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[snapdragonling]

ozy & kallux, <1k, post-campaign for the prompt 'reunion kiss' from @impossibletruths

Ozy finds him in the wilderness at the heart of the city. Or rather— Kallux finds him there.

He’s distracted by the birds. They’re a strange mix. Some he thinks he recognises from the Sanctuary, now free to spread their wings in the wake of the storm; others bright and unfamiliar, their feathers many-coloured, eyes sharp and knowing. Born from Melora Herself, perhaps.

He’s watching a pair of them chirp back and forth over a vivid purple fruit when someone clears their throat behind him. “They’re a nightmare at dusk. Can’t get a moment’s peace.”

An invisible tether, grown slack between worlds, pulls suddenly taut. Ozy would like to say his heart doesn’t lurch violently. He’s trying to be better about lying these days.

When Ozy turns to look at him Kallux’s mouth is sharp around the pressed-down edges of a smile. His hair is a little longer, his Airedon leathers exchanged for weathered robes, the linen hanging loose over sun-bronzed skin. He always looked good. He looks especially good now.

“How do you manage?” Ozy asks, voice rough.

Kallux holds his gaze for a long moment. Around them, strange birds chased strange insects through the miraculous jungle. Above them, wide, glossy fronds caught the burning sun and filtered it like the surface of the ocean, until light fell dappled and watery onto the cracked pavements below. It felt like a different world entirely. It felt like another chance at life.

“Well,” Kallux says at last, still half-smiling. “I have some experience dealing with headaches.”

He lifts his chin to indicate a break in the undergrowth. Ozy follows, ducking beneath hanging vines and leafy branches until he’s standing in a dusky little hollow, where only the barest hints of sunlight cast a diffused glow over the scene.

There’s no time to appreciate the peacefulness of the glade, given the impressive speed with which Kallux has him up against the nearest tree, mouth already on his.

Ozy kisses him back with three months’ worth of longing, hands skimming up and down his sides, tangling in his hair, cradling his jaw; reacquainting himself with topography he’d seen only in his dreams. Kallux’s hands roam, too; the tug of his fingers at the nape of Ozy’s neck makes his breath catch, the sound of singing insects rising with the buzz of desire in his head. In his periphery he can see the pale glow of his wings unfurling. A few months ago he might have been chagrined at his own transparency. Now, burning up in the heat of Kallux’s attention, it hardly seemed to matter.

When Kallux draws back a few heady minutes later Ozy can’t help but go with him, face tipped into his shoulder, breathing in the smoke and sweat smell of him. He hears a quiet huff above him; feels Kallux’s arms circle his back, and shivers faintly when they pass through his wings. “Miss me that much?” Kallux asks.

Ozy mumbles his assent. He’d told him he would.

He's the one to draw away next, once it feels like too much of an indulgence to stay there any longer. He puts his back to the tree again, head bowed, watching beneath his lashes as Kallux watches him.

“I…have things I need to do here,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” agrees Kallux. He still has one hand on Ozy’s waist. 

“I’ll need to speak to Riv or…whoever’s in charge.”

“Probably.”

Ozy glances around the dappled glade, lips pursed. For a moment he feels pinned in place, the weight of the past and another version of himself compressing all the air in his lungs. The last time he was here the word regret held no meaning for him. It feels like a lifetime ago. It feels far too close. “Where do I even begin?” he murmurs.

He’s brought back to the present by a hand on his face, and the sudden warmth of Kallux’s lips against his cheek. “No idea,” he says, stepping back with a shrug. “But you better get to it. C’mon.”

[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.��� He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

���Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

© onyxstyx tumblr 2025

[1ovewoo]

prompts for you~^^

"Swallow it. All of it." & “Ah, fuck.” with woo..... *head in hands*

UHMMM EXCUSE ME?? the way i clenched reading this ask like wtf. i wanted it to be more dom!woo but i feel like every time i write him he turns into a cute whiny mess so idek.. he tries to have control but does he truly have it..? u decide. hope u like this my dear!! ty for the ask<3

tags/cw: oral (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, semi public sex??, dressing room sex, pet names (baby, good girl)

send me a prompt! [closed]

wooyoung tosses his head back against the couch of his dressing room, one hand threaded through your hair as you sink your mouth down over his cock.

you swallow a few times around him, fighting your gag reflex as tears spring in your eyes and you feel his tip brushing the back of your throat. after holding yourself there for a few seconds, you pull off of him slowly, slurping at the saliva and precum pooling in your mouth before spitting it back onto his cock, using it to ease the way as you jerk him fast, other hand coming up to play with his balls, gently rolling and squeezing them in your palm.

“ah, fuck,” wooyoung groans when you proceed to plant wet, open-mouthed kisses up the side of his dick before swallowing him down again and beginning to suck him off with vigour, making his toes curl in the boots that he didn’t even bother to kick off when you two stumbled into the room together after the show. 

it’s not long before the pressure in wooyoung’s belly grows nearly to its peak, his thighs tightening next to your shoulders and the muscles of his torso twitching.

“so close, baby.. gonna make me come like a good girl?” wooyoung purrs. you look up at him through your lashes and respond with an “mhmm”, which vibrates straight down his cock, making it twitch. 

it only takes a few more bobs of your head before wooyoung is crying out, cock pulsing in your mouth as ropes of cum begin shooting down your throat. you try to pull back but wooyoung grips your hair tighter, forcing you down until your nose presses into the hair at his base.

you gag again and breathe heavily through your nose, moaning when wooyoung pants, “swallow it. all of it.”

you obey, swallowing heavily until you’ve drained wooyoung of all his warm cum and he finally releases you from his hold. 

a hiss slides through his teeth as you pull off his member and suck in a few deep breaths, licking your lips and looking up at your boyfriend from your place kneeling on the floor below him, rubbing your thighs together in search of relief for the throbbing between them. 

“fuck, don’t look at me like that,” wooyoung whines as you crawl into his lap, knowing that you two were far from finished. 

ty for reading! if you enjoyed this and would like to support my works please consider reblogging or checking out my masterlist!

© 1ovewoo 2023

[justcallmesakira]

Pleaseee, could you do valentine event fluff 10 prompt with Chuuya?💗💗

''Why do I need a expensive perfume when i have your scent?''

Prompt 10 (fluff)

Sypnosis: You bought chuuya a very expensive perfume for your date tonight, but theres something else he craves more then a mere scent..

Chuuya x reader

Warnings: none!

A/N: Hi anonieee!! i am so glad you requested sorry this took some time i am currently very sick! Hope you will like it <3

Now playing- Diet mountain dew by Lana dey rey

⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

You had a date with Chuuya today. Since valentines is coming soon why not visit a brand new restaurant with your lover? Chuuya loved ravishing and spoiling you whether it with dates or expensive items.

You were walking inside a mall to look for a special gift for Chuuya. He always wore a velvety perfume on him which always made an impact on you which he did not know.

You loved the air he carried when he entered a room

So why not buy him something? For all the things he did for you, his doll, his love and his sweetheart.

The shop you entered was very neat and expensive looking. There were various perfumes, designer bags, cosmetics etc.

All of the perfume bottles were bland but one caught your eye, a red and pink rhinestone embroided bottle with a wispy smell of roses. ''What a lovely combination...'' you thought as you asked one of the staff to get you this in an elegant bag with a satin pink ribbon tied around it.

When you went up to pay for the perfume you realised you have chuuyas credit card with you and was about to take it out but took out yours instead and payed it was sort of expensive.

You skipped out of the store happily of course you would buy him more things but for now you wanted to be more classy.

After that you bought a dignified pearly pink dress and bought a matching set of earrings with his card, He would pout if you didnt use his card.

Back at home

You got ready, with that dress you bought, A pretty and raspy one. However the thing you were excited most was giving chuuya the perfume you bought for him today.

It was almost 7 o` clock and you were adding touch ups to your glistening face with a muted salmon pink lip gloss.

The opening of the penthouse`s door opens

"Dear, I am home. hope you are ready.'' Your eyes dart form the vanity mirror to the open door and his leaning figure against the doorframe.

"Oh chuuya!! I see you are ready just a moment please.'' you said trying to tie a satin ribbon around your neck. Chuuyas eye widen in curiosity but it returns to a soft smirk as he walks over to your sitting posture.

"Here let me tie it" Chuuya breathed out with his head atop of yours and his gloved hands tying the ribbon around your neck into a fancy ribbon.

You can feel his body warmth from behind.

Finally he finished and he took a prismatic glass bottled perfume from the perfume set on the white table and sprayed it on your collarbone, taking in he fragrance. You stood up.

"Chuuya...I bought a gift for you" you spit out while taking out a small bag with the perfume inside, Chuuyas eye widen in happiness and chuckles.

"Doll, you didnt had to you know..?" he says before reaching for the bag and taking out the perfume from the bag. His eyes meet the satin strip tied neatly around the neck of the bottle. ''Sweetheart,,, did you use your money to buy this?" He asks calmly with his heterochromic orbs eyeing your facial expressions to which you only nodded

"Well it was a gift!'' You reply anxiously.

Chuuya leans closer to you and gently pushes you against the vanity table with his hands caging you in his space but keeps a safe distance.

''Why do i need expensive perfumes when i have your scent''

Chuuyas voice breathes out with his face leaning into yours with a serious look in his eyes. You can feel his breathe on your collarbone and his lips slightly nibbling on the place where he sprayed the perfume.

"Now lets get going, dressed up all pretty for me cant let that go to waste now can we?'' he leaned back letting your flustered hot body relax before taking your purse and following him out the apartment.

Ever since then you took extra note on which perfume he is using.

A/N: ugh *cough cough* because of my cold perfume prob smells like rotten airplane food

[bullet-prooflove]

Hiya! It's Botnon again! Ty for answering my question, I'm quite relieved now. I was kinda worried for a bit there. And ty for the nickname, it's very fun, I feel like a robot now XD Since you can't write my Bottles request, could I have one with Duke Crocker using the "Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to." smut prompt line pls? :3

My dear robot I hope you enjoy!

Companion piece to Everything

Duke has a hickey. It’s a pretty blemish that blossoms across the curve of his throat, just above his collarbone. His fingers trace over it as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, his white shirt hanging open.

“You like it.” You accuse playfully as you pick up the gold lipstick you’d set on the shelf underneath and uncap it.

Duke’s gaze fixates on the colour, it’s called Love Liberty by Charlotte Tilbury. He knows that because he’s spent the entire night with it smeared across his chest, his thighs and his cock. He’d washed it off begrudgingly in the shower this morning but this little love mark still remains.

“I do.” He admits as he watches you apply the lipstick to your mouth.

“Will she be there tonight?” You ask, pursing your lips into a pout.

“Yea.” He says as he begins to button up his shirt. “It’s her event.”

You crinkle your nose just a little in distaste and he sighs as he tilts his head towards you.

“It didn’t mean anything.” He reminds you, studying the profile of your face. “It just got a little bit out of hand.”

He can tell you’re still mad about the kiss. It was meant to be a little flirting, a way of riling you up. He hadn’t expected Vivica to kiss him, he had however expected you to respond the way you did. He’d spent the entire night cuffed to the bed while you edged the life out of him as a punishment.

He stops short of fastening the last three buttons, one more and the collar hides the mark you’ve left upon his skin.

“You turn up like that and everyone will know what we got up to last night.” You say as you tuck the lipstick into your purse and use your fingertip to wipe the tiny smear from your lower lip.

“I know.” He says, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “I want them to know exactly who I belong to.”

Love Duke? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mushiemellows]

dressing the other up in their own clothes, feeling a tiny bit possessive, but both loving it prompt for sanji/nami? ty <3

(for Sharing Clothes prompts (requests still open because I left town))

dressing the other up in their own clothes, feeling a tiny bit possessive, but both loving it (feat. early transition Sanji)

Nami shivered. The suit jacket was draped over her shoulders before she could even open her mouth to comment on the sudden cold front. A few of the boys shot little looks of jealousy when the warmth returned to her cheeks alone. She preened, collar pitched to keep the wind off of her neck, loving the way the silky lining felt against her bare skin. Sanji, though, couldn’t keep her eyes off of the way the tailored darts followed sleek lines from bust to waist. It made the cook’s blood flow like nothing else. All her's. Beautiful.

That’s how their secret little game began. 

Tit for tat, bikini tops for button ups, boxers for bralettes. In their two years apart, plenty had changed, but the stockpile of clothes to exchange only grew. Nami bought outfits beyond her own tastes. Sanji learned a thing or two from the Kamabakas. Both women grew into who they knew themselves to be in their separate time training. When they were finally reunited, the wardrobe was once again divvied up. 

“This one!” Nami exclaimed.

“Yellow isn’t my color.”

“What do you mean it isn’t your color? Of course it’s your color!” 

“It doesn’t pop on me like it pops on you,” Sanji said with a quirked brow and a little frown. 

Nami had tuned her out long ago, closing in to pull the golden sundress over the other woman’s head despite the pushback. She giggled, legs pinning Sanji to the couch as they wrestled the sundress on. The redhead offered one quick peck once the skirts had settled, knowing that the offering would leave her girlfriend malleable and ready to follow along with whatever she said. 

“What was that about popping?” Nami smiled into the kiss. 

“I-I-I mean—it—,” Sanji stammered and tried to wipe the trickle of blood from her nose before any red could stain the pretty yellow flowers. They both rolled off the couch and adjusted themselves in the mirror. The navigator smoothed her collar down to a crisp point. The cook did a little spin, watching the way the sheer fabric clung to her thighs. They touched each other up one last time before slipping into the bright, sunny day. 

“I like that dress,” Robin smiled up from her spot at the kitchen island. Her eyes never lifted from her book, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have other means of looking. 

Sanji shrugged in thinly veiled nonchalance and turned back to her work on the stove. The red flush in her cheeks and chest did the job of making the bright yellow pop after all. “Thanks, but it’s Nami’s,” she finally answered after steadying herself. 

“You wear it well, it’s a nice length on your legs and it drapes on your waist in a really lovely way. I’ll be sure to tell Nami that she picked out something beautiful for you.”

The cook kept her back turned, quietly putting her spoon down to toy nervously with the hem. “Are-are you sure?” She asked quietly. 

A hand spun her back around and nudged her a step forward to properly face the bar. Robin fully caught her eye, face to face. “Would I lie to you, my dear?” The archeologist asked with a quirked brow and a deadly expression. 

“Never.”

“Never. It looks great. You wouldn’t want to spurn Nami’s fashion tastes, would you?” 

“Never!” Sanji shot up at attention, back a little straighter and smile a little less nervous. 

“G—”

Before Robin could finish, the door to the galley burst open, bringing Usopp and Franky in from a day of repairs. “Whoa!” The sniper jumped as he plopped down at the island. Sanji only rolled her eyes and turned away again, retreating in on herself. 

The cyborg squeezed through the kitchen workspace on his way to the fridge, not letting her get away so easily. “That’s a super cute dress, lil’ sis!” He declared loud enough for the whole damn ship to hear. 

“Yeah! It looks so good on you,” Usopp continued where his big bro left off, “I was just shocked you were cooking in it! You look amazing! You’re not worried about spilling sauce on the dress?” 

Sanji paled and sprinted to put an apron on. “I wasn’t even thinking about that! I can’t stain Nami’s dress!” 

“Oh, it’s Nami’s dress? You should ask her if you can borrow it more often. I really like that color on you!”

“Don’t lie to me. Yellow isn’t my color.” 

Usopp waved his hands back and forth in defense, “I’m not lying! Promise!” 

The hatch from the garden opened and Nami climbed down the ladder, arms full with a basket of tangerines. She set the fruits down on the counter and squeezed onto a seat between Robin and Usopp. The cook turned to start preparing the fruit for tea, separating skin and segments from each other. 

“What’cha talkin’ about?” Nami sang to the the group. 

“About how super good Sanji looks in your dress!” Her big bro answered the call from his new position on the sofa. 

“She really does,” Robin nod in agreement. “You picked out a beautiful design.” 

The navigator preened at the compliment, eyes locking to her girlfriend on the other side of the kitchen. “Oh, I know. And I’ve got plenty more dresses just like it! Really gorgeous. It’s going to be so much fun trying them all.”

Sanji could only stammer, both nervous and excited at the same time, “o-of course, Nami-swan!” 

Nami reached over the bar to run her hand first over blushing cheeks, then down to the spaghetti strap over her shoulder. Her smile spread wide, though a little carnal, “wonderful, my dear. After all, you’re mine.” 

[blackjackkent]

Letter prompts - any or all!

Minsc to Hector

Lae'zel to Gale

Rion to Karlach

Shadowheart to Isobel and Aylin

Nine Fingers to Jaheira

(Letter fic prompts!)

TY as always for the prompts, friend! <3 Sorry it took a bit to get them done, but I did all of them bc I loved the ideas so much. XD

-----

(Minsc to Hector - a note scribbled on a crumpled piece of parchment with one corner slightly chewed off. Left on Hector's bedside table in the Elfsong, three hours before dawn on the cold, rainy morning before the battle with the Netherbrain.)

My friend! 

Do not fear to find Minsc’s bunk empty when you wake; know that I have gone ahead to clear the path! The sewers that stand between us and our wrinkly foe are well known to Minsc and Boo, and we shall see to it that they are well-scrubbed of evil that might hinder us in our final journey. A fine tale it would make for us to travel towards a battle for the world's fate and be delayed by a passing bandit!

Should we have no further time to speak before all is chaos, Boo wishes you to know you have been a fine companion, a hero to rank high among all those he has traveled with. And Minsc would say the same, though Minsc does not juggle words with Boo’s skill. 

Boo and I have traveled across many years in an instant, and much has changed. We did not think to find a company with which we could feel heroes again, not least after Minsc was made a puppet of the Absolute’s worm.  With Jaheira, with you, Minsc has remembered what it is to be alive, to fight for goodness, and this city's every shadow trembles to know it. 

Though evil brings the brain, Hector and his friends shall bring the brawn! And Minsc is proud to be among them!

(signed with the letter M and a very small pawprint in ink)

-----

(Lae'zel to Gale - a note carved in the spiraling gith script into a large flat rock, lacking the fine materials of true githyanki slate, written in camp deep in the Underdark.)

When you can read this, you may consider yourself a true scholar worthy of the secrets of githyanki magic. Until then, cease your inane questioning of matters far beyond your appreciation; my time is better spent in recuperation than in the education of overambitious istik.

A note is attached to the rock, written in Common in careful, precise handwriting: Ever so sorry to disappoint you, my dear sa’varsh, but my inane questioning shall continue unabated. I do, however, thank you for the opportunity to reacquaint myself with Comprehend Languages! I so rarely get a chance to turn that one out for a bit of exercise.

Below these words on the note is scribbled a considerably less meticulous tir’su spiral scrawled in ink: That is *not* what I meant, and you know it, kainyank.

-----

(Rion to Karlach - a note sent by standard post to the Elfsong, several days after the party's visit to Elerrathin's Home.)

Karlach,

You're kidding me - you're Pluck Cliffgate's kid? I carried messages for him now and again; he talked about you plenty, and I did see you once, maybe seven years old, darting all over the Wide like a little hurricane. Small world, I guess. Odd to think that I’m more or less the same and you’ve shot up to be taller than I am. Elf blood’s a funny thing.

I know you’re hoping for exciting stories about growing up with the High Harper but the truth is I don’t have much to offer. She wasn’t any kind of “heroic adventurer” to me - she was just Mother, and she never much liked to talk about the past, not even about my father. I heard more about her from bards in taverns than I ever heard from her own mouth - and some of it I wish I could scrub back out of my brain. 

You ever hear a bawdy called “The Harper’s Head”? Yeah, now imagine that was your mum they were singing about. Awful.

She was good to us, though, in her own way. I know you saw me bite her head off and her bite mine right back; that’s just how we’ve always been. But she saw to it I grew up strong, that I knew how to fight, and how to keep my head down when the time called for it. Harper things, mostly, even though I don’t think she ever wanted me to be one. 

She taught me how to take no shit, too. Her mistake, because now I don’t take hers either. But I think she’d rather that than otherwise.

After a while, the other kids just started drifting in - first for a meal here or there, then a bed, then before you knew it, this was their home. Another one in the pack. It’s strange, really. I always knew deep down - even when I was a kid who didn’t have words for it yet, just knew it was confusing and it hurt - that part of her really wanted to be back on the road, not tied down with us in this mess of a city. But somehow every time one of us moved out, she’d found another to bring in, almost like clockwork.

I think she’s been looking for something, all this time. But I don’t think she knows what it is, any more than I do, or what she’d do with it if she found it. 

Not an exciting story, like all the tales you’ve heard. But it’s truth; I can tell you that much.

It probably won’t surprise you that I haven’t had a message from her since you left. But you can tell her I’m off to the refugee camp in the morning. We’ll hold our end of things, and see they’re taken care of. Take care of that bloody brain, and maybe I’ll find a better story to tell when you’re done.

Rion

-----

(Shadowheart to Aylin (and Isobel by proxy); several conjoined messages by a series of Sending spells, dispatched from somewhere on the edge of Waterdeep) 

> Aylin… your mother's house is beautiful. I never imagined such a place. It's… foolish, perhaps, but I wanted to let you know I've seen it. 

> I still carry the spear with me. Once dark, now light. Like me. Still surprised you didn't crack us both across your knee like Lorroakan. 

> You gave me a second chance. I hadn't earned it; I wanted to kill you. The great difference between Shar and Selune. Cruelty versus mercy. 

> A lot’s happened since then. I found my parents. Shar's last joke at my expense. You were right about everything. That I had to act.

> So I'm free now. Of all of it. One day I will think of a way to repay you both for your kindness. Your wisdom. 

> I don't know what plans call you now, but should you travel near Waterdeep in the next fortnight-- OW! Yes, yes, I'll tell her, calm--

[a slight pause] 

> Please also tell Isobel that Buddy says hello. The morsels she used to slip him in camp have purchased her a permanent owlbear friend. 

-----

(Nine-Fingers to Jaheira - a note left in a dead drop at Danthelon’s in the middle of the night.)

Jaheira. You’ve GOT to call off the Rashemaar. He’s driving us all insane trying to teach us the good path; on all the gods, either I’m going to beat the hells out of him or someone else will. I don’t care what you do - take him on an adventure, lock him in the cellar, turn him into a statue again, hold the hamster for ransom. But something. Fuck’s sake.

He listens to you. Starting to think you’re the only one he does listen to. Like a pup with one master. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.

We all want the same thing - this city safe and strong. But he’s got to learn that we don’t all go about it the same way, or sooner or later there’s going to be trouble.

Astele NF

[lcs-library]

(i really love your writing, so im very excited to see that requests are open! also, do you write the menus yourself? if so, thats so cool!! i love the aesthetic so much)

could i ask for an apple danish with tsumugi? and off of the normal menu, a black tea as well (still w tsumu), please. there's so many i wanna request lol, thanks in advance <3

AWAWAWAWA TY GOMPY I'M SO PLEASED EHEHE.... And yes! I write the menus myself, but the images and stuff I use are usually from @.saradika-graphics. That said I can assure you I spent a good two hours poring over a bunch of barista blogs and reddit threads to come up with the new menu and try to think up prompts www... Anyway! Please enjoy!!

Request rules | Cafe menu | Autumn menu

Apple Danish: They bring you/their s/o/their friend to an orchard! How does it go? 

🥚I think Tsumu would have a great time in an orchard! 

🥚He’d be so happy to be surrounded by all the pretty trees, calmly picking apples with you.

🥚“Do you think this one’s good? It’s a bit on the small side, though… but it’s cute. You think so, too? Let’s take it home, then!”

🥚He’s no Omi, but he seems like the type of guy who knows exactly what to look for when it comes to fruit, and every single thing he picks tastes incredible. 

🥚He’s also def the kind of guy who just takes leaves and rubs them between his fingers because Texture. When he thinks you’re not looking, he’ll be caressing the branch and rubbing the leaves as he loses himself in thought. 

🥚“Hm? Ah, I didn’t realize you were there! Sorry, I should be holding your hand, not the tree’s, right? …There we go. Is that better?”

🥚The next day, his phone’s camera roll is filled to the brim with a bunch of blurry photos of you wwww

🥚“Even if they don’t look the best, you have to admit, the blurred colors look nice together, right? We can call it abstract art.” 

Black Tea: How do they comfort their s/o?

🥚When you’re feeling down, I promise Tsumu knew how you felt ten seconds before you did, and is already by your side. 

🥚“Dear, did something happen, are you alrigh- Oh. Come here, sit by me.”

🥚He’s the perfect gentleman, too. 

🥚You want space? He’ll give you space, but not without making you a cup of tea first.

🥚You want a hug? He’s so gentle with you, as if you’ll shatter to pieces if he squeezes too hard.

🥚You’re not sure what you need? That’s alright, you can take your time, he’ll happily sit by your side and rub your back until you’re ready to talk again. 

🥚Once you are, he’ll gently guide you through your feelings, and help you cope(he’s not letting that psychology degree go to waste).

🥚“Will you tell me what happened, please? I promise I won’t laugh, and I definitely won’t be mad at you. I’m here to help, remember? We can do this together.”

🥚And of course, after everything’s over, and you’re calm at the very least, he’ll take his hand in yours, and give it a brief kiss before squeezing it tight.

🥚“I’m proud of you, dear. Never forget that, okay?”

🥚Weh……… the sweetie pie<3

[oopsallmabari]

another oc codex prompt, submitted by @creaking-skull . ty again jay <3

15. a letter to your OC from a companion they haven’t seen in a while

A letter recovered in Inquisitor Arya Trevelyan’s chambers in Skyhold, found neatly folded amidst the pages of a tome titled ‘Flos Duellatorum’, a rare treatise on battle techniques and spirit blade duelling compiled by Knight-Enchanter Fiore dei Libeiri of Antiva in approximately 6:32 Steel.

My dear Inquisitor, I am glad to hear from you after so long. I had heard that you and Cullen were spending time traveling now that things have quieted down: reuniting with family is a wonderful thing. My duty to the reformed Circle of Magi continues to keep me in Orlais, otherwise I might have endeavored to visit Bann Trevelyan in person. My thanks for connecting us: though you’ve done much to encourage the people’s trust in mages, it would be foolish to believe that all tensions had been eliminated outright. As I’m sure you’ve seen, the further one ventures from Skyhold, the more cracks begin to show. That your brother is interested in collaborating to ensure that peace in Ostwick lasts speaks well of his character. But to the crux of your letter to me, darling. I consider it a privilege that you would share your struggles with me, and be assured that I will keep your confidence. It has been scarcely more than a year since I lost my darling Bastien, but I have not forgotten what you did for me. Nor have I forgotten what it is like when illness creeps in and overwhelms all other focus. I have spent time referencing our libraries and consulting some of our scholars better versed in the metaphysics of the Fade, but unsurprisingly, we have no records referencing this sort of…Veil poisoning, as you called it, and very minimal theories on how one might stop its progression. I have begun preparing some alchemical concoctions to dull the pain while maintaining what mobility you have in your arm. Make a quick detour to Skyhold before you continue on to Honnleath; I will have one of my enchanters hand-deliver the potions to you. I’ll include some unrelated tomes in the chest—if Cullen asks, tell him that it is simply a personal gift from the Circle, a gesture of goodwill. In addition, I would request that while you are there, you permit the enchanter to conduct a thorough examination of your arm. Your description of your symptoms proved useful, but I will need more detail if we are to determine a cure. It is a shame that Solas disappeared so quickly after Corypheus was defeated. Given his knowledge of the magister’s orb, he may have been the one most equipped to assist you. But you needn’t worry, dear, we will resolve your dilemma in due time. You have all the resources of the Grand Enchanter at your disposal. You only need ask. Yours, Grand Enchanter Vivienne de Fer

A postscript, found on the back of the letter:

I would not endeavor to pry into your business, darling. But I would suggest telling Cullen the truth of it. You do him no kindness to hide your suffering until it is too late. I would know.

[marsbar17]

Here's a part 3 to Apex Legends figuring out you're a masochist. there'll probably only be one or two more parts so let me know if you want more! And requests for your favorites are always welcome :)

CONTAINS: NSFW, overstimulation, understimulation, sex toys, bondage, spanking, size kinks, strap ons, crying, slapping, choking, slight exhibitionism

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

•Rampart

Okay look, this woman is an engineer and a girlboss, she will build makeshift fuck machines. Shes super into testing your limits and overstimulating/understimulating you until you're numb. She's honestly probably the one that asked you about it instead of the other way around. When you agree, and even show an interest in it, she gets that look in her eyes that says "you might regret that." But even when you're 10 orgasms deep and she's still got a vibrator on high attached to your most sensitive parts, you don't regret a thing.

"Crying already? Wanna tap out? Or are you too tired to even speak, doll."

Overstimulation, understimulation, so so so many toys, especially vibrators. She wont really hurt you other than maybe tying you down a little too tight.

•Horizon

Okay, she's just too nice for this prompt, I just want her to hug me :(

She'd probably hug you when you tell her you're into pain dhdhnsja, like "oh dear, who hurt you." She'd somehow find a way to make you feel the same pleasure without the pain part. She's just fully praise and soft touches, she'd make you feel so safe and nice. I'm sorry to all the masochistic Horizon simps but if you specifically request it I can try to do it.

•Fuse

SPANKING, SSSPPPANNNKKIIINNGGG, SPANKING AND SIZE KIIIINKKK. Look, this man would fix all of my daddy issues if he was real, that's all I gotta say about that. It starts off as him lightly spanking you to get you to ride him harder, but your reaction makes him do it harder next time. It's his favorite thing, watching the way the skin of your ass gets red and ripples everytime he spanks you. Sometimes he'll even do it with his metal hand for a change, never too hard, just for a different feeling. He also gets really fixated on the sight of him thrusting into you, he loves to watch as you stretch around him. He'll even buy bigger toys just to see you stretch around something bigger, hissing when the stretch is too much.

"What a pretty sight you are, all red and sensitive. Taking me so good, pup."

Please make this man real, I'm begging sjhdjsja

•Valkyrie

This is the type of woman to sit back and watch you bounce on her strap while she occasionally thrusts up or spanks you to get you to go faster. She's not into hardcore sadism masochism stuff, but she'll spank you, grab you, pull your hair, anything to get you crying pathetically on her cock.

"Look at what a mess you are, baby. It's so fucking hot."

Spanking, hair pulling, light slapping, light choking, overstimulation, all that type of stuff. She just wants to see you crying your eyes out cuz it's so good. Any makeup you have on is sure to be running down your face way before she's even close to done with you. She takes pictures too, and sends them to her friends just to show how much of a slut you are for her.

•Seer

Look, this man in also an angel, the best you're getting is the burning stretch from his dick or the way he makes sure to go deep enough to hit your cervix (if you're femme) with every thrust. Other than that, he's slow and soft and just wants you to feel like you're in heaven.

"It's too deep? Nonsense, love. There's no such thing as too deep."

Man's a fan of understimulation, just making it so you cum even harder when the time comes. He wants to see every reaction your body has, every twitch of your legs, every deep shuttering breath you take, every feature of your face as you get the most overwhelming orgasm you've had in weeks. He's into art afterall, and you're the perfect canvas to paint.

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

Thank you for reading! Requesting takes like 30 seconds and helps me know what to write, so please do!

[thequietkid-moonie]

hey! hope you're having an awesome day so far. i recently just finished watching "romantic killer" and OMG I LOVED IT! if you don't mind, could i request some headcanons of kazuki, junta, and hijiri crushing on the reader who's a huge otaku (like a huge one. loves watching anime and reading manga when given the chance, owns as much merch as they can afford, and their eyes literally light up when anyone mentions her favorite series)? and one thing about them is that they're such a simp over certain anime characters, will literally squeal over images and video clips like "WHY IS (INSERT ANIME CHARACTER) SO CUTE/HOT/GORGEOUS?!" later, it turns out the reader also likes the boys back, and while they're happy about it, they're initially flustered like "you actually like me? out of all people, you like someone who does nothing but watch anime 24/7?" and even asking "you do realize that you're probably gonna deal with me screaming over my anime husbandos and/or waifus even when we date, right?" (may or may not have put myself on blast with this request. also, sorry if this got a bit too long LMAO). ty! <3

Their crush is a huge otaku

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Kazuki, Junta, Hijiri ] [ Romantic Killer ]

Dear are you sure you aren't my lost twin or something? 🤨 Because you have described me perfectly

Haha I loved your prompt dear, it was really funny to think

Tsukasa Kazuki

Since the first moment you had met Tsukasa you had always been like that, and actually that is something he admires, just being you is something that atracted him to you at first

It help that you don't pay much attention in his beaty, he hates to draw attention for his appearance and you had never made a big deal of it (mainly because you are always focused in the characters you love, but he still appreciate it)

Speaking of, probably you had emphasize his appearance at least once, and the first time you did it he get anxious (specially if it was when you two met), but he was surprised that in just on a second you started talking about someone else, a characters that looks like him (even if is just a little) and you just start ranting about them, not even paying attention to Tsukasa anymore, he was confused and shocked but somehow grateful too

He had never been bothered by your ranting, at first he find it problematic since he hates drawing attention, and with how excited you get it could be a little difficult to not to, but with some time he just gets used to and doesn't bother him anymore

He had never mind it at all whenever you talk about the characters you love, but he tent to ask you to calm down before you hurt yourself for how excited you get, if you show him pictures or videos of them he will see them (just because you asked nicely) but he doesn't say much about them since he cannot see what is so special about them (he doesn't say it out loud though, he had learned his lesson after the first time he did it and you explained to him all the good things you know about that character)

If you ever show him your collection, either mangas or different merch, he will find it a little strange (it would remember him a little about his stalker, but he calms down rather quickly when you start talking like always), he won't judge you though (at least try not to), and will give you some advice of how take proper care of it if you ask him (he is pretty good with the housechores so that could help)

If you ask him he will make you company while shopping whenever you go for more mangas or merch, he doesn't mind too much, but he will make you dress something not anime related

Tsukasa doesn't even realice when he started to pay more attention to whatever you are saying, when he start to made efforts to understand what are you talking about, when he started waiting to be able to talk to you just so he could hear you speak with such emotion nor even when he started to get annoyed whenever he heards you simp about one of your favorite characters, wanting to be the one you are talking about so lovely (but he feels embarrassed about feeling like that)

For him is a slowly process so he will notice his feelings for you after some time, when he had already fallen in love you, and his attitude doesn't change much, but he discreetly start to spending more time to you, you have become his safe space so he start being a little more clingy

He start to even pay a more close attention to you, to your voice and your expresions so it won't be so strange if he ask you from time to time about the anime you are watching, he may even unconsciously mentions it when you two aren't talking about it just to to provoke you so you will start talking about it (specially becouse by just hearing the only mention of it makes you noticibly excited, and he loves seeing you like that, it amused him)

He probably won't confess, it had to be you the who confess to him or either one of you do it by accident, unconsciously letting out at comment that express your feelings

And when you two admit your feelings for each other he never expected for you to asking if he is willing to accept you as the huge otaku and simp you are, he will look at you weirdly and say that he already does it and he loves you for who you are, he is already used to your craziness (and he will tease you for it)

Junta Hayami

Junta is really sweet and kind-hearted, even when he is bothered for something he has troubles to say it, but by the moment you two become friends he is always up to hear you rant about anime, he doesn't mind

From time to time he can get confused and a little bit overwhelmed for all your ranting and he tries to ask you to stop or to repeat yourself mainly because he is actually trying to undestand all you are saying, Junta really tries to get into the conversation, even if he doesn't really know the anime or doesn't say much he is always paying attention

He won't have much troubles to help you whenever you need it, like if you stayed up watching anime at night or were too distracted during class he will help you to cover it or explaining to you what you missed, but will scold you for doing it (no matter how much times you do it he never stop helping you, he just get more worried about you)

If you ever recommend him an anime or manga he promises to watch/read it, and he actually will make some time to do it, it won't be too weird if one day he came to you to ask you something about it or to tell you something he really liked it

Also, it won't be so strange if he ended up learning your favorite animes and characters, he actually did efforts too, and he even search about them a little more whenever something you say catch his attention

Whenever he heards you being simp over a characters he laugh nervously, at first it makes him nervous because is like if you were talking about something personal (since you like them so much), after some time he get used to but still it makes him a little nervous since you get so excited and even passionate whenever you talk about the character you love (and when he starts liking you he start being a little jelous too)

Junta doesn't have the heart to say something bad about them or ask you to stop, you seem to be having a lot of fun with talking about them and he will feel bad for interrupt you (even by accident). Also, if you show him pictures or videos of them he won't say much and just nod or say that you are right

Junta doesn't think much about his appearance and he is rather shy, so if you ever compliment his appearance he will get super flustered, even if you did it because he looks like one of the characters you love and start ranting about them, he doesn't mind (that actually help him calm down) he still appreciate the compliment, but after some time it would start bother him because he wants to be the person you like (he may even put more attention on what you say about them)

To be honest he was surprised the first time he saw your collection or when he accompanied you to buy something new, he has never thought that it would exist some much merch for just one anime, he really takes time to appreciate all your collection if you let him and he gladly hear you rant about it (like from what anime it is, from what scene, if it is a special edition and so on)

Also, he normally is busy with the school and the club (all the training and matches) but he will be happy to go with you whenever you want to buy more things for your collection (but he will be a little shy for it since that could easily be a date)

By the time Junta start liking you he will get a little more clingy and blushy with you, it would take him some time to notice it too but he tries to not make a big deal of it

He had never mind it all your excitment about the animes but now he start to get more flustered whenever you rant about them because now he pay more attention on your expresions and your voice, feeling that he falls more in love whenever he sees you and feeling embarrassed whenever he catches himself thinking like that. Now he will pay more attention on the characters you love the most, trying to see if there is something similar between them (maybe there will know your type or if he even has a chance with you)

The moment you two confess your feelings for each other you don't even have to ask him because he had let out his heart when he tell you how he feels, and he makes sure to say that he loves you completely , even that part of you that loves ranting about the animes and characters you love the most

Hijiri Koganei

Hijiri is used to be surrounded by people who admire and praise him, so to catch his attention you have to be different from them and not really pay attention to him. It could be either because you say that he is like a typical anime character or praise his appearance just to start ranting about one of the characters you love that he looks like

He doesn't even know what are you talking about but he is offended because you are comparing him with someone else and you seem to prefer the other. He will confront you right away, how you dare to compare him with someone else?, he demand to know it in that moment so you will have no other option than talk about the anime/character (not like you don't want to), that is the first time he heard you rant like that

At first he just stay by your side because he wanted to show you that he is obviously better that all that characters you talk so much, but soon he start seeing you as a friend (as much as he hate it)

He thinks that all your rant is dumb and usless (at least at first) and he will express it, but he will learn to at least tolerate it since offending what you love just makes your relationship difficult (either because you get mad at him or because it sadden you, both option lead you to avoid him)

After some time Hijiri go from criticize you for obsessing over something he sees silly to criticize the plot and characters, he may even admit from time to time that "is not too bad", maybe it isn't the best change but that shows the interest he started to win over it

Normally you two have this conversations in "dates", he accept to hear you rant about everything you want only if is in a date (for him is like a deal), and after some time he just get used to all your ranting and even start to get interested in it, and when he does he will start to search more about it (either him or ask Tsuchiya to do it)

Also, he tent to surprise you by having the iniative to talk more about that anime or saying some details that you could bet he didn't know, he says that is not a big deal, is normal for him to know so much but in reallity he loves to see your shocked expression when he does it and to brag about it too

When you had commented that you have a collection with a lot of merch about it, he find it strange (and he say it) but he demand to see it (he is curious too). Even if he is surprided by your collection (no matter if is a lot or just a few things) he will act like is nothing, saying that he isn't impress even when he is curious

He from time to time buy you some things too, mainly after he got interested on the anime (and in you of course), he doesn't go out of his way to buy something but if he find something casually that he reconize it from anime you like or that he even is interested in, something he knows you will like

What he will never like is seeing you simp over the characters, even before he start liking you, he will call you idiot for it (but will stop after learning that this make things more difficult) he just don't see what you see in them, why you put so much attention in them and not in him? What they have that he doesn't? He is embarrassed for it but he is jelous of seeing you so excited for someone else, he will try to avoid to talk about them and even cut you when you start talking (and that just increase when he start liking you)

After he started to like you in a more sincere way then he will do more efforts to know what you like, trying to remember the animes you like the most (at least the names), now he pay more attention what you say than in criticize it. And this time he does efforts to find some merch about it, specially if is a special/limited edition, too expensive or something that have a special meaning either for you or in the anime (he isn't going to accept it but he is trying to impress you)

He never really had a problem with admiting that he is interested on you, so a confession it would came either from you or him admiting that now he likes you in a more sincere and romantic way

And when you ask him if is real and if he is willing to endure you he gets a little annoyed, first because you are doubting his feelings and second because he had already endure your attitude all this time, do you think he will do that if he doesn't wanted? He just accept his love for you inconspicuously, in his own way

[starcharmed]

hello dear !! congrats on 300, 3 million next 🤞

now then, can i please have a handpicked bouquet from a nursery with roses + cosmos for either zhongli, freminet or neuvillette (i don’t mind!!)

thank you and congratulations once more ٩(^‿^)۶♡

if i could slow time

bell's notes: you cannot just drop those prompts with those characters and leave sir /gn erm 😐 /nm. breaking my heart ☹️💔😔 /lyr, also yes 3 mil for bell 🙏, dumbi 2 tril next 🫵, ty tho 💓, the 'right person wrong time' is not even noticeable im, this is so short i cannot, first time writing anything besides gn!reader so if it's inaccurate im so so sorry, not proofread

contents: zhongli x male!reader, mention of death, angst and fluff, 567 word count

summary: in which your soulmate hardly interacts with you, and the reason why is just as bad as the hurt of his ignorance

It was stupid. A crush you happened to work for has gone wild in the sense that you may or may not have noticed that his wrist was tainted with your name. This not only caused you to have an entire mental breakdown that you couldn’t let show physically, but you rushed out of the funeral parlor, nearly knocking down Hu Tao with your theatrics. 

Not to mention, you thought Zhongli was either clueless, didn’t care, or was just naturally calm about things this extreme because he saw the man who was now his soulmate every day without a stutter, shake, or a cracked-up voice; unlike yourself. Who were you to complain, though? If he acted normal and made no big deal of it, it was most likely not a big deal, right?

You only groaned out annoyingly as you pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the smell of coffins as you helped a woman pick out one for her new-found lover who turned dead because of some freak mitachurl accident. To which you could only nod solemnly in response too, praying to the archons above that something like that wouldn’t happen to you before Zhongli decided to pay attention to you being his soulmate.

It was only a matter of time before the woman left that you quite literally had enough, and rushed to knock on Zhongli’s office door, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for him to open it. He couldn’t have let you inside at a better time before you brushed past him, albeit harshly, before turning around to face him.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” Four words and you almost swore Zhongli blinked back a cry at them, a solemn smile playing at his lips before he sighed, motioning for you to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

The conversation was nothing like you had imagined in your head. No ‘I’m not into men’, no ‘There’s someone else, no ‘I’m not interested in having a soulmate, but an “I’m an archon” in its place. After letting the statement settle in, Zhongli continued with his explanation in a manner so calming that it almost made you regret your previous snap towards him just a few minutes ago.

He failed to converse with you about your souls being intertwined because he felt as if he would be burdening you with the truth that when you two got completely attached you would pass on before him, centuries before him if he was going to be honest; although it seems as if he was burdening you with the truth now.

You would grow and he would not, you would maybe adopt a child and they too would grow old and he would not, you would fear over time where you would leave him and he would not. He was afraid, afraid that you would worry so much about him and his sake of being with his soulmate, that you wouldn’t enjoy the time you spent together.

But in the end, you both agreed. The two of you would spend the rest of your time together in this world until it came for you to part, and no matter what had happened you wouldn’t feel the need to worry about what would happen to him after you eased to live.

“Because as long as I still can recall memories of you, I shall be fine.”

[thepinkhippoinhungryhungryhippos]

heyo!! can i ask for a little angst for the bp LIs 😌 scenario isss: mc has a very dangerous job (like a spy or smth) but doesn't say anything abt it. one day, they're sent on a mission that goes bad and they're heavily injured to the point where they go into a short coma. when they wake up, they have to tell their lover the truth. how do the LIs react??

ty!! stay hydrated bestie <33

warnings: guns, injuries/broken limbs, blood violence, hostipals/doctor's office notes: idk why this took me so long, i was STRUGGLING but i do like how it turned out. i only did owl and toast, might write quest and xyx's parts later. sorry about that and the wait, and ty for requesting this amazing prompt and being so patient @gabinggabi have a lovely day hope you enjoy <3

despite it all

a single lightbulb flickered inside a concrete basement. the only sounds present were the near-silent noise of your breathing and steps across the floor. sweat dripped down your forehead as you held your pistol close to your chest. the air was so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

your goal was to free a hostage from their holder. the building was surrounded, however you were the only one inside the building. it was truly a solo mission, and a stealth one at that. you would be alright, you thought. you were a professional after all.

keys began to turn in the door. your heart nearly jumped out of your chest, diving behind whatever large object you could find.

unfortunately for you, this particular room had a corner mirror. before you knew it you were pinned to the wall by a surprisingly tough, scrawny man, no older than 30.

he kicked you in the chest, before taking your gun from you. he used it to strike you in the face before aiming it at you, backing you into the wall.

your ribs ached and your body was bruised, cheek already turning red and nose bleeding.

you wracked your brain for something, anything you could do to gain the upper hand. anything to get away, preferably with the hostage. they were the priority here, as soon as they escaped your team could rush into the house and apprehend the criminal.

unfortunately, things were not going so well.

you doubled over as the kidnapper shoved his knee into your stomach, before elbowing you directly on the back of your head.

black patches were beginning to cloud the sides of your vision. your ears were ringing. you fell onto your knees, desperately gripping into the criminals leg in an attempt to do some sort of damage.

your efforts were fruitless however. the criminal proceeded to press his foot down on your arm. you could feel it crack. he pulled back, before kicking you in the side, wringing a pained groan from you. you could taste blood and your head screamed at you.

almost mercifully, he put you out of your misery, whacking you in the head with the pistol once again, finally knocking you out.

black consumed your vision, both a pain and a relief as footsteps faded away, followed by the slamming of a door.

you woke with a start, looking this way and that. panic set in. what happened? did you end up catching the criminal? was the hostage okay? where were you?

it smelled of hand sanitizer and disinfectant. the overhead lights were bright enough to cause a headache. everything in your field of vision was a stark white. you were in a hospital.

on second thought, everything was white, except for your partner on the chair next to your bed.

— nakedtoaster

you blinked as it set in. something went wrong. you were in the hospital, your arm broken, your head aching, and bruises all over. and toasty was there.

you had no idea how long you had been out. god, you hoped it hadn't been that much time. but no matter how long it had been, your boyfriend was there, still; and if their state told you anything, it was that they hadn't left your side since you were checked in.

despite all the circumstances, a smile found it's way to your face.

"dear?" you spoke. or, more correctly, tried to speak. your voice sounded croaky and quiet, like it had been through a grater.

he jolted awake, foggy eyes darting around the room before landing on you.

eyes suddenly clear as day, their mouth hung open.

"Y/N?!" they shouted.

he immediately dove for your hand, holding it in his own and checking your pulse with the other, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"oh, fuck! i should call a nurse," they laughed; a delighted, shocked, lovely laugh.

"toast, i—"

BANG! a nurse comes into the room, drowning out anything you were going to tell them.

after hours of tests and waiting and resting you finally got a moment alone with your partner.

it felt like it had been forever. actually, you had been told it was only a few days that you were out. but hell if that had a baring on how you felt.

speaking of how you felt... well. there was a lot on your mind, to say the least.

you had just woken up from a short coma after a failed rescue mission, all types of injured and wounded. there was no logical way that you could have rescued the victim. your medical bills would be through the roof. but most of all, you didn't know how to even begin to explain this to toasty.

as they say, there's no time like the present. because in the present, he was asking you what's on your mind.

"honey? you alright?" they gently asked again after you failed to respond the first time.

"ah, um. well," you started, throat feeling much better than before.

"i haven't been... entirely honest about my career." you admitted shamefully, refusing to meet their eyes. this wasn't how you wanted them to find out.

he raised his eyebrows, silently prompting you to continue.

"i am — was? — a... vigilante of sorts. it was organized, not just some hobby. i was paid, full time obviously." you took a breath in. you were avoiding what you clearly needed to talk about. you exhaled.

"that's why i wound up here. usually i never get injured like this! this was the first time that a hospital was necessary," you realized every word that left your mouth sounded worse and worse.

"i swear i just, i got careless and—" your breath hitched when you look up to your lover's face.

their eyes were filled to the brim with tears, a few spilling down their cheeks as they inched closer and closer to you, so clearly wanting to embrace you but struggling to do it in a way that wouldn't hurt you.

the sight was enough to break your heart.

you couldn't resist stepping in, leaning your head on his shoulder as you felt sobs begin to wrack their body. you wrapped your free arm around them, holding them as tight as you could.

they went to place their hand in several different spots before resting on the back of your head, pulling you closer. they pressed their lips to the crown of your head in a sweet kiss.

you stood like that, holding each other for a long while before having a seat on the bed.

"i should start from the beginning of the mission that caused, you know," you gestured to yourself, "this."

you began to painfully explain what happened to you, each memory like pulling teeth for the both of you.

once you finished your recollection (after going on several tangents), you braced yourself for the worst. you knew he would never yell or fight, but somehow silence seemed worse. you couldn't help but fret.

"i love you, and i was so so so scared. god, i am so glad you're okay." they breathed, each word dripping with emotion.

"...well, as okay as you can be." he added with an entertained glint in his eye and a huff. it was very like him.

all your worry was for naught.

sure, you would need to talk more about this. it would take time. but it was okay. you were okay.

time had passed, you broke down, but nothing had changed.

you still had each other.

— nightowl

your boyfriend was bouncing his leg anxiously, face resting on his hand as he stares off into space. it was clear he hadn't slept well, if at all, for who knows how long.

something had went horribly wrong, and he was fretting over what he didn't know. things you might not even know. you had to do something. you went to reach your hand out towards him, before realizing you had an IV drip.

"babe?" you managed to call before breaking into a coughing fit. it was as if your throat had dried like paint on a wall.

owl watched, eyes open just as wide as his mouth. not word left him, only a long stretch of uncanny silence.

nurses rushed in, but his silence was the loudest thing in the room.

test after test followed check up after check up before you finally could rest.

rest, and finally see your boyfriend.

thin white sheets lay over your body, arm in a cast and bandages wrapped around several separate injuries.

after the quiet of your waking, you could not be sure how he would react. you knew he loved you no matter what, but you couldn't help but imagine the worst. your mind raced, spiraling and spiraling, until—

the door opened with a click, and just like that nightowl was on top of you, squeezing you so tight you could feel all of your injuries and bruises resurfacing.

"Y/N!" he wailed, hot tears seeping into your robe.

"i, i was so worried," he let out between sobs.

you pat his back as well as you could before groaning out a small "my ribs..."

he immediately jumped back, cupping your face and turning it this way and that to make sure no bruises were there before pressing an overeager kiss to your lips. your teeth clashed together, before breaking apart into laughter.

"you're okay," he gasped.

"i'm so relieved." he teared up again, taking your (not broken) hand in his.

you brought it to your lips, giving the back of his hand a gentle kiss. his mushy smile grew, before immediately forming a frown.

"and i'm so mad at you! why didn't you tell me something was wrong? that you were in danger?" he half-pleaded, half lectured, voice a perfect combination of sternness and desperation.

now your eyes were teary, squeezing his hand.

"i..." you started, struggling to find the words.

owl gave an encouraging hand squeeze back.

you began an explanation, starting with your real job and going through how you got injured. owl nodded along, intertwining your fingers part way through.

by the end he was crying again.

"why... why didn't you tell me?" he asked. he sounded more tired and understanding than anything else.

"i didn't want you to worry." you mumbled, realizing how silly you sounded. and boy, did he make sure you knew it as he lectured you.

you pulled him down to the bed, a grin on your face. he was still himself. you kissed his cheek, giggling as he stopped talking and turned pink.

"i love you. thank you for worrying about me and... for being here." you smiled, stroking his hand with your thumb.

"of course i was here!" he exclaimed, as if you just thanked him for breathing.

"i love you more." he said, finally relaxing into your touch.

[spaceyflowerswriting]

HII idk if u write for gun ( lookism ) but would it be alright if I request a gun x reader fluff? That’s all! Ty:))

beauty in you (gun park x reader)

details: fluffy drabble, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and gun are coworkers dating

summary: a silly conversation with kouji makes gun realize you've become a very dear part of his life.

a/n: i do <3!! he's one of my faves to write; thanks for requesting!!

inspired by the last prompt on this post 💖

×

"...Really?"

"What?"

Kouji pointed to the headband Gun was currently wearing, the fluffy cat ears on them being a large contrast to his serious demeanor. "If I asked you to wear that, you would've asked me what color I'd want my coffin to be."

"Hm. Really?" Gun smirked out of amusement when the purple haired highschooler gave his arm a light slap.

"Seriously, I've never seen you make so many exceptions for someone before." Kouji huffed and pointed with a thumb at you, which you didn't notice because you were too busy singing with Crystal. "They've really got you wrapped around their finger."

"Please," scoffed Gun, "Is it so strange I enjoy the company of someone? And it's not as if I don't do these things with Goo, either. Just the other day we were at a karaoke like this one."

"Yeah, but you kinda grumble when you agree! With them you just agree right away."

"Your point?"

Kouji let out a deep sigh. "You know what it is? I think they made you soft, at least towards them."

Soft...? Soft?

Never in a million years would Gun ever describe himself with such a word, nor would he imagine someone else would use it in reference to him. Yet at this moment, he could sort of understand why Kouji would say what he did.

He shook his head anyway, turning his attention back to you, adoring your bright smile that even his sunglasses couldn't protect his eyes from as he said, "They made me appreicate something I've yet to experience, that's all. I see no problem with it."

When Kouji made a gagging sound, Gun turned his head back to see him grimacing. "Am I hallucinating? Gun wearing cat ears and saying the most disgustingly cheesy ass thing I've ever heard?"

Gun just chuckled. "Is now a good time to ask what color you would like your coffin?"

"Man..."

[below is extra characterization stuff i started with but then realized i was just rambling instead of writing a story but i liked it enough to keep it]

When others say that beauty was found in people, Gun could agree, but perhaps not in a way one would usually think. For him, it wasn't the kindness or smiles humanity shared that he found beautiful, but physical talent instead--people so skilled, they were on the tip of almost being non-human.

The most flexible gymnast, the fastest swimmer... and most of all, the strongest human; particularly when it came to fighting. Yes, to Gun, there was just something beautiful about the way one could perfectly move themselves to inflict maximum damage, through technique and knowing the right weak spots. Not to mention, knowing there was hard work put behind to maintain such strength and knowledge made it even more beautiful to him.

Of course, there was also talent in itself that fascinated Gun. Anyone could achieve enough through hard work, but not everyone was born with natural talent.

So... why did he find beauty the "normal" way in you? As far as he knew, you couldn't fight, and all you've done was just be yourself. Your personality achieved some sort of dynamic with him where for once he enjoyed the company of someone in a peaceful way. In fact, he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life with someone like you. It was a strange feeling, but he was sure of it. Emotions weren't too complicated for someone as straightforward as him, after all.

Nonetheless, perhaps he could argue that your talent was making him smile, and for that, he could appreciate the beauty in you; your talent.

[somer-writes]

another month passes by

farewell to summer AND WELCOME FALL (fucking finally)

CAMPERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!

it's time for.......

✨SOMERS DODECANNUAL MONTHLY BEATDOWN✨

september edition

SEPTEMBER 👏 WORD 👏 COUNT 👏: 50,058 WORDS TO Ao3

CURRENT 👏 WORD 👏 COUNT 👏: 927,728 WORDS ON Ao3

THE GOAL OF 1 MILLION IS WITHIN REACH!!!

(my mental health allowing)

WORKS (new/continued in September): 32!!!

MOST POPULAR: Memento Mori

IN REVIEW: ah september, the season of sickness. sicktember 2024 was a fun challenge! it was my fourth month long writing challenge completed in the past calendar year AND since joining this fandom. on top of the daily one-shots, we celebrated our dear and lovely @rebornofstars birthday this month! i wrote the boys having a spitting contest as a gift for bee! also, i continued Memento Mori, the sequel to Burial Rites (reader discretion advised)!

and speaking of burial rites! i used Barnes & Noble's publishing service to print a hard copy of my fic!

my father is reading it. pray for me.

UPDATES: i am was not planning on participating in whumptober 2024 as ive done 3 whump challenges in the last year! my brain could use a little breaksies. i might write for some of the prompts but we'll see! but fuck that i see prompts and i have a little cutesy chew toy blorbo who needs to be drawn and quartered out of love so fuck it

i will be using the AI-less prompt list for whumptober!

also! im finally free to participate in the @lu-community-write-a-thon starting 10/1 at 12 am PDT!

new works/chapters may be delayed whilst i handle some irl stuff, recharge, and play ECHOES OF WISDOM! im having such a fun time with it. old school zelda my beloved <3

ive also been playing pokemon violet and the new famicom detective game as of late. so many purple themed games.

i wish all of you a happy fall!

as always! ty so much for all the support!! i love reading all your comments, reblogs, tags, and whatever else! thank you everyone who reads, kudos, bookmarks, or comments on fics!! ily!!!

[winniemaywebber]

Knuckles from the kiss prompts for Jean and Shush for Olive?

hi friend! thanks so much <3

from this prompt list (drop em in my inbox!)

knuckles (a kiss on the hand)

Jean Crosby stands at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for the forthcoming dinner party. With Bing upstairs tending to the baby's bed time, she's finally able to - and excited - to start. Their dear friends Rosie and Josephine were finally back from their honeymoon, and Jean had jumped at the chance to invite the newlyweds for dinner as soon as their car had pulled up outside their dainty, cozy house just a few blocks from hers and Harry's.

Completely lost in her task, she begins to hum along to the faint tune spinning on the record player in the living room, completely unaware of the presence in the doorway.

“You sound beautiful, Mrs Cros–”

“OUCH!” she shrieks, the knife slicing through the fingertip and nail of her index finger. “Bing, you scared me!”

“Oh, darling. I'm so, so sorry. Here, let me see to it.”

He takes her over to the kitchen sink, running cool water from the faucet and squeezing out a washcloth to staunch the flow of blood, the red liquid trickling into the sink causing Jean to get a little woozy.

“Oh, my poor little wife,” he coos, seeing her face grow paler. “Sweetheart, sit down. That's it, take it easy. Deep breaths.”

She breathes shakily as her husband runs upstairs to the bathroom cabinet and retrieves the first aid box. He returns in a flash, pulling the wet cloth from her hand and drying her hand with an old towel.

“You're doing great. It's not as bad as it looks, promise.”

“Mhm,” she forces out, nodding as her eyes open to survey the area. “Oh, you're right. Silly of me to be so dramatic.”

“No, honey, you're not being dramatic. It was a lot of blood.”

He pulls a bandage from the roll and snips it, expertly tying it off. He admires his handiwork for a second, the perfect knot staunching the flow of blood.

“There,” he says, kissing her hand. “All better.”

-------------------

shush: a kiss to silence the other party

“Come on, Ol! Reservation is in ten minutes and I wanna beat traffic.”

“Uh, okay!” She stutters out, pulling off one dress and scouting her closet for another. “Ugh, everything sucks. It all sucks,” she murmurs to herself, hangers scraping on the metal pole, the screeching sound of them making her cringe.

Pulling a yellow dress from a hanger, she throws it on over her head and pulls it on in a rush, fixing her hair as she struggles to get the dress over her chest. In the rush, she neglects to unzip the back of it, a loud popping sound coming from behind her.

“Shit!” she screams, her cheeks now flushed with the effort of it all. Yanking it off her body, she slumps on the bed and puts her head in her hands, trying to breathe.

“Ol? You okay?”

When no reply comes, James gingerly opens the door. At the sight in front of him, he kneels, his hands on her thighs. “What's up, sugar?”

“Nothing looks good. I'm just--everything looks awful. I was so excited to just go to dinner but absolutely nothing is working on me today.”

“You look pretty in everything, Ollie.”

“Oh, really?” she says, walking to her closet and pulling out all the dresses she's already tried on. “This one, washed me out. This one, I look sickly. This yellow one, ripped a second ago, and then this dang–”

She is cut off by James placing his hands on her face and kissing her deeply, her whole body relaxing into him.

“There,” he soothes. “Better?”

“Much,” she replies, smiling. “Doesn't mean my clothes look good though.”

“You try my favorite yet?”

“No,” she says. “It was my final choice.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest in mock upset. She giggles, taking the duck egg blue dress from him.

“I wanted to try something new!”

“And look where that got us,” he jokes, smushing her cheeks with his hand. “Try this one.”

“Fine,” she huffs, the dress flowing on her easily. There's no struggle, no tightness as Dougie goes to her back and helps with the zip.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing her neck gently. “Beautiful as always.”