And why are you still poking around with Team Rocket? They're not a problem anymore. Disbanded twice, no activity in years. One would think the International Police might have some, ah, you know, actual problems to deal with, eh?”

“Been one for a few years. There's not a lot of resources being used up for it anymore, but it still matters to me personally,” There's actually no resources spent on it. Leon isn't here on official International Police business. The Team Rocket hunt is just vigilante shit Leon does on his own time. “Just because they've stopped doesn't mean they shouldn't be brought to justice for the past. Their leader slipped away, it just doesn't sit right with me. I'm trying to nail as many members who slipped away as possible,” Luis's smile disappears. “As far as justice goes, I'm mostly concerned about the big fish. Leader, executives. Finding small fish is just a good way to get leads on the big ones.”

“So if I understand, you help the small fish, they help you? They tell you everything they know about the big fish, and in exchange you don't come down hard on them?” Leon smiles and nods. It'll probably take longer than it should have because he'll need to build some trust after freaking the fuck out their first conversation, but Luis will play the game and give him what he came for. Luis's smile comes back. “Well, interesting… How have your investigations been going?”

“I've made some good leads,” That's a complete lie. Finding Luis's name in the ruins of Cinnabar Island is literally the only lead he's had in years. But telling Luis that will make him feel empowered. “William's out there somewhere, just a matter of time until I find him. Or until he gets tired of licking his wounds in secret and re-emerges on his own, something I'm hoping to at least make harder for him by picking off people he'll need to organize.”

…

“Do you want to come in?” Is Luis trying to have sex with him right now? They did just go on a date, after all. Why doesn't Leon want to say no? “So I can help you with your sunburn.”

Shit. Leon needs to get his mind out of the gutter.

Leon sits on Luis's couch, and Luis drags a stool over by the couch to sit on while he gently rubs ointment across his face with his (gloved) hands. Their faces are so close together. Leon has to stop looking at his face, because he wants to lean forward and kiss Luis. So he looks down. At Luis's neck. A fatal mistake. Before his brain can even process what his body's doing, he's pulling Luis forward, off the stool and onto Leon's knee. His teeth are sinking into Luis's neck.

As soon as he realizes what he's done, he hopes that Luis is going to ask him what the hell he's doing and get up off of him, because he's not sure he'll be able to control himself if Luis is into this too.

Of course Leon isn't that lucky. Luis moans at the first bite. He moans again and grinds down on Leon's knee with the second bite. The third bite has him yanking off the ointment covered rubber gloves and just tossing them on the floor, so he can start exploring Leon's body with his hands.

“I wish I could make some quip about buying me dinner first, but you quite literally did just buy me dinner, so… And really, I would be happy with this even if you hadn't,” Leon just keeps biting as Luis rambles. Now there's a hand in his hair, that clenches around or tugs at it with every bite. There's another hand working the button on his vest, and Leon is quite impressed by his finesse. With one hand and without even looking, Luis quickly has all of them unbuttoned. Though it doesn't get him to the bareskin he's desperately trying to get to, Leon also has a button down undershirt on. Luis doesn't bother unbuttoning all of them, just a couple so he can reach the bareskin of Leon's chest. “Someone as pretty as you doesn't need to buy me dinner, they can just do whatever they'd like to me. You're a cop, you have handcuffs? I'm into that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Leon pushes him off his lap and gets up, then picks Luis up bridal style. Partially because he wants to give Luis a subtle reminder that he isn't just some small-time cop. He is, in fact, a very well trained special agent in peak physical condition. But mostly because there's a very specific place he wants to carry Luis to. He wasn't lying about someone like Leon being able to do whatever; he readily accepts being picked up, wrapping his arms around Leon's neck. “Where's your bedroom?”

…

“I didn't know I was working for Team Rocket initially. They had things very well compartmentalized. I was hired by a shell company. They had a contract with Devon Corp, so it really seemed like a completely legitimate company.”

In the afterglow, Luis finally starts speaking about his past. Leon briefly wonders if this makes him a whore. He isn't getting money for having sex with Luis, but he is getting information. Something even more valuable to him. The entire reason he's here.

But intent matters, right? Leon didn't start biting his neck because he wanted information. He didn't suck his dick because he wanted information. He didn't put him in handcuffs and sit on his face because he wanted information. He did all of it just because he wanted to. Just because Luis is hot enough that Leon temporarily forgot that he hated him. He was fully prepared to just go back to his motel room after, without any additional info from Luis, and just keep building the trust. So while he's not a whore, he definitely is a slut. Whatever. He's making more progress in his investigation than he has in years, it's fine.

“I was in a research team focused on mega evolution, specifically artificial mega evolution,” Luis continues. “Devon had recently perfected an artificial pokemon line, Beldum. They wanted us to find a way to make Metagross mega evolve. It was no easy task… But we did it. We tinkered around, created an artificial mega stone that metagross would respond to. We researched further, tweaking things to modify metagross's mega form, until we felt it was powerful enough. I was informed that Devon was extremely pleased with the work, and given a promotion, to be the head researcher on a new project my company started…”

“Guessing that's when you started at the Cinnabar lab?”

Luis says nothing, just stares down blankly, frozen. Leon reaches for a pokeball on the nightstand, and lets his sylveon out. It knows exactly what to do, approaching Luis to wrap its ribbon feelers around his arm. Leon hadn't ever wanted a sylveon. He had wanted his eevee to evolve into an espeon, actually. He thought the psychic abilities would be useful in his line of work. But it evolving into a sylveon instead has been a happy accident. Its calming abilities can be surprisingly useful.

“Yes, it was,” Luis answers. He's still wincing at the memories, but Sylveon's soothing aura is preventing him from having a full-blown panic attack and shutting down. “All I was told beforehand was that it was another project related to artificial mega stones. This was when the Alola research about mega evolution being cruel on the pokemon was starting to come out, so in my naivete I assumed we'd be modifying natural mega stones in ways that would make it easier on the pokemon. I knew something was deeply wrong when I was led downstairs. Armed guards. There was a whole maze of hallways and locked gates. As I said yesterday, Mewtwo was already created by this point. It had also escaped once and only narrowly recaptured, so there was much stronger security. I was never alone, there were always at least two armed guards with me at all times. It wasn't just to keep Mewtwo from getting out, it was also to keep me in. I knew it was wrong, it made my stomach churn, but I did the work. I did what was asked of me. We made two artificial mega stones tailored to Mewtwo. Two different stones, two different forms with different strengths.”

Despite Sylveon's feelers, and now Espeon's face rubbing against his other arm, Luis breaks down sobbing.

“You're okay. You're safe,” Leon whispers. Sylveon moves away from Luis's lap, laying down at the end of the bed, so that Leon can wrap his arms around him. As helpful as soothing pokemon like Sylveon can be, sometimes people just need human touch. Leon wants to press for more information right away, but he's not going to repeat yesterday's mistake. He has to go slow, he can't risk pushing Luis away and making him shut down before he's gotten all the information he can out of him. “You don't have to tell me the rest right now. Take all the time you need, okay, sweetheart?”

Jesus Christ. He just had sex with a member of Team Rocket, and now he's calling him sweetheart. At least he's making progress.

Luis just clings to Leon and sobs for a few minutes, before finally speaking again.

“I didn't want to, Leon. I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice. They were forcing me to, they would hurt me if I didn't, and I couldn't get help. Not from gym leaders. Everyone knows that William was the Viridian gym leader, but it went so much deeper than anyone knew. The lab was right by the Cinnabar gym, Wesker was the gym leader and heavily involved in all of the Team Rocket science research. Alexia, Saffron's leader at the time, was quite involved too and came to the lab regularly. The ones who weren't involved were getting paid off to look the other way. The police were paid off too,” Leon entwines one of his hands with Luis's and squeezes it, presses chaste kisses onto his neck, trying to encourage him to keep talking. This is a goldmine. He's long suspected there was a lot of corruption in Kanto and some intentional incompetence during the initial Team Rocket investigations, but could never get anything solid. And the fact that there were other gym leaders directly involved is actually news to him. “It was so screwed up what we were doing, I lost sleep over it, I barely ate because I had no appetite. Until one day…”

A loud, choked sob.

“Mewtwo got out again. All the new precautions weren't enough. It attacked all of us, we deserved it… It was a lab, there were scalpels, lots of glass to break, so many sharp objects that it lifted with its mind to hurl at us. That's how I got all my scars. The worst wound was in my back. It almost killed me, if it had pushed the bone saw in even just a little bit deeper, I would have died. I only survived because… It wasn't luck, it didn't make a mistake, it chose not to wound me fatally, because… Because I think it got in my head, it didn't say anything but it made eye contact with me, and saw that I wasn't a willing participant in its torture. The room after, blood… So much… I was the only one spared, it killed all the others.”

Luis untangles himself from Leon and lays down, closing his eyes. Seems like that's all the information he's getting tonight. Which he isn't upset about, it's a lot, far more than he was expecting. He'd like to know more about Mewtwo, where it ended up after this, and of course he needs more details about Wesker and Alexia.

“Stay?” Luis asks quietly, when Leon starts getting dressed. “Please?”

“Yeah,” Leon does still reach for his pants, but doesn't put them on, just fishes out his notepad so he can write everything down while it's still fresh. “Okay, I'll stay.”

It's dangerous. Leon is so close to liking this guy. Something he needs to not do, because Luis very much has the potential to be dangerous. The main reason Leon had been so hot headed and harsh to him initially is because he thought he got away with everything. He thought that Luis was a monster, and, instead of paying for his crimes, just walked away completely unscathed. Just moved to a new region, was completely accepted, became a pokemon professor, a pillar of the community. A role model.

But that's been shattered. While it may not have been in the traditional route, Luis has paid for his crimes. Is paying for them. Leon is cynical enough that he might have believed everything was just bullshit to manipulate him under other circumstances, but there's enough that it's undeniable. There's more than just faded scars that could have been the result of anything, he has an actual service pokemon. Years later, his injuries are still problematic enough for him to need that assistance. And clearly, he is genuinely traumatized. No one is that good at acting, Team Rocket is truly a trigger for him.

The issue is that Leon doesn't know why it's a trigger. Even injured and traumatized, Luis could be dangerous. The best case scenario is that he's been completely with Leon, and truly hates what he did. The worst case scenario is that he doesn't feel any guilt for his actions, and his near death experience was the only source of the trauma, without any emotional side to it.. Even injured and traumatized, Luis has the potential to be very dangerous.

“Hey, Luis?” Leon whispers after he's done jotting down notes about what Luis said, hoping he's not already asleep. His eyes flutter open. “Is it fine if I let my growlithe out? Usually sleep with it.”

“Go ahead. Just don't leave me. I don't want to wake up alone.”

He should leave. Luis is dangerous. Luis is Team Rocket. And Leon might already be a little bit in love with him, and needs to get the fuck away from him before he falls in even deeper.

But he doesn't. Instead he lets Growlithe out, turns off the lamp on the nightstand, and spoons Luis. He falls asleep with his arms wrapped around him, face buried in his fluffy hair. Espeon sleeps on the floor in its own little bed, while Growlithe and Sylveon lay down by their feet.

[thehollowwriter]

I HAVE TO JOIN IN THE READER X OC EVENT FOR FINN‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ I HAVE TO

i have been tweaking over the little guy lately and it is BADDDD uuh this is my first time ever doing this so i may be all over the place though😞😞SORRY

i'd like to request a platonic (not brave enough to ask for romantic LMAO) scenario in which finn and gender neutral reader hang out in the botanical garden and a butterfly lands on him‼️ he's identifying and rambling about it while reader admires how pretty he is because that's fr what i'd do💯💯

Hi hi! Coming right up, thanks for dropping in! I'm so glad you love him so much 🥰

Warnings: None Word count: 486

(Art for banner by @authoruio)

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Glasswing

The botanical gardens were a peaceful place. The more rambunctious students rarely bothered going down there, and most others only went down there to fetch ingredients for potions, experiments, or personal projects. Few saw it as a place of leisure, especially when they had busy schedules. It was so far from the main building, was it it really worth it?

Well, to you, it was worth it. Just watching Finn quietly observe the lush wildlife with such a peaceful expression made it it worth it. Rarely did Finn break from his usual blank slate expression around others, and you were honoured he was so much softer around you.

Though you technically couldn't spend your lunchtime in the botanical garden, the two of you had snuck some snacks in and sat together on one of the little bridges.

Finn didn't say much, but he never needed to. A mutual silence reigned between the two of you, accompanied only by the sound of running water, rustling plants, and, outside the glass walls, birds singing sweet tunes.

Then, a butterfly passed by, fluttering in little circles around your heads, looking for a treat.

Finn's attention snapped to it instantly, and his eyes lit up in excitement and awe.

Slowly, carefully, he raised his hand. You weren't too sure what he wanted to do, as even he seemed surprised when the little insect landed on one of his curled fingers.

Finn tentatively brought his hand a little closer to his face.

"It's twsting me." He said quietly. "Butterflies taste with their feet, you know. That's where most of their taste buds are."

You were pretty sure he'd told you that several times already, but you didn't say anything. You couldn't. He just looked too happy for you to burst his bubble.

"What is it?" You asked, and he hummed as he inspected the butterfly more closely.

"Greta Morgana Oto," He said after a moment. "A glasswing butterfly. They're very rare and very unique. Their wings are completely translucent. Very few land creatures are able to be translucent."

Finns lips pulled into a smile off, showing off rows of tiny, razor-sharp, and pearly white teeth. His eyes, amethyst purple, shone like gems and sparkled with utter delight and joy.

"They lay their eggs on nightshade plants, did you know that? Any human will drop dead from those, and yet they lay their young on them. Any human would think, 'That's strange', but butterflies don't care what humans think."

Finn laughed, a delightful sound. He moved his head back, his hair ruffled slightly, and already loose curls moved to frame his chubby, freckled face.

"Haha, I almost want to take this one home with me, but I doubt I can." He raised the butterfly up a bit for you to see. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yeah," you said, though you were only half focused on the little creature. "Very beautiful..."

-End

...........................................

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed! I had fun writing this ^^

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