#to a conclusion i made up in my mind & was never ever coming. the ending to game one is quite trash

[cresccents]

although,  ilayda  knew  that  amara  wouldn’t  hurt  her  ,  she  could  still  feel  her  shoulder  sink  and  her  expression  losing  any  tightness  when  amara  put  down  the  blade.  she  trusted  amara,  albeit  in  her  own  odd  way  and  enough  that  she  could  comfortably  speak  to  her.  it  had  been  a  while,  since  she  grasped  any  hint  of  familiarity  and  seeing  her  friend  in  such  an  odd  place  made  her  realize  how  much  she’d  missed  speaking  to  her.   “  i  certainly  admire  you  for  your  passion.”  her  gaze  softened  with  a  smile.  back  then,  she’d  have  loved  to  be  like  amara,  watched  her  from  a  distance  but  never  allowed  herself  to  get  close  to  her,  knowing  that  envy  easily  could  have  spoiled  a  short-lived  friendship.  now,  everything  she  was  left  with  was  admiration  for  her.  “  definitely  a  necessity,  if  you  ask  me  the  dragons  are  not  the  creatures  we  should  be  afraid  of.  all  of  this  is  just  …  odd.”  ever  since  she’d  been  here, her  mind  had  raced  down  and  then  back  up  a  dozen  different  dead  ends  and  yet  any  conclusion  seemed  to  be  hidden  away  in  some  small  corner,  no  one  could  ever  find.  “  but  you’re  not  implying  something  has  happened  to  you,  right?  i  know  you’re  capable  of  protecting  yourself,  more  than  anyone  else  but  if  someone  or  something  bothering  you,  i  might  rethink  my  current  position  as  a  seamstress.”  she  half  jested,  despite  knowing  that  if  amara  needed  her,  she’d  pick  up  a   blade  again.  “  no  need  to  sugarcoat  your  words.  dusk  does  not  even  come  close  and  the  skies  are  rather  sorry  looking,  sometimes  i  think  they  might  use  their  dragons  and  make  them  glow  so  they  can  mimic  some  stars.”  she  grinned.  “  it  truly  is  suffocating,  i  wish  we’d  fall  asleep  and  wake  up  in  our  court  again.  well  we  could  steal  a  dragon  ?  perhaps  we  could  use  them  to  escape…”

amara delicately removed her fingers, one by one, from the blade at her hip - the tension easing from her body at the sight of ilayda. she had been prepared for whatever undiscovered creatures likely resided in the unexplored dusk court lands or, even worse, the inner circle of another court, but this was a pleasant surprise. truth be told, there were not many fae amara would allow to see her so on edge, but the golden-haired fae before her was certainly an exception. "call it part passion and the other half... necessity," she admitted, striding over to the pale birch tree where her blade had hit. growing up, amara had developed an affinity for combat, namely quick, cunning blades, and over time it became even more important to ensure she could take of herself - protect herself. especially now that they all witness just how fast their own magic could fail them. "with all due respect to the esteemed company gathered here," amara started, retrieving the glinting blade with a forceful tug, "the court is entirely suffocating. dusk may be the closest we have to starry skies, but i've never felt so far removed from the night."

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[heartfullofleeches]

[18+]

Introducing - Shy Perv/Horny Alien Darling who's happy to be kidnapped by cute little humans if it means they'll get their dick touched.

Bound and chained up in their kidnappers home - Darling has but one question as their obsessive stalker declares their undying love and how darling will never, ever leave their side again-

"s.... since we're dating now....may - can I touch your breasts?"

Alien Darling from a planet where sleeping with another person for pleasure is looked down upon and intimacy is not seen as common . There's hardly any need for it in terms of reproduction either as technology has mostly taken over in the entire process. Needless to say, Darling is blown away when they learn about earth and some of its cultures. They want to go on dates, and hold hands with someone cute, and maybe even kiss them, and- and.... There's just so much for them to do.

Darling ends up on earth one way or another - working their way up to a far enough life as a cashier. Approaching humans in a romantic/sexual tense is a bit difficult when you only have experience from the films you've seen in the short span of time you've known about them. Darling remains alone and finds fulfilment elsewhere on the internet and with human toys they purchase for "research" - How they'd love to be able to use what they've learned with a cute human, but no person in their right mind would want an awkward outcast like them...

Right?

When Darling finally released they're being followed - they come to the conclusion that it has to be some strange human mating ritual. Yan likely discovers the various blogs Darling has made detailing their journey they probably think nobody will read or believe. Regardless of whether darling truly is from other world - it's clear to see how depraved they are. Yan sees that for themselves when they leave a pair of their underwear in darling's bed and instead of questioning where they came from Darling skips an entire day of work just to drool all over them. Darling is too busy fondling Yan's chest to notice anything wrong - like how their boss hasn't called to check up on them in a while.

Oh....That's right - they don't have a phone anymore. Their lover said they didn't need it anymore.... Plus, their boss was found dead in a lake a few weeks ago.

Huh.....How could they forget something like that?

"Would you like me to take my shirt off while you touch me, love?"

"Yes, please!"

Darling feels the need to ask before every kiss. It's cute - until they're drilling their tongue(s) down Yan's throat everytime since they claim Darling can do whatever they desire to them. It's still impossible for them to believe a cute human would want them so badly. Captivity is a small prize to pay to finally act out the fantasies they've had since they've learned of earth and its people.

[javier-pena]

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word Count: 5k (so much for short drabble)

Rating: Mature

Summary: You work for the DEA in Colombia. Until one of your missions goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: hurt/comfort | attempted rape (nothing too graphic) | smoking | reader is being held captive | historical inaccuracies | period-appropriate sexism | difficult father-daughter relationship | canon-typical violence (kind of graphic) | panic and distress | brief description of wounds 

Notes: This is the first fic for my 10k follower celebration!!! Thank you, @lokischocolatefountain who requested “I’ll be here when you wake up” with Javier Peña. I hope you like it 🤭 This fic was very much inspired by Gabriel García Márquez' "Noticia de un secuestro" ("News of a Kidnapping") which I highly recommend if you're interested in what Narcos (Season 1) only covers in two episodes, namely the kidnappings of prominent figures in Colombia by the Medellín Cartel in the early 90s. As ever, huge thanks to Dani @alexturner who took the time to ask, "What does this mean?" and made me realize that I, in fact, don't know the answer to that question.

***

It’s night again. Or maybe it’s dawn. You don’t know. The blacked-out windows don’t let in any light. Your days are no longer structured according to the laws of nature (morning – midday – afternoon – evening – night), but according to the laws of your captors (wake up – bathroom – food – nothing – food – sleep). Maybe you’re awake all night and sleep all day. Maybe you only sleep for four hours and are awake for twenty. Neither your mind nor your body can tell the difference any longer.

Right now, for example, you’re in the “nothing” part of your day. It’s just you, rolled up on your mattress in your corner, and your thoughts, looping and looping, making you relive how you ended up here, in this room, somewhere in Colombia. And every single day, right at the end of “nothing” and the start of “food”, you come to the same conclusion: It’s all your fault.

It started with your childhood, you think. No, you can’t blame everything that went wrong in your life on your father, but he certainly did his bid – no matter what you did, it was never enough. Not even when you applied for a transfer to the embassy and you got selected, the youngest woman in DEA history who got an assignment like that. All he had to say to you was, “Huh”. So of course, you had to do better than that.

Here, in Colombia, you found yourself surrounded by men just like your father, old men in suits who sneered at you, confusing you with a secretary, asking you to make coffee and take notes. Old men with guns and enough war stories to fill a book, calling you “little lady” and pinching your cheeks. Old men that were just there, leering at you from corners and doorways. And they all had the face of your father.

Still, no one forced you to raise your hand that Thursday afternoon your floor ran out of coffee, the same afternoon Noonan called you all to a meeting and asked for a volunteer. “Dangerous assignment,” she said, “likely to get you killed.” You should have listened to her. But the looks on all those faces when you raised your hand and said, “I’d be happy to do it,” were worth it. Almost. Because, ultimately, it was the beginning of the end.

One of the men on guard duty today swears loudly and another one growls at him to be quiet. Sometimes they forget there’s a life outside those blacked-out windows and they’re not the only people in this city. You forget that too, but then you hear the voices of people living their lives, the sound of a car backfiring, a dog barking somewhere. If one of you makes the wrong noise, surely, you’ll be discovered.

The three men with you today (tonight?) know that, and so do you. They’re playing cards by the light of a dirty kerosene lamp, sitting so closely together their knees are touching. If they stretched out their legs, their feet would be touching your mattress. The room you’re in is barely big enough for one person, let alone for four. It’s the only room you’ve seen in months, apart from the bathroom they take you to once or twice a day. It’s across a small hallway you haven’t seen because they blindfold you. Every time, for every trip.

You can barely remember a time when not everything you needed to survive was dependent on another person. The autonomy you prided yourself on, your ability to achieve everything on your own, to survive everything on your own, those have been taken away from you. Could you even use the bathroom if no one gave you permission first? You doubt it.

You didn’t need anyone’s permission to go on that undercover mission that ultimately landed you in this tiny square room that is now your entire world. You were the fastest to volunteer, you fit the profile they were looking for: fluent in Spanish, low level enough to not be able to spill any secrets should you get arrested, pretty. It was supposed to be so easy. Infiltrate the Medellín cartel, gather intel, report back. There was even a plan in place to extract you should anything go wrong. And go wrong it did, and nothing was there to break your fall.

Before that, before you watched boys play cards all day, before your only window to the outside world was a small TV, there was one person who tried to get you to back down. You thought he didn’t think you capable of anything because you’re young, inexperienced and a woman, but in hindsight you should have listened to him. It doesn’t matter that the others called him an asshole and you thought he was trying to dissuade you because he was jealous. He knew what he was talking about and you should have listened to him.

The man closest to you lights a cigarette, his face briefly doused in a gloomy red light. You think of them as men because it somehow makes it easier, but he looks barely 16. Your room quickly fills with smoke and you try to suppress a cough so they don’t hit you again.

That’s how this all started, with you getting punched in the stomach.

Your undercover mission asked a lot of you, maybe too much. You were aware that it might be necessary for you to sleep with some of the men you were trying to get close to, and when they asked you about this back at the embassy, you wouldn’t have any problem with it... Until it was about to happen. The man touched you, breathed into your face smelling of cheap alcohol and expensive cigars, and in a moment of sheer panic, you fought back and blew your cover.

That’s it. That’s all. You ruined the mission because you couldn’t lie still for five minutes, and now you’re paying for it.

You know there have been attempts to find you and you know you’re not the only hostage. Right at the beginning, you shared a room with a Colombian journalist who, before that, had shared a room with a famous Colombian TV presenter. You know there are negotiations, you sometimes see on TV that a hostage is returned to their family. One time, there were shouts and sirens and gunshots, but they blindfolded you and put you in a truck. That’s how you ended up here, in this room.

At first, you focused on the stories of the people who made it out alive, not on the stories of the people who didn’t. You’re DEA, and even though you fucked up, you know those three letters are like a protective spell woven around you. Yes, they will hold you captive for as long as possible, yes, they will use you to fight everything you stand for, but they won’t kill you. The more time passes though, the more you doubt anyone is still fighting for your safe return. They might not kill you, but you also won’t be getting out of here.

With every day that passes, with every day you grow weaker and more tired, those men stare at you more and more. At first, they didn’t dare to look at you, ignored you when you tried to talk to them, acted like you weren’t there. Now you catch their eyes on you frequently, hungrily taking you in. They still don’t touch you – not like that, anyway – but they hit you when you’re too loud, they press their fingers over your mouth, the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder making you gag, and sometimes their hands wander, to the small of your back, to your side. Even if you make it out of here alive, you won’t make it out of here unharmed.

It's a different day. At least you think it is. You sleep more and more during your period of nothing, but it isn’t a restful sleep. If anything, it makes you more tired, wearier. You dread waking up and you dread falling asleep and you dread being awake. But something is different today, something has changed while you were asleep. There are only two men with you tonight, and they look at you more and more, their faces unreadable. It unnerves you more than their openly lustful gazes. You pretend to ignore them as best as possible, but it’s hard when you don’t want to turn your back on them.

A third man comes into the room, one you haven’t seen before. He’s big, broad, a tight shirt stretching over his belly, lines around his eyes, thinning hair on his head. He doesn’t look at you, just steps over the two boys and switches on the TV that comes to life with a static crackle. On your mattress, you come alive too, your heart starting with a painful lurch. Whatever it is, this can’t be good for you.

You barely recognize the face on TV. It takes you about a minute to make sense of what you’re seeing, so unfamiliar you’ve become with the ambassador you used to take orders from. She looks the same – it’s you who has changed. Her suit is still perfectly pressed, her hair is still perfectly styled, she still speaks into the cameras in that calm, no-nonsense voice. It’s you who you don’t recognize, you who doesn’t make sense anymore.

It also takes you a while to understand her, to make sense of what she’s saying. You hear the words “hostages” and “negotiation”, and you know she’s talking about you and whoever else there may be, but definitely you. It would explain your captors’ faces. Something has happened, some new development that’s inconveniencing them. Maybe this is it. Maybe you’re being set free. Maybe even tonight. The thought makes you feel light-headed; you have no idea who you are outside of these four walls and that mattress.

“… end of negotiations. We will no longer regard terrorists as equal opposites in this. Any American hostages they might still have, or pretend to have, will, from today onward, be considered missing in action.”

What does that mean? Surely, they wouldn’t just … they wouldn’t just let you die, would they? You’re DEA, you can’t be missing in action, you’re not a soldier. The cartels can’t kill you, they wouldn’t do that. Just how the US wouldn’t abandon you, wouldn’t go on TV to sign your death warrant in front of a live audience. It doesn’t make sense.

You turn to your captors, as if looking for guidance, but they look just as lost as you. Even the big man. He keeps running his fingers through his thin hair, sweat beading on his forehead. One of the boys looks at him too, as if waiting for orders, the other is running the tip of his index finger through the dust on the floor. Why won’t they look at you?

“So we just kill her?” asks the boy who keeps staring at the big man. His name is Andrés Felipe. You know that because another boy let it slip once. You’re not supposed to know their names, and Andrés Felipe made sure that mistake would never happen again, but by then it was too late.

“Not yet,” the man answers. “We have to wait.”

Andrés Felipe groans. “What for? You heard that woman on TV. They’re done negotiating.”

“You don’t know that,” dust boy chimes in. “It could be a ruse.”

Andrés Felipe laughs at him. “As if you know anything about politics. You can’t even read.”

You look at Andrés Felipe then, truly look at him. You need the distraction. You need to pretend it isn’t you they’re talking about, as if your fate doesn’t depend on these three men. And there isn’t much else to do in this room but look. Andrés Felipe is young, younger than you, but older than dust boy. His face is free of wrinkles, free of the tell-tale signs of hunger and a tough upbringing in the favelas. He isn’t here because he needs to be, he’s here because he wants to be. Which also explains why he dares to speak up in front of the big man, whose maturity puts him in charge.

You don’t like Andrés Felipe, never have. Maybe it’s because knowing his name humanizes him and it’s easier to hate a human than some faceless, nameless villain. Maybe it’s because of the cruel glint in his eyes, or the way he beat up that boy who revealed his name. And now there’s his eagerness to kill you. There is no reason for you to feel any sympathy toward him.

“He’s right,” the big man says then. “Maybe they want us to kill all the hostages so they’ll have an excuse to send in the military.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Andrés Felipe responds. “Everyone would know they’re liars.”

“They’re not,” dust boy dares to speak up again. “Missing in action also means they can be found. If you’re missing, you’re not dead. If the missing people die –”

He can’t finish his sentence because Andrés Felipe slaps him. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The big man doesn’t come to dust boy’s aid. He just smirks. “Quit it, you two, we’re sitting tight until we get our orders.”

“I’m fucking done waiting!” Andrés Felipe shouts and you flinch. He’s too loud. Someone will hear him. And they don’t have any reason to keep you alive now. It’s easier to shoot you and then run. “All I’ve been doing is waiting. Do you think I don’t have anything better to do with my time?”

The big man shushes him. You wish he would hit Andrés Felipe, put him in his place, but he just crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I say we wait.”

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Andrés Felipe says something else in that sharp, nasally voice of his, but you refuse to listen. Nothing good can come of it. Either they will kill you or they won’t. You’re too weak to think about either of these options. And you’re not going anywhere until those orders arrive, so you might as well …

When you wake up, the room is quiet, and you immediately know something is wrong. Even before you feel the cool, sharp blade against your neck, and before you smell the stale breath of the man holding it, cowering above you.

“Not one sound,” he hisses, and you recognize Andrés Felipe’s voice, uncomfortably loud in the quiet room. It’s so quiet, too quiet with just the two of you. The sounds of him unbuckling his belt are like explosions against your eardrums. You fight the urge to tell him to be quiet, but then your brain catches up with what your body already knows, and you kick your legs and shake your head.

You almost don’t feel the cut of the knife, but you do feel the hot drops of blood on your neck. “I told you to be quiet,” Andrés Felipe hisses. “Just don’t move.”

But you do, you do move, at least your hands that you ball into fists. You don’t want your life to end like this, in some shack somewhere in Colombia with a knife against your throat and a criminal inside of you. This can’t be it. They have to put you in front of a firing squad at least, don’t they? Not like this. Please, not like this.

Andrés Felipe touches your lower belly trying to unbutton your dirty pants, and you flinch, a terrified groan escaping your lips. The knife cuts deeper into the soft skin of your throat. “Shut up, you stupid bitch,” he growls.

Then there’s blood. Everywhere. It’s in your eyes, your mouth, you breathe it in, you taste it on your tongue. Andrés Felipe collapses on top of you, the knife landing on the mattress with a dull sound. You try to get out from under the heavy body, but you can barely lift his shoulders before your arm starts to tremble.

“Hey.” You wipe the blood out of your eyes to find a man kneeling next to you, shoving Andrés Felipe’s heavy body aside so you can sit up. You don’t know who he is, you’ve never seen him before, but he has to be someone higher up if he dared to kill Andrés Felipe. Because that is what just happened, you slowly realize. Andrés Felipe is dead and you’re covered in his blood.

The strange man reaches for you and you flinch away. “Ma’am, my name is Javier Peña,” he says, his voice steady and calm as if he’s been in this exact situation a million times before. “I’m with the DEA. I’m here to get you out.”

“The DEA?” you repeat, the English sounds feeling foreign in your mouth.

He reaches for you again, touches your shoulder, and this time you don’t flinch away. “You’re safe now.” He squeezes your shoulder, then stands up and holds out his hand to you. You take it and push yourself off the mattress.

“What happened?” you ask, trying to ignore the dead body, half its face gone.

“Maybe we should discuss this –,” Javier starts, but you don’t hear the rest of the sentence. Suddenly it feels like there are cotton balls lodged in your ears and the whole world turns dark, darker than it already is.

Someone is carrying you. You think you must be outside because you feel a light breeze on your face. You don’t remember the last time you smelled fresh air, but when you breathe in deeply, you’re enveloped in cigarette smoke and gunpowder. It’s not unpleasant, you realize with a start. It comes from a heavy leather jacket you’re wrapped in, and from the man carrying you. They never would have carried you like this, carefully, as if you might break, so you know you must be safe.

When you next open your eyes, you’re inside again. The room is so big it startles you at first. But the longer you let your eyes wander, the more your brain adjusts to help you realize you’re in a normal sized living room, sitting on a leather couch, a knitted blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You must have just sat up because your head is spinning and your limbs are trembling, but otherwise you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Feeling better?”

You’re proud of yourself for not jumping at hearing his voice. “Yeah,” you answer, swallowing to wet your dry throat. You feel an unpleasant tug on your skin where Andrés Felipe cut you twice. “Where am I?”

You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you but with enough distance between the two of you so you don’t touch. He’s holding a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, trying to hide the look of concern on his face. It’s something you will see a lot from now on, people looking at you as if you’re about to break.

“You’re in my living room,” he answers.

“Why not,” you have to swallow again, “why not at the embassy?”

He taps his foot nervously so his leg is jumping up and down, takes a drag. “Us coming to rescue you … that wasn’t exactly sanctioned by Noonan.”

“So you really are DEA?” you ask, even though there are a million other things you should ask first. Like if the press conference you saw on TV was really true. If Noonan and the United States were really prepared to let the remaining hostages die. But the longer you look at the man next to you, the more familiar he looks.

Javier nods at the same time as you burst out, “You tried to warn me, didn’t you? Back at the embassy? You told me I was in over my head with this. You’re the asshole!”

The surprise on his face is almost enough to make you laugh for the first time in months. “I’m the what?”

You open your mouth, but instead of an answer coming out of it, you start coughing uncontrollably. Your sides are burning by the time you’re done, but Javier is right there next to you with a glass of water that you accept gratefully.

“Let me take a look at your throat,” he says, watching you swallow down the cool liquid.

If you think about it, you haven’t been touched in months. You know you’ll flinch away before he even touches you, so you stiffen your muscles, determined to remain in place.

He must see it all on your face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

His fingers are rough against your skin as he carefully tilts your head to the side. You barely flinch but you whimper because the movement hurts more than you would have thought. He hums quietly before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

You raise your finger to your neck to find the skin there sticky with blood. Whether it is yours or Andrés Felipe’s you can’t tell. But the unfamiliar feeling makes you tremble again. You wish you could stop that, or at least suppress it. You wish the world would start making sense again. You miss your small room and your mattress and knowing what comes next. You don’t even know if Javier is telling the truth, if he really is who he says he is. Yes, he looks vaguely familiar, but until a few hours ago, you had no idea what time of day it was.

“Hey, hey,” Javier says softly. He is sitting next to you again, closer this time, but he’s still not touching you. “Breathe. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“None of it makes sense,” you mumble. You’re not sure if he’s heard you, but you do feel the pressure on your chest lighten.

“You have two cuts on your throat,” Javier goes on, shaking a small bottle of disinfectant. “They don’t look too bad, but I’d still like to clean them. Is that okay?”

How do you explain to him that you just spent months asking for permission instead of giving it? How do you explain to him that you don’t know how to decide anything for yourself anymore?

Not sure what to make of your silence, Javier goes on. “You can do it yourself if you want to. I can show you –”

You tilt your head to the side. “No, please. I want you to do it.”

Javier stops shaking the bottle of disinfectant, grabs a cotton ball, and pours some liquid over it. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

He does hurt you. The second he touches the cotton ball to the cut, you want to scream. It burns so much you can hardly take it. But you grit your teeth and you don’t complain. Because you don’t want him to stop. You know it’s just the isolation and the confusion of the last hours and the fact that your world doesn’t make sense anymore, but the way he dabs the cotton ball across the cut, brow furrowed in concentration, makes you feel safe. And you can’t remember the last time you felt like this.

“You’re being so brave,” he mumbles, and surely you must have misheard or you must have imagined it, because he continues in a normal voice, “Tomorrow, you should go see a doctor. I don’t have any medical training and it doesn’t look too bad, but it can’t hurt to be safe.”

You raise your fingers to touch your throat and briefly brush his as he draws them back. “Thank you,” you say when you find your skin free of dried blood. The cotton ball in Javier’s hand is now a blotchy red. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Javier says, standing up to dispose of the cotton ball. “I think he cut you with a knife.”

“No, not that.” You sink back against the couch cushions and tightly wrap the blanket around yourself. “With Noonan and the hostages.”

Javier, who is standing in the open kitchen with his back toward you, stiffens. “It was just you,” he answers, pretending to clean some dust off the counter. “You were the only American hostage left. Because it took so fucking long to find you.” He turns to you, cringing. “Sorry. I meant it took us forever to find you.”

“You can swear,” you tell him, your cheeks tingling from the unfamiliar sensation of a smile.

He walks back toward you, and it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s no longer the jealous man who was trying to get you to back off from a mission he told you you weren’t qualified for. He’s the man who risked his job – and his life – to save you. And you don’t quite know what to do with that.

To your disappointment, he sits down in a chair, not on the couch, and lights another cigarette. “We had your location eventually. But then, two days ago, the cartel released the businessman, the only other American being held. We had to give them three men in exchange, and the exchange almost went wrong. Someone high up in Washington must have decided that’s enough.”

“So it was true, what Noonan said on TV?” You feel hot and cold all over. “It wasn’t a ruse? They were prepared to let me die?”

Javier nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t.”

Your heart stops for a short while. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re one of us.”

“You warned me. You told me not to go on this mission. I thought you were jealous.”

He barks out a short laugh. “No, I thought it was a stupid mission. Too dangerous. Not worth risking the life of one of our agents for. And it was putting all our other informants at risk too.”

You look down at your hands, barely recognizing them underneath the dirt clinging to your skin. “What happens next? Will you get reassigned?”

“I won’t get a medal, that’s for sure.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and his face lights up with a red glow. “Noonan will thank me privately but reprimand me publicly. And then she’ll send you home.”

“Me? Why am I being punished?” Your voice, still hoarse from disuse, rings in your ears.

He laughs again, loudly this time. “Darlin’, Colombia almost killed you. I wouldn’t call it punishment.”

Your heart kickstarts at the use of the diminutive. “I want to stay here. There’s still so much to do.”

He stubs out his cigarette. “What you need to do is take things easy. You just went through a horrible ordeal you haven’t even begun to process. Even if you do stay here, you need a break first.”

You want to protest, but you can’t find the strength. You feel weary, exhausted, like you spent the last month trekking through the jungle without a break. Your body is a heavy lump you hardly have control over.

The next thing you feel is Javier’s arms around you as he holds you tightly. “Hey,” he says again, and you could get used to the softness in his voice. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” you mumble, trying to push him away, suddenly trapped in the memory of closing your eyes and waking up to a man holding a knife cowering above you.

Javier doesn’t take no for an answer. “You’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You’re still not sure this is such a good idea, but there is no alternative you can think of, and your body is begging you to lie down on cool, clean sheets and forget the world for a while. You let Javier pull you up, and you manage to stumble not more than once as he leads you into a dark bedroom. He doesn’t switch on the light.

“I’m going to let you sleep in,” he tells you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to leave the door open in case you need me?”

“No, that’s fine,” you answer, weakly kicking off your dirty shoes. You just want him to leave so you can close your eyes.

He runs his hand from the top of your head down to your neck in a well-practiced, automatic motion. “I’m a light sleeper – just shout if there’s anything you need.”

You nod, and he finally steps back with a smile on his face. “Good night, Javi,” you say, your head hitting the pillow before you can stop it. He’s already at the door when you add, “And thank you.”

You can’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes when the sound of gunfire wakes you. It’s not close by, but the echo of it still reaches you, and before your brain has time to process, your body is already responding with a sob that shakes you from head to toe.

“I’ve got you,” Javier says, wrapping you up in his arms. You bury your face against his naked shoulder, trying to steady your breath, but you’re crying uncontrollably now.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

All he does is run his hand up and down your back. “Shhhh, I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His warm breath against the top of your head makes your heartbeat slow down, and you finally manage to swallow your tears. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, feeling like you’re about to die.

“Come on, lie down,” he urges you gently, trying to lower you toward the mattress.

“No!” You cling to him desperately, but he pries your arms off him without much effort.

“I’ll be here, okay?” he soothes you. “Right in that chair over there.”

You don’t know what chair he’s talking about; you didn’t notice one when he led you into the bedroom, but you stopped noticing things a while ago. “Don’t leave me,” you beg.

He brushes your hair out of your face and places a soft kiss against your temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

When you next open your eyes, there he is, asleep in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, the early morning sun dancing across his skin.

[hai7ani]

dark red / haitani rindou

prequel

There's an itching silence in the air begging to be broken. Wants you to speak. Wants him to speak. Wants you both to talk.

You only stare at each other.

This winter was going to be a rough one, you immediately thought 一 after waking up in the hospital with no memories of how you got there, why you ended up in that state, and why you don't remember anything.

Your mother was there when you woke up 一 held your hand when you were crying in your sleep about God-knows-what, mumbling something that sounded so incoherent to her, but she swore has never seen you cry like this in front of her since you were a child.

She had seemed a little different to you. A little older, chubbier, with more wrinkles around her eyes and the grey in her hair much more prominent than yesterday.

Yesterday?

"What day is it today?" You remember asking her as soon as you'd gained consciousness and felt her wipe your tears away with a soft towel. You heard the weather forecast talking about possible snowfall later that evening.

You see the smile on your mother's face drop.

It was still summer yesterday.

She looks sad. In agony, even.

There is no way.

"It's the 2nd of December, my love." She says very, very softly. "Christmas is coming soon."

And she cries.

It was really cold out today. It wasn't snowing when you left the house. You'd expected and looked forward to be home dry and cozy still after running errands for Ma. You wanted to continue watching your movie before she'd knocked on your door and made you put on your jacket to buy something for her at the store.

And then it decides to snow all around just when a bomb gets dropped on you while you least expect it.

You're angry.

You're filled with fury. You were raging when you'd dropped everything on your mind and dragged the poor guy home with you out of impulse. He said he loved you before. That makes you both each other's exes 一 you've dated him, he's dated you.

You loved each other, and you don't remember a single thing about it at all.

Like what the hell do you mean you still love me? We've broken up. There's no way, Rindou 一 or whatever his name is.

You don't trust this man one bit.

Which is why you'd dragged him along with you, plastic bag full of groceries now in his hands after he'd snatched it right out of yours. It was swinging around as you stomped, making this huge noise around the area and he wanted to laugh so bad. "Honey, please." You remember hearing him plead behind you, trying to coax you into calming down and listening to him, but he still follows behind you nonetheless 一 letting you pull him along while he watches out for cars and bikes and also apologising on your behalf to other pedestrians when you step into their space as a means to hurry home.

(He has never been one to apologise, only nodding or bowing his head a little as a gesture, but that has changed ever since he met you.)

"Don't call me that. I don't trust you at all. Who knows if you might be lying to me, you kidnapper. I'm going to report you to the police. You're going to jail." You spat.

He sighed, and then he realised the path you were both taking.

Back to your house.

You just said you didn't trust him, so why are you dragging him back to your house?

You'd thought of it too seconds into walking and you'd come to a conclusion that you don't really know why either.

Maybe it's because you really didn't trust him just like you said, so you want to drag him to your mother and make him look her in the eyes and say that he loves you 一 he still loves you 一 just to prove he isn't lying. You want to hear it from your mom 一 she has been the only person you can trust ever since leaving the hospital with an empty heart and a blank mind.

A tug at your hand pulls you out of your head.

"Honey..." He's back at it again. "You're gonna hurt your hand like this." He notes at the way you are grabbing onto his hand and pulling harshly. And you know it too 一 you are going to strain your muscle if you don't let go soon, but you just can't help it.

Just another turn and you'll arrive.

"Hushhhh. I'm going to expose you for the liar you are, Rindou-kun. Just you wait." You frown.

Perhaps you are feeling this way because you are guilty. Guilty for not remembering him 一 guilty for not being able to remember the man who has loved you with all his heart despite that it has only been 2 years.

Yet a part of you suspects there is another reason as to why you are so angry at him. There is an unknowing itch in your heart that you just can't seem to figure out what it is.

You keep calling him a liar. You keep saying you can't trust him.

Was it true?

"Mom," you swing the front door open and kick off your boots. "Mama." You yell for her. Rindou huffs behind of you and place both bags down on the floor after entering your cozy home, and he immediately spots the flowery dark blue blanket on the kotatsu your mother is sitting on.

"Yes, baby? You're back." She had been knitting while watching TV, and she looks back at you expectantly, probably expecting something surprising after hearing your rushed voice calling out for her.

And then she sees him behind of you.

"Madam."

Haitani Rindou, the man who she believed to be her daughter's endgame. Live in flesh, and he's so out of breath just as you are.

"Rindou...!" She gasps, and then she rushes up to him to pull him into a hug, her mission to finish knitting her blanket long forgotten as she busies herself with him. "Goodness, I swear! You've gotten buffer now! How have you been? And why are you both together... again?!"

You think you want to faint.

The silence is menacing 一 mocking you for being so hot-headed, mocking him for being such a coward.

Your mother had taken the liberty to finish her knitting upstairs in her room to give you both space to talk in the living room, where you're snuggled in the same blanket she had been warming up in earlier.

He stares at it for such a long time before helping you to cover your shoulder, making sure you're warm after all the activity out there in the cold earlier.

It warms him enough to know that your mother still uses the blanket he got for her despite knowing he isn't part of your family anymore.

He sits behind you in silence, legs sprawled out on the floor with his coat draped over his lap.

You turn your head to him a little. From the corner of your eyes you see him rubbing his palms together before blowing onto them. It didn't feel right to leave him out there while you're in here all warm and cozy (and a bit ready to fall asleep).

"Come here," you open up the blanket to him and look at him expectantly. He shakes his head, "it's alright. You're cold."

"You're cold." You open it up further and turn your body towards him fully.

"I'm fine, honey."

"...Just come here, would you?" You raise your voice and frown, annoyed that he isn't listening to you.

He stuns for a moment when he thinks you sound a little too familiar, before cracking a smile and crawling into the blanket with you.

"Was that so hard? You're so stubborn as always..." He listens as you mumble and nag and tuck him in before finally succumbing to the warmth (and the closeness).

The two of you sit like that for a few minutes in another wave of silence while watching your cat toss and turn on the floor in front of you.

There isn't much to describe the situation you're in with him. It may seem boring to the ordinary people who have no idea what you're both going through 一 just two exes sitting next to each other for warmth, a little too close together for exes, but still considered fine nonetheless.

But you don't consider it fine. It is not boring at all. Your heart hurts at the same time it feels fulfilled. There is so much running through your head that you don't feel like thinking anymore. You feel like you have found what you have been searching for all this while. You think it is him.

You want him.

Yet he feels so foreign.

But you never want to feel so lonely again.

"Rin." You turn to him and you look him in the eyes.

You can tell there is a lot of hurt and pain hidden inside those violets when he closes the gap between the two of you and bumps your forehead together.

And then it occurs to you that you'd called him 'Rin'. It'd just escaped your mouth with no hesitation at all. It felt so normal to call him that.

"Yes, honey?" He whispers to you.

You suppress a smile itching to form on your lips. "Have you always been this cheesy? Honey?" You let it form anyway when he smirks.

"Nah... But you always liked it when I called you that." He pulls away from you and reaches a hand up to comb through your hair 一 flattened out a few flyaways and fixed your hairline a little.

And while he is busying himself with you, the turtleneck that he is wearing has been looking a little suspicious to you, you realise. You haven't been able to tear your eyes away from the collar. There is a burning urge in you to pull it down and see what happens when you do.

So you do just that.

You reach a hand up, dip your pointer into the collar while feeling up the soft black cashmere against your skin, and you pull.

He lets you, surprisingly. Perhaps there really is nothing to be suspicious about it 一 it is true that your radar has been a little off since losing your memories. Perhaps you just felt like being a tease. Maybe you have always done this to him in the past when you were both still dating.

You haven't asked him why yet.

"Why did we ever break up?" You ask him softly.

You feel his Adam's apple bob when his neck is exposed to the air 一 to your eyes.

There is a fine-lined box, rectangular and long, tattooed onto his neck. Parts of it are filled up with a really dark black ink and it moves as he swallows.

You try rubbing it off and he coughs when you press too hard on his throat.

You remember seeing this symbol the night after you'd woken up and was still in recovery in the hospital. Shown as the headline news as the reporter speaks about recent gang activity going berserk.

"The largest crime syndicate of Japan is found to be directly involved in recent gang activities happening around Tokyo. The organisation who has been engaging in criminal acts on the low is now on the loose publicly for causing two car accidents on the Tokyo Expressway which has killed two lives and the third victim hospitalised in a comatose state, a result from two members of the syndicate fleeing from the police on said expressway after a raid in their warehouse located in Azabu. Both instigators are still on the loose for murder and drug trafficking, though authorities have managed to identify one member of the gang during the raid who is suspected to be of high authority. Testimony from eye-witnesses have stated that the man has bright pink hair with diamond-shaped scars on both sides of his mouth, often spotted with a traditional katana."

"Oh."

You slump.

"Honey."

You kept saying he was a liar.

"Listen to me."

You kept saying you can't trust him.

So it is true.

"...Too late, Haitani."

You feel a little something press against your forehead. It's hard and it hurts you when it presses even harder.

The both of you have been so engrossed in each other, with you focusing on your memories and remembering being lied to, and him finding out if there is any way, any at all, to not make you leave him again-

"Told'cha to hide her before I kill her."

-Too engrossed to notice that a man has entered your home, and is currently holding a gun to your head as he stands behind Rindou with a hand tucked into his pocket.

Bright pink hair, diamond-shaped scars on both sides of his mouth.

"Bye-bye, pretty girl." He mocks in a sickening grin.

byeeeee

[bunny-1111]

Hi!!!

Can you write something on theo nott like how he becomes vulnerable with y/n

By the way love your writing style❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much! and thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy <3

...

Theodore Nott was nothing if not private.

He kept most thoughts to himself and his secret buried deep within.

It could be endearing sometimes, but when you looked at his face, the look telling you he has something he wants to say, something that's eating him up, something he wants to talk about, and yet, he says nothing. A small frown hinted at the corners of his lips, and a wishful thought threatened to spill from his tongue.

Whenever he got close to dropping his guard, he rebuilds his walls ten times higher, and stronger.

His worries, unbeknownst to you, became your own.

What's he thinking about, what's wrong, why won't he talk to me?

You tried to get him to talk to you, and tried, and tried, and tried again.

All your troubles were met with radio silence from Theodore.

While lying in bed, covered in blankets and body heat, the two of you spoke—well, you spoke, and he listened.

"And then, Pansy looked at me in front of the whole classroom and called me a bitch. Can you believe that, my own best friend?" You sniffled through your rant

"No, I can't believe that; she shouldn't have. It's gonna be ok though, I promise you, I won't leave your side for a second tomorrow, alright?" he comforted, wiping your tears and rubbing circles on your shoulder

"thank you Teddy, I'm so lucky to have you" You frown up at him "No, I'm lucky to have you" He smiled, kissing your slightly puffy cheeks

"I wish I could help you too if you ever need to talk about anything" you sighed

By the end of your sentence, you felt his body stiffen.

You didn't ask again.

You had accepted that it wouldn't come quickly or easily from Theo, but you were patient, so you finally let go of expectation, maybe you would never see your boyfriend vulnerable, maybe he was invincible, you just didn't know.

But out of protest, you stopped telling Theodore your own problems, you stopped confiding in him for even the smallest things, you couldn't constantly give and not take, you thought.

Only then did it hit Theodore, that he had accidentally pushed you away by not giving you a glimpse into his mind.

Sitting on the cold leather couches of the common room, you ranted to Draco about Snapes lesson

'Why the fuck is she telling him and not me?' Theodore thought, watching you go on about your teacher. He took a deep breath in and did what he always does. Left.

He ventured out into the cold night, finding a seat beneath the courtyard, lighting a cigarette, his head against the brick.

Why the fuck won't she talk to me, even about bloody Snape?

Why the fuck does she think Draco can help her, when I'm right here?

What else hasn't she told me?

His mind raced against him until he reached his unusual conclusion of panic. His heart beating hard against his chest, his head pounding with worry, "Holy shit" he muttered, this is exactly how you felt when he pulled away from you.

He took one last long drag of his smoke, dropping it, and stomping on its remaining ash.

It was now well past curfew, and he knew it; the last thing he needed was to be caught sneaking into the girl's dormitories, so he raced against the speed of his own feet until he found himself knocking on your door.

You crept out tired, "Hey" you yawn, shocked to see him without notice, he wasn't usually spontaneous at showing up to your dorm, always announced, never the less, you of course open the door wide to let him in.

"Are you ok?" you ask, doubting you would get an honest answer, but you ask anyway.

"No" he admitted, you almost think you didn't hear him correctly, he had made you stop dead in your tracks.

Turning to him instantly

"What's wrong, teddy" you begin, gently placing a hand on his face, he takes your hand in his.

He doesn't say anything back yet, just pulls you into a tight hug, OK, you think, this is at least, a start.

Your face must've shown what you were thinking, compassion, as your brows furrowed, you pleaded with your eyes, open up to me

To your surprise, he begins to talk, now sitting, facing each other on the edge of your bed, "I so fucking overwhelmed, and my fathers being a pain in my ass, constantly sending me letters about Merlin knows what, and I haven't even started studying for exams, and I don't want to go home for the holidays, it's so cold and lonely in my fucking house, and I miss you, I feel like we've drifted apart lately and I know it's my fault" he quickly spills out in one go.

You had to gasp for air yourself, he had held so much in, you didn't know what to process first. By the time you went to open your mouth, Theodore shot up, racing for your door, hands nervously running through his hair "This was dumb, I'm sorry, forget everything I just said." you rushes

"No! No, Theo, please, sit back down", you plead. To your surprise, he listens, though he doesn't look up, but that's ok as long as he stays? Baby steps, you thought.

"You don't have to reply to his letters, and if you really think you do, I'll help you write one back politely telling him to lay off, that you need to focus on your studies. Theo, you don't even need to study, your the smartest in every class, but you and I, can stay in the library every Friday night so you can get into routine" You started, he was looking at you now.

"You can come home with me for the holidays, or I'll come with you and if you don't want to leave! We will stay here, alright?! And Teddy, we will never leave each other, that, I promise, because we're fixing things, we're finally talking" your smile laced with sympathy

He watched you for a while, his eyes wide, his breath caught, his body practically frozen, until it wasn't, until he dropped his head into your chest, until he realised how easy it was to talk to you, that you actually had a solution.

"I'm sorry that I've never done this before, you know, open up. It's not easy for me," he says muffled, cringing at what he was confessing

"I know, my love, I hope this is helping, Teddy, I'm here for you for a long as you need me," you say

"You know, usually, I just save this all for my mum. When I get home, I visit her grave and I tell her everything I'd never said out loud, but it's so hard to get there most of the time and being at school for so long I just-" he says, as he looks up he see your eyes filling with tears

"Hey, no no, I didn't mean to make you cry" he says now holding you too

"Theo, that's horrible, I'm here. I'm here" you insist

"I know that now, I haven't done this before, I always thought it was wrong to, I don't know, communicate" he almost laughed.

You scruffled his hair, lacing your hands through his slightly tangled brown locks.

"Let me take those thought of yours, I'll kept them safe in my mind from now on, let me share the heavy load with you, we can help each other" you smile

He went on about everything else bothering him, and by the end, he felt a sense of relief, of lightness, of peace.

Even after almost a year together, that was the beginning of a new stage of your relationship. Trust was built, and now Theodore knew, even though he had previously resisted, all he had to do was find you, and you'd be there.

P.S, it's almost 1am for me so, I'm tired. This might not be the best lol, not edited or reread <33

Message for any requests, as always, comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated my loves <3

[blueberrymocha]

Hi ! I saw that u already made hxh headcanons on a reader who's always cold, could you do then headcanons of the main 4 (hxh) with a reader who is actually always really nice and sweet, friendly and polite? But gets absolutely feral and relentless when someone is rude or hurts their loved ones??

Ty ahead and have great day 💗💗💗

main 4 with a reader who goes feral when someone hurts their loved one

gon

✰ he adores how kind and sweet you usually are

✰ while he can get along with virtually anyone, he prefers friendlier people like you

✰ and he’d probably also rely on you to keep him in check and be the calmer one

✰ so when someone makes a rude comment towards him, he definitely doesn’t expect you to jump to his defense

✰ and if you got physical with someone, he’s even more shocked

✰ his biggest concern is stopping the disagreement, he just doesn’t want to watch you get hurt over something trivial

✰ so as much as he loves you defending him, he’ll tell you it’s not worth the trouble and to let it go

✰ don’t get me wrong though, he’s quite happy that you’re willing to do that for him in the first place

“i’m so lucky to have you by my side… but seriously where did that come from!?”

killua

✰ he finds this pretty intriguing

✰ because under normal circumstances, you’d never result to aggression/violence

✰ and yet when he’s involved… you immediately drop those hesitations to stand up for him

✰ now at first, he might jump to the conclusion that you think of him as weak

✰ so while he bandages a cut you got in the fight, he’ll bring it up

“idiot… why’d you have to get hurt for me anyway? i could’ve dealt with it on my own.”

✰ but once you explain things, he realizes he was overthinking it

✰ and when he does, he becomes the biggest cheerleader

“yeah! beat his ass y/n!”

✰ to be honest, it reminds him a lot of gon

✰ which would make him love it even more

✰ however, if you go too feral, he’ll probably get you to stop

✰ because at the end of the day, whatever the person did didn’t even matter to him

kurapika

✰ he himself would be more protective over someone sweet and kind

✰ the world can be very harsh and someone who’s polite to everyone would come across as naive to him

✰ which is also why he’s the most surprised of all when you get defensive

✰ you going crazy on someone for insulting him is just completely out of character in his mind

✰ that being said, if you can handle it yourself, he won’t stop you

✰ after all he’s the exact same way

✰ not to mention he’s honored you’d do so much for his sake

✰ if it got out of hand, he’d just tell you to lay off

✰ and once the two of you were alone, he’d make it clear he thought your actions were justified

✰ although, if something similar happened in the future, he’d remind you not to engage and try to cool you down

✰ mainly because he’d prefer you don’t get into any fights at all

leorio

✰ you’re giving him whiplash

✰ like he can’t understand how someone as sweet as you could switch up so quickly

✰ we all know that he’s no stranger to getting into arguments

✰ so if you’re merely defending him with words, he’s got no problem

✰ if you started fighting the person, he’s conflicted

✰ cause part of him is like

“punch him harder!”

✰ but his rational side will probably break up the fight

✰ if you ended up getting injured for him, he’s really flattered

✰ and of course he takes care of every injury

✰ but also “don’t do that ever again”

[maxillness]

Happy Fucking New Years || T.W x rival driver!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap, alcohol consuming, praise kink, degrading kink, Toto is called a Needy slut🤭, handjob, oral (M reviving), over stimulation, sub!toto

Wordcount: 2k

New Years. Something she wasn’t looking forward to

She had been invited to a New Year’s party with the rest of the drivers, as well as the team principals

She liked partying and drinking, but the thought of that many people made her shiver and thought about just staying at home

Of course she wanted to spend time with her fellow drivers, but she did my want to spend time with them all at the same time

She knew it was wrong, but she had come to the conclusion she only went because he was gonna be there

The rival team’s Team principal. Toto Wolff

She had only ever told her best friend and fellow driver, Lando Norris. He was the only who knew of her attraction to the older man

She was afraid to ever tell somebody, but she had to get it off her chest, and even with doubt, Lando had promised to never tell anyone, and she trusted him

She had arrived at the party with Lando and Oscar by her sides. They all went to the other drivers, sitting at the couch area in a corner

From her spot on the couch, she could see the whole room. When she spotted him, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him

Her eyes lingered on the way his hand ran trough his hair, the way his other hand had a grip around his glass, the way there formed small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled or talked

Everything he did made her brain foggy. She stopped herself from biting her lip, choosing to bite the inside of her cheeks instead

He looked so fucking good like this. Surrounded by people, the different coloured light reflecting off of his beautiful soft skin

Lando sat down beside her, handing her a new glass with liquor “What are you looking at?” He asked, noticing she had stared into the abyss all evening

“Why does he gotta be so fucking pretty?” She asked, not answering his question

“I wouldn’t, would I? I’m not the one finding him attractive” He said, trying to ignore the fact his best friend was feeling this way about someone from her rival team

Even though they had their rivalry, she couldn’t stop her mind from picturing all kinds of inappropriate images in her hea

She would sit at a meeting, and she would imagine fucking that pretty smirk off of his face after one of the Mercedes drivers had won

She wish she could fuck him dumb. Making him forget his own name. Making him forget everything beside her and the way she would make him feel good

“Would you come back to earth, please?” Lando waves a hand in front of her face “I don’t want you to have an orgasm, not now at least” She rolled her eyes at his words, where after her eyes yet again turned to the man at the other end in the bar

“Enjoying the view?” She hadn’t realised the man she had eyes all night had come up to her

She stood by the bar, waiting for her drink. If she was any less drunk, she would have stopped her thighs from clinging together at the sound of his voice, but that wasn’t my the case

“What are you talking about?” She picked up her glass putting it to her lips, taking a short sip

“You’ve been starring at me all fucking night, Schatzi” His chest was almost pressed all the way on her back as she stared down into her glass

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re drunk” She sighed, taking yet another sip of her drink

“And you’re not?” He had leaned down to talk in a deep voice, just by her ear, making blood rush straight to her core

“I didn’t say that, but you’re more than I am” She chuckled, feeling the alcohol rushing trough her blood

“Fuck, you’re hot when you have a dominating voice, did you know that?” He said, his lips dangerously close to her neck “The things your eyes do to me” He groaned, his hot breath against her neck

She turned around in the bar stool, now facing him, making him take his head a few centimetres back “What are you doing?”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to fuck you” His lips were now only Millimeters away from hers

“Nobody’s stopping you”

The drive in the taxi was unbearable for Toto. Her fingernails dug into his inner thigh, just under where his cock was straining in his tight pants

He held his hand over his mouth, stopping any excess sounds from spilling out of him as she started making small circular motions on his inner thigh

They arrived at her apartment. She paid the driver and they walked toward the building. It was a rather tall building, and she did live in one of the top floors

As soon as she had pressed the floor button, she was pushed up against the wall of the elevator

He smashed their lips together, his hand behind her head so she wouldn’t bang it against the wall

The kiss was hot, messy, heated, and filled with saliva. Their bodies were pressed together, and she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach

The ding of the elevator didn’t startle Toto, it almost went unnoticed by him. It was only when she had pushed him off of her and pulled him by his wrist out of the elevator and towards the door

He interviewed their fingers as she pulled out her keys from the pocket of her jacket. She had barely closed the when she was yet again pressed up against the door

“I want you so bad, please” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers “Please, need you”

“God, Wolff. You act all bad shit and tough, but do you know what I think?” She forced him to look down at her “You’re just a needy slut who needs to get taken care of” She smirked as he whimpered at the nickname

Her smirk faded “Isn’t that right?” He nodded at her dominating tone “Use your words”

“Fuck, yes. I’m a needy slut who needs to get taken care of” He whimpered at the way her eyes look up yet dominating at him “Please, I need you so bad”

“I can tell” She gripped his cock trough he is pants making him moan low “God” She chuckled “Such a needy slut”

She backs him up, pushing him down to sit on the couch, his shoes gone as well “Take your shirt off” He doesn’t hesitate to obey “Good boy” She caressed his cheek before taking a pillow to the floor so she could go down on her knees

Her fingers went to his belt, unbuckling it. She zipped down his zipper, and tapped his hips, indicating him to buck for her to pull both his pants and boxers down slowly

She spit into the palm of her hand and started stroking him slowly, but it was enough for him to grab her wrists, arch his back, and throw his head back on to the couch

The grip on her wrists wasn’t tight; he didn’t want her to stop, but it was more to steady home self, and to have a place to have his hands

“F-fuck, please” He bucked his hips, fucking her hand, wanting her to go faster, but it only resulted in her stoping, not taking her hand away, but stoped her motions

“No, please, I’m sorry. Please, i need it. I’m sorry” He whined and whimpered as he look down at her

“God, you sound so good when you whimper” Her words made him whimper and she stared stroking him slowly again

“Please, I need your mouth around me. Please-“ His last plead turned into a loud moan when she sped up “Fuck. Making me feel so good” He threw his head yet again back onto the couch, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his back arched off the couch

She felt him twitch in her hand “Are you gonna come, Toto? Are the needy little slut gonna come?” He didn’t want it to be true, but yes, he was already gonna come, and her words did just that

His load landed on his abdomen and the part that ran down his shaft, landed on her hand

He started whimpering and whining when she did halter or stop her actions. She was sending him into over stimulation

“Think you got a few more in for me?” She asked teasingly, kissing the inside of both his trembling thighs

He made a sound, but she didn’t pick it up “What was that, baby?” She asked soothingly

“I don’t know if I- fuck. If I can give you more” He said, trying to look down at her, but his body was trembling, making it hard for him

“Well, you have to have more in for me I won’t stop until I get at least two more” She knew she was stretching it far, but she want to see how long he could last without falling completely apart

“I can t-try” He stuttered as she lightly licked up his shaft, taking all the droplets of cum with her tongue as she did so

He turned back to loud moans as her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, collecting the rest of his cum

“Fuck, please. I want you around me, please, I’m begging you” His hand came to tangle in her hair, but he didn’t dare to push her down

“Be patient, Toto, or you might not get it at all” He didn’t want to risk it, but he really needed her around him

“Please…” He whimpered softly, his thighs shaking, trapping her body between them

“God, you’re so pretty like this” She said “Fucked out, post-orgasm, hair sticking to your forehead, all sweaty. So fucking pretty” Her words sent him yet again over the edge, yet again shooting his load on his stomach but less this time

“Such a good boy for me. I just want the last” She said, licking the cum off of her hand “Think you can do that for me?” She looked up at him

He only nodded, unable to form any words. Her lips wrapped around his tip. A second went by before she hollowed her cheeks, his cock hitting the back of her throat, making her gag, sending vibrations all trough his body

“F-fuck. You feel so good around me” He cursed something in German as she started bobbing her head, holding onto his waist, making sure to leave marks for him to see tomorrow

She hummed around him, sending even stronger vibrations through him, making him moan loud again, his body convulsing, yet not near his third orgasm

He was still sensitive, but he took it well, better than she thought he would “Fuck, you’re taking me so good” She said, pulling off of him, beginning to stroke him again

“Come on. Come for me again, baby” Her words and a few bites to the inside of his thighs made him come for the third time

He was exhausted as she stood up. Her knees felt sore, but it would have been worse without the pillow

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up” She pulled him off of the couch, holding him steady, helping him walk to the bathroom

He got into the tub as she opened for the water “Is the temperature okay?” She asked softly. He only nodded at her question

“Are you okay, Toto? I’m sorry” She kissed the side of his forehead “I really am”

“I’m fine” He looked up at her with the prettiest brown doe eyes she had ever seen

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

"It's so unfair to the Rat Grinders that they are killed instantly and the Bad Kids get to roll death saves." SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUP

THIS IS LONG, AND HONESTLY FOR MYSELF, SO YEAH READ IF YOU WANT

I swear to god, this discourse is going to fucking be the end of me. Idk what kind of mind boggling spell Brennan Lee Mulligan wove into the fabric of the universe that spread through the data center of Dropout in order to absolutely hijack y'all's brains when it comes to Cocklord Assgape and her ragtag of character foils but whatever it was has made you Rat Grinder stans INSUFFERABLE in this site.

The levels of treating fictional characters as if they were real people have reached a level I honestly have never anticipated, to the point of y'all actually being mad AT THE CAST for "mistreating" them and ACTUALLY QUESTION BRENNAN'S CAPACITY TO DM. Do you not get how fucking insane that is?

We can't make fun of Copperkettle, one of the most pathetic, petty and incompetent villains in D20 history anymore (even though she is masterfully written and developed to generate this reaction from us) anymore because it's bullying apparently. I saw an account flip the fuck out because someone compared her rivalry with Kristen to Drake and Kendrick's beef. KIPPERLILY IS NOT A REAL GIRL. SHE IS A MAKE BELIEVE CHARACTER IN AN IMPROV SHOW SPAWNED FROM THE BRAIN OF A 36 YEAR OLD MAN

And then what truly pissed me off the MOST about this whole hell is the fact that, being chronically online avid consumers of this goddamn show, I would think you would have but a grasp of the main cast of characters' characterization.

Why the uproar about Riz saying they should chop Oisin's head off? The same Riz who tortured that pixie from Freshman year by shooting off their finger one by one? The same Riz who murked a disarmed and unconscious Coach Daybreak without battin an eye? The same Riz who ATE THE CORPSE OF KALVAXUS?

And the whole Fabian vs Ivy debacle MY GOD, THE GIRL WAS RACIST TO HIS GIRLFRIEND AND USED HER LAST BREATH TO CALL MAZEY "OBJECTIVELY UGLY". And the funniest thing is that is not even the most unhinged shit he has ever said.

And finally, Death Save Gate: THE RAT GRINDERS ARE NOT PLAYER CHARACTERS. THEY ARE NPCS! THE RULES FOR EACH WORK DIFFERENTLY, ESPECIALLY THEM BEING BOSS ENCOUNTERS. Imagine having to still hit Ivy or Oisin 2 more times to kill them when there is 14 foot tall Porter throwing legendary actions left and right, with Jace, and other 3 spell casters + Mary Ann and KLCK up and running. It's called balancing the fucking game. Also, game masters are entitled to break, mold and make up any rules they want if they find necessary in order to service themselves and their players. IF YOU PLAY WITH ALL THESE RULES AS THEY COME, GOOD FOR YOU AND YOUR TABLE. THIS IS NOT YOUR TABLE.

Not only is Brennan DMing for his CLOSEST FRIENDS EVER, he is also shooting and producing an ENTIRE TV SHOW. So yeah, i think he knows wtf he is doing.

"But the Ratgrinders had no real development": True. But it wasn't for lack of trying from the players. Everytime they tried to know more, the dice didn't let them, so they decided to focus on the mystery. It simply do be like that sometimes.

"But they are just kids!": And so were Penelope, Dayne, Ragh, Zayn, the Bloodrush Players, Aelwyn and Biz. Why wasn't it a problem then? Because most of them were evil to some extent and were about to bring the fucking apocalypse to the world? Yeah, sounds familiar right? And the ones who were manipulated or had any sort of redemption worked their way into earning it, right? Yeah.

In conclusion, I fucking love the Rat Grinders, I truly do, and not unlike 90% of this website, i'm still holding on to hope that they have any sort of development and redemption in the last episode, because I agree, they ARE children and they WERE manipulated by Porter and Jace, but like, can we also agree that they are fucking assholes and had it fucking coming? Also, the BKs are children too y'know. SO STOP BEING FUCKING ANNOYING.

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[silenttrxxs]

a night of sin ft. Yunho

nsfw!

you groaned, sitting up from your bed as you looked around, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You stretched as you trudged your way to the coffee machine. You shook your head noticing the familiar face standing in the kitchen sipping his tea. “Morning Hwa. How’d you sleep?” You asked smiling a little before putting the pod in the machine and leaning against the countertop facing him. “Good, I tidied the place by the way.. hope you don’t mind, I guess we have really been putting you through your paces a bit too much huh?” He said a giggle leaving his mouth before taking another sip of his tea. You laughed and nodded in agreement. You never knew taking place of their manager would have you running literal laps for days on end with not a single chance to even eat for yourself it was a godsend that hwa befriended you and took care of things when you couldn’t.

“We have soundcheck soon love, just reminding you” hwa said checking the time on his phone and watching as you downed the rest of your coffee and ran to your room. You threw your clothes around and grabbed a cute dress and jacket, sliding your shoes on before stuffing everything into your bag and standing in front of hwa. “Ready…” you laughed as he stood shocked and shook his head opening the door and ushering you to the car. He took shortcuts to the venue in hopes that it would ensure you’d both arrive on time, luckily you had 10 minutes to spare. You smiled and got out the car, walking over to the other members.

“Well hello there animals how are we today” you said walking up to the members as they crowded around talking amongst each other.

“Oh hey y/n, tired… but we have a surprise planned I think you will love it” San says, laughing and shooting a slight smirk to yunho.

You shook your head and ushered the boys into the green room. You made sure everyone was ready and took to the floor to run through sound check. You clapped and waved as they walked off stage, taking a moment to speak with the engineers and staff before heading back to the green room.

You wondered what this surprise would be, you saw nothing wrong with soundcheck. Not a single hint of anything unusual, the niggling feeling creeping into your mind as you pondered. You gasped when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Looking down you sighed a breath of relief. “San, you scared the shit out of me then” you said giggling before resting your head back onto his chest. He smiled as he held you in his embrace a little. “Sorry my love but if been dying to hold you all day, and I want to give you your surprise before we have to change.” San said smirking as he walked with you in his arm towards an abandoned room. Pushing the door open and guiding you in. He turnt and let out a breath of relief before capturing your lips with his own. You gasped and let out a little noise, your hands immediately finding solace around his neck, the kiss becoming more heated, both your bodies colliding together towards the couch. You huffed a little as you hit the soft fabric below. “S-San w-what’s the surprise?” You questioned as he smirked down at you, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text before giggling and looking at the door. You gasped as you watched yunho walk into the room, a blush evident on his face and ears as he saw you both. You looked at the pair before coming to the same conclusion, you are well and truly fucked.

Yunho smiled and sat down next to you, his frame much bigger than yours, but his aura pulling you closer, you leaned into him as he captured your lips with his. “I’ve been waiting years to do this” Yunho breathed out. His hands roaming your body as he moved your head gaining access to your neck, peppering the soft skin, his teeth grazing ever so lightly eliciting a soft moan to erupt through your throat. This noise causing both men to groan, the tightness of their pants becoming evidently more of a problem.

San continued to massage your thighs, spreading your legs apart as he watched yunho take his time to mark your neck. You moaned loudly as you looked down the sight before you was something you’d dreamed of. You never thought you’d feel anything like this. You gasped when you felt his breath fanning closer to your core. The heat causing you to leak your juices into your panties. You whined when you heard him. “Fuck look at you, so wet because of us baby” he breathed out before moving your panties to the side, his mouth attaching to your clit, eliciting a long moan from you as he played with your clit. His tongue moving inside you at a brutal pace. You almost screamed when you watched yunhos hand caress your body. His long fingers coming to massage your clit, you tried to keep your hips still as you felt Sans tongue enter you, yunhos fingers rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud. His breath hot against your neck as he spoke. “I want to feel you soak my fingers baby, make a mess of us precious” he said before nibbling your earlobe a little.

You gripped onto the couch. Your knuckles white as you felt your walls clench around Sans tongue. He moaned into your core as you felt your legs shake. The impending orgasm flooding through your body as you came. You whined as you felt the emptiness of San moving. You opened your eyes and gasped, you watched as the two men above you kissed deeply, the taste of your essence coating their mouths.

[lu-is-not-ok]

*rises from the grave*

*trips and falls flat on my face*

Heyyyy, it's ya boy, your favorite chronically exhausted Hong Lu identity that forgor about posting to Tumblr. Hi. Hello.

So. Timekilling Time, huh? Very fun, very exciting, we love focusing on Sinners that are misunderstood both in and out of character. We love Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu focus. We love Ryoshu's butch mustache swag.

Anyway, allow me yap about it a bit, because I took frame by frame screenshots of the teaser and I haven't yapped on Tumblr in a while. I'll also give a general update on how I've been doing at the end of the post for those who are interested.

The first thing I've noticed in the teaser is Dante actually lays out the exact traits that their choice of Sinners would need. These being (exact wording):

Someone who can support Dante

Someone who can remain laser-focused on the case

Someone who can be free from biased judgement while making rational, quick spur-of-the-moment decisions

In other words, we need Sinners who will help Dante out, are able to stay focused, and who can think on their feet without relying on their own internal biases.

I think it's important to lay those out as clearly as possible, because it makes the selections made by Dante and Verg very interesting, and also kind of funny.

Let's look at Dante's picks - Yi Sang, Meursault, and Faust. These are all, at a surface level, decent general picks, as all three of them are seen as smart and rational. However, if we look at them while keeping the previously mentioned traits in mind, it turns out these three might just be some of the worst picks Dante could ever fucking make.

The biggest issue - none of these bitches can think quickly. Faust is especially notorious for this, as it's consistently pointed out how she always needs a long time to come to a conclusion or otherwise has to pause to come up with answers. We also know Yi Sang is the type of person to get lost in his thoughts and just meander instead of getting to the point. Meursault is a bit of an outlier in that we see that he can think quickly, but if he's not given any orders he's never gonna act on those thoughts. Admittedly, he has been getting better at speaking up over time, but he's still mostly in this "only does what he's told to do" mode of operations.

This is where their issues split up a little bit.

Yi Sang is probably the most likely to be supportive of Dante out of the three - we see that he cares about others and has learned to interfere and give advice when he feels it's necessary (though who knows if he's doing well enough to keep that up after Canto 6, oof). No, rather his other issue lies in the focus department. This is the guy who, as I previously mentioned, meanders all over before getting to the point. Again, like Meursault, he has been getting better at not doing that, but he's still got ways to go.

Faust and Meursault on the other hand have the opposite issue. While they're fairly goot at staying focused on what they have to do, the issue is that they never fucking speak up. They're probbably the furthest from being supportive of Dante. They're most likely to learn info and just keep it to themselves until everyone has wasted way too much fucking time. Hell, Meursault would probably make a decently good detective if allowed to do the case all on his own, but since he's meant to be a part of a group, he's unlikely to help out that much without Dante directly ordering him around.

Now, onto Verg's picks - Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu. This is where things get really, really interesting. Because we have the reverse situation to Dante's picks - on the surface the choices seem random and counter-intuitive, but if we look deeper, it turns out they all fulfill the requirements surprisingly well.

I'm about to go on a tangent here, but I find it extremely important that we're focusing on this group of Sinners in the first Intervallo between what I consider to be the most thematically different arcs within Limbus. The first half of Inferno has been pretty squarely about confronting one's past, whether learning to face it properly after running away from it (Gregor, Rodya, Sinclair), or learning to move past it after refusing to let go of it (Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff).

However, looking at the Sinners we have left, it feels like the second half of Inferno might be focused less on the past specifically, but more about the Sinners' general reality. Especially the next upcoming trio of Cantos - Don Quixote, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu - have some heavy thematic focus on the idea of one's perception of reality, especially fitting for the three Sinners with weird eye shit going on.

With Timekilling Time focusing on the Sinners most misinterpreted by others in-character (and out of character), it feels like the perfect intro to this switch in thematic focus - exploring the actual realities of people who are otherwise hard to understand.

Anyway, back to discussing how Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu fit Dante's requirements.

Supportive of Dante - this is the requirement all three fulfill pretty well. Let me explain.

Rodya is probably the most obvious - she's a hypegirl through and through, and happy to take the reigns in some way or another if nobody else is able to, as we see in Canto 2. She's often one of the first people to point out when someone is not doing well, and shares a lot of her insight if in the mood, but she also knows when discretion is necessary.

Hong Lu is a fun one here - he's extremely perceptive and insightful, often sharing his thoughts with very little prompting. His only issue is that he tends to backpedal when he feels like he said something wrong, or generally just words shit in weird slightly offensive ways. He's supportive, he just doesn't always talk like he is.

Ryoshu is one I find most interesting here, as a lot of people seem to miss this about her character - despite her short temper and peculiar manner of carrying herself, she's actually pretty understanding and helpful towards people she's on amicable terms with. She always explains her acronyms if asked (and when she doesn't it's usually because people stop asking or Sinclair translates instead), she listens when told to stand down or otherwise do something when asked of by Dante or Sinclair, and the reason she tends to stay quiet is because she only speaks when she feels what she has to say is important.

Staying focused - this one is a bit harder to judge, but I'd say the only one who might not fulfill this one is Hong Lu, but only by a margin. Ryoshu is shown to get so focused she gets impatient when she can't get to the point, and Rodya always has her goal in mind even when she might act like she doesn't. Hong Lu is a bit harder to judge, as he seems to be the type to prioritze gathering information and satiating his curiostiy over the main goal, but in a case like this that might just be a massive plus.

Unbiased quick thinking - again, all three fulfill the quick thinking part very well. Rodya shows it constantly throughout Canto 2, Hong Lu shows it best in social interactions, and Ryoshu just doesn't want to waste time and so she naturally thinks quickly as well. It's when we come to the unbiased part that things get extremely interesting.

As individuals, Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu are all very biased people. Rodya sees the world from the perspective of someone who suffered in the poor Backstreets. Hong Lu sees the world from the perspective of a rich Nest dweller coming from a family of dubious morality. Ryoshu sees the world from the perspective of (probably) an ex-Ring member obsessed with the art that is reality. Their backgrounds color the information they take in a lot.

However... this means that as a group, all three balance each other's biases out. Rodya's cynicism gets balanced out by Hong Lu's idealism, which is balanced by Ryoshu's realism. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and thus give the widest possible perspective when put together.

I think this is the point Verg is making with this selection. Dante's selection is the easy way out. It's people that Dante already knows how to deal with, and would rather pick even if their skillsets don't fit the situation. Verg is making Dante learn how to work with Sinners who might be harder to deal with, but have skillsets more fitting for the situation at hand.

Dante can't keep half-assing everything by always turning to the same few people. Every Sinner in the group has their use and are smart in their own unique ways. They have to figure what every Sinner's strong point is, otherwise they'll end up putting everyone in danger by relying on people who are simply not good in a situation while ignoring those who could help.

So... that's what I think.

Anyway, personal general update - I'm still alive! And also very swamped with college and constant exhaustion. So, things will have to change a bit moving forward.

Number one - I will not be returning to old analysis requests. There's too many at this point, and I just don't have the time to sit down and write longass posts whenever I want anymore. However, that isn't to say E.G.O and Sin analyses will never return! I have plaaans for what I want to do with those moving forward, it just may take some time to materialize.

Number two - I'm generally just more active on Discord than on Tumblr. Yapping on Discord feels more natural for me, as it's just... less formal than making a full post I guess. So, if you want to discuss things with me, or if you're on a server that you think would do well with having me yapping in there, feel free to shoot me an invite link in replies (or in DMs if you don't want it to be public)!

Number three - Go check out the Absolute Pride Resonance event on Youtube! I'm not a part of it maybe next time wink wink nudge nudge, but you should still check it out cause it's a bunch of cool people doing very scuffed streams, as is fitting for the scuff Project Moon is known for.

Alright, that's it. I still don't know how to end Tumblr Posts. Bye.

[cherubmm]

✖🔪 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ON MY.Knees࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: CROSS.sans

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Unhealthy attachment. Implied neglectful behavior. Established relationship. Delusional mindset. Vague hint of worshipping behavior. Subtly implied abandoment issue. Violence mention. Implied submissive behavior. ANGST. Stalking. OOC. Not proof-read (I got lazy near the end if you can tell)

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY : oozgin

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why am I keep messing up!?!!?😭😭😭😭 I'm merely editing this on my scheduled post but then it keeps publishing????? Huh?????? Why does the Tumblr keep doing this to me😭😭😭 this is supposed to be for Oct.13!!! But *sigh* whatever, its already here. Enjoy the early treat, again >:(( Hope this won't happen' to another one fic for 14.... Tumblr fuck you :(((

It wasn’t often for Cross to come home.

Well, at least, not anymore. He’d leave before the sun rose, returning long after it set. You used to wait for him, staying up into the late hours of the night, but now? You barely bothered. He’d stumble through the door, mumbling something vague before disappearing into the bedroom or onto the couch without so much as a glance your way.

You understood—you really did. Cross was busy, whatever his job was, it demanded a lot from him. He hadn’t exactly shared the details, and you’d stopped asking after the first dozen times he dodged the question. But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, it was starting to gnaw at you.

At first, it was just a pang of sadness. Then it became annoyance, maybe even anger. You weren’t one of those cliché lovers who needed constant attention—far from it, actually. You valued your independence, enjoyed your solitude. But this was beginning to feel less like space and more of a...neglect.

He was your lover, wasn’t he? You were supposed to be partners, but lately, it felt like you were the only one holding onto that thread. Every time he came home, he avoided you. No more soft conversations over breakfast, no stolen moments in the afternoon. Just excuses, avoidance, and silence.

The worst part was, you’d started to get used to it. Slowly, your love for him had dimmed, like a flame starved of oxygen. You found yourself becoming comfortable in your own company again, just as you had before Cross ever came into your life. It wasn’t a sudden fall out of love—it was gradual, quiet and subtle. You no longer saw him as your lover, just someone who passed through your life occasionally—acquaintance.

Eventually, you couldn’t do it anymore. The words weighed heavy on your tongue as you prepared yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cross had just come home, dragging his feet, knives still strapped to his side. You waited until he was settled, cleaning his weapons at the table.

“Im breaking up with you.”

...

Cross always thought he was the luckiest skeleton in the entire multiverse.

Of all the infinite versions of himself—sometime's even far, far, better than him—of all the different timelines and universes, he was the one who had found you. He was the one who had you by his side, as beautiful and perfect as you were.

Not even the original version of him—the one from the timeline he could never go back to—had what he did. and that made him feel so special.

Even now, as he wiped the blood from his knives, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. He knew he wasn’t home nearly as much as he should be. Every time he left, there was a pang of guilt that dug deep into his bones. He hated leaving you behind, but what choice does he have? His boss wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he comes to the conclusion that cross was 'slacking off'' of his work due to his lover. Hell, it was merely a stroke of luck that nightmare decided to not only keep you alive and well, but also provide protection —unbeknownst to you— even knowing his distaste for 'distraction' that attaches to those on his side.

This, of course, was a constant weight on his mind — a sense of indebted. Forcing him to swore his loyalty and obedience to the latter even againts his will. But at least, while he was out there doing Nightmare’s dirty work, you were safe, and that's all that ever matters.

While he couldn’t spend time with you like he wanted to, he could make sure nothing— absolutely nothing—harmed you. The Star Sanses? No threat. Any danger from outside your universe? He handled it.

And on the rare nights he did return? When you were already asleep? Those were slowly becoming his favorite moments. Cross would sit at the edge of the bed or crouch beside you, watching you sleep peacefully. He’d run his fingers through your hair, brushing your cheek, whispering softly to your unconscious form. Confessions of love, of guilt. He’d wish for a world where the two of you could just live a domestic, quiet life—where he didn’t have to kill for survival or settle in the constant state of paranoia— again.

He didn't want the history to repeat itself ever again now that you're here. God, he couldn't even imagine what will happen to him if you're no longer on his side to keep him sane.

But alas, he couldn’t give you that, yet. So, he settled on making you safe instead, hoping you’d understand one day.

...

"Im breaking up with you."

The sound of sharpening knives stopped abruptly. Cross froze, his back still turned to you, as if your words had doused him in cold water. Slowly—almost mechanically—he turned his skull in your direction, his pinprick eye shrinking to a tiny dot before flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at you. For a brief second, his usual stoic expression faltered, a flash of... something. Confusion? Betrayal? Fear? But then, he laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

"Hahaha... t-that’s a good one, darling. You almost caught me,” he stammered, his grin unnaturally wider than the usual as he tried to shake off the tension.

"I’m not joking, Sans,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your gut.

Y-yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He turned back to his knives, trying to focus on his task, but his hands phalanges trembled.

“Sans, listen to me. I wasn’t—”

CRRK!!

The dagger in his hands broke in half as Cross shot to his feet, staring at the shattered blade as if it had betrayed him. His breathing grew uneven as he slowly turned toward you again, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Why?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward. You took a step back instinctively. "Why are you saying this...?"

You tried to explain, though the words didn’t come easily. You told him how you felt—how distant things had become, how lonely you were. How the relationship was falling apart and you both are better off no longer being in each other.

But every time you spoke, Cross took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, and you found yourself taking another step back.

In a blink, he was in front of you, faster than you could process. Then, there was a small 'ping' sound before you felt yourself flung backward, slamming into the nearest wall that knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands gripped your shoulders, hard enough to hurt, as his face hovered inches from yours.

"Oww-! Sans what the fuck—!?"

His bony hands gripped your shoulders tightly, an anchor that pinned you in place. “Just LISTEN to me first darling. You have to understand—” Tears began to stream from his eye sockets, glistening like pearls against his skeletal face. “I DON'T have a choice” he cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s all for you! To make you safe! Please, you NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!”

You tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened.

His knees buckled, and you stumbled as he dragged you down with him, his hands still clinging to you like a lifeline.“No, no, please— reconsider!! I-i’ll try to change, I’ll do whatever you want—I’ll beg, I’ll be on my knees forever, just—please?”

Ⓒ𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/11/24 Navigation | Masterlist

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.8

The next few days were unexpectedly pleasant for you. That strange man came to check on you once more and gave you a balm to apply, Anna came to visit you and brush your hair once, and you began to grow a strong fondness for Charlie’s smart mouth and obnoxious laugh.

Once he woke you in the middle of the night with a small cake, to which you scolded him, and he only smiled.

“Oh shut up, I know you want it. Girls love sweets…”

You fought off a smile but caved when you finally bit into the delicious treat. You took one more small bite and then offered the rest to the boy. “Little boys love sweets, too.”

Charlie furrowed his brow and clicked his tongue at you and you snickered at his frustration.

“I’m not so little, you know!”

You reminded him with a finger on his lips to keep quiet and insisted he take the cake again. He considered for a while before accepting and then talking with his mouth full; “I’m closer to your age than that old husband of yours.”

You quirked a brow, noting his truth. “I think all men are really boys. They never quite grow up… Either little boys or monsters in the end.” You nodded in conclusion. “I think you’ll be a little boy at heart forever, which is much preferable to the alternative.”

Charlie didn’t seem so offended after that, and you watched his eyes scan over your face in the moonlight. “You’re quite pretty, you know.. Have I ever told you that?”

You chuckled softly, “Only nearly every time you’ve seen me.”

“Are you gonna kiss me, then?”

Your head dropped to the side in confusion, but you knew it would be rude to laugh. “No, I’m not going to kiss you.”

“But what if I told you I’d never been kissed before…”

“I’d say that I don’t believe you—"

Charlie scoffed and smirked, throwing up his arms. “I can’t win with you, lady!…” he got closer to your face and you retreated, beginning to actually get nervous.

“Is it because you’re married?” You sighed. “I don’t mind.. I know he don’t mind otherwise he’d come let you out rather than continue on serving that cunt Joff-“

“It’s not my marriage.” “What is it then? You think I’m ugly.” You sighed, sitting up to ensure he took you seriously now. “No. I think you’re a very handsome young man. I think you’re going to have your pick of any girls you like if only you can restrain yourself a little better in the future.” “I’d pick you.”

“Well you’re not able to pick yet. You’re still a child, enjoy being one.” “I’m 12!” “And I’m a used woman!” You whisper shouted back at him. “I’ve been had, you would not be my first kiss. You deserve better for your first time so you might as well get it out of your head because I’ve made up my mind.”

He looked disappointed but surprised you when he responded calmly instead of lashing out. “What about when I’m older… you can be my second, my last maybe..”

You considered his proposal for a moment before resolving with a small nod. “Sure, Charlie… When you’re a man I’ll kiss you.” Charlie smiled and held up an accusatory finger. “You said I’ll stay a little boy forever—“ you laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Well when you’re older and I’ve decided you’re not monstrous, how about then?”

He smiled and grabbed your hand, shaking it dramatically. “S’a deal!”

He held onto your hand as he maneuvered himself to lay down in your lap, finally placing your hand on his hair. He closed his eyes and relaxed against your thigh as you hesitantly began stroking through his hair.

“I’d never be monstrous to you, (Y/n)…” he yawned. “I’d treat you real nice, no matter what anyone said..”

At that moment, your head urged you to ask him to release you. In the middle of the night you might actually stand a chance at escaping. But over the past week, you had the sad realization that you would never ask it of him. Charlie setting you free would mean death or worse for him, and he was just a sweet dumb boy. He was doing his best to care for you in the ways that he could and you were grateful. There was no need to bring up the fact that it was him locking you in that cage every day.

“I think you’re great, (Y/n).” You continued your ministrations on his head, holding back tears now. You noticed he called you by your name often. It was the only time you heard it now, and you wondered if he knew how human it made you feel. You leaned down to kiss his forehead and he smiled and looked up at you, eyes full of hope.

“I think you’re great too… Will you bring Anna for me tomorrow?” He nodded, bringing his hand up to tap on yours, as if to wordlessly tell you to keep scratching. You laughed, ruffled his hair once more and then retracted, leaning back on your hands. “Go get some sleep in a bed, Charlie.”

He sighed but nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

After he left, you couldn’t sleep. His words had sparked up a lot of new thoughts for you. While you were indeed still young, you considered the fact that even if you survived all this and escaped King’s Landing somehow, you may never take another lover. Men had always been fearsome creatures to you, except for the dashing kind in storybooks. Now with your trauma, you doubted you could ever let another get so close to you.

You grew nervous even at your own touch now; how could you let a man, a boy or even a woman touch you in the ways you once craved. It was only fitting, you supposed, that the very next person to visit you that morning was Petyr Baelish himself.

"How cruel..." His voice spoke at the far entrance. No matter how distant and unfamiliar as it should have been, his voice was burned in your memory. You pressed your face to the bars in attempt to see him. Your eyes locked on that subtle smirk.

"You, shut away like so many dogs, while your husband remains in freedom and good standing with the crown for the very same crime... An unfortunate but typical outcome for the luck of being born a woman."

You seethed in your cage as you listened to him drawl on and on. "And what crime was that, Littlefinger? Fucking my husband, who was given to me by Joffrey?"

"A tragedy..." he began, smirk growing and falling as he spoke. "I thought surely Joffree would have explained to you your errors, as he often enjoys in his kingly monologues.. Your punishment is--"

"Is because you reported it." You interjected boldly. "Didn't you. And you dare seek me out again-- what more could you possibly take from me, you snake?!"

In the midst of your accusation, you picked up a nearby stone and threw it at the cage opposite you. His eyes finally cast down and he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply.

"I am sorry you feel I have wronged you. I actually sought you out to present you with opportunity. One I'm sure you'll find more desirable than sitting, dining and shitting with beasts..."

You remembered the healer had warned you about his presence. He designed this entire scenario to benefit him in this very way, so you had to see what all this was for.

"And what is that?" Venom still biting in your tone.

"Work for me. With me."

You scoffed and waited for him to continue or tell you that it was a joke. When he said nothing, only stared, you began to laugh. With all your strength you laughed loudly, clutching your stomach for exaggerated effect, and finished it by spitting on the ground as far in front of you as you could. You couldn't even think of something clever or cruel to match him, so you just walked away to disappear to him.

"Are they feeding you well? Cleaning you? Providing your soul with comforts like music, a soft place to lie your head? With me you could have all that and more... I have already made arrangements with the King, he agrees that you are being wasted in the kennel, and I see it now more than ever. You are wasting away, Lady Clegane." He threw the name on the end of it just to pierce you again and you marched up to the gate to look at him.

"Don't ever call me that! If you let me out of here I'll rip your tongue out before it can hurt anyone else. I will never be your whore!"

Petyr took a long moment before he dared to speak again. "He hurt you, didn't he, (Y/n)? The man who gave you that name... Hurt more than your body. Samuel, he told me of your ailments."

You furrowed your brows. The healer? The man you owed? Perhaps you took too long and he approached Petyr for the money. You felt shame creep up your spine, and you wondered why you were even still listening to him.

"I could keep him from you, you know. I've heard whispers of your former husband's tendency to lurk about after dark. I can only imagine the torment he must cause you, now still. If you came with me I could ensure you were safe, taken care of..."

His words were both terrifying and soothing, and you wondered how a man could be both in the same breath. You turned your body away from him and rested your back against the stone wall so he couldn't see that you were actually considering his awful proposition. Beast growled lowly when you looked at him and you cast your watery eyes up to the ceiling.

"You are a rare beauty and a smart girl. I can't imagine you feel at home here. You could make something of yourself, be richer than your father could have ever dreamed for you, belong to no one, love many--"

"I can't take another lover..." You settled, sighing to yourself and wiping your hands over your face.

"I have been assured you're healing well, (Y/n), this is not the end for you."

"I can't!" You shouted back. "I won't, ever! Sorry to foil your plans but I will never let another man rape me. I'll die first."

There was a great silence and you hoped he wouldn't hear you crying.

"What a tragedy it would be, for a life to end so short." He threatened and you gasped. "Stannis' army is approaching on the water as we speak. At best we have days before the men reach the shores. Men, who pay at brothels, but rape the loose women left behind. Women, children, grown men. I imagine you'll have the perfect position to hear their agony, their dying... And when all the soldiers are dead or captured, no matter which men end triumphant, they'll come for you. Hard and smelly and the brutality still fresh in their minds… Your beauty will serve them, not you. Or you'll die first, as you say...

Or you can accept my offer and I can protect you from monsters like Sandor Clegane. And his brother Gregor, who is set to arrive even before Stannis Baratheon. Whatever beastly things you can imagine of the Hound, I can promise you, The Mountain turns those to childish fantasies. If death is what you seek, stay here."

You trembled with fear at his words, and covered your mouth with your palm to keep from crying out.

"If you change your mind, send the boy to find me. I think he's fond of you, as am I... The loss of you would be a loss for all man. And it would be no one’s fault but your own.”

You held your breath and prayed he would leave. After a few moments of silence you felt the aura that lingered around him dissipate and you could breathe again. Days. There was nothing you could use to defend yourself in the kennel; only your cell mates, who would surely be released and used and killed if war were to breach the walls of King’s Landing. And Gregor Clegane would be here before all that. You didn’t want to cry anymore; couldn’t as you were dehydrated on top of everything else.

“Lunch time!” Charlie’s voice rang out, and the routine of excited dogs rang loudly around you. You tried to put a smile on and hoped what little tears you’d shed hadn’t left their mark behind on your cheeks.

“I brought your favorite, love. Potatoes!”

You grinned so hard it shut your eyes and you stuck your hand out through the bars to accept the food.

“You’re looking chipper today. It was the cake, wasn’t it?” He winked.

“Girls love sweets.” You shrugged. “No more though, I’m serious… Where’s Anna?”

“Oh, she’s still doing her chores but the hound’s been busy the last few nights, ain’t come back to his room for supper, so I expect she’ll be ready to see you around then. I’ll come back with her around sunset.”

Your face fell noticeably and the taste of the potatoes soured in your mouth at the mention of his name. “I can’t believe she still serves him.”

“Not much choice for her, eh. She don’t do much complaining, anyway.” He chuckled a little to himself and you rolled your eyes at him. “She don’t come back with bruises or nothing if that’s what you’re worried about. He dirties the bed, seen her shining up his armor once, half the time he don’t even eat what she brings him. She comes back with near full plates and we sneak what we can— or it ends up here for you lot.”

This struck your curiosity. Not eating, drunk and wandering, hanging around the kennels. Could he feel guilty? That look he gave you once showed no remorse. Still, part of you wanted him to suffer a fraction of what you did. In the background of your thoughts, Charlie rambled on about all the responsibilities he had throughout the day, how the royals don’t know how to wipe their asses, and you tuned the rest out when you had an idea.

“Charlie, maybe I was too hasty about your stealing…”

His smirk mirrored your own. “You want another cake?”

“No, I want parchment if you can. And something to write with.”

His face morphed in curiosity. “What are you planning to do with them?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“If it’s a love letter I’ll save you the time, I can’t read.” You laughed softly at his conclusion. “I’m more of a man of action, really.”

“It’s a surprise for Anna. Do you think you can do it or not?”

He rolled his eyes and left without another word. About an hour after that papers and lead were dropped through the barred window and when you peeked out of it you only saw the boy walking away with a full cart. You smiled and began your distractions. You folded and drew for hours until the dogs began barking again, signaling the return of Charlie and Anna. The sun was setting and cast a most beautiful orange over the city. Charlie let you into the hall of the kennel to bask in the light and show Anna what you had made her.

“It’s for you to speak… communicate better. See I’ve drawn these pictures here so you can say what you need.” You flipped through the small pages with her and she looked at them in awe. There were pages for things you thought relevant to her job— soap, sheets, food, wine, polish. Then there were things you’d drawn that were more human: tired, sick, hungry, bathe, bathroom. “We can add to it or change it if you want, but you can only communicate so much with your eyes and gestures.. I want to make sure you’re alright, Anna.”

She smiled with watery eyes and took your lead from you, and drew a heart on a blank spot. She threw her arms around you in an embrace and kissed your cheek. You were so relieved it could bring her some joy and comfort, and you were glad for the distraction it had given you that day. You still had Petyr’s offer to consider.

Charlie grabbed the book you’d made for Anna and looked through it quickly. “These are pretty good actually. Did you ever want to be an artist?” “No,” you thought aloud. “Just a wife I suppose.”

“That worked out so well for you.” He teased before huffing. “Listen, I don’t know how much we’ll be able to see each other anymore… Any of us.” The both of you looked at him. “I’m not supposed to be feeding the dogs now… The usurper’s brother is on his way and they want the dogs hungry. I— I told them about you, reminded him that you’re meat and you could starve or be eaten yourself but he said that’s not my concern, the pompous ass…” he looked sad, confused, and angry all at the same time. He reached into his pocket and emerged with another crumbling cake to offer you. “Maybe… maybe we should tell him. The Hound.”

Anna nodded fervently and it angered you and you let her go. “You’ll not speak a word of this to him. He knows where I am and he knows war is coming and he doesn’t care… I don’t care either, I’d rather be dog food than owe him anything.”

“(Y/n)!” Charlie scolded you with your own name, but you only stuck your nose up at him. Anna’s eyes looked fearful now and she shook her head. She snatched the book back from Charlie and pointed repeatedly at the heart she had just added. Love. “I love you too, Anna but there’s nothing we can do. It’s alright—“ she waved her arms to say no. She pointed at Charlie, only confusing you more. “The Hound! She means the hound loves you!” Charlie gathered and smiled proudly when Anna nodded.

You sneered and stood up to walk back to your cage, rattling the bars and alerting the dogs. “Let me back in, Charlie.”

“Well hang on, (Y/n) she’s trying to say something to you—“

“If it’s about him I don’t want to hear it.” While Charlie and you argued about the proposition of begging your husband for mercy, Anna flipped through the pages and struggled in her mind with how to get you—anyone— to understand what she’d experienced earlier today.

~

Anna entered the hound’s room silently and saw that the bed was empty and perfectly made from the night before. She sighed a little to herself, thinking she must have the easiest job of everyone she knew now; she hardly ever saw the man, so there was really no one to boss her around. The hound must have fallen asleep in a tavern or Gods knew where, as was becoming more frequent. On mornings like this one, she would take a moment to relax under the fancy covers, which bore no holes like the ones on her bed. She would hum to herself and consider what it would be like to be noble. That’s precisely what she was doing— rolling around in the sheets—when she heard glass slam against the wall of the bathroom behind her.

She gasped and sat straight up, waiting for more sound to follow, trying to control her breathing. “Out.” She couldn’t move. “Get the fuck out of our bed.”

As if the message came directly from herself, her body moved quickly to follow. She smoothed the covers back over quickly and started across the room to exit, though she couldn’t help but steal a glance in the direction of that familiar grumbling voice. She saw Sandor Clegane bunched up and fully clothed in a tub too small for him. Quickly she averted her eyes to the door when another command followed.

“Stop…”

Anna’s eyes drifted slowly in shame and horror to her master. He rose up out of the empty tub, slightly wobbling from the drink that must have once been in the glass bottle that lay in tiny glittering pieces near the wall. As he approached the girl she tried to focus on anything else to keep her feet locked in place. He had never hurt her before; in fact since she lost her tongue, the two had never even made a sound to each other. Still, Anna knew what he was capable of. She looked past him to recognize one of (Y/n)’s dresses draped over the edge of the tub and her brow twitched in confusion. There was no more time to wonder, however, as the hound was now no more than a foot away from her; stinking of drink and desperation.

“You’ve been to see her…” she wasn’t sure if it was a question so she bravely searched his eyes for some clue. Slowly she nodded, figuring he already knew and hadn’t punished her. Suddenly his hands were gripping her arms hard and she gasped and cringed. “Is she.. well? You have to tell me, is she well in there?”

She narrowed her eyes to a squint of disgust and shook her head. She wanted to say so many things to him but could not speak. Sandor cursed and tossed her aside only to stumble himself back against the bed. He ran a hand over his greasy face and looked up in thought. “Would you tell her—“ he cut himself off with a laugh, short at first, then devolving into some pathetic joke. “You can’t tell her anything, can you?!.. I s’pose you blame me for that too, eh?… She does, doesn’t she?”

His eyes looked sad, but she could only rub her arms and listen. “I know she does.. I don’t need to hear it from you to know that she thinks I’m a monster now. I saw it myself... I’ve seen that look before my whole life. Fear, hatred, disgust, pity. It was all there in her eyes…” his voice wavered and his head dropped down so that she could no longer see his face. She was caught so off guard by his emotions that she almost pitied him. “What could I do, tell me what could I do then?! We’d have never made it out alive anyways and—“ he looked up at her and cut himself off with a huff. He leaned back against the bed and kicked off his boots. “Doesn’t matter now, does it… We’ll all be dead soon enough. I just want her to know that it was real. It was..” He trailed off into silence and then an obnoxious snore.

As bizarre as his speech might have been, and as much fear and resentment as she still held for the man before her, she felt a compulsion to take care of him. It was real. She had to protect their secret still. She tucked the man into bed with great struggle and checked on him throughout the day. Instead of leaving him his meal tray and carrying on with responsibilities outside of the chamber, she sat there and made sure he ate. She brought him plenty of bread to soak up the alcohol in his system and when the time came around when she said she would meet Charlie, she extended her hand out to Sandor to shake— as if declaring some truce. He didn’t take it of course, and sober and mean now, he simply told her to fuck off. She took no offense however; rather remembered all the praises (Y/n) had once sung of him.

It was real. But how could she tell her?

[gffa]

Hello! Thank you again for answering my question about Jedi quarter doors having locks. I was wondering if personal photos are a thing in the gffa? I think I remember Ezra maybe having a picture of his family and there are of course paintings and portraits of people, but I can’t remember of personal photos are a thing. Thank you in advance if you end up answering!

Hi! This one took me a bit, because I really had to think about it, and ultimately I've come to the same conclusion: It's kind of up to you! You're right that Ezra had a holo of his parents but I don't think we've ever seen it in universe as anything but a holo. (You can find it as a picture in some reference books, but they're not in-universe.)

In Attack of the Clones, there are a couple of deleted scenes where they go to Padme's house on Naboo and all the pictures on the wall (including one in the dining room, as well as Padme's bedroom) are holos as well:

On the other hand, Hera has the physical painting of her family and Luke and Rey had the old Jedi physical books/texts, so we know physical forms do exist! But we don't really see that much paper in the GFFA, sure, it exists in books/comics as flimsi (or flimsiplast), but we don't really actually see it much, which-- oh, wait, okay, so you have just sent me down an awful rabbit hole here, because! I always assumed that flimsi and paper were the same thing--and they probably are to most authors in Lucasfilm, I'd bet--but the novel "The Rebellion Begins" by Michael Kogge says they're actually different things:

Which blew my mind! But doesn't answer the question, other than that paper and flimsi were pretty rare, but not totally unheard of. So that made me think, okay, personal photos were a thing, because physical material seemed to be seen as extremely rare/outdated, but then I remembered, there are posters plastered all along the walls in The Clone Wars in the Underworld:

I guess we can't say for sure those are paper or flimsi, but they sure do look like it to me. And the animators probably weren't thinking that hard about worldbuilding (flimsi has only ever appeared in the comics/novels, I think...?) so I think it's a mistake to try to insist that Star Wars is coherent when it comes to these things, and thus that ultimately means: Up to you! We've never seen paper/flimsi personal photos in Star Wars that I can remember, the two instances we do have in visual media are digital pictures, but there's content in TCW that such a thing could exist if you wanted, so pick whichever works for you! If pressed, I would say that someone could go out of their way to make a paper/flimsi photo of someone, but it would be an effort on their part and considered hundreds of years out of date, but, you know, some people like old-fashioned, less efficient things because they like the feel of them!

[davie-bullck]

So I finished Wind and Truth. Major spoilers for the cosmere.

Well, that went both so much better and so much worse than I ever could’ve expected. Not the quality of the writing or the story itself, those were so so so good.

The only prediction I made that came true was Herald Kaladin. I don’t think I ever posted about it but I have been preaching that gospel since Jezrien died. My favorite guy is immortal now!! So hopefully he’ll be around until the Cosmere comes to a close. And good lord Brandon did him so right. It’s a shame he didn’t get to spread therapy to the physical realm on Roshar very much but he’s putting those skills to extremely good use.

I never liked Szeth until this book. I love the direction he’s going in, especially the direction him and Nightblood are going. I AM NOT A THING. No talking sword has ever made me cry so much.

I never vibed with the theories that Gavinor would be Odium’s champion but I thought it was incredibly well done and I’m very excited to see what comes of him in the back half.

Rlainarin is everything I could’ve hoped for, and seeing Brandon’s growth as a writer in his representation of queer and neurodivergent characters has been so rewarding! I also love that Rlain has been given such a relevant role as Bridger of Minds. I was worried he might just become Renarin’s bf and not much more.

Adolin and Maya’s arc was so much more than I could’ve hoped for, I love the Unoathed, and hit fighting the thunderclast was one of my favorite action scenes in the cosmere.

I’m so glad Vasher is sticking around on Roshar AND training Lift??? I love Lift and can’t wait for her book in the back half.

I caught on to the Auxiliary “twist” as soon as he started calling Szeth his squire. I’m glad we got to see the beginning of Sigzil’s transition to Nomad. I’m not sure if I would recommend people reading Sunlit Man between Row and WaT or after, but I was glad I’d read Sunlit Man already. I love Sigzil so so much and really hope we get more of him than just Sunlit Man, fortunately the time dilation thing allows him time to travel the cosmere as Nomad then Zellion and still possibly come back for the back half!

Retribution, the perfect direction for this midpoint in the series. Taravangian wielding two shards that can work well together is such a huge insane threat and I can’t wait to see how the world responds to him.

Although they took a bit of a back seat I was very excited by where the Listeners ended up.

Dalinar. Good LORD Dalinar. If Kaladin didn’t exist he would easily be my favorite character, and as devastating as his death is, I’m so incredibly proud of him and his journey. Given what he was up against, he absolutely made the right decision, forcing the other shards into action. I LOOOOOOOVED him showing Honor that it’s not all about sticking to oaths, showing the power what it could be even in a dire moment like that.

The cosmere fandom is one of the only ones I actively engage with, due in no small part to the morality of its flagship series (I know I know, Mistborn’s cool too)

This is my favorite book series, I will love it until the day I die. I’m sad that there won’t be a new one for a couple years but it’s genuinely something that makes me want to be healthier so I live long enough to see the conclusion. The immortal words are etched into my heart and I will continue to do my best to live by them.

Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination.