tonisanb

[akkivee]

i was too keyed up yesterday from peak content so i slept like garbage and am a little too tired to stream today lol

but i offer you a transliteration of hitoya’s solo preview lol

[papercorgiworld]

Toxicity

The dark lord’s favourite always gets what she wants

You use your influence with the dark lord to get a certain someone to behave.

Theo Nott and Mattheo Riddle imagine

Warning: toxic reader, crucio, bit angsty? and suggestiveness

Quick post forecast: today, we’ve got toxic Thursday with Theo and Matt, tomorrow it’s flirty Friday with Enzo and if all goes well we’ll have a smutty Saturday.

Tumblr wouldn’t let me insert the pictures in text, which makes me so sad. 🥺 Sorry, you’ll have to scroll down, I hope I can fix it later… Fixed it!!!! anyways happy readings!

Requested part 2

Theodore Nott

The dark lord smiled with genuine admiration for your work as you handed him Merlin’s spell book. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, you never do. Like your parents you know what loyalty means.” You nod and he continues. “If there’s anything I can do to show my gratitude, please let me know.” You shake no, pretending like you didn’t already have something in mind when you entered his office.

After a few seconds you speak up. “Actually, there might be something, a little annoying matter that I can’t seem to manage myself.” His silence is his way of telling you to state your wish. “There’s a guy in my year, he never shows me any respect. Belittles me all the time. Yesterday, he even stole from me. I can’t do anything about it, Dumbledore doesn’t allow students to curse one another.”

The dark lord circles around you, listening attentively. He already has his suspicions, but nevertheless asks: “His name?” You meet Tom Riddle's eyes. “Theodore Nott.”

Without warning he points his wand to the door and it slams open. “Theodore, join us.” Every hair on Theo’s body raises as soon as he hears his name, but calmly follows orders. Theo’s eyes immediately land on you and a scowl forms on his face, this can’t be good. “I’ve been told your behavior isn’t what it should be.” Theodore’s eyes darken. “Whatever she said is a lie.” The dark lord snaps his head at Theo, not pleased with how he talks about his favorite. “Crucio!” Your eyes widen as Theodore falls to his knees, reaching for a nearby table to keep himself from fully collapsing. “I think his behavior will now drastically improve.” You nod and the dark lord turns towards Theodore. “Return what you stole and don’t leave this room until you’re forgiven.”

As soon as you and Theo are alone he looks up at you with hatred. “You are vile.” You simply grin. “If I were you I would change your tone and maybe throw in a few compliments.” Theodore pulls his eyes away from you. You were probably right. His orders were clear, you had to leave this room happy or whatever was waiting for him would be worse than the curse he had already suffered.

Now that he’s standing again you slowly walk towards him and he quietly stares at you bottling up his anger. “I want my essay back.” You demand. He huffs, but you quirk an eyebrow reminding him to behave. Theo takes a deep breath as he surrenders and reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here’s the essay you wrote based on my idea.” He offers you the paper and a content smirk tugs on your lips. Theo turns around, pleased to be done with you, but you grab his arm pulling him back.

“You aren’t forgiven yet.” You remind him. “How about you start with a little ‘I’m sorry’.” You suggest, making him close the distance between you two and tower over you. You try to hide the fact that you’re a little intimidated and bravely look him in the eyes. “I won’t apologize.” You lick your lips patiently. “I’m not responsible for what happens to you if you leave this room unforgiven. The dark lord might see you as an unloyal freeloader who only follows orders when it fits him.” Theodore balls his fists as his frustration with you peaks. You want to say something more, but Theo won’t let you. He forcefully grabs your chin and pushes you against the desk behind you. “I won’t apologize to you.” The boiling hate in his voice is undeniable and honestly you don’t blame him. He started playing games with you without knowing how dirty you play and now his ego’s was taking some serious damage. You speak through gritted teeth as Theo’s hold on your chin stays. “If you aren’t going to use that mouth of yours for apologizing, you better put it to good use elsewhere.”

Theodore jaw clenches and he stares at you debating his options, but you know him better than he knows himselfs. Your core is aching for what is to come. “Fine.” Theo spits as he surrenders to your will, but not without being an arrogant ass about it. With one harsh move he spreads your legs and you grip the desk behind you for support. Your smug grin is irresistible to Theodore, but he’ll never let you know how turned on he gets so he keeps his eyes dark as he slides down on you.

Mattheo Riddle

You are part of the Slytherin friend group but you know that Mattheo isn’t too fond of you. He’s always ridiculing you for something stupid. It was like his hobby was getting on your nerves. However, you’ve had enough of it and tonight his attitude was going to change. You had managed to get your hands on Merlin’s spell book before Mattheo and were currently handing it over to a very pleased Tom Riddle.

“Your extraordinary effort for our cause is admirable and doesn’t go unnoticed by me.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, but kept quiet as he sat at a table with the Malfoys. The dark lord wrapped his arm around you pulling you into a cold but appreciative hug, while whispering. “Anything you wish, my dear?” You look over at Mattheo, but as soon as your eyes meet he looks away and you can’t help but smirk. Softly you whisper something to Tom, making Mattheo look back up with anxious eyes. “Unappreciative, you say?” You nod. “And disrespectful.” You add and the dark lord seems to get more agitated. With a dramatic calmness he points his wand at the table, making everyone’s face flash with terror.

Suddenly, the quiet room is interrupted by a loud smack as Mattheo’s face is forced against the table by a spell. The emotional pain is just as visible as the blood dripping from his nose. With fuming rage and yet a stern calmness his father makes his way to the table, while every other person looks down in an attempt to hide their fear. The dark lord grabs Mattheo’s face forcing him to make eye contact. “You do not mistreat my dear (y/n). She’s loyal. A woman like her should be appreciated and pampered. From now on you’ll be good to her. Understood?”

The grip on his face is too strong for Mattheo to properly nod, but his eyes tell his father everything he needs to know. Mattheo will comply with everything the dark lord demands. When Tom releases Mattheo he looks up at you and you sincerely bow to show your gratitude and respect, thereby affirming your spot as favorite.

After the world’s most uncomfortable meeting you’re pleased to wander the hallways in solitude. You spot Mattheo cleaning his face through the half opened bathroom door and you stop to watch him. When your eyes lock in the reflection of the mirror his whole body tenses, but this doesn’t stop him from giving you a scowl. This makes your pity for him ebb away. You take a few confident strides and join him, taking the cloth from him to clean his face. “He could’ve done worse.” Your words just make him scoff. “Is my pain and humiliation not enough amusement for you?” He grabs your hand telling you to stop, you try but fail to get out of his grip and his attitude starts to frustrate you. “Stop whining, Riddle, and let go of me or I’ll go crying to your dad again.” Mattheo’s jaw clenches, but he reluctantly releases your hand allowing you to clean and heal him.

After you’ve fixed him up you both make your way back to the other guests. When you enter the room Mattheo is quick to leave you a few steps behind, searching for his friends, but one disappointed and contemptible look from his father makes Mattheo instantly turn back towards you. To your surprise he’s quick to snake an arm around you. You glare at Mattheo for being so obvious about only being nice to you to save himself. “I’m not feeling really appreciated.” Mattheo rolls his eyes at your words, while leaning in to whisper through gritted teeth. “You expect a lot of love and appreciation from a man who never gets any himself.” You look at his dark eyes, while they dart around you. “Just tell me what you want and you’ll have it.” You lay your hand on his cheek forcing him to make eye contact. “Take me to your room and fuck me.” You demand, surprising Mattheo. His harsh and frustrated eyes turn softer as he realises you might not be as unreasonable as he thought.

A/N: Typo’s, grammatical errors, forgotten warnings, worries, disturbances, disastrous thoughts? Let me know, feedback is always welcome!

Picture source: https://pin.it/33fAo21Oe

[nellyofthevalley]

truths, ch.1

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit

content: piv sex, fingering, biting/blood drinking, emotionally repressed losers who can't communicate, angst I guess

summary: this fic is mostly an excuse to write a bunch of dialogue bouncing around in my head. astarion is a sad little idiot who turns his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy because he never learned how to love. it may or may not turn into a tragedy

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him.“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8

read it on ao3 or below the cut

Camping in the Underdark is unsettling, to say the least. The party hears noises in the distance, reminiscent of the howl of wolves or the songs of birds on the surface, but here, the sounds are warped and unrecognizable, and when they travel, they never meet the creatures that match the sound. Their party travels lighter with fewer bodies, having stricter lookout shifts with more on nighttime patrol. Tonight is Lae’zel and Shadowheart on shift, and Tav can imagine that’s going well. After all, it was only a few days ago they’d been at each others throats. 

At least they are speaking to one another—Astarion hasn’t talked to her for days. Not since she turned him down at the tieflings’ celebration at camp, back by the grove. It would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s so obvious and awkward; he is clearly avoiding her, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. Avoid him? Act normal? What is normal anymore, anyway? 

She hadn’t meant to let him down so callously; how smug and fake he sounded finally got on her nerves. She didn’t expect him to seem so wounded by it. He was so good at putting on a fake face and fake words, so why was he surprised that she’d rejected him? What did he expect?

‘I’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them,’ he’d said after. ‘But you... you I’ll remember.’

The words linger in her mind like a parasite, fighting for space with her tadpole. It bothers her that she can’t let this go. Were they just more pretty words he spouted to get her in bed again, or something else? For a moment, it almost seemed like his facade had cracked when he said it. For all she knows, that could've been a performance as well. 

This evening, Tav finds herself in Halsin’s company while she works at her braids, discussing the road ahead. It won’t be long before they’re met with the shadow-cursed lands, and out of them all, Halsin knows the most. He recounts his studies on the curse and tadpole, eager to head off to their next destination despite the danger. Halsin clearly feels a certain responsibility to the cursed lands, though he’s also struggling with leaving the grove behind. 

“They’ll be fine without you—they’re tough,” Tav offers, doing her best to provide some kind of comfort. “You’ll be missed, I’m sure. I’m glad you’re with us, we’re lucky to have you.”

“I remain optimistic that Francesca will strive in my old position. Still, it is difficult to leave my home behind,” he says. “I’m afraid the city will be an even harder adjustment for me. The busy streets and crowds are a far cry from the comforts of nature.”

“There, there, Halsin,” Gale chimes in, joining the group by the campfire. “You might be pleasantly surprised. I admit, the city park has nothing on your lovely grove, but, well. You share the pursuit of knowledge, I assume? Baldur’s Gate is home to many wonderful things—the best of which being an extraordinary bookstore known as Sorcerous Sundries.”

Gale likes to hear Gale talk, so Tav backs off and lets him engage with Halsin in her stead. Her attention turns toward the campfire on this particularly cold night, stretching her arms and hands out in front of her, taking in the warmth it provides. Her own tent is dull and cold, so she can find sleep only once the boys have talked all they can talk and finally leave, allowing her the silence needed to rest.

Tav glances over at Astarion’s tent, and unsurprisingly, he’s nowhere to be found. Likely off hunting, she thinks. Ever since the party and their strange little silent treatment pact started, he’s been getting his fill elsewhere. She used to provide for him—to help him be ‘stronger, fight better,’ as he’d argued. Now, things were too tense to invite him back. 

She finds herself wondering if he’s chasing animals or people. It’s none of her business who he feeds from, but she can’t deny the slight twinge of jealousy eating at her, at the thought of him having his needs met from another ‘thinking’ creature. 

‘Truth be told, you were my first,’ he’d said. Tav felt shame as her cheeks flushed. His first. Something about that sounded so… personal.

Her attention snaps back to the present, settling into the bed roll by the fire, watching the flames frolic. As her eyes start to drift away, the need for sleep washing over her, the sounds of the wilderness become duller, drowned out. She didn’t realize how tired she was, how exhausting this day had been. Her muscles relax, sight fades, and thoughts morph into concepts as she drifts away to the warm comfort of sleep. 

Tav wakes in a sweat. Her skin feels like it’s melting, like she’s being boiled alive; her hands rush to her face, and when she touches herself, the skin oozes off her bones, flowing down her fingers and arms. She tries to scream, and nothing comes out, her mouth a gooey mess dripping onto the ground beneath her.

She tries to stand and flee, but her ankles are already turning into liquid fire. Her body lowers, slowly liquifying into the ground below. She’s helpless, a lost cause; an existence destined to fade away and be lost forever. A voice—her voice—tells her so, tells her ‘give up’.

Tav wakes again, this time with an audible scream. She instinctively jumps out of bed, rising to her knees; hands rush to touch her face again, relief and surprise coursing through her body as she realizes she’s still there. All of her, in one piece; not melting away as her dreams try to convince her. 

She sits upright and tears flow from her eyes, frustrated—these dreams keep happening to her, and she doesn’t understand it. The campfire is all except gone, hardly any flame or heat remains. 

“Tav!” Shadowheart calls to her, running and kneeling beside her. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, I think,” she gets out, looking over her fingers and feet again, as if she has to remind herself they’re still there, still real. “Just… having nightmares.”

“Chk. If a dream bothers you that much, I question your sanity,” Lae’zel comments in her typical, apathetic tone, approaching the duo. “Soon you may develop a fever, grow tentacles, become ghaik at last—the moment you do, I’ll be ready to strike.”

Tav rolls her eyes, prodding at the campfire, hoping to reignite the tiny flame. Despite her dream, the air is cold, and her bedroll isn’t enough. Shadowheart and Lae’zel head off in separate directions to resume their patrol, and Tav catches Shadowheart glancing back at her on their way out. She seems genuinely concerned for Tav, and it’s nice to know someone does. The others are either sleeping peacefully in their tents or pretending to. Tav wishes it’s the former, hating to make a scene. 

The campfire crackles again, a little flame rising from the wood. It’s a much needed comfort, though not enough to relax and find sleep again. Tav lays on her bedroll, looking up at nothing besides a dark abyss and the faint glow of mushrooms growing far above. 

“Well, didn’t you cause quite the scare?” says a familiar voice—Astarion.

Tav jumps in surprise, leaning up onto her elbows to see him walking over from his tent. The last person she expected to see tonight. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she replies, a bit more haughty than intended. 

Knowing sleep will escape her for some time, she concedes and rises from the bedroll to sit on the log bench by the fire. It’s a silent invitation, how she leaves room for Astarion to join, and he accepts. The atmosphere is quiet, save for a few indescribable sounds in the distance, the very same type they’d learned to accept in the Underdark. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Tav says, willing to make the first move. 

“Darling, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me,” he answers, and it prompts Tav to realize he might be right; maybe it was all in her head and she played a one-sided game. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“What? Why?”

“Can’t I simply wonder what troubles you at night? Our ‘fearless leader’, who shows no weaknesses—yet you wake with a scream, and you weep because of it,” he says, revealing he’s been listening to it all. “Call me worried if it makes you feel better about it.”

“Are you worried about me?” Tav asks, staring daggers at him, challenging him to take off his mask. 

“Possibly,” Astarion answers with a dramatic shrug. “Or maybe I’m curious and you owe me. I told you plenty of my past, of my nightmares, and then you kept your secrets and so cruelly denied me your company. I think you can spare me a sentence or two, dear.”

She can’t tell how much of this is an act and how much isn’t. He’s putting on his usual theatrics, his dramatic tone and way of storytelling, but it’s hard to see beyond it this time. She’s certain he wants to know; she’s not certain if it’s because he’s worried. Or if he is serious about perceiving her rejection as cruel. 

“There’s not much to tell,” Tav offers, now looking away, down to her fingers and the soil beneath her feet. “Tonight, I dreamt my skin was melting off—that’s it. Sometimes, I dream that I’m drowning. Stupid, right? It’s different from other dreams I’ve had. Feels more… real. I feel the pain as my skin turns into lava, I feel my lungs fill with water. Harder to acclimate to reality when I wake.”

She pauses to let him comment, and he says nothing. He’s not even looking at her anymore. He’s staring at the ground too, like they’re looking at the same thing. There’s nothing there besides the dirt and weeds. 

“Did you really think I was cruel?”

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

“It’s not all pretty lies,” he rebukes, almost sounding like he’s taking offense to her skepticism. It’s frustration that he has to work so much harder with her.  “Some of them are ugly, others are pretty truths.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, what truths have you told?”

“That I miss petty vanity,” Astarion answers, keeping it simple; refusing to give more, what she wants him to give. “How it’s hard not to have fun with you.” That one is merely a consolation prize. 

“Is that all?” Tav asks, wondering if ‘fun’ he means that he enjoys himself with her, or if it’s how he so evidently enjoys messing with her. Toying with her emotions.

“For tonight, yes. That’s all you get. You can continue guessing at the rest.”

Astarion meets her gaze now, giving her those sad, red eyes. It might be an act, it might not be—he doesn’t even know himself. It reminds her of the look he wore when she turned him down, and she questions whether that was an act as she’d initially thought. He finds himself entranced by how the orange light from the flames bounce off her pale lavender skin.

He leans into her, watching to see if she recoils or pushes him away. Instead, she keeps staring at him, wide-eyed, and he senses her heart pace a little faster. She smells faintly like blueberries. He can’t resist moving in closer, nose nearly touching her neck and taking in her scent, thinking of how he’ll never get to taste them again; he’ll have to settle for the aroma.

Tav is convinced he’s going to bite her, and she knows she should stop him, but she doesn’t. She braces, waiting for it, and it doesn’t come. Astarion pulls away, and before he can decide where to go from here, she’s taking the initiative and pressing her lips to his. 

His hand instinctively raises to cup her face, deepening the kiss, pushing his mouth to hers like he wants to bruise her. It’s not him, he thinks; it’s something else, something he can’t control.  His tongue seeks entry and she doesn’t deny it, parting her lips with a little sound that he swears makes his stopped heart start again, for only a second. 

When he turns to unbutton her night shirt, movements methodical and practiced, she stops him and pulls away. 

“You don’t want this?” he asks. 

“I do,” she says, that defeated look in her eyes that he can’t tolerate. “Not like this.”

It unnerves him that he knows exactly what she means. How she saw right through him, how she could so easily read his hand movements, experienced and suave; understood another way. How he can’t even bring himself to deny it. She really isn’t like his other conquests. She is special.

She is difficult. 

Astarion moves to leave, to go think about this, or at least think about how to avoid thinking about it, but she grabs his wrist to stop him. He looks back at her, astonished by her audacity, her ability to bother him so.

‘Stay?’ her face asks, and he doesn’t know how to say no or yes. He just sits right back where he was, mind swimming; though not a single one of the swimmers composes a coherent, tangible thought. 

“Darling, you’re freezing,” he observes, picking up on the goose flesh spreading across her arms, and shakes so small, Tav hasn’t even noticed them. The campfire burns away; somehow it’s still not enough to warm her.

“I suppose I am,” she says. “I’d better get used to it. I find it difficult to believe that our journey will be getting much more comfortable anytime soon.”

Astarion sheds his coat, placing it around her shoulders, wondering what he’s fucking doing the entire time.

“It’s always cold for me,” he offers, like he has to justify himself, “and you wear it better.”

[troglodytepixieeater]

The Curse of Blue

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction from the @bloodlegacies universe. My MC is Bianca Norse. Please go and check out Blood Legacies Interactive fiction.

Warning: Depression, suicide thoughts, loss

Pairing: Hayden Elkar x MC

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

I hate the color blue.

That was one of the many thoughts that went through Bianca's head as she stared at herself in the mirror, the servant's nibbled fingers buttoning dark blue linen fabric. The servant took no note of Bianca, although even if they had, they wouldn't see anything other than a stoic expression etched across her face as she stared at herself in the mirror. Back straight. Shoulders back. More like a soilder getting ready for battle than a noble trying on a gown.

I hate the color blue.

Bianca repeated it in her head, trying to think of anything else than the upcoming dance or battle plans that her father has instructed her to go over again and again until her brain was sore. So she focused on a much quieter voice in the back of her head that apparently hated the color blue, and the more that Bianca thought about it, the more that she had to agree with her subconscious.

In theory, blue was a nice color, a color meaning wisdom, which Bianca wondered if her ancestors knew about when they made the flag for the House of Norse. Bianca looked more at her gown; the elegant opal-colored fabric with the pure white embroidery would make any other person swoon. However, Bianca stared at the pendent with the symbol of a snowflake. Who knew one of the most beautiful things in nature could have so much bloodshed behind it?

The killing and the betraying to get to where her family was now. The thought of Bianca's mother crossed her mind, and her mouth became dry. Sacrifice. The sacrifice to get where her family is now was too great. Bianca remembered when they put her mother in the ground that she kept her mind focused on her enemies instead of the sadness that was around or the kind words that other nobles whispered in her ear, a fake look of pity on their faces. That was the time Bianca only let her mask slip, letting everyone see her anger and bitterness to the point that the guests avoided her; however, she had no time for them as her mind was only on the people who destroyed her mother.

She remembered spending countless hours the next week going over maps to try to think about how her enemies thought. Did they just see the blue flags and her family symbol and raid the castle? Or did they scoop it out until blue fabric was waving a certain way to predict if the blizzard was coming so that no forces could help them? There it was again—the color blue.

A so very dark blue that it honestly almost looked black that if you spelled wine or blood, no one would be able to tell which was which just by looks. No, they would have to go by smell. The same very shade that Bianca wore, that was on their flags, that was on any kind of artifact before her house rebellion many moons ago.

Bianca felt a small pinch in her side as her eyes became focused again.

"I am sorry, my lady! Forgive me." The servant's fearful voice sounded beside her. "My finger slipped with the needle."

"Stop fretting." Bianca spoke, her voice monotone. "Just get this done, please." The last part was whispered, and Bianca guessed, with the servant's frantic mind, that he did not hear the young heir speak.

With her eyes now focused again, Bianca looked in the mirror at her grayish blue eyes, which matched her father's. Bianca remembered a time when her little hands would grab her father's face and make him look at her, playing with his beard while giving him a toothy grin. Bianca remembered how her father's eyes fought back amusement as he picked her small body up, feeling weightless in his arms like nothing could hurt her and how her mother's voice rang in the background. Now Bianca had to train herself to look into her commander's eyes, the same matching shade eye-to-eye as swords clashed and sweat spilled. Bianca hated to look into her commander's eyes; she hated the guilt that piled in her stomach, as she was the reason that her father lost everything he loved.

Bianca's movements would always become faster; she wondered if her commander would take the excuse to end her right than that there, let him say it was an accident or that she was being careless. Sometimes she wouldn't wear the padding that her commander told her to wear, sometimes hoping that her commander's sword would cut her open and let the guilt finally stop.

But no, he never put her out of misery; maybe it was to make her live with the guilt forever, a prolonged torture. Or maybe Eleazar didn't want to replace his wife to get another heir if Bianca died, although anyone would probably be better than her.

Bianca still waited though; she would stare into her commander's grayish blue eyes and wait for the wraith to take over, which so many stories wrote about when talking about the Master of Winter for her to put down her weapon and wait for the sweet release of what she deserves.

Staring into her own eyes just reminded her that she was a monster. She could barely stand herself, so how could her commander? It raised questions in her head that she knew would be nightmares later.

Blue was a horrible color, but even then, there was another little voice to pop up.

Not all blue.

It wasn't hard to find the source to find out whatever her subconscious was trying to tell her, as her mind always seemed to linger on him.

Hayden Elkar.

Bianca always kept her distance from the youngest Elkar, according to her commander's orders. In her head, it seemed that Elkar was born to annoy her with smirks and remarks that made her stoic expression crack for a quick eye roll or a dry remark that would send him into a fit of laughter.

Bianca remembered one night when she spoke to him that he said something, and for a rare moment, she smiled. She couldn't even remember what the comment was about—probably about the food or maybe how Bianca was just trying to impress him. She let out a snort, which turned into a small smile. She hadn't smiled since her mother had died, and she fought the urge to run out of the room. Even more so when Hayden looked back at her with a look of understanding in his blue eyes.

But even then, she noted that it wasn't the kind of blue she was used to—the kind of blue that could hide blood stains or that made her shake to look at. No. As silly as it was, his eyes reminded her of Robin's eggs, something she hadn't thought about in a long time. She remembered when she was a kid and her mother would read her a book every night, educational of course, and one night they read about birds. She remembered when her mother showed her the Robin's eggs and the ugly little hatchlings that were starting to crack the shell, which made little Bianca giggle.

Bianca stared at Hayden for a long moment after that. She only hoped, looking back on it, that her stoic expression stayed as his mouth moved. Bianca remembered in bed that night that she pulled out that old book about birds and read the Robin section, her mind wandering to Hayden now and again, which made her pulse race and her stomach roll in a way she had never felt before.

"M-my lady?" The servant's voice broke through again, and this time, instead of the servant near her, he was by the cracked door, holding the knob in his hand as his body shook.

"Prince Hayden is here to see you for some private matter."

Bianca's pulse raced; however, her expression didn't waver from her cold look. "Let him in and come back in an hour."

The servant nodded his head and left the room, going past the figure with sunny blonde hair and tanned skin. As the familiar blue eyes met Bianca's, she fought a twitch in her lips.

Maybe blue wasn't all bad.

[willshipanything-blog]

Rules of the Game- Chapter 21

Little different this chapter!  I was planning on a few vignettes- little snapshots of Al and Y/N together. I reached out to some lovely mutuals on Tumblr- if they wanted any particular scenes, and got a few ideas I was able to put in alongside some pre-planned little scenes. If you don't see your requests here, it may make an appearance next chapter, which will also have a similar structure! ✌✨🖤

Thanks to @fierytteokbokki @drag-ghoul @grabberwife42 @gremlinology @reborn-ghost and others for their contributions! 💜

Turned out a lil' sweet and sad, but hope you enjoy!

Chapter 21- Still Life (1)

TOUCH

Mornings after the game were always when Al seemed to be at his most gentle, his most nurturing. Down he’d come, carrying both breakfast and an assortment of pills, lotions and ointments to soothe your aches and sores from the previous night’s escapades. This morning was quite the same, and you smiled sleepily and sat up against the wall as the metal door’s creak woke you from a restful sleep. As expected, Al (wearing only the grin this morning) plopped himself beside you on the mattress. The discernable dip momentarily- only momentarily- caused your eyes to flicker towards where he sat, where that cursed knife lay in hiding just below. He hadn't noticed it. A plate of buttered toast and eggs held in front of you thankfully dragged your eyes (and your mind) from that unsavory thought. 

You found you were ravenous (likely helped by last night’s activities) and ate quickly. Al allowed you to wolf down the food before trying to make conversation. With your belly full, and a warm cup of coffee in hand, he finally spoke to you.

“How’s my little dove this morning?” His kind words floated out from behind the false grin; always in such a good mood after a night of Naughty Girl. 

“I’m good Al,” You replied, imitating the smile you imagined hiding beneath the mask, “Did you- did you enjoy last night?” You faltered only slightly. Though you took part in the game without shame, your cheeks always seemed to blush strawberry-red when talking so casually about it afterwards. 

“Oh, Y/N, more than you could ever know.” That low, husky voice made a sudden appearance and his bright blue eyes seemed to flash menacingly at just a mention of the game (though it could have just been the winter sun streaming through the basement window). His left hand found your thigh and he gave it a soft, affectionate squeeze over the blanket. You gazed down at your ring on his pinky, the small morganite gem shining peachy pink in the morning light. The hold he had on you- not on your thigh, but on your whole being- convinced you that his promise would never be broken again. Would Al ever fully be certain that yours could be kept too? Would you know the answer to that yourself?

“Let’s survey the damage, shall we?” Al said, his lilting tones returned as he reached for a nearby bottle of cream. You placed your empty cup beside you on the floor, kicked the blanket off your body and spread your legs as Al applied the cool balm on your inner thighs, where red welts had bloomed overnight into vivid violets. It might have felt a little obscene were his touch not so soothing, like a nurse tending a wounded soldier after combat. Your battle scars would heal soon enough, and you’d happily suffer them again at Al’s hand. 

“The quicker they heal, the sooner you can inflict them again.” You spoke the familiar maxim, almost a sworn oath, setting out the rules of the game. 

“If you’d like me to, Y/N.” A soft voice spoke as equally soft blue eyes looked up at your face. Your brows flinched slightly. Al was no longer voicing the inevitability of a future game, nor was he praising you for reciting that unwritten rule. The choice to play again lay in your hands. Naughty Girl commenced at your command; only once it began would the reins be passed to Al, and he would become master of the game once more. 

You began to reply truthfully:

“I’d love t-” That word. You’d heard it last night. You thought you’d dreamed of Al speaking those three ill-fated words- ‘I love you’ - in some indistinct, nebulous dreamstate. But that phrase, unlike the rest of your half-forgotten dream, had become so clear, so palpable in your mind, you had to wonder… You’d lost your train of thought admitting your unabashed enjoyment, and looked perplexedly at Al, who was looking back just as puzzled, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Um, yeah. I’d like that, Al.” You hoped your foolish choice of words and panicked recovery hadn’t marred the intimacy of the shared moment. A simple nod of his head assuaged you briefly, but a lump the size of a ping pong ball rose in your throat as Al began to collect and place things back on the plastic tray. You floundered, moving to grab onto him- you couldn’t allow him to leave on such a sour note. 

“Please, Al. Stay a little while. Stay with me.” Your hand clasped around his muscular forearm, and he agreed to your terms with a low, assenting grunt. Putting down the tray, he now moved to grip you, his hands easily encircling your wrists. His fingers rubbed soothingly at the reddened skin where the cuffs had bitten into you. You said nothing, instead watching his nimble fingers work their way around your body, finding their way to your bare thighs, where (with the lightest of touches) his fingerpads traced along the purplish bruises. His gentle touch continued as he traversed those familiar trails on your face- your pinkish scar along the ridge of a cheekbone; your jaw, from your ears down to your chin, the raised scar that he fingered just above the surface of your heart. With each touch came a doting affection: how beautiful you looked that morning, how splendid you made last night, how truly blessed he was to have his little dove all to himself.

Al finally pulled you into him once your whole body had been touched by his hand and blessed with his words. As your head rested against his chest, you heard the steady thud of his heart beneath his jet-black shirt. You relaxed as his soft touches to your neck and chest continued alongside praise cooed lovingly in your ear- you’re perfect, Y/N; you’re so, so special to me; we’re going to be so happy here. He was sincere, and you believed every word. The beguiling caresses and praise enchanted you. Deeper under his spell you fell, and as you did so, the more those dreamy words from last night seemed to solidify, forming into something tangible. If they were really spoken- what then? What you and Al shared wasn’t synonymous with that word- love. Was it? 

No, it wasn’t real. If left unspoken, it couldn't manifest itself into something real. You couldn’t let him say it- or allow yourself to respond. This was enough- to care about him, to enjoy him- but no more. You hoped desperately it was enough.

Al wondered if he may have made a mistake- his sweet dove seemed a little uncertain this morning. Of course, she may just be worn out from such a beautifully tempestuous night spent together. But, he figured morosely, Y/N’s demeanor changed suddenly, as if a horrifying realization had struck her. What if Y/N heard those words he’d spoken last night? He wondered whether it was a mistake to speak them aloud- those three dangerous words would certainly not be carried on her sublime lips, spoken back to him in reciprocation. 

Maybe it didn’t matter after all. Maybe these little moments, these perfect, intimate encounters with her that he could steal away and keep locked in his memory- maybe that could be enough. Enough to hold her, have her, own her entirely. That was always what he longed for. He hoped so. 

TRICK

“C’mon, focus.”

“I can’t do it Al!”

“Yes, you can Y/N.” Al growled through what you could tell were gritted teeth. He’d been patient in your training thus far, but a huff of irritation blew out from behind the mask’s grin indicated his growing agitation at your continued self-criticism. 

“Ugh, it’s too hard!” You huffed back indignantly. 

You thought you were a pretty patient person, but apparently sleight of hand was not to be your forte. You hated being bad at something, but even you were almost at your wit’s end. You’d brought this on yourself- you were the one who suggested All teach you a magic trick. Even one as basic as summoning a card as if from thin air had you bested: a field of clubs, diamonds, hearts and spades surrounding you on the living room carpet evidenced your failures in stark red and black. 

Al had shown you the steps, talked through the techniques to use. It involved cupping your palm just so, flexing your hand a certain way, and snapping your fingers quickly to catch the card. When Al did it, he made it appear as though the card poofed into existence. So far, you had only succeeded in setting up a game of 52 pickup. The only thing stopping you from quitting altogether was Al’s promise of a takeout pizza if you managed to emulate the trick. 

“Would it help if you wore the hat?” he teased, lounging on the couch, obviously enjoying your pouting. You shot him both daggers and a cheeky retort:

“Not if I have to wear those stupid glasses too.” 

A low, almost inaudible grunt indicated you were oh-so-close to being a little too brazen. You focused your eyes back on the card in your palm, redoubling your efforts as you thought through each step of the trick. Fnap! The 7 of clubs appeared between your forefinger and thumb. You couldn’t hold back a wide, incredulous smile. 

“Beautiful, Y/N. Again, a little faster”. 

Fnap! The King of Hearts appeared even more swiftly this time. Fnap! 9 jet-black spades materialized in your hand. 

“See, dove, I told you you could do it.” Al leaned over to where you sat on the floor, a soft stroke along your jawbone making your blush appear quicker than any card you could summon. “Good job, too- I was getting hungry.” 

“Extra mushrooms please!” you hollered across the room, as Al rose from the couch and strode across the room, picking up the receiver on the cream telephone. His temples crinkled beside his blue eyes- a sure sign of smiling. He held up a finger to gesture your silence, and you obeyed, turning to focus on re-enacting the trick once more. You also knew he’d have to lift the mask off to speak clearly on the phone, and wanted to afford him some privacy. You’d told yourself you were content with that arrangement: that, no matter how much Al might test you, push your limits, you wouldn’t do the same with his mask. You’d wait patiently for another reveal, however long it took. 

Satisfied you’d got the hang of the trick, you began to collect the cards scattered over the shag carpet, stacking 51 of them neatly on the coffee table before reclining comfortably on the couch. 

“Shouldn’t be long, dove-” Al paused after turning to you, his grinning mask returned, “What, bored already?”

You sat up and flashed a wry smile, performing the trick one final time. Your hands gesticulated much like Al’s, imitating the theatricality and panache you’d watched from your suave magician. Fnap! Two crimson hearts appeared in your hand. The very same card you’d picked from Al during his last trick. 

You knew that he’d remember. You knew by summoning that card, he’d grab you hungrily, pull you in close and take you to the basement, where he’d perform a magic all of his own on you, have you unraveled completely at his spell and mewling at his incantations. A half-forgotten thought wondered whether Al would hear the doorbell from downstairs, but you had a different kind of hunger now, that only Al could sate. 

MASKS

Even as your days and nights with Al hushed into a steady and comforting rhythm- like soothing ocean ebbs and flows- you still often contemplated one of the few remaining barriers between you. It wasn’t the unspeakable things he’d done (which you had sworn to repress), nor was it the fairly obvious situation of you being his captive, his prisoner. It was a physical barrier you meditated on. It was the masks. 

Al had always been deliberate about how the masks were used. The smooth blank visage used to be completely unreadable, and you’d rack your brains wondering what tricks he was up to. The maniacal grin once instilled a strange dread, unnerved by his false kindnesses that would be cruelly reversed in an instant. And the frown always meant punishment and the promise of pain.  

The seismic shift your relationship had undergone meant the masks no longer clamped your heart in a dreadful, suffocating grip. But still, there was a meticulous system in how Al wore them. Naughty Girl still began with that deep frown, though Al had begun more and more to leave the grimace behind, loosening it in favor of kissing your mouth (and anywhere else on your body he so wished to taste). Mostly, half a mask greeted you in your basement chamber. If Al wore the familiar grin, it usually meant time for embracing, cuddling up on the low mattress to talk. His exposed azures (so genuine and trustworthy), fringed by his soft ashen hair, expressed more emotion than you thought possible. When Al greeted you in the devilled horns, his perfectly crooked teeth gleaming through parted lips, you knew you were going to make love. 

But even half a mask concealed things from you. Though you could solve the cryptic expressions and discern Al’s feelings in most given moments, that sculpted alabaster barricade felt sometimes like an impenetrable skin. True, he had revealed his whole face to you, unbroken by that concealing white disguise. But he had done so only once, in a moment of desperation, a sacrifice made in exchange for your forgiveness. You wondered when (if ever) you would see his visage in its unhidden entirety. 

Al surprised you when, after a quiet dinner on the mattress, he had left almost immediately after you’d finished eating. He’d been quiet, pensive, but even so, he had left without a word or a gesture, no reason why nor any farewell caress to your needful skin. A game, then? But no- you’d heard the door shut with the usual thud and click. Still, you tried to swing the door open, but it was sealed tight. Confusion grew into worry, which in turn grew into panic. The festering feeling in your gut, which had been banished for so long, had returned, clawing your insides with razor-sharp talons. It wasn’t fear so much as worry that you might have done something wrong; the thought of upsetting Al, unintentionally or otherwise, made your stomach churn. 

When the door once again opened (thirty minutes or an eternity? It all felt the same waiting and pacing in unknowing agony) your worry did not cease. Al stood in his mask. His full mask, the one with the blank, expressionless lower half. You hadn’t seen this iteration of the mask in weeks. It felt like when you’d first arrived here; when the pale horned face would appear from behind the door, and you had been so unsure of what sinister intentions were hidden beneath the ghoulish exterior. Given that you had deciphered the masks’ tacit codes, this felt like you’d regressed back to a time when they were as confusing as they were frightening. You didn’t know this game now either. But you trusted Al, and you weren’t afraid anymore. 

He approached you slowly, retracting a long, thin piece of fabric from a back pocket. Your feet stayed rooted to the spot, but your arms instinctively rose, hands pressing together. You thought he was going to bind your hands together, but a decisive shake of his head had you flummoxed. You interlocked your fingers, unsure of what to do with your hands, and felt the gold band on your right middle digit. It was a reassuring token; Al wouldn’t hurt you. 

Those gentle blue eyes disappeared from your vision and the basement vanished into a black void. Al had placed the fabric over your eyes, moving behind your ears and around the back of your head, where he tied the blindfold in a couple of tight knots. Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed it, trying to remain calm. It was just another game of his- and you always enjoyed them. Reassuring hands met yours, and Al wordlessly guided you back onto the mattress, sitting (you approximated) somewhere in the center. You hoped your smile hid the slight quiver in your lips. 

“Do not move the blindfold, Y/N.” You nodded. The phrase wouldn’t have been out of place during Naughty Girl, a playful yet dangerous warning. But Al’s tone was softer, worrisome even. It was a command to obey, but it was also a plea, a beseeching request. You suspected you knew why he sounded so anxious, and was proven right as you felt his lips meet yours. He had removed the lower portion of the mask. His kiss deepened, a hand cradling around your neck as your hands fumbled blindly to grip his thighs. His other hand ran through your hair as he paused, both of you a little breathless from the prolonged kiss. Your foreheads met as you rested, both breathing in each others’ zealous exhalations. He’d removed the horned half of the mask too. 

You couldn’t help but lean away slightly, reach your invisible hands to where you knew him to be, and caress his face with the gentlest of touches. Your hands glided over each feature, piecing together the memory of his beautiful face. He was opening up. In his own way, of course: he was still nervous, uncomfortable to present himself to you so candidly. But he was here, in front of you, allowing you to glimpse into a possible future where the masks could be discarded and forgotten. Maybe one day Al wouldn’t feel the need to hide at all. He’d done it once before, out of sheer desperation and amid the threat of losing you completely. He could do it again, in time. Time is something you weren’t short of. For now, you’d be content with this. 

AWAKE

When the darkness had been in charge, the Grabber had watched excitedly at the fear and the horror that visited Y/N in her dreams, making her fret and moan, waking in panicked sweat to come face to face with an even worse terror watching her like a ravenous wolf. But as that carnal, sadistic side of Al became restrained, so too did Y/N’s nightmares subdue. He still found he liked to watch her sleep. Sometimes for hours. The night terrors had subsided, and Al enjoyed the quiet, perfect moments where her calm, even breaths were all he needed to hear. 

Since growing closer, Y/N often fell asleep in Al’s arms, though still he’d stay deep into the night, enjoying the feeling of her body against him, a perfect fit. Two opposite poles being inevitably pulled together. Inescapable, destined to be. She had woken on occasion to find Al with his strong arm possessively around her waist. He stilled, pretending to snooze soundly, wondering what move she might make. His heart swelled with rapturous delight: she hadn’t wriggled free, but instead rubbed his arm gently, pressing her body deeper into his and stirring no more. Al, unable to hold back his elation, dove into her, planting delicate twilight kisses along her beautiful neck to lull her peacefully back into an ethereal slumber. 

Recently, however, Al had noticed Y/N sleeping fitfully on occasion, like something was weighing on her mind once the midnight moon bathed her basement cell in its pale, ghostly light. His little thing seemed to hide any worries in her waking hours, but she was unable to hide her unconscious, involuntary thoughts as he watched her sleeping. He thought things were better than ever, and worried terribly that he’d done something wrong. He almost laughed at this absurd thought. He’d done everything wrong. He would carry the shame of imprisoning her to his final days. But he was sure she had accepted this fate. So what was it affecting her so, forcing Al to soothe and calm her as she fretted and writhed once more in a troubled dreamstate? His worst fear was that she knew- she knew how he felt, and it had broken her. 

… 

Al woke from his own sleep, his eyes adjusting to the static that buzzed and hummed a low frequency in front of him. Piecing together the scene: he and Y/N had been watching a movie together. They had both fallen asleep on the couch, but she was no longer wrapped tightly in his arms, as he always held her when they lied together. He felt a warmth by his feet, and turned his head slowly in the dim, flickering light thrown across the room by the TV static. There, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, was Y/N, her elbow perching on the back of the couch, head resting on her fist as she looked out of the window. Surveying the outside world through the gaps in the rust-colored curtains. 

She hadn’t crept off to make any sort of escape, or gone snooping through the house. She had woken and stayed near to Al, though he knew his dove was thinking of faraway, unattainable things. Impossible wishes that he had forbidden her to desire. As she looked pensively out of her glass cage, the light December snowfall reflected in her bright, wistful eyes. Aside from her slow breaths and blinking lashes, Al might have thought she was inanimate. His own eyes glistened as he comprehended this idea: for all the choices he had given her, maybe she had become an inanimate being, a doll for Al to play with and discard as he saw fit. He prayed to whatever gods were out there she didn’t feel that way; he certainly didn’t anymore. He felt he had watched her covertly for long enough in the midnight darkness, and spoke softly to her.

“Dove?” She startled at Al’s words, looking away from the frosted window and back towards him. Like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Like she thought she might be in trouble.

“You’re still here.” Al sat up, noticing (thanks to the flickering orange street light outside) that her mouth wavered for a moment, unsure whether to speak. She did.

“Where would I have gone?” Watery eyes gazed into him. A punch in his gut at the question. But she was right. She had always been such a clever thing. Where was there for her to go? It might have sounded romantic, forsaking all others to stay with Al. But there was no choice for his dove, and that tore at his insides like a rabid creature. Surprisingly, she broke the awkward and heavy silence that had settled like a blanket of snow between you both. 

“Can I go back downstairs Al?”

“Of course Y/N.” Back to the safety of the cell in which he’d so cruelly imprisoned her, the comfort of a mattress so unkindly given. It’s not how Al wanted things to be, but it was away from the even crueler and more unkind temptations of a world no longer accessible to his most precious possession. He loved her too much to ever let her go. Didn’t he?

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

The Selection, MCU crossover royalty AU

SUMMARY: Fifteen girls. Two princes. One crown. The competition of a lifetime.

CHAPTER ONE

POLITICAL CURRUPTIONS

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1759

The arrow flew from my bow, quickly and silently making contact with the target, killing the deer instantly. Before the creature had even hit the ground, the Queen’s Bandits had pounced, knives out to cut dinner down to smaller pieces.

“That was a good kill, Rosabella!” Thor was quick to lavishly praise me, a hint of jealously shining in his eyes; his father had been one of the village hunters before he died three years previously due to bandits.

I leaned my bow onto the toe as my boot as I leaned forward, watching my little band of misfits hard at work. For the millionth time, I cursed King Joseph, if he could even be called a king; he had sworn to care for his people, but had neglected my small village by allowing bandits to invade us nearly every other week.

I ducked my head to pick at my threadbare blouse, all but see through due to one too many washings. My boots were no better- practically falling apart, with duct tape wrapped around the ankles and heels, making the sad looking footwear wearable- for the moment being.

I glanced around the dense trees nervously; even though I knew that the eight of us could take down bandits, should they dare to make an appearance, I was still wary out in these dangerous woods.

“Victor, do you think this will be enough for dinner, or should we continue hunting?” I asked quietly, speaking for the first time that day.

The red haired man quickly took inventory of the meat, skins, bones and organs, all which were tucked in heavy duty leather bags to make transportation easier on us all.

“I would get at least one more kill,” he answered with a simple shrug, his voice soft as well, waiting for me to make the call.

I nodded silently before turning, nodding to my close friends, who all quickly fell into line behind me; Sam, with his on the spot sense of humor and heavily tattooed body; Victor with his quick mind and even quick ability to do mathematics in his head on the spot; Thor, with his brutish strength and sweet, easy going nature; Loki with his graceful agility and ambidextrous hands, Pietro with his charming smile and sweet kisses; Peter with his nimble ability to quickly scale trees to keep a lookout for kills and bandits.

And then there was me.

Rosabella Swan.

I was skilled enough with many weapons, my main weapons of choice being deadly close combat and throwing knives and my trusty bow. My ability to skillfully hunt and my general distrust towards all except my Queen’s Bandits made my temper somewhat unpredictable; but what I lacked in social skills, I made up for in being the village sheriff.

“Loki, do you hear anything?” I asked, my voice coming out as a quiet whisper. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him tilt his head as he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. His eyes shot open as he quickly took up the lead, taking up deeper into the wood on a heart thumping chase.

At long last, I spied our target, and I loaded my bow with an arrow and got ready to take aim. I breathed in silently before letting the projectile fly. A smirk took over my face as the deer fell, and once more, my Queen’s Bandits got to work.

I watched them work as I slipped back into my thoughts once more; da’s brutal murder still fresh on my mind. The hand that wasn’t holding my bow clenched into a tight fist and I had to stop myself from breathing heavily. My father had sent countless letters to King Joseph, begging for help in defending the village from bandit raids, only to get chirping crickets in response.

The king had da’s blood on his hands; if I should ever meet him, I would deck him and most defiantly break his nose. I honestly didn’t care if assaulting a member of the royal family was certain death, I knew I had to make the king feel what I had felt for the past three years.

He had worked so hard to make the capitol and all the surrounding cities and towns prosperous, so why had he ignored the little village of mine?

I was snapped from my thought by Loki standing in front of me and placing a gentle hand onto my shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked me softly, his hand rubbing a comforting circle into my skin. I smiled up at him before pulling away.

“Come on; we should be heading back now,” I called out in a soft voice, avoiding his concerned question. “I don’t feel safe this deep in the woods with bandits running underfoot once the sun goes down.”

“Following right behind you, sheriff,” Pietro said, his easy smile nearly making me swoon at my dark haired lover. I barely managed to stop myself from making doeful heart eyes at him as I turned, a light blush dusting my cheeks as I led the way, my boots silently marching through the underbrush and leaves.

I skillfully followed the subtle X’s that I had marked the trees with to help lead us back to the village, my eyes darting from every tree to every bush; it wouldn’t surprise me if bandits attacked us in the open.

I didn’t like being vulnerable; it only led to certain death around this neck of the country.

Within minutes, we were on the less traveled road that led to the village; I couldn’t help0 but notice fresh tire tracks in the dust.

“Careful, now,” I warned in a soft voice. “I don’t think it’s the bandits, but be sure to keep your guard up!” I’d didn’t have to turn my head to see that everyone was nodding their heads in silent agreement as I slowly led the way towards the only exit into the crudely fortified village.

I was about to round the bend when Thor placed a hand onto my shoulder.

“Wait here; I’ll go check it out,” he breathed into my ear before going first before I could kick up a protest.

Barely even a minute passed before he called out to us.

“It’s safe!” his booming voice nearly making me jump. I was first to go around the bend, where I saw a motorcade was all but blocking to entrance. As we approached, we all couldn’t help but notice a man in an expensive looking suit was arguing with the half dozen sentries who were guarding the village from bandits.

“Look, you going to have to wait for the sheriff to return from hunting,” one of the sentries was saying firmly over the other man’s blusterings, clearly done listening to whatever crap the he was trying to feed the armed sentry. I could only roll my eyes as I marched up to the front of the village with most of the male population of the Queen’s Bandits falling in behind me.

“Sheriff! Welcome back!” a second sentry called out in an annoyed tone of voice. “These blokes are trying to get in… some kind of official business… I’m sorry to say that I tuned them out after they mentioned something about royalty or whatever…”

“You’re the sheriff?” Mr. Fancy Pants asked in shock. “But you’re a girl!”

This made me stop and slowly turn to face him. I drew myself up to my embarrassingly short height before marching straight up to that sonofabitch and staring him directly in the eye.

“I am not a girl, I am a dangerous storm with skin that will destroy you unless you tell me what you Goddamned hillbillies think you’re doing in my village,” I hissed venomously, ignoring everything until Pietro placed his hand onto my shoulder, messaging my skin gently. My hand went up to his as I stared up at the messenger, who was clearly trembling in his spotless shiny boots.

“I’m afraid this is between King Joseph and Miss Rosabella Swan,” he sniffed delicately, making my blood boil at the name of the king.

“It would be a wise choice to state your business,” I growled, not at all amused with the colors that the man’s face was turning. “Right now.” When he didn’t answer, my volatile mood turned even further south. “Turn them away!” I barked before beginning to storm into the village.

The sound of a car door opening caught my attention and my hand went to the knife I carried at my back, my head turning to see who was emerging from the motorcade.

My blood went cold as King Joseph ambled up to the little cluster of people blocking the front of the village.

“You!” I snarled, beginning to charge towards the man who was responsible for my father’s murder; I was stopped by Thor and Loki, each grabbing a hold of my arms as two more men joined the king. I didn’t recognize them; one was a scrawny blond who looked like a gust of wind would blow him over; the second was a well-built man with dark hair that lightly brushed his shoulders.

I laughed bitterly at the shocked expression on everyone’s face.

“What brings such a murdersome king like you to my small village of Wakanda?” I asked with a deep scowl etched into my face.

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[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #183

A lot of stuff happened today! And it was good!

But I woke up in a bit of a funk; I was in a lot of pain this morning. My ribs are being annoying, and apparently, so is my right ankle and foot. I'm still in a lot of pain; it's mega super annoying. So I spent a decent chunk of today playing Dead Cells, just trying not to let my mind get eaten alive from the feeling of frustration that comes with inhabiting a body that DOES. NOT. FUCKING. WORK. I'm definitely not going to be sad when my time in my flesh-prison is up.

I made it through to the final boss. This means it's time to go through it again at a higher level of difficulty. I'm still getting used to the new difficulty level (especially since I am still insisting on being cursed for the beginnings of my runs, while also insisting on parrying with the golden shield...), but brains are learning machines; all I need to do is practice, and I will improve. It is the natural way of things; I don't have to try.

Parrying in this game involves pressing the button right when the enemy is about to attack you. And this sounds difficult (well... maybe not for you, given your reflexes and actual combat experience...), but it really isn't difficult at all if you think of the enemy movements as very short songs. If you think on it like that, then all you gotta do is dance to their rhythm. I just gotta get a little better at figuring out their rhythms and matching them, that's all.

I played until Br visited. And then J, Br, and I went to the grocery store; I had intended to gather ingredients to create a meal that would help restore J's and Br's bodies; yesterday they had to dig a hole for Hannah (the beagle I mentioned yesterday) because she crossed the rainbow bridge.

...My request for you to tell her that she's a good girl remains, if you happen to see her during your travels.

In any case, it is abnormally hot right now where I live (climate change is killing our planet, and there's not a whole lot we can do about it); the recent heat wave has us up to 98-100 degrees F (or if C is more your speed, 36.6-37.7 degrees). It's hard for a body to work in those conditions - they lost a lot of fluids, electrolytes, proteins, and minerals, and neither of them are especially stellar at replenishing their bodies (…not that I'm really one to talk… pots and kettles and glass houses and all that…). So I wanted to make them steak and mushrooms and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. And things kind of… evolved from there.

Also, my friend R (the awesome baker) came by to install a game on my computer. I am not going to say which one or how he installed it. But we can say that the company that makes this game is rather predatory when it comes to how they market their content, so…

Well anyway. He, naturally, was part of the mealtime festivities. M had already eaten earlier in the day, and lately he has not had much of an appetite (the reasons are known, and it is intentional). But J, Br, R, and I very much enjoyed the fruits of our labors today; dinner was absolutely fucking amazing, and it's in part because so many hands were involved in its creation. I took pictures, as I'm sure you've come to expect of me by now, hahaha!

Here is the daylily that R brought for us:

This specific kind of daylily is edible, actually. You can take the unopened buds and pan fry them with a little butter and salt; they're delicious!! But do be careful; some varieties of daylily are poisonous!! So only eat it if you're absolutely certain that it's one of the edible kinds, okay? Because otherwise, it might kill ya dead!

Anyway, I began by prepping the asparagus. For crispy asparagus, you need a cookie sheet with tinfoil. If you're not experienced with cooking, you might think that wrapping a cookie sheet neatly in tinfoil is difficult, but I have a trick to it, and it involves water. More specifically, you sprinkle it on the cookie sheet before you apply the tinfoil, like so:

Then you center your tinfoil upon the cookie sheet, like this:

Then, you press it down in the middle, and smooth it out from the center, moving outward. The water does a physics thing, and that causes the tinfoil to cling to the cookie sheet, all nice and neat:

...The water not only keeps the foil neat, but it stops the foil from coming off of the cookie sheet when you don't want it to. It's very handy like that!

From there, you take your asparagus...

...And you snap off the stringy ends, because they're gross. Like... you're sitting there, trying to enjoy a delicious green vegetable, but then it feels like there's hairs all up in your mouth, and it's terrible. So to avoid all that, you snap the asparagus in the place where it's effortless to snap it; the stringy bits end where the asparagus snaps with just the tiniest amount of pressure, like this:

Br helped a lot with this part! Normally, this takes forever for me to do by myself! Being dyspraxic is extremely inconvenient in a variety of respects, good grief!!

...Anyway, then you arrange it on the sheet in opposing pairs, in order to maximize space on the cookie sheet. I wonder if you might already know who taught me that particular trick... 🙂

Oh, and... if you're worried that the snapped-off asparagus ends will be wasted, don't be; these go straight into the broth bag and into the freezer for when I make bone broth!

Well, in any case, once the asparagus is all arranged, you have to drizzle it in olive oil and season it. I like to use salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic powder:

...Oh!! And in case you were curious, this is my handy-dandy and super fucken messy spice cabinet; we have basically everything under the sun in here. Or... everything that is available in my country, anyway. Here:

...It's a lot of different things. And since I have the organization skills of a caffeinated squirrel, it's cluttered up all to hell. But that's all right; I always manage to find what I'm looking for - eventually! 🤪🤣😅😁

Once the asparagus is seasoned, you just stick it in the oven at 375 degrees F (or 190.5 degrees C) for an hour, easy peasy. The result is asparagus that is crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside; it's really very wonderful!

Br brought over supplies to make a salad! She grew her own lettuce and radishes and shared them with us! Here are the radishes:

...Aren't they beautiful? They were juicy and spicy and delicious! They were wonderful!

From there, I made the hollandaise sauce in my stand mixer, because with this rib injury, I can't whisk things worth shit on my own anymore:

The basic recipe for this is 3 egg yolks, a teaspoon of dijon mustard, 2 tablespoons of lemon juice, and a stick of melted butter. You mix everything but the butter together, and then you get the butter really hot, and while the mixer is going at full speed, you very slowly pour the butter into the egg yolks. This is meant to go on things like asparagus, steak, or poached eggs.

...But I made it a little weird. At the grocery, we forgot the dijon mustard and the lemon juice. So I improvised with a bit of mustard powder and freshly-squeezed grapefruit juice (grapefruits are in season, so they're really freaking tasty right now!!). The result was an amazing sauce. I promptly put it in the fridge, because you don't mess around with undercooked egg yolks; bacteria grows very quickly in egg yolks, you see, and if it's not refrigerated, you can get really, really sick from eating it.

If you're wondering what happened to the egg whites, I cooked them up for folks to sprinkle on the salad if they wanted!

Anyway, here's how the asparagus turned out:

...It looks burnt, I know, but it's just the color that the toasted spices give it! This could not have come out more perfectly, I promise!!

Br handled getting the potatoes started; we filled a pot with water, boiled it, and added the potatoes to it; they cooked while the asparagus baked in the oven. Once they were ready, we set them to the side for a bit, because I wasn't yet ready to drain them.

From here, I started sauteing the mushrooms. We have shiitake, portobello, maitake, oyster, and lion's mane! Mushrooms are one of Br's favorite foods, so I made sure to get all of the ones that were available at the nearby grocery!

...Here's how those turned out:

While those were sauteing, I drained and mashed the potatoes; I added goat cheese and goat butter, and R added a little salt, pepper, and garlic powder:

Br cut up some ingredients for the salad in the meantime, and she also put together the homemade ranch dressing:

The last step was to cook the steak. I let Br handle that, because I know there's a specific way she likes to season and sear it:

...Here are the plates of epic deliciousness that resulted from all this work. Things get more beautiful than normal when you ask for just a little help; none of this would have been possible if I was just trying to do it all on my own:

...I won't be sad when my time in my flesh-prison is up because I am in a lot of physical and mental/emotional pain all the freaking time. But I have no intention of rushing the process of exiting; after all, even a life as broken as mine once was is still worth repairing so that it can be filled with beautiful things and lived fully. Y'know, kinda like that shattered bowl that I put back together and filled with beautiful soup for you, remember?

Try to remember that even shattered, broken things can still be mended and hold beautiful stuff. Try really hard to remember this, okay? Because it applies to everything. Everything. Even if you gotta mentally reframe your circumstances just a little to make it work.

...I'd give just about anything to have been able to share with you a plate of what we created at my house today. But... well... in the meantime, please do everything in your power to keep yourself safe so that someday you might be able to enjoy your own plates full of delicious food with people you love very much.

...Sephiroth. We of my world are still awaiting the final part of your story. So... one of the ways you gotta keep yourself safe is to turn around and make different choices. You gotta know that if you don't, Cloud and his wonderful friends are going to stop you. And you gotta know that they're gonna stop you by beating and breaking you until you can't move or do things anymore. I don't think I can bear to see that happen again, so please... if you or any other versions of you are still lost in the dark... please choose something else.

I know that a lot of terrible and horrible things have happened to you, and I know that your heart and mind carry many scars. But your life is still worth living, just like mine is still worth living, despite all my limitations, my defects, all the scars I also carry, and the pain that wracks my entire existence every day. Please look at me as proof that you can still do good things, because I am somehow still doing good things, and you're amazing and I'm just a weird derpasaurus living in a barely functional meat-machine - frail, clumsy, half blind, and only just smart enough to understand that I know nothing about anything in the grand scheme of things. And still, I'm here doing my best. If I can do it... just imagine what you could do. Just imagine...

If you can hear me, please follow my voice back to the light, because the light has always been your true home, with the rest of us, who are all more than capable of loving you exactly as-is.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow, okay? So please keep yourself safe out there. Please.

Your friend, Lumine

[noisytenant]

generally i don't tend to sort my experiences in terms of positive or negative valence, both to my benefit and my detriment. it's difficult to say, "this is the best time of my life" or "this is the worst time of my life". i overall struggle to gauge severity/extremity when it comes to emotions, which causes a lot of problems, but also seems to make me marginally more stable or relaxed.

this is arguably the hardest my life has ever been, and also the easiest. i feel more lost than ever, and also more clearheaded than ever. i don't think this is an unusual way to think about things--in different contexts we feel different ways, and most things are both gifts and curses.

in the past two years, i feel i've had at most 2 weeks of peace at a time. but those were some really good two weeks. i remember, before i was medicated, walking to a thrift store, realizing i felt no pain. my body was like it used to be. the flare that had been oppressing me for weeks had dissipated. i remembered there was a time before i had chronic pain. rather than being sad that i would always live with pain for the rest of my life, or regretting not taking advantage of certain things, i appreciated the feeling of moving my body with ease. now that i'm medicated, i can do that more often too.

sometimes i can't be satisfied, but right now i'm genuinely happy to live for the little joys, and for the moments of peace.

[theartistknownaslymond]

Whumptober 2022 day 31

Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”

Francis has to put drunk Jerott to bed when he and Philippa go to visit Jerott and Marthe at the Breton country house Marthe inherited.

Kinda tenuous for the prompts but hopefully angsty enough :’)

CW Jerott is very drunk, his marriage sucks actually, and Francis is a little worried he might be hung up on an ill-advised but well-intentioned kiss from a couple of years ago (It’s my AU and I will continue to up the unresolvable F/J all I want actually thank you, F/P is still endgame - see the fic Anemone in the master list).

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"Where are we going, Jerott?" Francis asked gently, holding his friend's swaying body round the waist and trying not to inhale the smell of wine on his breath.

Jerott sighed with the effort of raising his chin from where it had been slumped on his chest and nodded in the direction of the stairs. "Up there. Premyerr prt s'la droi'."

"Encore, tu parles comme un parisien, mon pote," Francis managed a choked sort of chuckle at Jerott's slurred diction and encouraged him to take a few shambling steps towards the stairs.

"Non...non," Jerott closed his eyes and swallowed. His hand fluttered in the air vaguely like he meant to pat Francis' shoulder but wasn't certain where he'd find it. "I'm upstairs. The guess' rrm... 's fr Philippa. You have to..." he cursed spectacularly, feelingly, with more clarity than he'd managed any other words, and dug his heels into the carpet. He refused to take another step in the direction Francis was trying to guide him. Francis saw him suck at the taste of wine on his own tongue and teeth as he frowned at another door leading away from the large living room. "I didn' make the camp bed. There's... there's a camp bed. I didn't..."

"It's ok, Jerott," Francis tried to heft his weight against him, like he might bounce a recalcitrant toddler against his hip in order to distract his attention from something he found alarming. "Tell me where the sheets are and I'll make it myself."

Jerott stared at the door a little longer, his expression pained, his thick brows drawn together in quizzical unease. "Oh," he finally murmured, and then turned to the man who was holding him upright. "M'not being a very good host, am I?"

Francis smiled. He supposed Jerott was too drunk to notice the sadness in it, the way it didn't really reach his eyes, but Jerott's own expression was miserable, knowing, so perhaps they did in fact understand one another clearly. "It's fine, Jerott," Francis repeated softly. "Come on," he applied some pressure with the arm round Jerott's waist again and encouraged him to stumble towards the stairs.

It took a while to make the ascent. Jerott's legs were heavy with good wine, his shoes kept catching on the carpeted lips of the runners, and Francis gripped the bannister for dear life with one hand and held onto Jerott tightly with the other. Jerott's own arm was slung over Francis' shoulders and his breathing was heavy with concentration, each successful step accompanied by a stunned exhalation. It reminded Francis of the long walk along the I-70 in Utah, when they'd run out of gas as they'd searched for Baron Morgan's Oasis in the desert. He and Marthe, carrying Jerott between them - poisoned, burned, jail-broken and withdrawing - toiling beneath the bald desert sun, desperate to reach the promised motel - and not knowing what it was they had wished for.

At last, though, Francis and Jerott reached the landing - and there was no deceitful, white-toothed smile waiting for them. Just a plain door, behind which lay the master bedroom.

Jerott squirmed in Francis' hold and retrieved his arm from across Francis' shoulders. He took a step away, reaching out to push the door, but Francis let his fingers trail watchfully after him, hovering close by his waistband, ready to catch him should he -

Jerott put too much pressure on the door and it swung inwards, away from him. He stumbled after it, his body falling forwards heavily until Francis caught him round the hips, his jaw clashing against Jerott's flat, solid scapula.

"Bollocks..." Jerott muttered.

Francis steadied him and then found the light switch. He walked Jerott to the bed, but before he could guide him down, Jerott's failing grip on him tightened suddenly. He endeavoured to straighten his legs and to meet Francis' eyes, and he grasped Francis' two shoulders as best he could from within Francis' hold on his waist.

"Francis..." he began, a question on his lips, something trepidatious but hopeful in his dark gaze.

It was at this moment that Francis had it forcefully brought home to him that he'd not really seen his friend since the rehab centre in California. Since they'd been alone in the gardens, sober and uncomfortable.

They stood there in Jerott's bedroom, two years away from the heady scent of orange blossom. In the intervening years they'd exchanged only evasive, professional letters - apart from a brief catch-up at the benefit gig, where Francis had promised to come and visit Jerott and Marthe here at their Breton hideaway; apart from a delicate lecture over coffee, when Francis had impressed upon Jerott the importance of following the steps offered by the rehab centre.

Two mannered, publicly held conversations were all that remaind between them and the memory of a twilit kiss in the rehab centre grounds.

It had been a practicality, Francis reminded himself. But with Jerott this close to him now his heart was running quick, his urge was to flee. He couldn't answer for that kiss - not now. Jerott didn't understand how the last two years had affected him. Why he'd done it in the first place.

He'd needed to persuade the guard that Jerott wasn't out there drinking a secret stash - that Jerott wasn't the one breaking the rules this time. But also, he supposed, he'd done it out of pity.

A poor motivator. The journey across America had left Francis' impulses and judgement flayed raw, his sense of self warped and poorly defined against the needs of others. Perhaps he'd thought that, if he could offer what he'd offered to Baron Morgan, to Kiaya Çalışkan for their protection, then he could offer this small something to a friend, a modest way of saying: I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I'm sorry this goes no further. I'm sorry for the missed opportunities and for the things that were exterminated before they could be discovered. You deserve this from someone as capable of love as you are - and that person cannot be me.

Then again, Francis realised with a shiver, perhaps thought hadn't factored as much as he'd like to have claimed.

He swallowed his nerves down and ensured he had a good grip on the other man, should Jerott do anything rash. Nostalgia for a feeling that had already been steeped in the optimism of teenage memory was no basis for...whatever Francis feared might happen next.

And besides - Francis' heart had since been given to another. Permanently, irrevocably, finally. Sealed in a lead casket and cast out to sea with all its vain hopes - out of bounds in a way that could never be explained to the drunk man in his arms. The man who had hated him for giving his body to another, who had loved him silently, thanklessly, year upon year - who was now trying so hard to stand under his own steam, to prove his capability.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Francis made his question kind. It was what Jerott was owed. What he'd been promised.

Jerott bit his lower lip. His brown eyes were huge, wide and seeming to take up most of his face with the way he was standing so close to Francis. "Iwz wond'ring...you don'...you couldn'...use a...touring guitarsst, couldyou?"

Relief washed over Francis, a sprinkling of confetti on his nerve endings. He smiled again, and this time it did reach his eyes, and it turned into a small, happy laugh. "Yes, Jerott, yes I could use a guitarist. And not just on tour."

"Yeah?" Jerott's brows rose and he beamed in return. "F'real?"

"Yeah," Francis repeated, nodding. "St Marys would be honoured to have you back."

Jerott laughed and bowed his head towards Francis' shoulder, and the strength he'd put into his legs in order to make the request seemed to drain away. He faltered against Francis' body, so Francis helped him back towards the bed and let him flop down under his own steam - flat on his back on the covers, his head turned to the side, sinking into a big, square pillow.

The bedside table near his elbow was empty but for a lamp and a box of painkillers. The floor on Jerott's side of the room was spotless. It was as though there was an invisible dividing line running across the floor and through the centre of the bed: dust and mess only existed on the other side. Marthe's bedside table was piled high with books with various page markers projecting from them: receipts and folded scraps of paper, empty sweet wrappers, chewed pens, other, smaller books, pamphlets and sheet music. The stack looked precarious, but it hadn't so much as wobbled when Jerott had let his bodyweight fall to the mattress.

Francis surveyed the scene with quiet, contained bitterness. He perched on the edge of the mattress and began to unlace Jerott's shoes. After a moment he realised Jerott was humming a familiar song, and he looked at him with a sigh and a raised brow.

Sure enough, Jerott's thick black lashes were parted a little and he was watching Francis, barely able to contain the silly, rogueish laughter that finally burst out.

"What? I've...mm...sources. I like it. 'S a good album."

"I could have sent you a copy," Francis shook his head, fighting his own rueful smile. The song Jerott had been singing was a bonus track, only available on the Soviet release of the album Lymond had made there, and then only as a live performance he'd recorded with Baida's band one night.

"Where's...fun 'n that..." Jerott closed his eyes, a happy smirk on his lips. "Wanted m'own auth...authn...real Soviet bootleg."

Francis snorted and got up to take Jerott's shoes away to the rack inside the wardrobe.

"Needs more guitar, Francis..." Jerott called from the bed.

Francis, who deliberately hadn't taken any guitarists with him to the USSR, made a sound of mock interest. "Is that so?"

"Yeah." Jerott opened his eyes again and looked at Francis, deadly serious - or at least finally doing a good impression of it. "Yr lucky yv got me back."

He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't apologise for leaving Jerott behind. There really had been no place for him in the USSR. They'd both been through too much in America, and Francis could only afford to carry himself through the unknown - their short time in the rehab centre had been enough to make it clear that Jerott had no chance of behaving in the manner necessitated by such a delicate project.

Besides - there had been Marthe.

Francis stood still on the other side of the room and just uttered a quiet "Yes."

With a vast effort, Jerott pushed himself up to a sitting position and switched the bedside lamp on. He stared at the bulb as it brightened. "Thanks. You...cn put th'main light off. 'll be fine."

Francis walked to the doorway and did as Jerott asked, but he paused outside the room for a moment, contemplating the silence of the house.

First, he went into the downstairs office and established that he was perfectly capable of finding the sheets for the camp bed himself. He didn't expect that Marthe would have any idea where they were. Then he went to the kitchen, checked that the light in the garage was still on and that Philippa and Marthe were still occupied with Thomasina Durand's legacy, and filled a glass of water.

He returned to the master bedroom with the water and a basin he'd found under the sink. He knocked softly, speaking as he pushed the door: "Jerott? I just wanted to -"

He wasn't beckoned inside or driven away, but when he opened the door, Francis saw his friend wasn't asleep. Instead, he sat there tangled hopelessly in his Lacoste jumper, his smart trousers in a pretence of neatness, part-folded on the end of the bed.

Francis sighed and walked to the bedside. He put down the glass and the bowl and addressed the jumble of limbs and fine cotton carefully. "Do you need help, Jerott?"

"No..." Jerott wriggled inside the jumper again, a polygon made up of projecting elbows and fabric that would stretch badly if he struggled too hard.

Francis took the hem of the jumper and the top beneath it and pulled both up over Jerott's head and arms. Newly released, Jerott sighed and rubbed his face. He flopped back into the bed and pulled the duvet up over himself, his eyes closed.

"Y'didn'eed t'come back..." he said thickly.

Francis separated the shirt from the jumper and shook the latter out before folding it.

"I came back because I thought you'd appreciate the water. And..." he set Jerott's jumper and trousers aside tidily and put the shirt in the laundry basked. "I mean to say, I'm looking forward to having you in the studio again."

"Mh?" Jerott's brows rose but his eyes didn't open. He was already closer to sleep than he'd been before Francis had left.

"Yeah," Francis folded his arms and looked down at him. How could that be so true even as he wished Jerott wasn't like this, wasn't still such a mess from everything that had happened? That wasn't Jerott's fault, but still Francis thought he'd always look at him and miss the boy he'd been nearly a decade ago.

It was unfair, and Francis was dimly aware of the hypocrisy of the thought, too. Instead, he lashed out at the person who had already wronged him most recently, and who had promised him she would be kind to the semi-conscious alcoholic on the bed.

"Of course, your marriage is your responsibility even if you come back to St Marys, Jerott," Francis told him sternly - though with about as much hope of obedience as when he used to order Sybilla's cat off his favoured chair back in Scotland.

Jerott grunted into the pillow - it was the clearest indicator he was still awake. He muttered something ominous like I'll deal with her, and Francis gazed across the bed, thinking about what the state of the room said about who dealt with who.

"And if you're recording with me, I expect you to be with me - not running back here every time you miss the king-size bed."

Jerott made another sound that might have been an acknowledgement.

"Ok Jerott," Francis agreed softly. "You can rest now. I'm glad to have you back."

[s4egusas]

beidbejdsigdbncdnekk id love to see some kaoru and rei w a short s/o hcs ( ´ ▽ ` )

a/n : writing request/s about kaoru is my coping mechanism /hj

kaoru + rei with a short s/o !

kaoru hakaze x reader, rei sakuma x reader

KAORU HAKAZE.

his s/o being short is a blessing for kaoru, and a curse to you

he likes to tease you. whenever you’re reaching something on a high shelf, he’s just watching you while laughing.

when you ask for his help, he’s going to tease you even more ! he’s going to tease you for being small and cute, which makes you pissed at him and feel butterflies on your stomach.

poor s/o,, being teased by this blondie mullet man.

he loves to tease you of course, it’s because he’s enjoying your reactions ! he’s going to help you afterwards.

he thinks that you’re so cute, he’s resisting the urge of squishing and biting your cheeks.

head pats ! he likes to pat your head. he thinks you looked adorable and you deserve a head pat !

every time he sees you, he’s running towards you, extending his arms and carries you ! whatever you’re doing, even if you’re doing something, if he’s in the mood he’ll carry you and giggle in his arms.

you can’t steal a kiss. even if you tried, and still have the guts to try, you can’t. kaoru finding out that you’re tiptoeing just to reach his face, you’ll see his mischievous smile crept on his face. watch out and start running because he’s going to shower you with his kisses !ヾ(≧へ≦)〃

you’re the little spoon. yes, don’t try to fight your way out of this. kaoru likes to hold you while he’s sleeping !

his arms wrapped around you, he’s hugging you like a small little bear (❁´◡`❁) whispering sweet nothings to your ear, how cute and adorable you are. and how he’s lucky to have you in his life.

“ah, i don’t know what to do. you’re so cute and you’re so precious to me. i love you so much i can’t stand it."

REI SAKUMA.

this old man thinks that small = must protect !

he’s gentle when he’s around you. his tone when talking to you is gentler than usual. thinking if this is rei that you’re talking to.

if you’re trying to reach something on a high shelf, he’s reaching it for you. no hesitations.

OR he’s going to carry you until you can reach that certain item on a shelf.

your cheeks being red by rei’s action, you can’t help but smile.

sometimes, you’ll find him staring at you. when you ask him what’s wrong, he always says that you’re so small.

is that a compliment? i don’t really know. given his gentle tone, i pretty much think that it’s a compliment.

head pats. it’s not his thing, but he likes to do it when you want him to do it !

he prefers head kisses than head pats ! he thinks you’re so precious and you deserve the sweetest kiss !

stealing a kiss... if he finds you tiptoeing and reaching for his face, he'll try to lower his body just to level yours. and there, you can kiss him ! but that's not the point of stealing kisses ╯︿╰

even though he’s an /old man/, he can be a tease sometimes. stealing kisses when you’re absorbed in your work or when you’re doing something in general. beware because you might feel the sweetest kiss of rei ! (●'◡'●)

if he feels that you’re sad, even though you’re not saying something to him, he’ll wrap you in his arms. his warmth is so soothing, which makes you relaxed and makes your negative feelings dissipate.

he likes to be the big spoon, but if you want to be the big spoon, he’ll pretty much oblige ! rei likes to be hugged by his baby in his sleep too.

before he can say anything, he’s fast asleep. his arms still wrapped around you while hearing his soft breathing.

“can you stop being cute just this once?”

[msblazer]

“You’re Going To Be Okay”

Steven Grant x F!Reader

04-06-22

1.1k words

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Steven Grant x F!Reader

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Steven comforting the reader after they finally break down

Warnings:

-cursing

-hair pulling

-implied harm

-parents and child argument

-sad relatable shit

Extra:

-written for myself

-Not Proofread

COPIED AND PASTED FROM MY WATTPAD ONE SHOTS BOOK

Wattpad: @Ms_Blazer

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You tried to dry your eyes, yet more and more tears began to spill from them. It became so frustrating to the point your actions began to become more rough with your eyes.

You're hands met your hair and you gripped tight onto it. As you started to pull at it you couldn't stay quiet any longer.

Years of frustration and sadness began to flood out of you. The feeling of abandonment and neglect continued to wash over your entire being.

Your lungs felt as if on fire as your cries echoed throughout your home. You grabbed onto your body while it shook.

Feeling exhausted, tired and absolutely done with everything, you wanted to lay down but couldn't get yourself to get up to move only a few feet to your bed.

You're body started to give up on you as you're cries started to become quieter, your tears still flowing from your saddened eyes. Exhaustion began to take over.

You felt your side hit the cold polished wooden floor of your apartment. Your eyelids began to feel extremely heavy.

You're eyes were red and puffy from crying. Slow tears fell down to the ground. Before sleep took over your body you saw the phone you dropped earlier shine bright through the darkness of your room.

You could hear a similar ringtone which was only set for a certain someone. You wanted to get up and answer it. You wanted to hold him, hear his voice, but your body gave up and you're fell into a deep slumber.

You heard rushed footsteps and doors opening and closing frantically. You heard a male voice talking outside your bedroom doors. Your head was too fuzzy to see and you could barely hear anything.

Suddenly a shine of light was seen from your door as it was opened, while letting out a groan from the sudden light in the room you curled away into a small ball.

You saw footsteps making their way towards you. Someone was calling your name. You're eyesight began to focus again so you looked up to see who was in your home.

Steven.

'I didn't want him to see me like this' you thought to yourself. 'He probably doesn't even want to deal with somebody like me. Why is he here? Is he going to leave me like every other friend I've had? He can't- he's all I have- I can't lose him too.'

You began to cry again. Suddenly you felt two strong arms lift you into their chest. You looked up through your tear filled eyes.

You felt a rough large hand stoking your hair trying to calm you down. "Shh, it's alright Darling. I've got you, don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to you as long as I'm here." Steven's British accent clear as he whispered to you.

More tears began to flow through your tired eyes as your body shook. Steven's hold on you began to slightly tighten and became more comforting.

He began to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Steven held you until you felt yourself calming down.

Steven look down to look at you in the eyes. You looked up at him to meet his soft milk chocolate eyes. He smiled. "Are you feeling better Love?"

You slowly nodded. "Would you like to go lay down? Or maybe I could get you something to eat? Or drink? Would you like to talk about anything? Only when you're ready of course-" he stammered.

"I'd like to lay down" you whispered. He nodded and lifted you bridal style and layer you on your soft mattress.

You curled up into a little ball on your bed. Steven decided to join you and lay beside you and he brought you into his chest.

He brought the bed covers over both of your bodies. He cradled you in his arms while stroking your hair. You could feel his fingers pass through your hair as gently as a feather.

You hummed softly feeling a comforting feeling from your boyfriend. You two lay in a comfortable silence, embracing each other.

A few minutes pass and you could hear Steven whisper. "Do you want to talk about anything Love?" He asked while stroking your hair.

You slowly nodded. "Take your time now Love, remember that there is no pressure on you to say anything" he smiled. You looked up at him.

"I got in an argument with my mother earlier today, I went to visit her and just-" you took a pause. "It all just got out of hand and she was yelling, I was yelling. I knew I was in the wrong but me being a stupid stubborn moron I continued to argue..." You felt your tears returning back to your eyes.

Steven let you finish and held you closer. "It's alright, Darling. It's normal to have arguments with loved ones. It's okay. You'll be okay. I have an idea. How about we just relax together and forget about this for today and go see your mother tomorrow? You might feel better." He smiled.

You lifted your face up from his shirt. You thought for a moment. It does sound nice to get it off your mind and spending your time with Steven? Sounds like a win win.

You nodded and wrapped your arms tighter around your boyfriend. You quickly moved up to kiss his lips. He was caught off guard but kissed you back gently with as much love as he could muster up.

You both pulled away with a small smile lacing your lips. He laughed quietly. "There's my happy girl. You look gorgeous when you smile, you look wonderful any day in every way." You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and around his neck.

"Thank you Steven, how did I end up with the most amazing person in the world? Any girl would be lucky to have you." You whispered into his ear.

Steven felt his face get hot and redden. "W-well! How did I end up with the most gorgeous being hmm? And plus, this most 'amazing person in the world...' is all yours." He kissed you again as you gladly accepted.

The two of you decided to stay in bed for the rest of the day and relax and talk about all the new things you've seen or any new Egyptian Mythology Steven has read while the two of you cuddled till sleep took over both of you.

—————

Hope you enjoyed it! And if anybody is concerned at all, I'm alright! I know I said that I wrote this for myself (which I did) I am mentally alright!

Steven is just my comfort character and I thought that maybe I should write a story for future needed comfort

So thank you for any concern and thank you for reading!!

[twinklelilstarkey]

Where is my girl, bro? - Qb!Rafe Cameron

Words: 2.1k+

Summary: Rafe is, finally, having the game that he anticipated for so long, but he can’t find you in the stands.

Warnings: Cursing? Female!Reader. Rafe being a sad boi for a few minutes. 

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Inspired by the iconic video “I can’t find my mama, bro” (but, of course, instead of mom, it’s his girlfriend)

One thing you absolutely hate but, for some reason, always happens to you is that whenever you really want or need to be somewhere at a certain time, something *always* happens and you end up being late. 

It could be for presentations, tests, and many other important things, and no matter what you do, it just happens. There’s no way to escape it.

Today is your boyfriend’s game. You never miss a game, ne-ver. And he has been telling you about it for way too long. Always saying how excited he is to play it, just so he can finally beat the guys that have been talking shit about his team nonstop for so long.

You did everything to get there in time. You left the college library early, went back to your apartment to take a shower and get ready. 

You did everything in time and still had at least twenty minutes to spear. So, with the time remaining, you calmly and slowly got onto your car and drove your way to the stadium with absolutely no worries. 

The time from your apartment to the stadium wasn’t all that much. Ten to fifteen minutes, max. Plus, the games are always a few minutes late. You were as relaxed as one can be.

But that’s when everything went to shit.

There was a car accident at one of the streets that connected to the stadium, so the road was closed. It wasn’t a big accident, just a tap that took one off the road slightly. No one was hurt, thankfully. But you had to do a whole different rout, where you were met with nothing but... traffic, of course.

Still, you didn’t stress. You still had time. Rafe didn’t have his phone on him anymore, so you couldn’t text him just to tell him know that you were on your way. But, still, you didn’t panic, yet.

It took you a good 15 minutes to get out of the traffic and get in the parking lot, to find almost no empty spots. 

But life’s still great, right?

You were able to park your car all the way in the back and as soon as you turned off the engine, your friends started blowing up your phone to say that the game has started.

You jumped out of the car, locked the doors and started running to the stadium. 

Midway through the ginormous parking lot, you remember that you left the lights of the car on. So, running back you went.

To say you were out of breath was an understatement.

You called your friends when you were able to get in the stadium (in as: ‘just walked through the door’) to see where they were seated, and you did that while walking at fast pace to the usual seats, slightly off to the left of the field, already expecting their answer.

And all you got as their answer was “our usual spot was occupied”, which made you stop walking and sigh to the ceiling, “we’re on the right, by the doors”.

And there you went again. Running like a mad woman, again, through empty hallways to the other side of the stands.

The game had been going on for a good few minutes now and Rafe was sitting on the bench, breathing a little heavy has he just left the field and his eyes study the stands.

“Where is my girl, bro?” He asks his teammate beside him.

His friend tries to help him find you, eyes scanning through the sea of college students and families, but soon enough he was called back in the game. 

Rafe’s telling himself many times that you are there and he just isn’t seeing you. 

You wouldn’t miss a game, right?

You pant as you make your way up to the stands. Your legs are starting to ache from the sudden running and jumping up stairs, and the urge to yell a ‘thank god’ when you spot your friends at the front seats and not all the way in the back is too intense for you to just not let out a whisper yell version of it.

“Finally!” Your friend says loudly over everyone’s loud excited voices.

You sit beside them, feeling exhausted, eyes already on the score board, scared to see that you missed any points, but you’re happy to see that you didn’t miss all that much.

You sip your drink excessively as you quench your thirst and your friend starts to update you on what you missed.

Rafe’s eyes go back to the stands as he makes his way back to the bench and he frowns at the fact that he can’t see you nowhere close to your usual spot. He looks through the sea of dark blue jerseys, trying to at least find his number on anyone and go on from there, but he just... can’t see you.

“Still can’t find her?” His other teammate asks.

“No, like... what the fuck?” He curses more to himself than anyone else, sad tone. “Where the fuck is she?”

He’s not cursing you, he’s cursing himself. Like what if he forgot to tell you that the game was today? He had stopped checking his phone long before the game started... what if something happen? Maybe he should’ve checked his phone earlier. 

Oh, god, where are you?

He lets himself fall back on the bench, eyes still on the stands, which almost made him trip over an helmet on the floor, but he didn’t seem to care all that much.

Your eyes stay on the field, watching the game continue as you try to cool down your warm body, nodding at your friend’s words and waving your arms around your face to seek some wind.

(...)

The game continues on, Rafe keeps on trying not to think too much about your absence on your usual seat, forcing himself to think that you have been there the whole game, and imagines you in previous games just to simulate some idea of your presence.

Everything is close to ending, his team is winning, as expected, yet he was still dragging his feet on the grass and letting his eyes stay on the ground as he walked back to the bench. 

He feels sad, this almost-win doesn’t even feel like a win. He never celebrated a home game win without you, and it’s weird to even think about it.

“Yo, Cameron!” His friend screams from a few feet away from him.

Rafe lifts his gaze from the ground, up to his friend. He has an outstretched arm, pointing at the opposite side of home team stands, the one’s he has been looking at for way too long.

Rafe’s heart speeds up for a bit as hope runs through his system and he stands up, almost running full speed to his teammate. He stands behind him to try and follow his pointed finger. His blue eyes scan the middle rows first and suddenly... he spots you.

You’re smiling at your friend, wearing his jersey, like always, shaking a cup on your hand and sipping the last drops of your drink at the bottom of the cup.

You are nowhere near where he thought you would be. Yeah, you’re on the front row but way off to the side, close to the doors that he had just walked through on the break.

How the hell didn’t he see you?

A wide smile spreads over his lips and his heart squeezes at the sight. He has never felt this much relief in his life. You’ve been here this whole time.

You’re not going to miss a home game win.

The last seconds of the game run out and the team starts celebrating as soon as the number zero hit the timer.

A heavy weight has been lifted off Rafe’s shoulders and he honestly didn’t even realize it was there until now. His smile is huge as he jumps around with his teammates while they chant whatever nonsense you always had trouble understanding a word of.

His helmet is on his hand, letting his hair flow away freely in the wind as his features twitch upwards in the happiness with the win of the game that has been on his mind for so long.

You smile from your spot on the stands, some people in the stands are just as loud as the team, jumping and dancing around. You can’t blame them, after so many weeks of both colleges fighting against one another on social media, yours can finally rub the win on their faces.

As the team separates to go to their girlfriends, boyfriends and family members, many people walk over to the railing of the stand.

Rafe walks towards you, smile as bright as ever, being highly contagious to you.

“Hi baby!” You squeal in excitement as he gets closer to you.

He answer back with a just as excited tone and cheesy nickname and comes closer to the stands. He climbs them a bit and you lean down to cup his face and give him the usual kiss after a game.

His cheeks are sweaty under your fingertips, but it’s not something you haven’t grown accustomed to.

When being able to pull away from the various pecks, Rafe helps you down the stands, almost against your will, and pulls you into a not so comfortable hug due to all the gear on him.

Yes, you, supposedly, can’t get on the field, but there’s too many people around you for anyone to notice, and other people are also doing it, so it will be impossible for someone to call you out specifically in the middle of such commotion. 

“I didn’t see you for most of the game.” Rafe tells you and you look up at him.

“I expected that. I got here late and supposedly our usual spot was taken.” You explain over the loud music.

“You were late?” He asks loudly, forced shock on his tone as he pulls a quite offended look on his face, “For my special game? How could you?”

You giggle at him and he breaks the fake expression so he can smile.

“There was traffic and the parking lot is completely full.” You explain.

“Excuses, excuses.” He says while waving his head from side to side comically, “You. little missy... for-got!”

He pokes your side with each word and you laugh at him again, loving his playful and excited mood.

“Did not do such a thing!” You say, playing along.

Rafe’s smile is wide and bright and god, you wish they could win everyday.

If it meant him stopping to worry so much about everything and just be this happy every day... Ugh, where do you sign? No matter what cost. You will sign that, god damn it.

As you’re about to pull away from your sweaty boyfriend, your friend stops you.

“Wait! Let me take picture!” She says.

You pass her your phone with the best of your ability and she takes it in her hands midair. You walk back to stand beside Rafe and wrap one of your arms around his waist, as his do the same, pulling you closer, completely against him.

Your friend takes as many pictures as she can of you two smiling, just for memories’ sake, but you, many family members and significant others, are interrupted by the usual voice saying a ‘please stay on the stands and do not step on the grass’ blah blah blah. 

“Thank you.” You thank your friend as she shows you the pictures from her place up the stands.

Rafe holds your waist close to him and, just like any other guy around him, he helps you up. But... Rafe is Rafe. He can only fight his urges to some extent.

As soon as your hands grab the top railing and you stand safely at the top, his hand lands a loud and hard smack on your ass.

God, you hate this man.

You send him a glare and the bastard sends you a cheeky toothy smile, so forced that even his eyes close with his cheeks. You shake your head in a chuckle and jump to the other side of the stands.

“Don’t take too long on the locker room!” You tell him over the loud music and he nods.

You’ll never forgive him for making you wait 2 hours for him to only say ‘Sorry, I had to enjoy the shower while we still had hot water’.

Never. You will take that with you to your grave.

“Sure thing, ma’am!” He says, playfully saluting you.

You smile down at him and take some steps back.

“Wait!” He says, hand on the air.

You walk back close to the railing and he smiles, climbing up the stands again.

“I deserve one more kiss, no?” He questions, standing right at eye level with you.

You bring his hair back, not letting it fall back on his eyes and cup his cheeks, giving him the kiss he so wanted and wasn’t able to get when you were standing beside him.

Rafe’s free hand holds you close to him by the back of your head, but you pull away quickly as soon as you feel his tongue touch your bottom lip.

“We are not doing all of that here.” You warn him.

He stares back at you.

“I’ll wait in the car.” You say, your lips hovering over his, pressing a last kiss on his lips.

He jumps back down to the grass and stares as you turn to grab your things from your seat. 

His last name is written across your back as well as his number. A dark blue jersey matching the one he is wearing right now.

Your friend stands beside you, so that the both of you can leave, and you give him a last look before he has to step away with his team and resume his celebrations while you go to the car.

He steps back from the stands, eyes on you and on his jersey. Rafe loves to see you wear it, it awakens some sort of possessiveness in him, but, god, he is dreading to take it off of you.

Is this good? Because I love the idea of qb!rafe, but I don’t know shit about American football, and wrote this on a free morning. Help.

If you guys enjoyed this, I’ll write a fic with qb!rafe and maybe some more imagines of him just being a jock...? Maybe?

[clouds-rambles]

hello!~ o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

can i request headcanons for kaeya, diluc, childe, and venti on what they would while their s/o dies in their arms? (if thats okay with u <3)

thank u sm! :))

BESTIE THE PAIN I FEEL RN!!! Omw to make hurt some of my faves hope you enjoy <3

Also guys I’ve been here for a day how are there almost 50 of you following?!

Pairings; (Separate) Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Venti x reader

Warning(s); hurt, big hurty, reader death, vague wound description, cursing, talk about dead bodies

Keep reading under the cut!

Kaeya

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were meant to live forever with him. You were supposed to grow old with him and become a parent to your future children. You were-

“Kaeya” you choke out smiling at your partner above you. The man shakes his head mentally pleading with you to not die “Kaeya I will always be on the wind” you tell him, a shaky, bloody hand raised to his cheek to weekly caress it

“Please” he pleads “Please don’t die on me [name]” you smile at him feeling the breaths in your lungs disappear

“I’m sorry Kae--ya” you apologise before passing away in his arms

He doesn’t move for a long time. He doesn’t feel for a long time. The one person he could share his secrets and his love to gone. Away with the wind

Kaeya doesn’t remember the last time he cried, but he’ll remember this one. 

Your beaten, bruised, broken, dead, and beautiful body slumped in his arms as his tears fall from his face as he feels an absence in his heart

How is he supposed to live on if this is the pain he feels right now?

Jean eventually stumbles upon Kaeya out in the wilds, still clutched to your now cold and even more lifeless body

Jean manages to get the man up with your body held close to his chest

“Jean, I can’t, I can’t let them go” he pleads as if he’s waiting for you to simply wake up in his arms

“Kaeya...” Jean says in a concerned tone having never seen him in such a state, even he seemed to quickly recover from his fathers death

Eventually Jean coaxed Kaeya to go back to the city and leave your body in the hands of the sisters. Where they dressed you up and prepared a funeral service for you

The funeral was larger than Kaeya was expecting, you had affected a many more people than he realised from your small jobs around the city. Kaeya can’t help but be awed at how many people you’ve helped while you were in Mond

The usual chatter of Mondstat is quiet and in a time of grieving for about a week or so, many people have wonderful memories of you and Kaeya seems to be collecting them all, that and bunches of flowers. Many of which find themselves laying on your tombstone as Kaeya tells you about his day

A month passes and it seems like everything's back to normal, Kaeya is back to his outgoing self. He spends more nights at the tavern, but even Diluc doesn’t have the heart to cut him off. 

Jean seems to pick up on the smallest things, goddamnit Jean, the extra nights at the tavern, the eyebags, the weeping she can hear from his room. In it’s own right is heart-breaking, the acting Grandmaster cannot imagine what it’s like to be actually experiencing that kind of pain

-

Diluc

No, not like this

You had both decided that night to join each other in your little vigilante escapade. Which was fine you had both done this before, but tonight resulted in something very different

Here you are, head on Dilucs lap. This could be considered romantic, and often was, were it not for the fact you felt like you choked up a mixture of your lung and your bloody supply

“Diluc” you speak with a much worse for wear voice, the red-head looks into your eyes, eyes already gaining moisture. A similar scene has befallen him before, a Diluc knows how this ends

“Please” he pleads his voice wavering “Please don’t leave me” he chokes back a sob and tears fall off his face the salt hitting your own

“I love you so much” you start, Diluc shakes his head. Must you hurt him so with last words? “Don’t blame yourse-” another set of hacking befalls you as you lose more blood

“Please” he pleads again as the grip you had on his arm goes slack indicating your loss of life

Diluc screams, he cries and he hugs you close. He screams into the air of Mondstat until his voice hurts and he cries until all he’s doing is dry sobbing and he holds you close until you’re broken body is pried from his own broken mind

A wondering Jean heard his screams into the night sky and hereby answered them. She never expected to see Diluc, still in his vigilante getup, crying over your body

She calls for more guards who take your body from his and Jean helps Diluc get back to the estate. At one point during the walk Jean can feel DIluc shaking and hyperventilating. So they stand for a moment, Jean holds and comforts the wine-master before they move again

Jean has never seen such emotion from Diluc before, and she wholeheartedly hopes she’ll never have to see it again. Seeing Diluc so raw and rife with emotion is enough to make anyone cry. And Jean nearly did on more than one occasion.

Your funeral is small, much to Dilucs request and really only were attended by the estate and Jean. Diluc didn’t want to cry again in such a large audience

Though the maids often hear pained sobs coming from Dilucs room as he contemplates and often blames himself for what had transpired. Maids daren’t speak up about what they hear though, Diluc’s pain is more than understandable

Diluc throws himself into work opting to man the bar most days of the week and fighting for the city as often as he can. People around him are more than concerned

Diluc’s stoic nature seems to be intensified now, not wanting to let another person in and die in his arms. He’s seen enough death for his life and wishes not to lose more loved ones

Everything seems to have moved back to what life was before you arrived in your life, depressive, monotonous, boring, mundane for the most part and sad. So very sad

He wishes for a day where his heart isn’t strife with grief, but he doubts that day will not be coming anytime soon

-

Childe

You grin up at him, feeling close to naught pain coming from the gaping wound thanks to the excess of adrenaline that’s pumping through your body

“Childe” you say the smile still on your lips in an attempt at not making the situation as dark and horrific as it is. Childe speaks your name in return

“I love you” you tell him mustering the strength to cup the mans cheek, who immediately nuzzles into it. The situation almost doesn’t feel real to him. He’s going to be shaken awake by a very unwounded you in just a moment and inform him he’s having a nightmare

But that moment doesn’t come. Nor do any words come from you. Your slow rhythms of your heart remind you that he’s still got time, but you’ve expended all your energy. Your smile you’re wearing seems to be dropping

“I love you [name], I love you so much, you are everything I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you” he rambles bringing your body to his chest

“Live for--- me” you sputter out into his chest, a dying wish that Childe isn’t too sure he can uphold. Is it really living if he’s an empty vessel.

You go limp in his arms and he can no longer sense your heartbeat. Death had finally laid claim to you

Childe sits with you for hours, you’d expect him to be wailing like a banshee if you knew his personality but that’s rather not the case. Sobbing quietly is a better word for what happens. Most of his sobs and hacks for air are hidden in your hair. He pulled your body to his shoulder just to weep

Eventually he finds himself mustering the courage to walk back to Liyue Harbour. You firmly held in his arms. He knows that if he walks too plainly the Millelith would pry and ask too many questions for his fragile heart to answer

Childe ends up barging into the wangsheng funeral parlour, which surprises Zhongli a little. He’s about to go on a rant to Childe about how he must book an appointment, until he sees your lifeless body in his arms

The funeral is arranged quickly and neatly. There aren’t many people who attend, Childe is okay with that, he secretly wants to see his family and cry on their shoulder a bit

Instead he opts for a letter, which arrives to the family tear stained and lacking the usual penmanship ‘I’m sorry, you won’t be able to see [name] after all. They passed away not too long ago...’ he basically writes your arbitrary in the letter. And his whole heart is in every word he writes

Determined not to let anybody in Childe finds himself in a pattern, when he’s not throwing himself into battles he’s doing paper work or yelling at his subordinates and when he’s not doing that he’s doing his weekly fight with the traveller. Childe gets next to no sleep and instead opts to reading and rereading every letter and note you’ve ever given him

If Childe passes out at his desk nobody bothers him either in fear of getting yelled at by the harbinger or an understanding of losing a loved one

They never said being a harbinger was fulfilling work. Yet, he let himself believe that he could be fulfilled and content with a lover. What a shameful lie

-

Venti

He’s awfully quiet. He hasn’t experienced death in so long. Especially one he thought would be forever.

He couldn’t even get to you to hear your last words. Ironic isn’t it? He hadn’t heard that guys last words either. And yet this pains him so much more

Sure mortal lives are fleeting but he was certain he had more time with you. More time to see you grow old, more time to put off your inevitable mortality. More time to-

He’s hyperventilating, Venti’s body shakes as he finds nothing to ground himself not even the person he loves so dear is there for him. He feels like he could explode, breaths caught in his throat refusing to surface and come up for air. Despite being an immortal archon, the breaths that refuse to surface don’t fail to make him feel like he’s choking

A bard he is. And one that knows every song from the past, present and future. Suddenly the pained songs from the future make sense to him. He knew what was written. A love lost

Suddenly he finds himself crying and hunched over your deceased form making promises to the wind that he’ll never forget you. Much like he’ll ever forget that bard

He isn’t sure how long has passed but he’s still sobbing over your form, there aren’t many tears left for him to cry but he can’t find himself stopping. He feels like they’ll never stop. 

Maybe he could lay beside you and sleep for another thousand years. But that would only delay the inevitable. The inevitable sinking feeling.

Maybe it was his fault for letting himself fall in love with a mortal, but in the moment he could truly see you living life with him. He could see a marriage, children. He wanted you to have it all.

Damn celestia and all things above for not letting you ascend, at least when he inevitably ascends you’ll be there to greet him. Curse that and your mortality

Jean eventually stumbles upon him during a recon mission to find him covering your body in various flowers, a crown made of cecelias don your head. He’s quiet, but he’s saying goodbye. Who would blame him? Jean doesn’t interrupt him and only wishes you a farewell

News of your death spread around town like wildfire, your grave donned with more flowers than Venti can count. He almost feels bad about not doing a public service after seeing how many people are truly in mourning

Diluc doesn’t push Venti to pay his growing tab no matter how much he should. And Diluc doesn’t say no to Venti singing his happy tunes in the tavern

It feels like his life has retuned to normal. Though Jean can’t help but look out the library window to see Venti sat atop his statue with an expression, as Jean can only guess, of sadness.

Venti finds himself going back to an old schedule again but he can’t miss the nagging feeling of somethings missing. The something being you

Sometimes he half expects you to hug him from behind, or join him up at the statue, or kiss him on his nose, or-

Venti can’t quite comprehend how he feels, he just knows there’s a hole in his heart where you belonged. And he doesn’t want to let anyone find their way into there

He doesn’t want to lose again

It’s happened too much

[bonny-kookoo]

Heart Shot: 1

In which Jungkook finds a broken and partially dismantled Android, and does what every normal person would do.

Take it home.

Tags/warnings: Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077, Fixer Kim Seokjin, Ex Corpo Jung Hoseok, Android Taehyung, Android Reader, Android Jimin, Mentions of Prostitution, Illegal activity, drugs and drug usage, Discussion of Past Abuse, Night city, min holly, yes that is a warning, Body modifications, graphic description of violence, Blood, Murder, Ripper doc!Yoongi, Ripper Doc!Seokjin, Ex Nomad!Jungkook, Oppression, Minor Character Death, Guns, Graphic Description of Corpses, social anxiety/phobia, panic attacs, ah yes I'm back at it again aren't I, Smut, because of course, protected intercourse you know me, MTBA

-----

He’s seen you from his window when you’d been thrown onto the pile of clutter and garbage this morning, and he’d waited for someone to pick you up. But now, after having returned from his nightly grocery shopping (because people are scary, especially old ladies during rush hour in the produce section, his skin shivers just at the thought of it), you’re still there.

Truth be told, now that he’s closer, he can see why you’re here; your arm is pretty much facing the exact opposite way it should, bruises coloring your skin. You seem to be a pretty outdated model too, having had repairs already if the patches of mismatched skin here and there where anything to go by. You’re also barely dressed anymore- something that makes him a little shy to look at you actually, even though you’re technically not fully human. It's obvious you're not- the already stolen parts here and there revealing your mix of biological and mechanical parts. He can see some lights here and there, dim, but still signaling the small spark of life left inside.

Your model is just supposed to look like human- not act like it.

Maybe he’s just overly attached to androids- his best friend Taehyung being one making his heart ache for your fate. He has come to learn that while you’re not supposed to, you are capable of actually learning and processing very human emotions,understandingthem even if given some time and a helping hand. Taehyung for example doesn’t really differ much from himself anymore, the android being able to be sad, and cry, and laugh, and understand jokes and sarcasm.

Jungkook just can’t leave you alone like this, he decides.

He brings the groceries up his apartment before walking down again, doing what every sane person would; he picks you up, struggling a bit as he notices you’re definitely a lot more broken than he thought. Your hip seems completely dislocated, making it hard to maneuver you around without doing more damage. He feels as if he’s doing something illegal, internally cursing when a can falls to the ground and makes a loud cluttering sound on the pavement below. But he isn’t- there’s no law that forbids him to take someone else’s trash.

So he brings you upstairs into his apartment, laying you on his couch as he gets to work. Work meaning, making himself something to eat before taking a nap, just to forget he’s brought an almost naked female Android into his home and getting spooked at your lifeless form on his couch.

He starts by noting down some things on his phone, making sure to keep track of spare parts he has and ones he’ll need to buy. There’s also some stuff he will need to search online for, probably needing a tutorial on how to change and fix certain things he doesn’t yet know. Jungkook is gifted when it came to technology- numbers and systems way more honest and reliable than people could ever be. He likes that about those things the most, and its one of the main reasons taehyung and him get along so well. Because Taehyung, as an android, can do a lot of things very well.

But Taehyung, as an android, also can’t lie.

No one knows why they can’t, they simply don’t. And so the purple haired young man has become a pretty well known name for cheap but well done repairs, working at a very small business run by a man named Kim Seokjin, alongside Yoongi, a human with modifications. He’s technically deaf and had lost his arm in a car accident long ago, but had managed to tune himself some mods, something that’s extremely hard to do- and after showing his softer side while repairing Taehyung, Jungkook had become a friend to the grumpy older guy. After searching for some parts online on his phone, he decides stop by his work and ask for some stuff.

So, how will he get you there?

Dressing you in a sweater and sweatpants that are both way too large for your form, he picks you up after wrapping you in a blanket, his consciousness unable to quite see you as a lifeless being. You remind him a lot about what his dad said his mother was when he'd met her; vulnerable, lonely, and someone else's trash.

But someone's trash was another one's treasure, so his father had said.

Now, his mom was a regular woman, nothing too special about her. But she was also a runaway, forced into the adult industry to somehow make money to survive. He somehow can see his father in himself as he brings you to his car, carefully placing you in the trunk since he didn't have any seats in the back of his car- something he should definitely get fixed in the future.

He's always been like that. Something that was useless and broken to someone else, was something with value to him.

Driving around the city he realizes just how unfit he is for the modern society of where he lives. Vulgar and obscene advertisements bathe the streets in colorful neon lights, kids playing around with an empty beer can. They seem completely indifferent to the skimpy clad lady walking past them, asking a man something he'd rather not know.

This was just what it was like nowadays.

The familiar garage comes onto view a few minutes later, Yoongis dark blue car parked in front of it, signaling that he's at work today. Jungkook opens his car door to step outside, coughing as the dust from the ground blows into his face. The weather has been dry and hot for a while now, global warming a now desperate concern no one seems to take seriously anymore. He opens the metal door and walks inside, greeting someone sitting on a chair while Seokjin works on the man's hand, goggles on his face to see better what he's doing. "Oh? You're not on duty today." Seokjin says, and Jungkook nods.

"I know. I.. actually Texted Yoongi-hyung, didn't he say anything?" He asks, before the man of the hour walks through, taller man behind him as he goes up to greet Jungkook with a pat on the back. The silver haired man puts his hands in his pockets, Taehyung behind him stoic as always.

"You brought her?" Yoongi asks, voice a bit raspy. He probably took a nap, something he loves doing whenever he doesn't have any work going. Taehyung always tends to worry about his sleeping schedule being all over the place, however, there's no controlling Min Yoongi.

“Yeah she’s uh.. in the trunk-.. wow that sounds awful.” Jungkook says as he walks towards his car with Taehyung and Yoongi besides him. Yoongi chuckles a bit while Taehyhung stays stoic- the android simply not that expressive with his emotions. When Jungkook opens the trunk, Taehyungs optics seem to zoom in and focus, face falling a bit as he scans the shape you’re in.

“Thats a rough one. Tae, help me get her out yeah?” Yoongi says, unable to do it all on his own due to his arm- so Taehyung ends up pulling your body out of the trunk before carrying you into the garage. You’re still wrapped in a blanket, a small but meaningful gesture by the purple haired guy, who walks behind them. Yoongi pulls it off as soon as you’re on the table reserved for situations like these. “Damn. Let’s scan her, see what we got.” He mumbles, before running a program after connecting some cables and other items, noises coming from the machine above as soon as it starts.

“She’s not that old.” Taehyung comments, causing both other men to glance at him. “I actually know her. Her very easily manipulatable character made her a good fit for the nightclubs.” He tells them, as he looks at your face; your eyes closed, frozen in an almost sad look. “She never attempted to go against her masters or customers. She's what people would call 'soft' I guess..” he says lowly, a serious look on his face. Taehyung himself had been used as a nightclub dancer in his past, so it made sense that if he knew you, it would be from his time when he still worked there.

“Well, now I found her, so I’ll fix her and she can decide for herself.” Jungkook exclaims positively, while Yoongi taps and clicks away at the computer close by.

“I don’t think she will.” Taehyung says, making jungkook frown in question. “She won’t be able to be fully independent right away- she has to learn, Jungkook. Her basic system isn't made to be independent.” He tells him. “If you do not intend on keeping her, I’ll take her in instead. Otherwise all our work will go to waste and won't be worth doing in the first place.” He says, as Jungkook suddenly grows defensive over you, taking a step closer to your body.

“N-no, I’ll keep her, I’ll teach her too!” He says accusingly, a hand on your arm, while Yoongi sighs.

“No offense but you barely ever leave your apartment.” The older man explains.

“Your social skills are severely underdeveloped Jungkook.” Taehyung comments, making jungkook gasp in offense.

“I’m perfectly fine! I just.. don’t like people.” He says with a pout, looking down at you. He doesn’t know why he’s getting so riled up- why he’s already getting feelings of attachment towards you.

“We can talk about this when it’s time. For now, let’s just say she’ll be a lot of work.” Yoongi comments, urging the other two to look at what he’s seeing.

Jungkooks frown deepens as he looks at the list of damage and injuries to your biological and mechanical parts, internal system having noted down all traumatic instances go all systems of your body; bio, mechanical, and also mental.

And while he reads what he sees, he's reminded why he hated people.

Jungkook keeps asking questions and stares like a vulture ready to strike, nervous at any click of Yoongis tongue whenever something doesn’t quite work the way he wants it to. He also keeps nagging Taehyung to be more gentle with you, arguing that no, just because you’re unconscious doesn’t mean he can just rip out parts or “be so aggressive” when handling you.

In reality, Tae is actually very gentle- making sure never to push on any part too hard, careful to make sure every single thing he fixes sits perfectly in your body later on. He's especially careful with any biological parts, asking for Seokjins help a lot more often than usual just to make sure he really is doing everything right. But jungkook is a perfectionist, and suffers from a horrible case of passenger-syndrome; nervous that something could go wrong and overly observant, noticing every single tiny misthap that happens.

And there’s so much to do.

Jungkook had realized early on that there were a lot of things wrong, but now that he’s seen the amount of damage, his heart broke a little. Your ribs had been broken by blunt force Taehyung had said, and he himself could only imagine what you’ve been through. Your arm had been broken in several places, needing to be replaced entirely, while other parts could be fixed with a little bit of creativity and spare parts. At least your biological parts and internals were still relatively unharmed and functional.

Jungkook makes notes every time he realizes that you could use an upgrade to anything.

He takes you home after finishing the biggest repairs, Yoongi advising him to wake you up in a more friendly environment than their garage, though Taehyungseems a bit unhappy with that. Jungkook however agrees, this time placing you in the passenger seat of his car rather than the trunk- by now seriously attached to you, so much so he even makes sure you have it comfortable on the couch back at his apartment, before he places his laptop and all his software equipment on the table close by.

Hardware wise you’re good to go- a little outdated, but it should work nonetheless. He's been given medication for your biological parts, a detailed prescription letter along with it. Now, he’s gotta do what he can do best; setting up a new core system for you.

He’s got a lot to choose from- he could go for a regular firmware such as the ten basic characteristics that are available online, but eventually decides to make up an entirely new one just for you, playing around with his previously used one's that have been proven to work on others to create something unique. After learning about your past character from Taehyung, he’d decided to give you something similar to a companion system, leaving enough room for initiative behavior and active learning. You should have the power to make your own decisions, to build your own life- he’d just be a friend at your side. Setting his name as the developer, he uploads the data, noticing the sun rising behind his admittedly dirty windows.

He really needs a nap, he decides.

So he leans back against the couch, sitting on the floor as he falls asleep pretty much instantly- Not noticing your body move, soul coming to live right next to him.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Church (Choi San) Rated

Pairing: Choi San × Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, College AU, Friends to Enemies(?), Enemies to Lovers (?)

Summary: He used to be her best friend until he abandoned not only his childhood beliefs, but her in the process. One night, he decides to show her a glimpse of what she's been missing out on. Inspired by Chase Atlantic's Church .

Word Count: 6.3+K

Warnings: Mentions of religious beliefs, brazen college parties, allusions to alcohol/nicotine intake, body insecurity (reader has small breasts), oral (female receiving), fingering, nipple play, body worship/praise, slight cumplay, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (always use protection), slight corruption kink, inexperienced reader, experienced San. (Probably forgot something)

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @galaxteez @brie02 @deja-vux @a-soft-hornytiny @multidreams-and-desires @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie

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The infamous rebel let out a pernicious snicker when he saw the serene and usually proper former acquaintance walk in his direction.

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is that really the pastor's prissy little daughter out past her bedtime in a college party?" He found the situation much too amusing that he just had to point it out.

"I have a name you know." The female he was referring to halted in her steps to turn her head and give him an unkind and unfriendly look.

"You have several, actually. There's goody two shoes, priss, prude, prig-"

"Oh shut the fuck up Choi San." She scoffed as she began walking away from him, already feeling annoyed by his presence.

The man trailed after her, his face donning a shocked expression as he flailed his arms around in a dramatic way.

"Guys it's happening! The apocalypse is really here if L/N Y/N has not only attended a wild party full of debauchery, but her mouth has actually uttered out cursed words!" He shouted out, the other attendants either joining in laughing at her or ignoring him in favor of the bottles or sticks in their fingers.

"I'm surprised you even know what that word means." She turned to look at him with a mocking smile, arms crossed over her chest.

"Please, I know a lot more than you have ever pretended to know." He clicked his tongue, elbow coming up to rest on the wall next to him.

"Is that why you turnt corrupt and abandoned everything you believe in?" She couldn't help but spat back at him.

"Hey at least I was honest and didn't hide it like you people who lead double lives. Preaching one thing but living the total opposite. You're all nothing but a bunch of hypocrites." The venom in his voice was unmistakable, nose scrunching up in disgust as he remembered gross sins he had more often than not had witnessed from people who claimed to be pure and holy.

"I do not lead a double life." She remarked.

"Oh really? Then why the hell are you here in a college party? Full of alcohol, drugs and walking STDs? Riddle me that princess." His foot tapped against the floor, patiently awaiting an answer from her.

Y/N swallowed the non existent lump in her throat and turned her gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to see what it was like. Just once." She admitted begrudgingly, the man in front of her chuckling lowly.

"Well you sure are going to have a lot to confess on Sunday to your dad. Silly girl, walking into the lion's pit like this." He jeered at her.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Just because I came here doesn't mean I've done anything morally wrong." She counteracted his words to which he only snorted.

"Yet."

Tired of his overly obnoxious attitude, Y/N spun on her heel to get away from him, but she spun so carelessly and fast that she ended up bumping into another classmate who unfortunately was holding a full cup of beer that ended up being doused all over her white blouse.

"Oops! Sorry, my bad." He excused himself, looking completely unapologetic about the situation.

Meanwhile Y/N looked absolutely horrified as she took in the drenched state of her shirt that now had the stench of alcohol on it. The fact San was bursting out in giggles only served to make her even more mad.

"Now tell me how do you plan on explaining that to dear old-"

"Can it San or I swear I'll gauge your eyes out." She threatened him as she stormed out the building, not caring that she bumped into a few figures on her way out.

Feeling just a bit of empathy for his old friend, San sighed softly before following after her. Upon catching up to her, he took hold of her wrist and started dragging her in the opposite direction.

"Hey! Get your filthy hands off me! I will not hesitate to scream!" She tried tugging her arm away.

"Calm down I'm not planning on kidnapping or anything like that sweetheart. I'm taking you back to my car."

She let out a dry laugh at that.

"But that's not kidnapping?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have a spare shirt in the backseat that you can change into. Unless you wanna go home smelling like PBR." He looked back to see the mess one more time, lips curling up into a smirk.

Against her better judgment, she allowed him to take her all the way where his car was parked, standing there quietly as San rummaged through the backseat before taking out a clean plain white tshirt and held it out to her.

"Here. Put it on."

She looked at him with a face that asked if he was stupid.

"Well what?" He asked.

"Oh yes..I'm totally going to strip in a middle of the street and let anyone passing by see." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh for fuck's sake, there's nobody here, nobody is going to see and frankly I don't think anyone cares about seeing your non existent boobs." He scorned at her as he gestured to her chest.

"Ok rude and uncalled for." She felt slightly hurt by his comment, having always been somewhat insecure about the size of her chest.

"Don't look." She warned him.

"Not like I want to." He jeered at her as he turned away to not only give her privacy, but to also serve as a lookout for anyone that might accidentally show up and see the scene. He could hear her behind him tearing off her clothes and then slipping it back on.

"Ok there. I'm done." Y/N announced as she stuffed the soiled shirt into her bag.

"Not even a thank you?" San pouted slightly, to which Y/N gave a feigned smile.

"Thanks."

With that said and done, she brushed past him and started walking away, absolutely done with the night.

"Careful not to get caught sneaking back inside your house." She heard San say from behind.

"For your information I'm not living with them anymore. I moved into the dorms 2 months ago." She stated in a matter of factly, a proud look on her face.

"Well in that case....want to ride back with me?" He offered.

"Yeah no, I'd rather take my chances at being kidnapped and then butchered up. Besides, I wouldn't want to cut your wild night short." She declined the offer.

"Stop being so negative Nancy and accept my generosity. Geez."

Running over to her, he quickly snatched her up and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her shocked exclaims and protests.

"Now this is really kidnapping!" She declared.

"Yeah I know, now shut up before I duct tape that bratty mouth of yours." San grinned mischievously as he tossed her into the backseat and shut the door before striding over to get on the driver's seat.

"Oh come on. Stop looking at me like I'm a criminal. Just because I indulge in a few sins every now and then, doesn't make me into a bad person." He stated when he saw the dirty look she gave him.

"Whatever." She muttered as she locked in her seatbelt.

San opted for just driving back to the dorms and get Y/N tucked in her bed since it was clear to him she needed it.

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"You're lucky my roommate is on vacation, otherwise I would have left your ass back there." Y/N spewed out as she threw her keys onto her dresser.

"Thanks Y/N, I always said you were the nicest and most giving person in the planet." San complimented her as he felt he should given she was letting him stay the night in her dorm after a little tiny incident with his keys dropping inside one of the manholes surrounding the university. And the administration office wouldn't be open til the morning, meaning he was screwed unless his roommate showed up to let him in, but that was a definite no since San knew Seonghwa would definitely end up in someone else's bed and come back til the next day, hickeys plastered all over his neck and chest.

"No, you always said I was the most stuck up-"

San shushed her by pressing a hand over her mouth.

"You dwell so much on the present image of me you drew up in your head that you completely erased the friend you had all those years ago." He slid his hand off her mouth, shoulders slumping down as he turned away from her to crouch on the floor.

"That friend doesn't exist anymore, that is if he even existed in the first place. If I recall, my friend wasn't into parties, booze, vaping, tattoos, piercings and fucking around with every whore in the school."

San didn't say anything as he heard her ramble, he just let her talk away as she started pulling out spare blankets and pillows for him to use.

"My Sannie was sweet, cute, adorable, always ready to lend people help and respectful to others." She reminisced with a sad look. Pulling her expression straight, she laid out the blankets and started arranging them neatly on the floor.

"I still am."

San's voice was so quiet that she barely registered that he even opened his mouth in the first place, but she heard him.

"Maybe if you weren't so puffed up with pride and didn't cut me off after I cut ties with the church, you'd see that I'm still the way I was. You think I changed completely because of ink and metal on my body? Because I wanted to try certain substances and yes, satisfy some perfectly normal and humane needs?"

Y/N averted her gaze from him and continued the task she was in. San let out a despondent scoff.

"Of course you do. And yet didn't I just demonstrate to you back there that I haven't changed? Giving you my shirt, giving you a ride, yeah I know, it's not much and no big deal, but wasn't those the types of things I'd do even back then?"

Y/N's tongue poked against her cheek as she knew she couldn't deny that was San said was absolutely true. He did nothing different back at the party as he used to do years ago. Helping old ladies with grocery bags, giving away some of his clothes to less fortunate kids, he was always known as being such a giving and kind person.....

No wonder so many were devastated when it was announced he had resigned as a member of the church. Y/N herself was hurt and even indignated by his decision. And after that she adamantly refused to see him or talk to him, and of course San respected her decision and avoided contacting her so as to not make her uncomfortable. He understood that their friendship was broken and he wasn't going to overstep boundaries just to try and fix it when the other party didn't want it. So he just decided to live his life as he thought was right without his conscience bothering him. And he was much happier now, he felt free, something that he had never felt before. Perhaps he was so chained down by formality, discipline, strict regulations and even fear that he didn't realize that he was miserable all that time until his eyes were fully open and he found he didn't like what he saw, especially after seeing the dark and ugly side of what was supposed to be a safe and pure sanctuary. He was let down severely and he suffered in the process. But now that was behind him and he had no regrets......

Except Y/N. He truly missed her and her company. As he laid on the makeshift bed on the floor, he found himself unable to sleep as he recalled all those fond times spent with her. The trips to the lake, hiking, first day of school, their first accident after he had gotten his driver's license. He let out an involuntary smile at that memory. Unbeknownst to him, the girl on her bed was equally reminiscing on the old days filled with her best friend. She had been so alone ever since she distanced herself from him, the world now feeling empty and cold without him. Shifting around in her bed, she whined into her pillow as she desperate tried to sleep.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" Her question startled San momentarily.

"Are you that sleep deprived that you're suddenly asking me to confess my worst sins?" He chuckled amusedly.

"Maybe it'll help me get actual sleep, I don't know. And.... I'm just curious." She clutched one of her plushies and started messing around with it.

"Curiosity killed the cat and I don't think your virgin mind will be able to handle my confession." He asserted confidently.

"I'm not a virgin, but oh well. Just tell me, what's the worst?" Her casual response made San flip out. He sat upright and kneeled at the front of her bed with an incredulous look.

"What do you mean you're not a virgin? When did you-?" He was so flabbergasted he wouldn't even finish his sentence.

Rolling over to where he was, Y/N smirked at him.

"Uh uh. I asked you a question first and you have to answer it before I can answer any you want."

Knowing he had no alternative, San placed his chin on the top of her mattress.

"Had a threesome with 2 of our professors." He laughed when he saw how shocked Y/N looked.

"What?! No way!" She refused to believe him.

"It's true. I won't tell you who they were since you won't be able to look at them the same way if I did...... I'll just dish this: they both got really huge tits and it's a shame they're married." He admitted with a smug expression.

"I can't believe you." She fanned her face which she was sure was now a deep crimson color.

"Ok now your turn. When did this happen? Who was it with?"

Y/N didn't even mind that San got up and crawled into her bed to lay down next to her. His face was rested on his hands as he looked at her with intense inquisitiveness. Knowing she'd have to talk about it sooner or later, she thought it would be best if San was the one to know since he would never tell anyone else and he'd understand since he was tainted as well.

"Remember when that group of missionaries came to stay over at our city for a while back in high school?"

San nodded, vividly remembering everything. Y/N blushed and smiled shyly.

"Do you remember that there was a family with a son our age? Chase?"

San widened his eyes and flopped over on his back as his hands came to hide his face.

"Oh dear lord, please don't tell me it was that Canadian boy." He groaned in pain.

"Yeah....yeah it was."

San couldn't stop cringing at the thought of his friend doing such a thing.

"How even did that happen?" He was so lost.

"I don't know! It just did ok? It happened while we were out in that camping trip. Somewhere there, we were left alone and we started talking about everything and nothing til it spiraled into talking about sex and us being virgins decided to see what was the big deal....." She bit her lower lip as the memory flashed in her mind. Looking over at San, she knew he was judging her as she expected. A tiny snort escaped his lips.

"That must have been the worst 45 seconds of your life." He joked, earning him a slap on his chest by Y/N's hand.

"It was not 45 seconds!............. it was 2 minutes."

San only laughed harder at that, nearly crying from how funny it was to him. He composed himself though when he saw how embarrassed Y/N looked about it. Feeling bad for laughing at her expense, he cleared his throat and patted her head.

"It's ok. First times are always awkward and uncomfortable. The problem was you weren't prepared and you were both inexperienced. He just didn't know how to please you."

Y/N couldn't help herself as she asked:

"And I suppose you can?"

Flipping onto his stomach, San cupped her chin with his hand and ran his thumb across her lower lip.

"Don't tread on dangerous territory little angel lest you want an evil demon to corrupt you." He warned her, and although he wouldn't actually follow through on it, he did want to tease her a little. But he wasn't expecting for Y/N to play along to his teasing, only she was not joking at all as she brought her face closer to his.

"Maybe I want you to corrupt me, show me what I've been missing out on." She brushed her lips against his, tongue daring to poke out and press on his slit briefly, leaving him stunned.

"You have no idea what you're asking for princess." San mused as he held himself back from touching her.

"I know what I'm asking for Choi San and what I'm asking for....is you." She responded with confidence.

Escaping from underneath the blanket that covered her, Y/N reclined back on the mattress, her head laying on her soft pillow as she gestured for San to come over to her, which he promptly did. Parting her legs so he could fit his body between them, he smirked softly down at her eagerness, fingers brushing against the soft skin on her thighs.

"You're serious about this?" He wanted to make sure it wouldn't be something she'd regret.

"I already messed up once, what's one more time gonna do?" She pulled him down against her, not caring when he lost balance and accidentally crushed her under him with his muscular body.

"Besides...." Wanting to further entice him, Y/N brushed her lips against his ear.

"Look at me and tell me you don't want to fuck me. That you don't want to stuff that hard cock of yours into my tight and inexperienced pussy. Bet you're itching to tear into me until I'm crying under you. Don't you want that?"

San let out a moan at hearing such filthy and depraved talk from her. It only fueled his appetite and hunger for indulging in carnal desires.

"Yes... I want that.... I want you."

Closing space between them, San molded his lips over hers, encasing them in a sloppy and wet kiss. Y/N could faintly make out the leftover scent of alcohol and nicotine as she let him taste her mouth, but she didn't mind or felt grossed out by it. She just kept her lips parted and allowed him to move his tongue freely inside her. Cupping her cheeks, San continued to roll his tongue over hers, massaging it gently with both deep yet gentle strokes. When he pulled away, he made sure to tuck her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it towards him as Y/N let out a moan that was like music to his ears. Pausing briefly, their lips were barely touching as they breathed in each other's air. San was the first one to break into a smile, the one that had Y/N melting since it displayed his dimples to the fullest.

"Never thought I'd hear that sound come out of your pretty mouth." He teased her.

"S-shut up." She frowned, hand reaching up to smack his chest.

"It's not a bad thing. I like it. Now let's see if I can make sure you keep them up."

Stuffing his face into her neck, San ghosted his lips across her skin, tongue subtly poking out solely to hear her breath hitch slightly. Dipping his tongue into her collarbone, his lips opened up so they could firmly latch and spread wet kisses across her neck. Y/N gasped when she felt teeth sink down, head tilting back to give San more room which he took advantage of. Focusing on particular spots that he knew she was sensitive in, he sucked her skin into his mouth. Each time he pulled away, he reveled when he saw the finished mark that was now painted on her skin.

"I would love to see your parent's reaction to my love bites." He brushed a fingers across the newest spot he just embedded in her body, hand then reaching up to suddenly clasp around her neck. Y/N shuddered when his grip got tighter, her oxygen intake getting cut and making her feel hazy, but it was nonetheless enjoyable. Snaking a hand under her shirt, or more like his shirt, San swiped his tongue over his bottom lip as he started to pull the material up.

"How about I make some matching ones all across your pretty chest?"

Before he could lift the shirt any further, Y/N's hand clasped around his wrist, preventing him from moving any further.

"Don't." She begged him.

San retracted his hands away from her, fearing he made her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologized and began to move away from her, but Y/N's hands raked against his thighs to keep him in place.

"No, it's not you. It's just..... if we're going to do this, can I keep the shirt on? I don't...." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she admitted an insecurity of hers.

"I don't like my chest. My boobs are too small, it's unflattering and I'd rather you not see them." She slowly opened her eyes to see his reaction. San had a sad look on his face, bottom lip poking out as his fingers came up to brush against her cheek. Remembering what he had previously said back in the parking loyal, he felt terrible for saying that ill intended joke about her body. He probably hurt her and he didn't realize it.

"Y/N don't say that. Your chest size doesn't matter. You're beautiful the way you are and I bet underneath that layer is clothing there is the cutest and most adorable set of boobs in the world." She let out an involuntary giggle at his words, letting him run his hand down her clothed sternum.

"But if that's what you want, I'll respect it. Either way, my tshirt looks amazing on you." He acknowledged rather cockily.

Shifting further back, San took hold of the top of her shorts, making sure to look at her.

"Are you ok with these coming off?"

Y/N resisted the temptation to slap the top of his head.

"If you don't take them off, how are you going to fuck me genius?" She retorted.

"You'd be surprised at what I've learned." He uttered, mostly to himself than at her.

Like an expert, he practically tore her shorts down her legs, panties falling to the floor along with them. Y/N let out a soft squeal when he took hold of her thighs and brought her down so his face was at eye level with her most intimate part. San took a few seconds to admire her bare mound, lips parted and threatening to start drooling all over her thighs. Pressing both thumbs against each one is her lips, San pried her folds open, staring intently as he now clearly saw all of her.

"Oh fuck. I'm gonna need to prep you real good. I can tell you're going to be really tight."

She wanted to ask him what he meant by prep, but her words got caught in her throat when she felt his tongue delve into her core. She had never felt someone's mouth anywhere near her folds and she regretted not having experienced it before. Her eyes shut tight as she marveled at the sensation of San's tongue lapping at her bud, his lips making sure to enclose all around the flesh surrounding it before giving it gentle suckles. Shaky breaths blew out from her mouth, her legs wanting to close themselves around San's head but his firm grip on her thighs kept it from happening. He kept her knees pinned to the bed as his mouth continued to ravish at her taste, sloppily consuming her heat fervently. Her mind was so occupied in what he was doing that she didn't register the hand that slowly crept away from her thigh until she felt something poke at her entrance.

"Oh-" She gasped, opening her eyes to see what was going on.

"Relax princess. It's just my finger.....for now." He momentarily pulled off her heat to let her know what was happening before diving back in to continue his task of eating her out.

His finger inside her felt a little weird at first, sliding in slowly before pulling out only to plunge itself back into her. During one of those times where she expected him to slide back in, she was surprised when she felt herself being stretched out as San curled a second finger inside her. Keeping them lodged there, he began scissoring them alternatively so he could further spread her walls apart. During one of those movements, his fingertips brushed along her hood, making her hips slightly jolt up into San's face, who smiled against her folds as he now knew exactly where to angle his hips for later. Using this new knowledge, that was probably unbeknownst to Y/N, he slipped his fingers deeper into her, knuckles deep as he moved his tips rhythmically on the the spot he found. Y/N's mouth fell wide open into an 'O' as whiny gasps and airy moans poured out of it. San's mouth latched to her clit and his fingers working deep in her hole was producing a stirring in the lower pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite make out. But it felt good, especially since it continued to grow more and more, almost as if it was a cord about to snap.

"San- wait. I feel, I feel-" She couldn't finish her sentence as her body trembled slightly, a flood of overwhelming pleasure washing over her that was prolonged by San drinking up the juices that spilled forth out of her body. He didn't pull away until he made sure to swallow every drop she had to give.

"Aren't you grossed out?" She asked him, always having wondered about that.

"Nope. I love licking girl's pussies, especially if they're as sweet as yours." He affirmed while pulling his shirt off his body.

Y/N turned her flustered face away from him, keeping her gaze locked on the wall to her right, which was decorated with several polaroids of her with her family, friends and members of her church, some of them even had San in them, back when they were inseparable. Before she could become nostalgic, a strong set of hands clutched her chin and teared her gaze away from the pictures, forcing her to stare at the now naked man in front of her.

"Forget about that for now. Right now I want your full attention on me and what we're about to do. After we're done, that image of a good girl you have will gone." His words seemed to almost taunt her.

Although she tried not to look, Y/N's eyes fell in between San's legs, filled with astonishment when she glimpsed for the very first time at her former friend's member, fully erect and leaking at the tip as it awaited to be hugged by her warm walls.

"Like it? Maybe later I'll let you play with it." San giggled when her eyes shot up at him in surprise.

Placing himself to hover above her, he hummed lowly as he slowly stuffed himself inside her, working her open until he was fully nestled inside her warmth. Although she felt a light burn scraping against her inner walls, it wasn't unpleasant or painful like her first time. She could tell San knew exactly what he was doing as he began rolling his hips. Perfectly recalling exactly where to aim at, he made sure to angle his thrusts accordingly so each time he pushed back in, he'd hit her pleasure spot.

"Oh God-" Y/N exclaimed when he continued to brushed against the hood of her core.

"Really think it's a good idea to call out the good lord's name when I'm balls deep inside your pussy?" He asked with a malicious smirk plastered across his face.

"No baby. Tonight your only lord is me."

Pinning her wrists above her head, San continued pushing his cock deeper into her. The harsh pounding of his hips against hers was becoming louder, their bodies starting to get heated and producing sweat. Y/N couldn't do anything but whimper and wrap her legs around San's waist, keeping him firmly locked to her body. She closed her eyes once more as she felt the same familiar feeling from before start piling up, only it felt more intense and stronger probably due to the fact that she was getting railed to her bed by her ex best friend, whom she still cared about deeply. She was definitely not planning on making up with him this way, but holy hell, she couldn't deny that he was making her feel so many emotions at once. Pleasure, lust, satisfaction, happiness, euphoria, love? Perhaps that last one was definitely a stretch, but she blamed her confused thoughts on how well his cock was abusing her hole. She felt unable to focus on anything except him.

"Clenching so hard around me babygirl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock?"

Slipping one hand in between their bodies, San pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it back and forth so it would serve as an extra push to tip her over the edge. Y/N splayed her hands on San's lower back, nails raking against his skin, causing him to hiss.

"Fuck- am I seriously making you feel that good babygirl?" He knew for a fact he was feeling absolutely amazing, her tight warmth gripping along his shaft, making it hard for him to hold back much longer.

"Mmm yeah." She shamelessly moaned.

"Am I better than your first?" Although he already knew the answer, he still wanted to feed his ego and hear her say it.

"So much better! It feels so fucking good." She inhaled sharply when that she began to feel the sensation from before. With even louder cries from before, her body shook underneath San's, blood rushing to her head as an even greater orgasm coursed through her body. She was left speechless, a full on panting mess even after San had pulled out of her after helping her ride out her high.

"Oh geez. Shit." San's voice rasped out as he jerked himself off, his cum painting her thighs white, not stopping until he had finished coating them with everything he had to give.

Looking down at the mess, Y/N couldn't suppress a tiny giggle, one of her hands clasping over her mouth while the other picked up some of his cum and spread it between her fingers.

"Having fun there?" San grinned, finding her fascinated gaze to be completely adorable to him.

"Yeah.." She said as sat up to get a better look at the cum around her thighs.

"Well I was going to clean it off you, but seeing as you're so entertained by it, I'll just leave you with it."

Not forgetting that he was merely a guest, San slid himself off her bed and plopped his tired body onto the blankets on the floor. Closing his eyes, he was thinking he would finally be able to sleep, but he found his plans thwarted when he felt a pair of hands graze across his chest. Looking up, he found Y/N straddling his lap, biting down on her lower lip as she grinded her wet folds along his softened dick which was now becoming hard again thanks to her.

"What in the world are you doing you crazy girl?" He sucked in a breath, not expecting her to suddenly pounce on him.

"I wanna try that again." She pleaded, grinding her hips harder on him.

"Oh my- did I accidentally turn you into a nymphomaniac?" She chuckled at his joke and although he groaned as if he was frustrated, he obliged to her wishes and sat up.

Clasping her waist with his hands, he lifted her up and guided her so she could easily sink herself down on his length. Not letting go, he slowly rolled his hips up, burying himself deep in her body once more. Since they were both still riled up from their previous session, it didn't take long for both of them to start spewing out a clutter of moans and grunts as they once again get lost in a mist of lust that clouded their minds. San drunk up every expression on Y/N's face. Every twitch of her facial muscles, every shuddering breath she exhaled, each time her eyelids shut close, he marveled at seeing her enjoy the experience. He loved seeing her indulge in such an intimate practice with him, more so given how special she was to him, one of the most important people in his life aside from his family. Looking down at her torso, his fingers brushed along the hem of her shirt.

"Please...." His urging caught her attention.

"Please let me see all of you. I want to admire every inch of you and your beautiful body. I promise I won't laugh or judge. I just want to worship you."

Y/N hesitated briefly, still afraid to let him see what was hidden under the shirt.

"It's ok if you don't want to. I won't force you." He shot a kind smile at her as he focused back on making sure to drive his cock up into her.

Feeling safe and knowing she could trust her lifelong friend whom she thought of as a soulmate at one point, Y/N reached for the bottom of her shirt and peeled it off her body. Coming face to face with her bare chest, San groaned in ecstasy as he slid his hands up her body.

"Just as I predicted, you have very cute breasts."

Pulling her chest to his face, he opened his mouth and took one of her nipples in it, swirling his tongue around it before sucking on it. Y/N's fingers raked themselves through his hair, harshly tugging them when she felt his teeth sink themselves into her flesh.

"Aren't they too small?" She inquired.

Letting go of her breast with an audible pop, San cupped her chin.

"No baby, they're absolutely perfect. They're gorgeous, just like every other part of your body. You're gorgeous, absolutely stunning and holy fuck, you're driving me insane honestly." He confessed, his mouth diving into her other breast so it wouldn't feel left out from being tenderly kissed and sucked on.

His words sunk deep in Y/N's heart. He really did found her beautiful, attractive and it spurred something in her. Feeling a newfound passion, Y/N unconsciously began taking over their movements. Pushing against his thrusts, she began to set her own pace, rutting herself on top of his dick. San of course took notice and was happy about it.

"Oh wanna take over now baby? Well go ahead."

Laying back down on the floor, his eyes stared up at her with lust.

"Fuck yourself on me darling."

Encouraged by him, Y/N began bouncing herself on his cock. Finding an angle that she liked, she sunk down on his length over and over, her head thrown back as she used his body to push her down another spiral of immense pleasure. San just relaxed and admired the way she lost herself and gave into her deepest desires. He loved the way she rode his cock, and he loved feeling her walls tighten once more around his shaft.

"Oh shit- Sannie." She cried out his name as she quivered on top of him, her juices spilling out onto his cock once more.

Knowing fully well she was probably aching between her thighs, San gripped her hips and helped her ride out her climax so the feeling she was going through wouldn't go away just yet. He made sure to be gentle, easing her up and down his cock with absolute tenderness. Once he knew she was satisfied, he pulled her of him and set her down on the floor before sitting up above her body. Just like before, he took hold of his cock and began pumping his cum out of his body, plastering it all across her inner thighs and even splattering some on her stomach. Looking up, Y/N had the same giggly expression as before.

"Does my cum really make you burst into a fit of giggles?" He questioned her.

"I can't help it. It's just... I don't know. Maybe it's the fact it's so dirty and wrong, and then to have you spread it all over my body." She explained, which made San chuckle.

"Maybe I should baptize your thighs with my cum more often." Although he was joking, Y/N was more than willing to take him up on that offer.

"Will you?" She looked up at him with puppy eyes.

San studied her for a moment, before a wicked idea popped in his brain.

"How about you let me baptize and stain that pretty face of yours?"

Getting a hint of what he meant, Y/N got up on her knees while San stood up right in front of her, cock in hand as he brought it up to her lips.

"I hope you weren't planning on going to morning services tomorrow because I'm going to keep you up til morning until your knees hurt."

[peachyninjago]

morro + ferret

anon i may not know who you are but know that ily for this <3

tw: none, really. a ferret is implied to be abandoned but thats abt it?? but its fine morro scoops em up like they are ice cream <3<3

~

"Oh my First Master, WHAT do you want from me?"

These words were aimed towards a certain ex-ghost's newfound stalker. Said ex-ghost, Morro, was attempting to walk home, arms filled-to-the-brim with several grocery bags. (He refused to call someone to come pick him up, do you know how embarrassing that would be?)

Due to the added encumbrance, Morro lost his ability to freely move his arms; so he couldn't really do much to hinder his stalker, except maybe slow it down with a particularly sharp glare or two. Then again, it normally just looked at him with wide, wet eyes whenever he did that.

…Oh? Did I not mention?

Morro's 'stalker' is a ferret, by the way.

Morro turned sharply, air squeezing out of his clenched teeth as he now glared head-on at the poor creature. Despite how wily it was, the animal itself was rather small. It was also currently half-hidden behind a bush, eyes and a singular paw poking out. Its nose was twitching.

"What? What do you want? Are you things even native to Ninjago City?"

Morro said this as if asking a rhetorical question, but the more he thought about it, the more his glare softened into a confused side-eye.

"...Shouldn't you have an owner, you weird rat-thing?"

Upon this realization, Morro let out a quiet sigh. He then squatted down, making sure to not lose his balance by dropping the grocery bags behind him.

Extending a hesitant hand, Morro sifted his fingers together, making the ferret tilt its head and shimmy forward. It wasn't close enough to touch, but its whole body was now visible.

Eyes creasing, Morro felt a mix of confusion, anger, and slight sadness when he saw something tied around its right hind leg. It looked like a piece of thick, red plastic; pulled taut enough to make the ferret walk somewhat off balance.

Morro switched from squatting to resting on his knees, extending his hand even further, forcing his tense body to relax.

(He was trying to look as unintimidating as possible, which wasn't exactly easy for him.)

It took around five minutes of staying stock-still, but the ferret eventually complied, shimmying itself into the ex-ghosts' hold. Morro almost flung the small thing, not ready for how hard-to-hold it was. He had to use his other hand to (gently) hold it down, stopping it from crawling up his arm.

"F.S.M.- Calm down."

Morro grabbed the ferret's torso with one hand and the bottom of its hind-legs with the other, bringing it up to his face. He stared into its wide eyes, the ferret stared right back. Its eyes looked so unrealistic, almost like a dolls.

'...Okay, maybe it's a little cu-'

-The ferret's upper paws suddenly went scrabbling against Morro's face, making him yelp and drop it into his lap. It didn't run away, much to Morro's surprise, but it did hiss at him when he looked back down.

Swallowing his pride, Morro simply ignored the faint stinging on his cheeks, moving his right hand for the ferret to tentatively smell. (He refused to let it clamber back on him, though, now being in constant fear of losing an eye.)

"Tch, stupid rat-thing. I'm not going to hurt you… And let me get that."

Moving quick enough for the ferret to have no time to retaliate, Morro slid two of his fingers between the band of the plastic around its leg, being sure not to accidentally injure the small animal as he snapped it off.

Catching the band before it fell to the floor, Morro huffed when he saw tiny, nearly illegible writing wrapped around it. It was smudged to the Cursed Realm and back, but he could just barely make out three words.

'Don't want. Kashikoi.'

With unfocused eyes, Morro let out a huff for the umpteenth time that day, relaxing his hand so that the ferret would once more clamber into it. Said wind master's shoulders went slack when he felt no resistance from the small thing. He ran his free hands thumb over the red plastic, looking at it with an indescribable expression.

"...Kashikoi, huh? Fitting name, for something as out of control as you."

Picking Kashikoi up- and keeping them away from his face- Morro fought back a bittersweet smile at the way they went slack in his hold. They were like a slinky.

'...You weren't wanted either, were you..?'

Not removing his eyes from the creature before him, Morro leaned backwards to grab one of the many discarded grocery bags.

Bringing it towards Kashikoi, he plopped them into it, barely keeping down a coo when they made a small sound at him. (Like a purr or maybe a chirp? He doesn't know the correct ferret terminology.)

Picking up the rest of the bags, (He was careful to not hurt Kashikoi.) Morro held the one said ferret was in close to his chest, allowing himself a small smile when their head poked out of the bag, looking around rapidly. They somehow seemed amazed.

Tapping the top of Kashikoi's head, Morro got them to go back in the bag.

"Wait, don't come out yet."

Kashikoi made a small sound, looking up from the bag and directly at Morro. As childish as it was, he couldn't wonder if they really understood him for a split second. They were so… responsive.

"Stay in the bag, you'll scare the shit out of Jay when we get home, and that will be very amusing. …Oh, and Lloyd will absolutely adore you, I guess…"

Kashikoi didn't much react at Morro's first quip, but seemed to light up at his second line. Curling up, they (somehow) dozed off in the bag, right on top of the new pairs of shirts that were in there with them. Morro just smiled at the sight.

'Fine, yeah. Yeah, that's cute.'