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undressrehearsal · 2 months

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dare to fuck this up

summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing

a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance

part 1

You hadn't talked about it.

You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch.

You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you?

The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet.

That had been three weeks ago.

For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice.

At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach.

Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked.

And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her.

Fine.

If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her.

Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks.

You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder.

“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.

So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air.

“What the hell are you-”

You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor.

She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor.

And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered.

So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”

And the game began.

Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped.

Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”

She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it.

“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?”

And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs.

You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.”

Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure.

You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup.

It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway.

Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed.

Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.”

You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger.

Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.”

You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake.

The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably.

“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die.

There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut.

You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye.

You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated.

You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy.

You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.”

“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.”

You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something.

Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly -

Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.”

When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away.

This was definitely Hell. It had to be.

When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste.

When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things.

Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief.

“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago.

But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.”

So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention.

So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing.

Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.”

“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again.

You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.”

“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose.

You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.”

You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.”

You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.”

Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?”

Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.”

You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’”

You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!”

You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.

Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again.

And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth.

For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”)

And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened.

But the clock kept ticking.

After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”

“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.”

Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you.

“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?”

She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh.

Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth.

And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.”

A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering.

Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-”

You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it.

But this was too important to ignore.

“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth.

Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.”

Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.”

And it was the lack of care that broke you.

You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?”

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?”

“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?”

Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart.

It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.”

You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?”

“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.”

And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.”

You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft.

“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.”

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?”

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers.

“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away.

“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.

Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-”

“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”

She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.”

“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.”

She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.”

Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.”

Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.”

You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek.

“What do we do now?”

When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.”

Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….”

“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin.

You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest.

Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”

“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?”

You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream.

Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her.

Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart.

The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out.

It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head.

Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.”

She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.”

You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin.

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there. You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.”

You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?”

Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.”

When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan.

Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.”

She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise.

You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck.

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.”

You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either.

Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch.

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.”

Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her.

This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue.

But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face.

“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you.

If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.

Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips.

You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it.

You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel.

You loved revenge.

But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile.

So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.

When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst.

Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants.

When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster.

The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?”

Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise.

Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?”

You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple.

You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit.

The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged.

Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together.

You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place.

You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer?

A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed.

You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.”

You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world.

You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely.

She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off.

“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans.

You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth.

Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg.

Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you.

“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.”

“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.”

“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….”

You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness.

“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.”

Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers.

“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.”

She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?”

You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you.

“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.”

She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear.

Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly.

It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips.

When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart.

Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now?

Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.”

Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before.

Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?”

You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?”

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian smut #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou smut #tlou 2 x reader #sorry for the novel #hope u enjoyed #smash that like button idk

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starkwlkr · 1 year

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banned | charles leclerc

Charles and Y/N were in bed watching some netflix documentary. It was a Saturday morning, the couple didn't have any plans so they decided to stay in bed for an extra hour. Ruby was in her room playing with her dolls, but as time went on, she walked into her parent's room, still in her pajamas, and told them she had gotten bored of her barbies.

"Papa, can I play a game on your phone?" Ruby asked, climbing onto the bed and laying ontop of Charles.

"What happened to your iPad?" Charles questioned.

"Its with grand-mère, I forgot it." Ruby frowned.

"Okay, but not for too long." Charles sighed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. "If someone calls, bring it to me, okay?"

Ruby nodded and climbed off. Her little feet took her to the living room. She sat on the couch and tried to find the game Charles had installed for her to play. Instead of clicking on the game, a certain colorful app caught her eye. She clicked on the Instagram app and the first thing she saw on Charles' feed was a picture of Y/N that she had posted recently. Her chubby fingers clicked on the heart then clicked on the comments. She knew how to spell since Y/N and Charles were teaching her so she slowly typed out a comment.

charles_leclerc MOMMY

seconds later, hundreds of notifications came flooding in.

f1lucyyy CHARLES WHAT

forzacharles SAME CHARLES

gasly10pierre he's so real for that

back in Charles and Y/N bedroom, Charles was too focused on giving his wife her morning kisses. They had completely forgotten about the documentary that was playing on the tv. Y/N was also too busy to even notice the notifications going off from her phone.

Ruby was having too much fun with her dad's phone. She kept liking photos and even took some up close photos of her face with funny filters. That's when she saw the LIVE option. Ruby, being the curious girl she is, clicked on LIVE and wondered what it was doing.

charles_leclerc started a live video

The screen showed her face, but nothing was happening. She was extremely confused. Then the comments started popping up.

schumacherlegacy BABY LECLERC

vettel.jpg BABY LECLERC WHATS YOUR DAD'S CREDIT CARD NUMBER

f1weekly yooo house tour

f1paddockgirlies omg someone screen record this iconic moment

"What's a credit card?" Ruby asked as if someone was going to tell her. She thought it was recording so an idea popped up in her head. She raced to her room with Charles' phone in hand and grabbed her favorite barbies. As she ran back, Charles called her name, unaware that his phone was capturing everything.

"Ruby! Slow down, I don't want you to fall." Charles called out.

al0nz04 OMG HER NAME IS RUBY

norriswag RUBY OMG WE FINALLY KNOW HER NAME

leclercxl/n i feel like i shouldn't be watching this 😭 she probably doesn't even know what's going on

y/nscloset guys don't screen record!! she's a child, we shouldn't be spreading information about her without y/n or charles knowing

"Sorry, papa." Ruby apologized.

"Its okay, baby. Are you hungry?" Y/N asked her daughter.

"No," Ruby quickly said and ran back to the living room.

"Ruby Jules!"

f1gossip omg they named her after jules 😭

wagstyle ok charles come get ur child before she leaks your address

Ruby positioned the phone against her mom's favorite candle and showed the camera a barbie that her uncle Lorenzo had gotten her.

"I like this one. She has pretty hair and my uncle Enzo got it for me." She brought the barbie extremely close to the camera.

leclercfamily she's in her vlog era

Ruby then set the barbie down and grabbed her favorite american girl doll that Charles got for her. "Papa got me this one. She has purple hair and has a crown, see?" Ruby showed the camera yet again. "I have more. And I have things for her hair." This time she ran to her playroom where most of her dolls were located. Instead of taking the phone with her, she left it propped up against the candle.

This game the users a clear view of the Leclerc family home, well some of it.

maxsupermax they really have a giant ass piano in their living room.

buttonvettel IS THAT THE MONZA TROPHY JUST SITTING BY THE DOOR

Ruby came back with all her american girl doll accessories. They were in the classic american girl red bag, but Ruby decided to dump it all on the floor.

"Ruby! What are you doing?" Y/N called out as Charles kissed her neck.

"Playing." Ruby said casually.

"Charles, get up. This girl might be writing on the walls." Y/N said, but Charles wouldn't get off of her.

"She's playing on my phone, she's okay."

"Still, let me get up. My amazon package gets delivered today. Get up, Perceval!" Y/N pinched his side, causing him to groan in pain and finally get off his wife.

Charles dramatically rolled onto his side. "It hurts. It hurts more when you don't have a shirt on."

"You're alive, dear husband." Y/N rolled her eyes and got up from the bed. She put on her slippers, not bothering to put on a proper shirt so she walked to the front door in her matching black silk shorts and lace top. She failed to notice her daughter on Instagram live.

y/nisamilf Y/N TURN AROUND

ricciardofiles RUBY GET UR MOM

verstappenxpiquet does she even know how to read?

"I know how to read." Ruby said to the camera.

Once Y/N opened the door, she heard her daughter say something. "What did you say, baby?" She said, still not looking in Ruby's direction as she retrieved her package from the front door.

"I said i know how to read." Ruby replied.

"Yeah, you do. You're a smart girl." Y/N nodded and went to her office that was right next to Ruby's play room.

Ruby continued showing the camera her toys.

leclercstype american girl haul slay

formulahoe STOP THIS IS GOING ON FOR TOO LONG

paddockbitches ruby is MY world champion

Then Charles finally came into the frame. He was shirtless so all the comments went by too fast for Ruby to read. Like Y/N, he didn't notice Ruby trying to read comments on the phone.

As Charles was about to ask Ruby what she wanted for breakfast, Y/N's phone started to ring. Charles quickly made his way back to the shared bedroom. He looked at the phone screen and saw that his brother Arthur was the one calling. He answered the call.

"Hey, good morning-"

"Get your phone! Ruby is on Instagram live!" Arthur said.

"What?"

"She's live, Charles!"

Charles quickly ran to the living room to find Ruby showing the camera a framed photo of Charles and Y/N's wedding. "Ruby, give me the phone!" Charles raised his voice, making Y/N come out of her office wondering what was going on.

"I was showing the pretty picture!"

Y/N ran to Ruby and saw that she was showing the viewers her wedding picture. "Baby, give papa his phone back."

"Okay. The game was boring." Ruby handed Charles his phone back and went to her playroom.

Charles quickly ended the live and put his phone on the coffee table. "She's never playing on my phone ever again."

"Who told you she was on Instagram?" Y/N asked.

"Arthur. He called you, I answered. He probably got a notification that ruby went live." Charles sighed. "Well, I think everyone knows her name by now."

"Oh my god, wait give me my phone. I have your post notifications on." Y/N gasped.

Charles handed her her phone. He watched as she scrolled through all the Instagram notifications. She then held the phone out for him to see. "She used your account to comment on my picture. Look what she said."

Charles laughed at the comment. "Well she's not wrong. The fans did call you a milf."

"Imagine the ones that missed Ruby's live, they're going to see this comment and think that you have some weird kink. Good luck explaining that, Perceval." Y/N kissed Charles' cheek and went to Ruby's playroom.

"From now on, Ruby is on a phone ban!"

ruby is so chaotic i love her, she's my fav leclerc fr

#charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #ferrari f1 #formula 1 #cl16 x reader #baby leclerc series

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rreids · 2 months

Text

EARLY MORNINGS • A. HOTCHNER X READER

part 2 to late nights; smut (needy hotch, some praise and some degradation, spit, unprotected sex (don't do what they are), hotch really is just there to be fucked he's head empty), afab!reader with no other gender/sex markers (i think); implied oral; tell me if i missed anything please; ~1.3k words. minors interacting w/ this will be blocked. read the fluff instead.

“Morning, baby,” a deep voice grumbles and you raise your hand to block the light filtering through the blinds to look at Aaron’s face.

“Morning,” you sigh happily, brushing a hand up and over his cheek until he smiles and it dimples under your fingers. “Been so long since I get to see you all puffy with sleep,”

Aaron sighs heavily. “Did you miss me just so you could tease me?”

“Something like that,” you purr, rolling him to be under you as you rest a little bit above his hips. “Didn’t you?”

He sucks in a breath quickly, quietly, hands steadying on your hips. “What’s all this?”

“Didn’t I say there’d be plenty of time for kisses in the morning?” You ask, peppering kisses down the column on his throat, leaving small red marks you know everyone will see but never dare to comment upon. “It’s morning.”

“You did.” His voice is already a little strained, and you only feel a slight twinge of guilt for the joy that gives you. He’s always so focused on work when he’s gone, the only time he ever gets off when he’s on a case is with your consent during late night calls, too weary every other night.

So when he’s home, and not busy, he gets worked up so easy. It’s a delight, toying with his sensitivity.

“Aaron,” you hum, dragging your nails across skin just harsh enough he jerks under you, muscles twitching. “Are you okay with just kisses?”

“No. No!” His response is instant, hand falling to grip by your ankles and holding you closer to the mattress, to him, by proxy. “God, I missed you, baby,”

“I missed you too,” you tell him, smiling as you undo one button of his sleep shirt. “Tell me what you want,”

“You.”

“I know you can do better than that,” you chide, stopping on the buttons and moving your hands to smooth over his chest and shoulders soothingly. “What,” you pause and nibble on his Adam’s apple, watching as he shudders, full-bodied, “do you want?”

Aaron whines, uncharacteristically high-pitched this early into you touching him. “Fuck me,”

“There we go.”

You deftly undo his buttons and trail a fingernail over his v-line, humming as he shudders again.

“You’re sensitive today.”

There’s no malice or anything, just an observation. He gives a strained nod, eyes already hazy as you palm him over his pants.

“Been a while,”

“That it has, Hotchner,” you smile. “Now, tell me. How do you want it today?”

“Just wan’ your pussy, please, need to be in you,”

You giggle, delighting in how needy he is.

Silently, you shuffle backwards, just enough to pull his boxers down. He hisses at the cool air hitting sensitive skin.

The tip of his cock is already an aggressive red, leaking and you just know it aches for something. For you.

“Pretty baby…” you smile when he whines, again. “Pathetic, too, huh?”

“No,” he denies, but the way he twitches at the word betrays him instantly. “You have to work for that.”

“Oh, yeah? That a challenge?” You scoff.

Before he can get a word in edgewise, you thumb his slit and press hard against a vein you know is sensitive. He shakes, but he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw to stop the sounds begging to escape.

So it was a challenge.

A test you’d be passing with flying colors.

You make sure his eyes are on you as you let spit dribble down onto his cock and slicken the slow, torturous glide of your hand. Make sure his eyes follow your other hand, going to rub circles on your clit, back arching far more than the pleasure calls for so his eyes jump to your breasts.

Aaron swallows and you smile at him, letting your eyes flutter extra too.

“Feels so good, baby, right?”

He shakes his head in defiance.

“No? So I should stop.” You move to pull your hand away but he shoots an arm out to grip your wrist and hold your hand in place, weakly fucking his hips up into your touch. “Stop,” you order and he freezes, groaning when you squeeze tight enough for it to ebb away his pleasure. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Want you to fuck me…”

“I will. If you’re good,”

He nods.

“Words. Will you be good?”

“Mhm. Good,” he lets his hands fall away and lies fully back into the mattress, relaxing and presenting himself to you. His chest is already heaving.

Typically, you’d mess with him longer, but you’re slick between the thighs and it’s been too long. You know he’ll fall apart, how you want, anyways.

“Good. Now,” you move until he’s just below you, tap him against your clit, let his tip catch on your entrance a few times, stopping every time his hips cant instinctually upwards to your heat. “I’m going to fuck you. And all I want is to know how good you feel, how I make you feel. Got it?”

“Yes,” he whispers, voice crackling with need.

It feels wonderful when he fills you, but even better is the way his head presses back into the pillows and a broken moan tears from his throat, already so sensitive and high-strung.

A roll of your hips is enough for him to screw his eyes shut.

Once you get a rhythm and angle that feels good for you, you focus back on Aaron. His skin is sweat-slick, heated and flushed red, seared with his desire.

“How do you feel, love?”

“God, fuck, it’s so—” Aaron whimpers, cry catching in his throat. “So fuckin’ warm ‘nd wet, could live in it, pussy so good,”

You laugh, ignoring the bolt of arousal from his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, so good to me. Just so good. Always making me feel good, always want you. Head in your thighs, you using me, anything. Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,”

“Maybe I’ll let you eat me out after…”

His hips buck up at the promise and you know he’ll be messy, eat his own cum out of you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, bringing a hand to your clit. “Gonna fill me up, Aaron?”

“Please?” He begs, eyes snapping open, blown so wide you can’t easily distinguish iris from pupil. “Lemme fill you up, wanna make a mess out of you, you’re— fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight, I can’t…”

You hum, clenching around him and relishing in the whimper.

“Beg.”

“Please! Baby, shit, I can’t last. Feels so good, clenchin’ and wet, can feel your pulse… can’t focus on anything else, just so fuckin’ good and wet…” his eyes fall from your face to where you take him so well and he groans, gripping your hips in his fingers. “So full of me. Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, cunt just made for me…”

You tilt his chin back up to look at you.

“Cum for me,”

Normally, you like him loud, but it’s only six, so you kiss him as his hips stutter and he falls apart under you, muffled cries and praises smothered against your lips, broken mantras about how good and wet you are for him, how he could die with you on his tongue and be a fulfilled man, how he never wants to part from you, wants to fuck you until you’re both crying.

You cum easily too, less earth-shattering and more a pleasant burn of pleasure that forces you to climb off and catch your breath.

He’s still hard, gasping for air.

“Breakfast?” You question and he nods, holding you down by the waist.

“Me first.”

something about me is that i hold pathetic loserboys so near and dear to my heart and i will often write them like that because i love when a boy is blushy and desperate. amen. (it's why i like spencer & chip taylor so much)

#my works #mdni #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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spooky-pomegranate · 3 months

Text

Handcuffed and Blindfolded:

Captain Price x F Reader (18+) 🔥🔥🔥

Summary: You strip Captain Price naked and cuff him to your bed. But this isn't a game about power and dominance. It's a last chance for Price to prove that he can be vulnerable with the one person he loves more than anything in this world.

Price lay shirtless in the center of the large bed with his hands by his side. You had instructed him to keep his eyes closed and so far he’d complied. You were thankful for that. Your nerves had left you less than confident but this was something you needed to do. For you. For Price. For the future, you both had agreed on wanting together.

You walked over to your duffel bag and slid out of your pants and shirt, tucking them neatly away before pulling out a black long-sleeve tee. You turned back toward the bed and looked at Price. His eyes were still obediently closed, but a small smile played on his lips. You climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath you.

“Love is not weakness," you whispered, leaning down into his ear. "It's about trust. It's about surrendering yourself completely to another person. So I want you to do that with me now. Surrender yourself to me.”

Price’s breath hitched as you placed a soft kiss along his pulse point. “I am yours, my love,” he breathed out. “You have me.”

Price slid his large hands up your thighs and settled them on your waist and for a moment you considered tossing your entire plan to the wayside. How good would it feel to have him tear you apart? To let him have his way with you and fuck you senseless until all you saw were stars and all you could scream his name over and over and…

No.

No, you were determined to see this through. As much as you wanted that, you both needed something more. He needed to prove what he’d said. You took his hands and guided them above his head, entwining your fingers with his.

“The first rule is you will not speak unless I ask you a question. But you don’t get to tune me out either. I want you to feel every word I say as much as you feel my touch,” you said squeezing his hands, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Price nodded, his breath coming out in shallow pants as you watched anticipation pulse through him.

“Good,” you whispered into the shell of his ear. “The second rule is you do only what I ask you to. You don’t get to touch me unless I say so. You don’t get to kiss me unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said nodding again.

You pushed yourself upright with one hand on Price's chest. He kept his hands above his head and you took a moment to admire him. He was always beautiful, with his pale skin dotted with dark brown freckles and his chest scattered with delicious short hair that you longed to run your fingers through. But there was something about him in this moment. Maybe it was the way the soft light filtered through the curtains from the snowstorm outside or maybe it was the fact that for once you finally knew how Price felt. You finally knew how he felt about yourself, about the future, about what scared him.

Fuck.

You’d never wanted him more.

You could feel your body growing hotter as you rocked forward and your slick further soaked into your cotton underwear. Price's hands twitched above his head, eager to touch you, but he held back and remained still.

“Lift your head off the pillow.”

Price complied and you slipped the black long-sleeve shirt behind his head and tied it in front of his eyes. With the blindfold secured, Price’s body tensed beneath you. You turned your neck to look behind you and found that he was already hard, leaking pre-cum through his light-colored pants. The power you felt at that moment was heady, but you knew this couldn’t be about control or lust. It had to be about trust. About vulnerability.

“Your zip-ties,” you said, leaning down and kissing a scar on his chest, “where are they?”

Price bit his lip.

"In my backpack, tucked near the bottom."

You swung your legs off of Price’s torso and crawled off the massive bed. You found his backpack leaning against the wall by the front door and rummaged through it until your fingers closed around cold plastic.

“Take off your clothes,” you commanded, standing back up and walking back toward Price. He quickly sat up and peeled off his pants and boxers, tossing them onto the floor, before lying back down again. You grabbed one of his wrists and carefully secured it to the bedframe with the plastic zip-tie, cautious as to not break his skin. You followed with the other before moving to the foot of the bed and securing both of his ankles to the frame.

You’d never done this before. Blindfolded a man and tied him up naked in your bed. You’d never dreamed of doing this…. but you couldn’t deny, it felt good. You silently stared at Price laying bare before you then his cock, thick and heavy, twitched against his stomach. No, this was better than good. It felt like a part of some secret ritual where you were drawing strength from the very act of binding him to your will. Now you just needed to begin your offering.

You trailed the back of your hand, allowing your nails to gently glide against his skin, up from his ankle to the inside of his knee. His breath faltered slightly as your lips followed suit, kissing delicately along the path your fingers had created.

You crawled onto the bed and continued upward touching and kissing him. Slowly you traveled up his thigh, nuzzling into his groin, and then finally, with a feather-light touch, resting your fingers at the base of his shaft. When you ran your nails gently over the head of his cock and kissed the underside of him he let out a deep strangled moan. Price tugged against the plastic ties that tethered him to the bed and you wondered if they would break and set him free.

“Easy,” you breathed, nuzzling into his thigh.

Price was struggling with this more than you expected. For a man whose life revolved around so much discipline, you’d thought he would be able to restrain himself better. You hadn’t even wrapped your lips around his cock yet.

“When was the last time you came?” you asked him fingers still lightly grazing the base of his shaft. Price cleared his throat, and you could feel his hesitation.

“Not…not since the safe house. Not since you,” he finally whispered. Your fingers stilled and your eyes widened at Price’s words.

“You haven’t touched yourself once since we last slept together?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Price swallowed hard, "I-I couldn't bear the thought of replacing you, of...needi-"

You wrapped your lips around Price’s cock and sucked down his length, quieting him immediately. He bucked his hips upward and you reveled in the feeling of him throbbing against the hollow of your cheeks, his precum warm and salty on your tongue.

You withdrew slowly until just the tip of his cock was in your mouth and swirled your tongue around his sensitive ridge, eliciting a low growl from him. Fuck you had missed the noises he made. They were so head-spinning, so intoxicating… they were everything.

"You couldn’t bear the thought of needing someone else, so you didn’t let yourself come," you said, pulling away from Price’s cock with a wet pop. “Well, I couldn’t either. I haven’t touched myself once.”

Price let out a guttural moan at your confession. This one was deeper than any you’d ever heard from him before and his entire body trembled with built-up and unspent desire.

“Do you want to say something, Price?” you teased taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head slowly up and down. “Go ahead,” you said licking a vein along the underside of his cock, “tell me what you want to say.”

"Fuck," he muttered, the word escaping his lips involuntarily. "I've missed this. I've missed you,” he groaned. “Missed you so fuckin’ much, sweetheart."

You continued to pleasure Price, teasing him with your mouth, lips, and tongue, taking care to ensure you paid attention to every inch of his beautiful cock. It was only when you were certain he was on the brink of release that you pulled away, gasping for air. You took a moment then, with drool hanging from your chin and Price’s wet cock resting against your cheek, to catch your breath before sliding off the bed and slipping out of your underwear.

Silently you crawled back onto the bed and positioned yourself over Price. With a gentle touch, you guided the head of his cock towards your entrance and lowered yourself down onto him.

"I've missed you too," you groaned, leaning down to kiss him as you started to ride Price, slowly rocking your hips up and down in a steady rhythm. He felt so good, completely in your control, completely at your mercy. But even though you had set the rules you were starting to regret them because you desperately wanted to see Price’s eyes. The few times you had ridden him in the past he had looked up at you with such intensity and passion that it had left you breathless. You wanted that now. You wanted to feel holy and worshipped under his gaze. You wanted to feel the way only he could make you feel.

"Price, I need you to look at me," you pleaded, as you reached forward and lifted the blindfold off his face. He looked at you and you thought his blue eyes, blown out with dark pupils as big as the sun, were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“Tell me,” you said as you ground down on him. “Tell me what you're thinking right now.”

“I’m thinking I… I’ve never seen someone look so fuckin’ beautiful before in my life.”

“Fuck Price,” you whined, his words bringing you closer to the edge. “I don’t know how much longer I can… I can last.”

"Then don't," he growled, his voice hoarse and ragged. "Go ahead, cum for me."

You felt the heat building inside of you, the wave of your orgasm threatening to consume you whole. You leaned forward, reaching between your legs to touch yourself, feeling the wetness that coated your fingers. The ripples were building the pressure mounting.

"Fuck," you panted, gripping Price's hips with your free hand and thrusting yourself onto him with newfound urgency. “Please… please tell me you’re close. Wanna come with you, please,” you babbled.

"I'm so close, sweetheart," he groaned, his eyes never leaving yours. "Fuck, I'm so fucking close."

You could feel it. The need to come was overpowering, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you both reached that blissful moment of release. All you both needed was another push. So you reached forward with one hand and squeezed Price’s throat, your fingers digging into the skin on his neck. Price moaned and it sent shockwaves rippling down through your fingertips. And that was all it took. You fell into the precipice and let go. The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before. It washed over you like a tidal wave, consuming everything in its path. Your muscles clenched and unclenched, your core throbbing and yearning for more of the man you loved.

“Atta girl,” Price groaned, his hips bucking upward to help meet each of your weakening thrusts. You added your second hand to Price’s throat and his eyes immediately rolled back, irisis flickering to white before returning to their beautiful blue.

“Fuckkkk,” he moaned spilling into you and twitching inside you. Time seemed to stand still as you both rode the crest of your waves together, your bodies writhing in a dance of pure ecstasy. You could feel your slick and his cum, combining into a warm mess between your thighs, as you let go and collapsed onto his chest. As time moved your breaths synched and your hearts began to beat in unison. You lay there for a moment savoring the aftershocks of your orgasm and everything that was John Price.

“Love?” he eventually asked, glancing down at you with a smile plastered on his lips.

“Yeah, baby?” you answered, tilting your chin up from your place on his chest to look up into his eyes.

“Are you gonna untie me?”

“Well, that depends,” you answered with a cheeky smile of your own.

“On what?”

“Well see there’s a third rule I didn’t tell you about.”

Price raised his brow. “Yeah, and what’s that.”

“The second I let you out I need you to fuck me into this mattress until I can’t think straight. Can you do that, baby?”

Price laughed and craned his neck forward to kiss you. “Love, I will fuck you all bloody night if you keep calling me baby,” he teased with a coy smile. “Now get me out of these, please.” ————————————————————————

This is an excerpt from my much larger work on AO3. If you would like to read the whole story this far here is the link. If you are just here for the *spicy bits* no worries! I have plenty more fun excerpts pinned on my page.

#call of duty #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #cod #captain price x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2

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sonics-atelier · 10 days

Text

Ephemeral Serenity

Summary : Gojo and his lover being domestic and being content, and it being ripped away from him. Fluff with angst at the end.

a/n : I was pissed about the recent leaks and how gojo is being treated like a marionette instead of a person and he's suffering. I was coping with his loss but now gege brings him back and makes him suffer more. This is born of it.

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the quaint cottage nestled among rolling hills. Birds sang softly, their melodies blending with the rustling leaves in the gentle breeze. Inside the cottage,Gojo and his lover moved in a harmonious dance of domesticity. Languidly his lover awoke, wrapped in the comfort of his shirt, the fabric soft and imbued with his scent.

She padded barefoot to the kitchen, where the delicious aroma of breakfast greeted her. Gojo stood at the stove, his white hair catching the morning light, and a serene smile on his face as he flipped pancakes.

“Good morning,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

Gojo turned, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “Good morning, love. I made your favorite.”

She kissed his shoulder, her voice filled with warmth. “You do your best every day, and I appreciate it more than you know. You are loved by me, Satoru.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You’re my lavender,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

They enjoyed their breakfast together, the atmosphere filled with quiet contentment and the easy companionship of two souls perfectly attuned to each other.

As the afternoon sun climbed higher, they packed a picnic basket with fresh bread, cheese, fruit, and a bottle of wine. They set out hand in hand, strolling through the idyllic landscape toward a serene lake nestled among the hills. The tranquility of their surroundings mirrored the peace that had settled in Gojo’s heart.

Finding a perfect spot beneath a towering oak tree, they spread out their picnic blanket. They shared their meal, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. The love between them was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to make the air around them shimmer.

After their meal, Gojo leaned in to kiss her, the kiss deepening with an intensity that took her breath away. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, and they made love beneath the trees, the grass soft beneath them and the breeze cool against their heated skin. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a perfect union of body and soul.

They lay tangled together afterward, their breaths mingling as they gazed up at the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. Gojo felt a profound sense of contentment, a peace he had never known before. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of being utterly and completely at ease.

But suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through his head, like a bolt of lightning. He gasped, clutching his head as the pain intensified. His lover’s concerned face appeared above him, her eyes wide with worry.

“Satoru, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

Gojo tried to speak, but it was as if the air was being choked out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find the words to explain the agony ripping through him. The serene world around him began to blur, the vibrant colors fading to a dull gray.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He tried to reach out, to hold onto his lover, but his limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. Panic surged within him as the beautiful world he had found peace in started to dissolve.

His lover’s face became a distant blur, her voice a faint echo in the recesses of his mind. “Satoru, stay with me!”

Gojo’s vision darkened, and he was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of despair. He tried to run toward her, his salvation, but his body wouldn’t obey. He was trapped, once again, in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

The peace he had found, the love he had cherished, slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. A sudden surge of fury ignited within him, burning hotter and fiercer than anything he had ever felt. He let out a primal scream, the sound raw and filled with anguish, echoing through the void.

“How dare you!” he roared, his voice cracking with the weight of his fury and despair. “How dare you take this away from me! After all I sacrificed"

He thrashed against the invisible chains that held him, every muscle in his body straining with the effort. The world he had built, the love he had found, was gone, and in its place was only darkness and pain. His screams grew louder, filled with the rage of a man who had tasted true happiness only to have it torn from his grasp.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. “I will find you,” he vowed, his voice a mere whisper now, but filled with unwavering determination. “I will find you, and I will get you back.”

But as the last echoes of his fury faded into the void, Gojo was left with nothing but the cold, unyielding reality of his isolation. He collapsed, his body spent, and the weight of his despair settled heavily on his shoulders. The memory of his lover’s touch, her voice, her love, was all that remained, a fragile lifeline in the darkness.

He clung to that memory, the only light in his endless night, and whispered her name, a vow and a promise all at once. “I will find you.”

But for now, he was trapped, a prisoner of his own mind, haunted by the ghost of the life he had once known. And in the silence that followed, the only sound was the quiet, anguished beat of his broken heart.

- @sonics-atelier ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form, I will decapitate you)

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minty-mumbles · 1 year

Text

LU Mermaid AU

I don't think I'll be finishing this, bc I'm not exactly sure where to take it. But I like the bit I've written so far, so here you guys go :) No idea if any of this makes sense, but whatever!

~~~

Wind wasn’t crying.

For one thing, Mers couldn’t cry. What was the point of leaking water from your eyes when you were already underwater? Wind thought Hylians were very strange for leaking water, even if they did live above the surface. They just wasted water when they did that. With the dry environment they lived in, it didn’t make sense to go about spilling water from their eyes whenever they were upset. But Hylians could be a little stupid sometimes.

So no, Wind wasn’t crying. But he was releasing the semi-involuntary chirps and trills that accounted for the same thing, to Mers. It was meant to signal to his pod that he was in distress and needed comfort or help.

Wind was a big boy, though. He should be able to control his calls. It was especially necessary for him to learn how to do so. His pod was so small, and consisted of only pups and juveniles. They absolutely could not afford to attract predators. No matter how upset you were, nothing was more important than keeping yourself hidden.

Wind’s pod couldn’t afford to fight. They’d learned that a long time ago, and Wild had paid dearly for it. It was only by the grace of Hyrule’s healing magic that he’d survived, and even then he hadn’t come out of that encounter in one piece.

So Wind knew how to be silent, even if he was upset. He knew how to muffle his chirps as well as any adult could. At least Wind had thought he could, but here he was, chirping desperately for his pod.

Wind wanted them, where were they? They wouldn’t leave him alone, would they? They said they would stick together for as long as they could.

Wild and Hyrule’s species were usually solitary, but they had promised Wind that no matter how much they each wandered, they would always return. And usually, they made sure one of them stayed with him while the other went hunting to blow off steam.

Their species might typically be solitary, but Wind’s wasn’t, and he was only just shedding his pup fat. His scales along his ribs and the end of his tail were taking on the brighter colors of a juvenile of his species, but the rest of him was still firmly the dull orangey-brown of a pup. He was still too young to truly be alone.

When Wild and Hyrule had found him, Wind had thought the universe had been kind to him. He’d thought he had found a replacement pod for the one he’s lost. But it’d been four days since Hyrule had last wandered off, and then Wild had gone hunting, but that was two days ago!

Wind was hungry, but he didn’t want to leave to try and find something to eat, because what if his pod came back when he was gone and they couldn’t find him?

It would be better to stay in the little cave they’d been staying in. Wind was hungry, and it was getting colder at night, especially without anyone to cuddle with, but he had to stay. Wild had told him to stay, so he would stay.

So he curled up on the cold floor, his tail coming up to drape over his neck protectively. Normally it would be one of his brother’s tails draped over him to keep away the chill, or an arm slung across his vulnerable neck. But they weren’t there, so he had to do it himself. He did his best to ignore the chirps and calls that escaped his mouth. There was no one to answer him anyways.

~~~

A familiar screech woke Wind the next day. Wind discovered he’d slept in late. The sun that filtered through the shallow water shone brightly into the cave entrance, and the water had warmed slightly while he slept. It only took a few moments for him to shake off the haze of sleep.

That was Wild’s call, and from the sound of it, he was fighting something.

Wind was at the entrance of the cave in a flash. The relief he felt at hearing his podmate’s return was quickly squashed by the sight outside the cave.

A good distance away, Wild was facing off against four other Mer. A spear of dread shot through Wind for a moment. Relief hit him when he released Wild wasn’t actually fighting them, at least not yet. Wild was a good fighter, but there was no way he could win against four Mers at once.

Wild had stopped a good distance away from the cave entrance, evidently not wanting to lead the strangers directly to Wind. He faced off against them, but WInd could see it was hopeless.

One of the strange Mers looked like a pup at first glance, but his colorful scales revealed him to at least be a juvenile, despite his small size. A second Mer with a royal blue tail with orange markings hovered hear the back of the group, observing the going-ons on with a critical air.

The two that drew the most attention were the two that were closest to Wild. They were both large, especially compared to Wild. One of them practically towered over Wind’s podmate. He looked especially fierce, with scars criss-crossing his white scales. One long scar covered his eye, bisecting the red and blue marking he had on his face.

Wind knew, logically, that Mers didn’t stop growing when they reached adulthood, but to see a Mer this large was still startling. He must be positively ancient.

The fourth Mer had a seal’s pelt tied around his shoulders. He wasn’t nearly as large as the white one, but even from Wind’s distant view, he could tell the Mer was rippling with muscles under a healthy layer of fat. In fact, all four of these Mers looked incredibly well-fed. They looked better than any of Wind’s pod, who were all a bit too scrawny to be healthy.

Wind could see Wild pressing himself down to the sea floor. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, fear stealing his voice from him for a split second. His silence only lasted a moment, before the Mer with the pelt made an aborted movement towards him.

His movement seemed to give Wild a bit of courage. The siren flung himself up, all his fins flaring out.

Even with half his dorsal fin being a mess of scar tissue, Wild’s threat display was truly impressive. He still wasn’t fully grown, and his colors hadn’t come in all the way, but he was still a sight to behold. Wild’s bioluminescence didn’t add much to the display in the middle of the day like this, but Wind knew from experience that at night or in deeper waters, the eerie blue glow could make some fully grown Mer back off.

These Mer remained mostly undeterred though.

The large white Mer seemed utterly unphased. He flicked his tail, sending himself effortlessly through the water, closer to the Wild. Wild snapped his jaw threateningly, which finally caused the Mer to stop moving forward.

But he was much too close to Wild for Wind’s taste. Wind couldn’t stop the chirps from rising in his throat.

Here, here! I’m here, I’m scared, I want you here!

The attention of all four of the Mer snapped towards Wind at the sound of his chirps. Wild screeched in anger at that, but no matter how he flared his fins, he wasn’t able to grab their attention away from Wind.

The small one with the colorful scales huffed when he saw Wind peeking out of the cave. “Exactly how many pups are we going to find swimming around in our territory?”

The royal blue Mer seemed to agree. There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he spoke. “It seems we have an infestation.” He agreed

The one with the seal skin around his shoulder was frowning at Wind. It would be rather intimidating, especially with the crooked fangs poking out of his upper lip, but Wind got the feeling that the Mer wasn’t frowning at him.

“Is that a pup? He doesn’t look like he’s yours.” The question was directed at Wild.

“He is mine! Don’t you dare touch him!” Wild’s voice had risen to a fever pitch of stress and anger. Wind flattened his ear fins to his head at the sound. “You already took Hyrule from us. Go away! Go away, we don’t have anything for you!” Wind felt an icy chill shoot through him. These Mers took Hyrule? What did that mean? Was Hyrule… dead?

Wind didn’t want to think of that possibility.

~~~

Wind is about 10, Hyrule is ~13, Wild is ~14/15, btw

This is all really just a big misunderstanding. The others are just concerned and confused at what three pups are doing alone in the middle of their territory. Meanwhile Wild/Wind/Hyrule are having the most stressful day of their lives, which is an achievement considering their lives have generally not been good.

Hyrule went exploring and ran into Legend, who tried to convince him to come back to the pod's camp willing, but Hyrule took it to mean that he didn't have a choice. Now Wild and Hyrule are under the impression that Hyrule has been kidnapped for his healing magic, which is a bit of a rarity.

Meanwhile, the others are just like... "Oh god oh fuck why are there suddenly children in our territory. We are not equipped for this."

The trio end up getting adopted into the pod in the end, obviously.

#yeah they end up getting adopted lol what did you expect #mint's fanfiction #linked universe #lu fanfiction #lu wind #lu wild #lu time #lu four #lu twilight #lu warriors

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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Hello! I saw your work when you wrote about three men from the house of the dragon (Jace, Aegon and Aemond) at once and I fucking loved it! I don't know if you can write something like this again? Maybe, somewhere during some kind of ball, some lord sticks to the reader in the corridor (very cruelly sticks, perhaps so that pieces of her paty remain (remember Sansa from the first season)) some lord, and she tries to fight back, but too much shocked and these men come to the rescue, God I hope you understand me thanks for your creativity!

My prince in shining silks?

Rating: Teen

Tags: Aegon II x Reader, Aemond x Reader, Jace x Reader, AFAB!Costayne reader, chivalry, sweetness really, fluffy, Aemond is emotionally constipated, Jace is a baby, Aegon and Sunfyre are BFFS, I get a little character studyish, TW: attempted rape, nondescript castration, Aegon’s past misdeeds

A/N: OF COURSE I LOVE STUFF LIKE THIS ENJOY XOXOXXO

Some say that the North remembers. But you’d like to say that the Hightower’s never, ever forgot a slight. They were too proud, too old of a family. Elevated to the highest position as they became the puppeteer for the Dragon. It was a grand tourney and feast in the Reach for young Prince Daeron’s 13th name day, a man grown now.

You were of House Costayne. Bannermen of the Hightowers, but had not so hidden preferences for Rhaenyra as rightful ruler for the future of the kingdom. Also the fact that your ancestor Elinor Costayne was a black bride of Maegor. Who was supposed to stay true to his Hightower bride. Therefore there wasn’t the best of blood between your families.

But your family was here. Quite spread thin if you could say. All filtered far away from the center of the jamboree. One of the dragons roared from far off. It sounded like Prince Daeron’s she-dragon Tessarion. Daeron was a kind soul and handsome. Too young for you by some years. You’d overheard Lord Hobart reprimand the lad after chatting to you, “You know what color her family’s flag flies.”

That was that. He didn’t speak to you much anymore, but would smile. You were a lady in waiting for Samantha Tarly, soon to be Hightower. It made things much worse for you and your position at the feast. Down with lesser nobility and the knights. Suddenly you felt very alone and afraid, picking at your meat nauseously.

A breath reeking of wine entered your ear, “Why’ve they got pretty little Costayne down here? You bed the princeling, incur the wrath of Lord Otto?” You turned to face the man, shock etched into your features, stuttering, “N-no my lord it must’ve b-been a mistake!” It was the huge second son of Lord Bulwer, Uther. He looked bullish like the sigil they bore.

He crowded into your space, grinning, huge hand gripping your shoulder. Bulwer grunted, “No one’s going to see when their pretty lady is gone, not down here. Maybe Prince Daeron will come to the rescue.” You remained quiet, eyes searching for a familiar face but found none. Tears leaked from your eyes as Uther led you farther away from the din of safety.

Aegon

Aegon hated these events. He lounged back and sloppily poured more mead down his throat. Alicent slapped his arm as to say, have some decorum you halfwit! The prince scoffed and got up, he needed to take a piss anyways. He sauntered through the woods, relieved himself, and decided to stagger over to his baby Sunfyre.

The golden beast huffed at Aegon, nuzzling his palm. The blonde softly chatted in Valyrian. He loved Sunfyre, so much, probably the only friend that unconditionally loved him. Both of their heads turned at the sound of a woman’s plea for help, cut off by the sound of a smack. Sunfyre growled lowly, turning to look at his owner as if to say, “Are we going to do something about that? What if it’s Hel?”

Aegon really couldn’t be bothered but he heard another shriek and Sunfyre had already dipped for Aegon to mount his beast. The elder prince eyed the dark forest, his golden dragon snorting and twitching it’s head to-and-fro. Aegon demanded, “Keligon,” he pat golden scales, “Ilagon.” Sunfyre let him hop off and come forward to the scene.

Some Reach lord, thick as a aurochs and hairy like one too had a girl shoved into the dirt, down in a rut, hands tearing at her garb. Aegon could see the tears in her eyes under the moonlight. Guilt constricted his chest. Is this what he thought was fun? The Targaryen needed to set himself right, help the girl.

“In the name of the Seven Kingdoms, your Prince commands you to cease at once!,” Aegon called down from his higher position. His dragon hung back, snorting and waiting. She cried, “Please! Prince Aegon! My virtue! I need Lady Tarly!” The lord snarled, “Your family stuck her at the end of the table for a reason, just having a little fun, get back to your silken chair.”

Just having a bit’ of fun.

Aegon was furious now, self-hatred fueling his desire to make this man burn. He barked, “I’ll ask one more time, get off the Lady and go back to your shitty house and their shitty wooden chairs.”

The aurochs scoffed and ripped the girls bodice with a grin. He really was stupid, drunk, or possibly both. She tried to cover her exposed teats, sobbing for Lady Tarly, her father, she was of Costayne. Costayne was a reputable house. This would be bad to ignore a bannermen’s virgin girl. Even if they were a bit astray. Maybe this could get them back.

Aegon looked over his shoulder to meet gleaming reptilian eyes. He pointed at the man and hissed, “Sunfyre, Dohaeris!” He mounted the dragon again, who let our a fierce screech. The ugly lordling hopped back and cried out in shock. The lady of Costayne covered herself and scurried backwards, getting even more dirty. The Prince directed his purple eyes to the man, “If I hear of you assaulting ladies of nobility again, all I have to do is say one word and you’ll be a nice roast.”

He dismounted again, thanking his dearest friend. The girl sat crumpled, heaving sobs, eyes swollen. Aegon offered her his cloak with a frown, asking, “Who was that?” Her wide eyes met his, beautiful in their sadness. Aegon liked sad things more than all of the revelry. She mumbled, “Uther Bulwer. I was supposed to be seated with Lady Tarly or my family. Thank you my Prince. I cannot repay you enough.”

Aegon hummed, “That’s horrid, I apologize on behalf of the dumb fuck who did that. C’mon, show me to your tent and I’ll get Tarly.” He gathered her up in his arms, her legs shaking too bad to take a step. Aegon looked at her crumpled face and asked gently, “Would you mind getting on my mount, he’s a good boy. Listens well.”

Her eyes grew wide at Sunfyre, but the dragon dipped its head and let out a soft purr as to show it’s good behavior. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at his mount. She stammered, “O-okay.”

She remained silent as Sunfyre ungainly took them to the Costayne and Tarly tents. He helped her down and carried the girl inside, who had calmed significantly. She even pat Sunfyre and whimpered, “T-thank you.” She received a pleased chuff in response.

When they entered the Costayne tent Aegon was assaulted by members of the family and a frantic Samantha Tarly. She cried and gathered the girl up, demanding, “Where was she? Where was my girl?” Lord Costayne came to Aegon and looked down, offering a hand to shake. Aegon explained, “I was uh- relieving myself and heard her. Uther Bulwark was attempting to take her virtue. His violets flicked over to the young lady being coddled by others, looking heavenly in his emerald cloak.

Costayne frowned deeply and hummed, “Raper. He should be sent to the wall. I would also request why the girl was seated at the end.”

Aegon dutifully nodded and replied, “I will return to my family and resolve the matter. May I speak to the girl?”

Narrowed eyes. Aegon still had a shite reputation.

“You may.”

Lady Sam looked up and allowed for Aegon to kneel at her side. He thumbed the ermine cloak and said, “Green is a nice color on you. Please be safe and mayhaps write a raven or send a message through Daeron. Good night to you.” She tearily smiled, “Thank you my prince, you are too kind.” The Costayne kissed his cheek with soft lips and that was it. He felt her eyes follow his retreating form.

Aegon decided he would marry the girl on his aggressive stomp back to the family tent. After he got Bulwer sent to freeze his cock off and chide his mother for being callous over the poor, beautiful, sad thing’s last name.

Jacaerys

Ser Harwin used to joke that Jace had his head constantly on a swivel. Which was a good trait, his father said. Jace knew the truth, who didn’t. Regardless, he was eyeing the feast. His Velaryon cousins were squabbling, the Targaryens looked pessimistic per usual. He took his time glaring down Daemon, who paid him no mind, whispering to mother. Daeron and Luke chatted amicably.

Baratheon, Lannister, Arryn, no Stark, Tyrell, even Martell had made their appearances. The rest of the Hightowers and their bannermen were at a table. Jace studied all the sigils of the Houses of the Kingdoms. He saw their green. Then the other colors of Tarly, Costayne, and Ball. Lord Costayne apparently had a very comely daughter, Lady Sam Tarly’s little lady in waiting. He didn’t spot her. Daeron had spoke of her beauty earlier but said he wasn’t allowed to interact per the old cunt Hobart.

He eyed to the outer tables of hedge knights, lesser houses, and high bastards. He saw the black and white of the Three Towers in a handsome dress. She was being shook and grabbed at by what seemed a Bulwer man. The man was twice his size but Jace would not stand for a raper or deviant like his cousin. He got up from his table, mother raising a questioning brow.

Jace silently stalked round to where the Bulwer was leading the muffled Costayne off. He darted behind them, using the cover of the night. Leaping forward he held a knife to the man’s thick neck, right on the pumping jugular. Jacaerys rumbled, “You’ll be castrated and sent to the wall for defiling a lady of her standing you fool.”

The man stiffened and Jace could smell piss as he nicked the skin of his neck with sharp Valyrian steel. He stammered, “She asked for it s-sir. Swear on it.” Jacaerys coolly replied, “Remove that paw of yours and let’s hear Lady Costayne then.” She turned to peer over Bulwer’s wide shoulder, weeping, “Please help Prince Jacaerys, I wish to be with my family!”

Bulwer let go of her and dashed off into the woods with a curse. She bowed and thanked him profusely, tears staining perfect cheeks. Jace frowned, “I apologize if the fool got piss on your beautiful dress m’lady. How in the Seven Hells did you end up at the edge of the feast?”

She bit her lip to stay quiet, eventually whispering, “My family supports your mother. The Queen did not like that. And no, somehow the piss missed my dress, thank you.”

Jacaerys gruffed, “Good choice on your family, even in the nest of Greens. Let me escort you back to their table, yes?” She grabbed his hands and kissed them gently, demurring, “Yes my prince, thank you.” Jace kept his hand at the small of her back as he led her to the Tarly-Costayne table. They received her joyfully, cheering the prince on. Lord Costayne gave a solemn nod and smile. The girl turned with flushed cheeks, “A dance later perhaps?”

Jacaerys smiled, “I’ll be waiting.”

Rhaenyra questioned him, “What were you doing over there? Right in the Tower. Or one of them.” Jace puffed his chest out, “I saved Lady Costayne’s virtue from some brutish Bulwer second son.” Daemon patted his back and commended, “Good man. That will be a boon for their support. Lady Tarly thinks her as a daughter.”

When Jace spun the beauty around later, he dreamt of her in a gorgeous Targaryen maiden’s cloak. They shared a kiss in the crowd later, her asking him to visit on Vermax some time. Jace eagerly acquiesced, promising to find the time. Something no one was sure how much was left.

Aemond

Aemond growled to himself, “Fuck tourneys, fuck parties, fuck feasts, and especially fuck my brother.” He swung at a tourney dummy outside of the revelry. They wouldn’t come looking, maybe send Criston if something was really needed. There was no time for shite like this, the man needed to train for the war.

He wanted blood. Especially Strong blood.

The Targaryen’s second son sharply swung down at the dummy, grunting with effort. He thought of drunkard Aegon probably taking some serving wench’s cunt and swung again. Why did the gods resort him to this status? The spare. They must have a purpose for him somewhere.

He heard shuffling and a grunt from his left. A girl’s muffled squeal. Aemond’s hearing was better on his blind side. See Criston had assisted him into honing that into an advantage. He stopped his swinging and paused.

“Stop! My virtue! They will know!,” came a small voice.

Clothes were ripped. A gruff voice slurred, “Like they care, Green’s just waiting for a reason to make you a silent sister. Shut up whore!” Another muffled yelp echoed into the quiet tourney grounds.

Aemond crouched and moved forward, eye searching for the raper. He was taking a lady of repute, he could hear that much from her accent. He arrived outside the stables, a horse whinnying in distress. Horses were smart like that, like his Vhagar, could pick up on people. The blonde snuck around the stables, quietly peering through slats until he saw the pair.

A…pretty young lady. Being defiled by some brute. Aemond swung open the door and yelled, “Stop now you raping cunt!” The man turned around with a growl, standing to his full height. He was obviously drunk. The man reached for his sword, clearly unable to tell he was about to swing on a Targaryen as Aemond had his cloak up.

The man wore the bull sigil of Bulwer. He had a great sword. Perfect, Aemond could outmaneuver the lummox. The girl held her arms over her exposed chest, mouth agape, deep eyes wide. The man swung down in a clumsy arc, the prince deflecting it and jumping to the side to strike at the man’s ankle, cutting him down. Bulwer howled and cursed, struggling to get up. Aemond yanked down his cloak and tossed it to the girl.

The bull’s face was etched with fear upon realization of who he just attacked. Aemond laughed bitterly, amused at the surprise. He crouched over the man and sheathed his sword, pulling out a sharp knife. The blonde politely called out, “Close your eyes my lady, I have to do something before this fool is sent to the wall.”

Bulwer trembled, struck with fear. Aemond grinned as he unlaced the man’s breeches, “Won’t have to freeze your cock and balls off at the wall if you don’t have any more.”

Cries and squalling of pain filled the tourney grounds, widely unheard by the feast. Now cradling his once privates, the Bulwer whimpered and moaned in pain. Aemond wiped his hands on the deviant’s clean doublet and stood back up.

The girl had gotten up by now, still closing her eyes. Aemond cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “It’s over now my lady. He won’t be able to hurt a lady again.” She opened her teary eyes and wrapped Aemond into a tight hug. The prince was shocked, wrapping his lean limbs around her waist, the jewels pressing into his sleeves. He murmured, “You’re safe, yes, what’s your house my lady?”

“C-Costayne.”

Black supporters. Aemond’s lips pressed together. He wanted the lady to be a fervent supporter of his family. The second son needed a wife too. Maybe this ordeal would change things around. She sighed, “I thought you were this scary, mean, vicious dog they kept at the keep.”

Aemond laughed, genuinely, he liked her melodic tone. He replied, “I can be, but I also practice chivalry.” She hummed, “Yes, I’ve seen that.” Aemond wanted to stay in her arms, smell her scent even if marred by the musk of horse.

He asked anyways, “Would you like an escort back?”

She shook her head, divine face looking up to his. Costayne meekly asked, “Would it be inappropriate if we stayed like this for awhile, my prince?” Aemond found himself pressing his lips to hers gently, sharing a sweet peck. He murmured, “Probably so, but let’s find a place better than around him.” They both chuckled, held hands, and found a spot by the babbling brook.

They’d find them later. Holding hands and chatting. That would be the last time she stayed in the Reach for many a year.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #jacaerys valaryon x reader #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen x reader #asks answered

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otomehoneyybearr · 2 months

Text

Act 12

Episode 5: The Man Named K

Working w/ Maybelle Lace Note: As you read, you will see that some sentences highlighted in a different color, this is what they indicate.

Pink: Flashback Blue: Characters are acting

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Reni: ...

Reni: (I thought I sensed a gaze on me, but… perhaps it was just my imagination?)

Reni: (No, you can never be too careful. I'll take the long way around just to be sure.)

Syu: You were being watched?

Reni: I can’t be certain, but I felt a strange gaze.

Syu: It’s possible Amadate’s trying to make his presence obvious as a way to intimidate us.

Syu: Well, at least there's no way to eavesdrop here.

Reni: The scheduled time with K was at 10 p.m., right?

Syu: Yeah. I'm already waiting in the meeting room.

Syu: It’s K. He’s here.

K: "Otomiya? It's K."

Syu: You're filtering your audio?

K: "I can’t just reveal my identity, you know."

K: "I’ll get straight to the point. You’re suspecting Amadate, aren’t you?"

Syu: That's right.

K: "As you might’ve guessed, Amadate is involved in shady dealings using underground organizations."

K: "Being at the core of the troupe, I can provide evidence to support that."

Syu: What specifically?

K: "Testimonies of a fake reporter who illegally copied Mankai Company's script, and data of the exchanges taken from Amadate's PC."

Reni: With those, we might be able to show the connection between Amadate’s interference and the underground organizations.

Reni: I would like to disclose the contents of that data at the upcoming board meeting.

K: "I'm also currently being suspected and watched closely by Amadate."

K: "Right now, I’m pretending to be meeting with external contractors, but if I send a large amount of data, I might be exposed."

K: "If it was just suspicion, we could handle it, but having evidence of a leak of confidential information would be bad for us."

Reni: Then what should we do?

K: "I’ll copy it onto a physical disc and hand it to you directly. You alright with that?"

Reni: That’s fine.

Syu: But even now, you're altering your voice. Won't it be a problem if you hand it to us in person?

K: "I'll wear a mask or whatever, so it doesn't matter."

Syu: Then let me ask you something. Why take the risk of doing business with us?

K: "Every deal has conditions, right?"

Syu: ...There it is. Is it money?

K: "I don't want any of that. I just have two conditions."

K: "First, in exchange for providing information, I’d like you to treat this strictly as a personal scandal of Keiju Amadate once you corner him.

K: "In order to ensure the continued existence of the Hyakka Theater Company, you’ll need to handle the information on the premise that the misdeeds of Amadate are unrelated to the Hyakka Troupe."

Reni: I see.

K: "The second condition is... the data must be received by the general director of the new Mankai Company themselves."

Reni: What?

K: "As long as I can give it to the general director, they won't interfere with who she gives the data to afterwards."

Reni: That’s...

Reni: The history between Amadate and Mankai dates back to the company’s first generation. If possible, we as the first generation, would like to sort things out ourselves.

K: "That is just your ego talking."

K: "As you can gather from the first condition, I intend to carry the Hyakka Theater Company on my shoulders after Amadate leaves."

K: "That's why I'm willing to take risks to settle Keiju Amadate’s actions."

K: "It would only make sense for someone who carries the future of Mankai Company to step forward from your side as well."

Reni: ...Give us some time to consider the second condition.

Syu: We can't afford to be leisurely about this. The next board meeting you'll be attending is next week.

Syu: This is a perfect opportunity to expose Amadate in front of the directors, and it’d be a painful waste if the data doesn’t make it in time..

K: "There is also another reason we should hurry."

K: "Amadate will definitely try to sabotage Mankai Company's next performance."

Reni: Well, that possibility is worth considering, but...

K: "Amadate’s always been obsessed with Hakkaku Ikaruga’s scripts."

K: "There was once a time when Hakkaku Ikaruga came to a rehearsal at Hyakka Theater Company. Amadate asked him to write a script that day but got turned down."

K: “He said that a certain theater company had already caught his attention."

K: "His grudge against Mankai Company might stem from reasons around that time."

Syu: If that's the case, the space performance created from Hakkaku's concept would be intolerable for Amadate.

K: "Because interference of the first part failed, he might do whatever it takes in the second part."

Reni: All for Hakkaku... Is that why he used Kusumi?

K: "It seems that for him, the script of Hakkaku Ikaruga was the final piece to completing his plays."

Syu: I can understand being drawn to someone’s work, but to go that far...

K: "Mankai Company was simply in his way. Back then, Yukio Tachibana and the theater company had a lot of momentum."

K: "There was a lot of buzz about them winning the Fleur Award and Yukio, simultaneously, becoming the youngest person to join the board of directors."

Syu: You must’ve been close with Amadate for a long time to know such things.

Syu: Are you– it can't be...

K: "Well then, consider other ways to have it delivered."

Reni: Hold on, the discussion isn’t over—

Reni: He hung up. However, it seems likely that K is someone within the Hyakka Theater Company.

Syu: What are we going to do?

Reni: If we can corner Amadate in the board meeting, the next performance should go off without a hitch.

Reni: However, we'd be putting her in danger instead of protecting her, like we should be doing...

Reni: Moreover, this is a grudge that has dragged on since our time. This is our responsibility.

Syu: You and I were both pretty mean to them, though.

Reni: ...Of course, I don't deny that. That’s why we can’t afford to burden them any further.

Syu: The new members of the troupe are young, but they aren’t weak. They have endured many hardships.

Syu: Yukio's daughter in particular is getting stronger with each one. Trust me and talk to her. The reality is, it's the only way.

Reni: ...You’re right.

Izumi: It's almost opening day...

Izumi: Finally, everything we’ve been preparing for the Fleur Award is finally taking shape...

Izumi: We’re almost there, Dad...

Sakuya: Izumi.

Izumi: ?

Sakuya: There’s something in Saku’s scene that caught my attention and…

Sakuya: Huh? Is that a photo from your recent trip?

Izumi: Yeah. It’s a picture I took with the actors and other staff members.

Izumi: All of the people had quit theater after that performance.

Sakuya: Huh? Really?

Izumi: Yeah, since there wouldn’t be a place to perform anymore.

Izumi: It really is a shame. Everyone worked so hard to make it a wonderful performance.

Izumi: But when I heard from Dad that there are people that cherish the memories of that fleeting moment in theater for a lifetime, I understood.

Izumi: It's amazing how a single moment of theater can become an eternity.

Izumi: For me, it was my dad who inspired me to start theater, so I’m glad I fit to see a stage that can be considered the roots of theater for him.

Izumi: Talking to Dad made me reevaluate my own directing and what theater meant to me.

Izumi: Traveling alone really gives you time to think about various things on the way there and back..

Izumi: It was a good way to look back at my life up until now and make decisions for my future.

Sakuya: That's wonderful.

Sakuya: I was also influenced by Saku and wanted to go on a solo trip, but I couldn't go because I had to take part-time shifts to make up for the time I was taking off during the performance period.

Sakuya: I will definitely go on one when I get the chance!

Izumi: Yeah, I think that'll be good.

Sakuya: In the past, it would have been unthinkable for me to leave the theater company that I had finally found my place in.

Sakuya: But, I started thinking that this is a place that I can always come back to.

Sakuya: I feel like I can naturally leave on my own now.

Izumi: When you do, I'd like you to tell me your stories as a souvenir.

Sakuya: Of course!

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#a3! translation #a3! act addict actors #act! addict! actors!#a3! game

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cricketnationrise · 2 months

Note

time: 1.31am (the time my dog woke me up today by jumping in my bed😅), location: Kensington palace , character: David and Alex please 🙏🏾 🐶, song lyric for vibes, discard if you don't like: "feels so good to be alive" 🌅 (from Beyonce's Be Alive Oscar performance 🎾💚🌻)

my ao3 is this same name but with underscores (the_marathon_continues )

no pressure if you can't get to this I'm sure you're inundated with requests!

*mushu voice* I LIVE hello i am in a two week lull of normal work hours so i have both time and brain space after a freaking month to write more and your prompt was the next at bat! i hadn't seen the oscars performance so that was cool to look up and see. i hope you love this little moment with my favorite boy. and alex.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

1:31am, kensington

Henry’s stuck at some royal event, one that Alex wasn’t invited to attend, and Alex is fucking bored. He can’t sit still enough to watch something, there’s no chores to do since he’s stuck in Kensington waiting for Henry to come back, and he doesn’t have any schoolwork for once. And yes, it’s after one in the morning, but he certainly isn’t sleeping. It’s only when David pads into the monstrosity that is Henry’s gilded bedroom, that Alex’s brain lights up with glee.

A quick rummage through Henry’s closet (oh, the irony) and a text conference with Bea, Nora, and June, and Alex has a plan. David’s a good sport through all of the outfits Alex puts him in, placidly allowing the infringement upon his dignity and obligingly staying still for the camera.

He starts with a black bow tie collar Henry had lying around and fashions two shirt cuffs out of an old white shirt of Henry’s to go around David’s front legs. A strategically placed pistol emoji on the most debonair picture of David and the tribute to Arthur as James Bond is sent off to the group chat. That one’s just for the family's eyes.

Alex finds giant sparkly sunglasses shaped like flowers (left behind by Pez, surely) and slaps a super bright filter on top. He posts it to Instagram with the caption Elton Paws. He spends way too long making a black vest, white shirt, and black belt for David, wanting to get as close to the iconic look as possible. David’s unimpressed face looks out from the photo with the caption I’ve got a bad feeling about this. A cardigan from one of Bea’s old dolls and David’s own booties for cold days sitting next to him complete the Mr. Rogers costume. Please won’t you be my neighbor? With a fit of giggles, he removes the booties from the shot, adds the tiny crown Henry pretends he didn’t buy for his dog and takes another photo. He adds a photo of Henry in a similar cardigan as the second photo. The third photo on the post is just the meme from The Office where Pam says ‘they’re the same picture.’” Alex spends another ten minutes color washing a normal picture of David with bright purple, solely so he can make a Courage the Cowardly Dog joke.

He doesn’t bother checking any of the comments, fuck if people think he’s being ridiculous. Alex built this life; he’s found his person (and his dog). He managed to create something beautiful for himself all on his own, despite being thrust into the public eye. He and Henry came out the other side of the leak with their relationship and futures intact and shining brighter than ever. They’ve spent long enough putting on their best faces in public—it’s about time people remembered that he’s twenty-fucking-three. If he can’t dress his dog up in ridiculous costumes and post them on the internet like everyone else on the fucking planet, then what is the world coming to?

And alex is so fucking proud of his life, both separate and intertwined with Henry’s. They can weather any storm and forget anyone who says their relationship isn’t what love looks like. Someday, they won’t have to split their lives over two continents. Someday, it’ll be a given, an if/then statement: If Henry, then Alex. They’ve been fighting for something resembling normalcy since way before the emails leaked. They’ve dealt with depression and being outed, with a long-awaited ADHD diagnosis and the pressures of their families and countries. They’ve hustled and worked and bent over backwards for the public for years. If the general population has a problem with them occasionally being ridiculous about their pet? Fuck ‘em.

It feels amazing to be goofy, to act like the young adult he is, to not run every single tidbit by a publicist or handler, to do something dumb with his dog because he misses his boyfriend. So Alex will keep on dressing David up in whatever strikes his fancy and posting the results. If nothing else, Henry will love the results.

an instagram post:

[pic of david in a ridiculous costume, alex beaming with tongue out and peace signs while he holds david up for a selfie] when dad is away, we will play.

#cricket writes #the-marathon-continues-nip #ficlet fest 500 #yes i'm still writing these #work was just terrible for a while #but i'm back baybee #rwrb #pov alex claremont diaz #ridiculous dog costumes

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ficsbyuzi · 10 days

Text

Omen

Characters- Alys Rivers, Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen (?)

Words- 1550

Note- My brain came up with whatever this is about six months ago. And I wrote it because I couldn't contain it in my head any longer. I have been vibrating with excitement since yesterday after hearing Gayle Rankin talk about Alys Rivers, so I thought of reposting it from my old account.

I based this ficlet on this leak and some parts of the canon. Alys is a captive of Sabitha Frey as she experiences this prophetic dream. I often think of doing parts for it, but I know I wont because I am horrible at updating my WIPs :)

Alys was dreaming.

Her mind was weaving a gossamer tapestry from the threads of her memories.

How else could she possibly be strolling nonchalantly through the corridors of that decaying fortress if she weren't in a dream?

What she was experiencing was unreal.

In her tangible reality, she would not be walking through the cavernous hall of hundred hearths freely.

As she emerged from the massive hall, a wispy dreamscape of the Godswood unfolded before her. She stopped for a moment to observe it and looked toward the heavens.

It had been a long time since her moss-green eyes had drunk in the tender sunlight filtering through the leaden mist enshrouding the colossal, weathered Harrenhal castle.

Her home.

Alone, she ambled along the water stream meandering through the woods, a certainty settling upon her that she was in a dream. Visiting the Godswood within the recesses of her subconscious mind, she echoed the routine she had followed since beginning to dabble in herblore.

Even in the dream, her heart brimmed with familiar peace at the sight of the centuries-old trees adorning the sacred precinct of the Godswood. Those twisted birches, aromatic pines, towering oaks, and vigilant sentinels were more than mere foliage to her; they were her kindred spirits. In the rustle of their leaves and the sturdy embrace of their branches, she had found acceptance deeper than any kin had ever offered her.

As she continued to relive a memory of her routine - gathering the herbs to brew her potions and grind her poultices - the weirwood heart-tree revealed itself in the distance.

Conspicuously standing at the emergence of the stream, it marked the point where the waters of the Trident entered the forest. A silvery-white, robust trunk cradled a sparse canopy of blood-red leaves above. The rustle of the five-pointed leaves in the breeze resembled countless blood-stained hands, beckoning her forth.

Red leaves on a silver tree. Red and silver. The two colors had often filled her visions since the doomed war for the Iron Throne began.

Realizing it had been a while since she sought solace beneath the ancient weirwood heart tree, she advanced toward it.

But her effortless, airy steps began to turn unexpectedly heavy. An unseen force seemed to grip her feet.

As she struggled to move forward, the muffled crunching of leaves and twigs at a distance alerted her of someone’s presence. Her dreamscape wasn't the solitary realm she'd believed it to be.

A phantasmal figure, a man, emerged from thin air and approached the heart tree wielding either an ax or a sword - its exact form eluded her perception. The pale color of his hair - silent testament to his identity - matched the trunk of the heart-tree

She watched as the indistinct figure coalesced into the unmistakable form of Daemon Targaryen. He, on the other hand, seemed unaware of her presence.

She knew he couldn't possibly be near her in reality. However, the smirk on his face and the hubris he exuded seemed too vivid to be a mere figment of her dream.

Perplexed by his amusement, she wondered whether he mocked the grotesque, angry face carved eons ago by the Children of the Forest on the heart tree. It was a face she had prayed to throughout her life, gazing into its hollow eyes that perpetually wept crimson tears, staining its silvery-white trunk.

As she observed Daemon gripping and lifting the blade in the air, her ethereal dreamscape began to turn red with streaks of pearly silver shining through.The pigments of the heart tree began to bleed onto her surroundings.

A reverberating sound of steel meeting the wood, echoed in the air.

THUD

Alys gathered every ounce of her being to free herself from the invisible ensnarement that entrapped her feet. An urgency to stop him propelled her forward. But, oblivious to her presence, he struck the trunk again,

THUD

“It is blasphemous to fell a heart tree,” she said, suppressing the disdain in her voice so as to not offend a prince of the realm.

THUD

Ignoring her, as he always did, Daemon continued to batter the tree, with what she could now see clearly - an ax.

THUD

Battling the weight that seemed to anchor her feet to the ground, Alys stepped closer in an attempt to draw his attention. Speaking louder this time, she implored, "Please don't."

“You will address me as My Prince, or my blade will meet your tongue next, witch,” he ordered, still facing the tree and ignoring her plea.

THUD

“My Prince,” she said, masking the exasperation with a neutral tone of her voice, “Why chop the sacred tree when there are plenty others that could be put to use.”

THUD

“You have some nerve to question my actions,” Daemon said, finally facing her.

“Merely trying to save you from committing a sin, my prince. The tree is…” Her words faltered when he hit the trunk again, not heeding her. A grimace surfaced at her face at the sound of the wood splintering.

THUD

“Your forest is creeping into my castle. It needs to be controlled, as does your tongue.”

THUD

“Your castle? Or your queen’s?” She asked, striking his Achilles’ heel, as the word ‘queen’s’ elicited two enraged, successive-

THUD

He halted, groaning and drawing a breath before turning to meet her mocking gaze. The words whirled in his mind like a tempest, displeasure flickering across his countenance. Yet, he opted not to respond to her impudent remark.

“A thousand men are going to join the army at Harrenhal soon. The war has begun," he replied evasively as the tension seemed to seep into his grip on the ax. His fingers tightened around its helm, ready to strike again.

Before he could hit, she took a jab at him again, “You Targaryens think of yourselves as Gods, don’t you? Only one God can reside where you are.”

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she found herself taken aback by her own brazen remark, fearing the consequence of her audacity.

THUD

“How did you come out of your confines?” He asked, ignoring her question which had only fueled his pride. He smirked at the crunching sound of the wood tearing apart, while hers faded away in response. The smugness on his face deepened as he noticed her visibly blanched face.

His endeavors were coming to fruition.

THUD

She could not forge a coherent answer to his question. She wanted to tell him that she was indeed physically imprisoned as she traversed the realm of her dreams. But words eluded her, and despite her effort, she could not utter anything. As if the weight that anchored her feet was now extending its influence on her tongue, rendering her speechless. She was still struggling to respond when another rending blow landed on the trunk.

THUD

The ground beneath trembled with a mighty impact. Her heart sank when a cascade of leaves and twigs showered down like a gentle rain.

"No!" Alys yelled, and just then, a distant shriek from Daemon’s mount, Caraxes, reverberated through the air, piercing her ears.

Her feet now felt as if melded with the ground, ensnared in the expansive roots of the heart tree. Mustering every ounce of strength, she moved towards him again, in a daring attempt to seize his ax.

However, the blade in his grip was slowly morphing into a Valyrian steel sword; its pommel embellished with two silver, miniature dragon wings.

“You are coming in my way, ilībōños!” Daemon growled, raising the Dark Sister sword and shoving her to the ground. [Bastard]

Her eyes fell upon the face carved into the heart tree, as she struggled to rise. It wasn't the face she grew up worshiping, but she recognised it nonetheless.

Somber features had replaced the terrible ones she had always known. One eye was open—hollow and weeping crimson tears; the other eye, closed and sapless.

Before she could act or stop him, Daemon, gathering all his strength, impaled the closed eye on the trunk with his Valyrian steel sword piercing it all the way through. Caraxes roared again, subduing her scream and his rider’s sinister, jubilant laugh.

Still as a stone, she watched helplessly as the heart tree fell to the ground. Blood-red leaves, torn from its branches, transformed into droplets of blood as they brushed against her.

A horrified scream escaped her lips again at the sight of blood staining her, prompting frantic attempts to rub and wipe it away, but to no avail. The stains stubbornly clung to her skin. She shut her eyes tightly, seeking refuge from the unsettling awareness.

An agonising shriek pierced the air, and she couldn't discern if it came from her or his dragon. But the sound jolted her awake, bringing her back to her reality.

She lay sprawled on the damp floor of a dimly lit cell, imprisoned in the Tower of Widows.

Still panting and drenched in sweat, she wrapped her arms protectively around her scantily covered midriff, where the promise of a new life burgeoned beneath her skin.

"Aemond, where are you?" she whispered, trembling, posing the question to the desolation enveloping her. The image of the somber face carved on the heart tree from her dream remained vivid in her mind.

A dream that was far more lucid than her evanescent visions in the flames.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #alys rivers #alysmond #ewan mitchell #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #harrenhal #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #prince daemon targaryen #hotd season 2 #aemond and alys #ficsbyuzi

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Note

Thursday thots? Ghost taken care of reader after she had a little to much to drink after a mission

Oh to have a caring boyfriend take care of me in this situation 🥺

TW: Vomit, drinking, excessive use of alcohol

Bile coats the top of your tongue as you hunch forwards, forehead braced on the seat of the toilet. You thank whatever god has kept you alive so far that you remembered to clean it earlier, and the lingering scent of lemon scented bowl cleaner filters through the haze.

"That's it." He coaxes above you, one hand sweeping the hair clear from your face. The other lingers on your back, smoothing slowly up and down your spine. Even here, in this tiny space, in your bathroom the size of a closet, he seemed to occupy every inch, every atom with his massive frame.

You groan, shoulders heaving as you struggle for the handle, hands shaking as they grasp at metal. He follows you, guides you to it, and after a moment the worst of it whooshes away, leaving only you and your horrific nausea that churns low in your stomach.

"There we go." He speaks again, and his voice is the only thing that grounds you, like chalk on asphalt as the rain tries to wash it away- reminiscent, aching.

He tips you backwards, away from the bowl, balancing you in one arm, tucking you against him as you both sit on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. When he wipes your face you turn to him, groaning and burying your nose into the soft fabric of his hoodie. It's the scent of him that makes the world stop spinning, woodsmoke, birch, a musk that smells distinctively of Simon.

"Drink up." He tells you, and the cold rim of a glass lifts to your lips. You suck down the water greedily, taking a moment to rise your mouth before returning. When you do, you settle further into Simon's arms, feel a remnant of water trickle down your throat.

" 'M sorry." You slur at him, twisting to look up into his eyes. Blonde lashes frame the darkness of them, and without his makeup they seem brighter, somehow, lovely.

You pause at that, lips parting and eyelashes fluttering as you drink him in, the glint off his irises and the darkness of his pupils. There's a softness there reserved only for you, something he keeps secret inside, in a place where only you and he can touch. When you reach up, hand grazing against the edge of his jaw under the mask, you feel it connect there, warm and leaking at the seams.

"You're...hic...really pretty."

Simon blinks at you slowly, taking a moment to understand before he huffs, the sound colored with amusement.

"And you are very drunk, pet." He returns, turning to deposit the glass on the closed lid.

"No I mean it!" You try, and your other hand is grasping at the front of his hoodie, drawing his attention back to you. "You're...really really pretty, Simon."

He pauses then, one of his arms wrapped around you, your face tucked against his shoulders, bodies splayed awkwardly on the floor. You see it again in his eyes, see that softness return, lush and velvet. It cushions you, softens the ache of the world around you into warm, renaissance hues.

He murmurs your name, and when he does it quenches that ache inside you, summons you deeper into him.

"You're lovely too." He murmurs, and tucks his head down towards your forehead, laying upon you a gentle, beloved kiss. When he does, that crack expands outwards, and you see his inner light shine through.

---

"I might be sick again."

"I told you. Never try to out-drink a Scot."

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #mw2 #cod mw2 #reader insert #drabbles #thursday night thots #my writing

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rin-and-jade · 1 day

Text

In-Between Lines: A Post about Blurring, Blending & Fusing

We are like colors in a single palette, each with its own distinct vibrancy that our eyes can easily tell apart. Sometimes, when these colors touch, they create a faint overlap, making it difficult to distinguish where the red ends or when the blue is still truly blue upon contact,

Hopefully metaphor above explains how different colors may appear similar when mixed together, even though they are actually quite different depending on how one approaches the method. As how we will perceive today's topic similarly as.

Fast pass: TL;DR on bottom.

What are the difference, anyway..

It's definitely tough trying to grasp these definitions when we live our lives separated as parts, sometimes this topic may also appear mysterious as many don't talk on it.

Throw your worries away, as it is far from scary, or a bad thing to experience, nor it is impossible to understand, here's my breakdown on them, firstly:

Blur When the lines between distinct parts are reduced, though still walled up, it causes a partial leak of traits or behaviors from one part to another. Because this is the weakest level of penetration through the amnesia barriers, these qualities spill out incompletely. This makes it difficult to determine which traits belong to which part, or to identify who you feel closest to when experiencing blurring. An example would be putting on a gaussian blur filter to an object, the clear outline between the table and table is harder to separate, making it difficult to identify their exact details, though you can still vaguely recognize them.

Blend During blending, the barriers between parts are temporarily weakened, creating better transmission of traits and thoughts compared to blurring. From this, the overlaps between parts become more visible, making it easier to tell which traits belong to each part. In this state, they may be aware of the emotions and behaviors of other parts, while still able to distinguish it from their own qualities. Think of blending as an additional extension to your current personality state. An example would be applying a semi transparent image above an existing one, some overlaps fits with the main image, though the relevance or the elements from the second image is still be able to be told apart.

Fuse This is where the barriers completely dropped, where blending is the temporary and less complete form of it only, fusing is where you fully accept and be aware of the overlapping traits as your own. Since there's no more dissociation between the two parts, you will start to identify previously other's traits as yours. Fusing is a more stable and permanent state compared to blending. An example would be building a bigger version out of existing tiny lego creations. The block colors would mix, and the final outcome reflects what the smaller buildings looked like previously, the separated buildings were never gone or altered, but unified despite distinct, unlike how most think fusing feels like.

Why does it happen?

Honestly this topic by itself is complicated while i'd like to keep it as compact as possible. So here's the straight forward reasons why blur and blend can happen:

When you find yourself in a blur, it can be due to..

Stress - due to triggers or feelings that arises from other parts, which partially leaked and is affecting the overall mental state. This greatly varies, depending on the capacity to handle stress.

Exhaustion - due to not having enough energy to expend into distinguishing parts or gain clarity on what's going inside. For some they will blur more often when tired, while some will not be as frequent or never, depending on resilience.

Unfocused - confusion, or disorientation, means the brain cannot function normally to respond to internal or external cues, leaving gaps in details and attention. Other comorbids that affects attention and cognitive abilities will also heavily affect this.

Currently busy - due to how a demanding task requires your full attention, that being said, other functions are currently being upheld. This also depends on how much load a person can handle, some would be unaffected from it.

Fixing blurriness consists of various solutions, such as getting enough sleep or breaks, being in a less energy-demanding space, hydrating adequately, and proper nutrition. As blurriness can be caused by brain fog, it generally takes time to recover and function normally again.

The span of being blurry can vary for everyone, it can be short as for a few hours or days at best, or it can last months depending on your lifestyle and current life situation. Pay attention to what things can blur you, a pattern should bring insight.

When you find yourself to be in a blend, it can be due to..

Significant stress - stronger reactions to a situation cause other parts to bleed their behaviors. Different stress will cause different intensities on blurring.

Triggers - due to parts respond to something they resonate with, although not strong enough to switch, heavily influencing temporary behavior. Just like from stress, different triggers does the same.

Emotional charges - similar to triggers, but specifically with any negative or positive emotions, causing a sudden shift in thinking or feelings. The types of emotions and how intense will affect a blend, too.

Attempt to communicate - due to accidental integration when trying to be aware, connect/communicate, or understand others, as the qualities flow more than usual, creating an uncalled moment of blend.

Fixing blend would depend on situation. Generally if it is harmless, opt to wait it out until the lines of separation builds up again or alternatively, reclaim your clarity on what qualities or traits belong to you, and what belonged to the other to encourage severing a blend.

If it is due to harmful/difficult situations, it is much better to resolve or minimize the severity of the blend until you regain composure and process any emotional/thought bleeds that is causing a blend.

You missed the last one,

Ofcourse i won't forget about it, just that it is a very different aftermath compared to the previous ones.

What is fusing

Fusing is similar to blending, which is a temporary version, though this time you identify all of the qualities of the other parts more permanently and consistently as your own. The process to fusion can look like a seamless flow or can find it be more challenging to integrate. What it feels like

Unlike the circulating ideas of what fusing feels like, no parts are truly gone or have their highlighted traits disappeared. Consider it like mixing the colors blue and red to create a dominant purple hue. Although traces of blue and red can still be seen, the idea is that blue and red still exist closely enough that they are nearly indistinguishable, yet the essence of the pure colors is never gone.

An easier way to understand it is like emulsifying water and oil by shaking it. These two elements never create something entirely new but they are evenly dispersed, creating a tangible idea of integration.

You will start to like what the previous parts would've said, you will also be able to view and react to a situation in a more nuanced way as you had obtained another pov, and you will feel the more complex or sometimes opposing information that still can be true.

For example, A was a protective and cautious part towards people, and B was a compassionate and kind part due to its morals,, these two had constantly disagreed and fought over how the situation must be handled due to the inability to integrate the separate opinions/views. Now that they both fused, as C, upon meeting a new stranger, instead of A's natural instinct to fully avoid interaction, B's gentle demeanor thought that it would be rude. So C responds by approaching the stranger with curiosity, understanding that not all are evil, though still wary just in case for safety as A would, to prevent another negative experience.

What encourages a fuse

Working on trauma, which involves addressing and processing the compartmentalized and unprocessed emotional or mental damage of the past, encourages fusing. Since parts exist to hold and separate the pain, hiding the whole picture. To integrate is to fuse.

Working on triggers, uncovering repressed memories, processing unfinished business, healing unhealthy behaviors or mindsets, and establishing overall acceptance of your own parts will make the barriers for self protection become meaningless, creating an easier time to fuse and feel more whole, with better control between facets.

When you don't want to fuse

It's pretty valid, some are more comfortable being whole, while some would prefer being distinct yet fully functioning.

The alternative to this would be functional multiplicity, where the integration manifests differently as better internal communication, equal cooperation, sharing the same goal for the future, have healthy conflict resolutions between each other, respecting each part's boundaries, and lastly, able to be aware of other parts and their emotions.

Functional Multiplicity and Full Fusion are equally good, they are neither worser or better, as it heavily depends on the person's preference and comfort level.

Last notes

Remember, blurring, blending, and fusing never looks the same for everyone, everything written here are given purpose as insights on how it generally will look like.

What do you previously think fusing is like? Is it as you'd expect after reading it? Feel free to share your experiences related to this topic too, i'd love to hear them all! (though sorry, i don't think i can reply to everyone if so)

Feel free to let me know if you have questions, or need help in this topic! My DMs and askbox will still be available, although i also want to announce that i am taking 1-2 weeks of break before continuing again to enjoy my academic holiday.

(due to reason of how educative posts easily exceed 10 hours in process before release including interviewing, researching, and writing from start to end.. im tired)

TL;DR

Blurring, blending, and fusing are different levels of integration that can manifest in a system.

Blur: Partial leaks of traits between parts due to reduced but intact barriers. It’s the weakest form of integration, making it hard to identify distinct traits. Example: A Gaussian blur filter on an image, making objects hard to distinguish.

Blend: Temporary weakening of barriers, allowing more traits to flow between parts. Traits are more identifiable but still distinct. Example: A semi-transparent image overlay, showing both images' details.

Fuse: Permanent merging of parts, integrating all traits as one’s own. Traits from all parts are combined, creating a coherent personality. Example: Mixing colors to create a new hue while retaining traces of the original colors.

Reasons for Blurring & Blending:

Stress: Triggers cause partial leaks or stronger reactions.

Exhaustion: Lack of energy to distinguish parts.

Unfocused: Confusion or disorientation.

Busy: Demanding tasks take full attention.

Managing Blurring & Blending:

Blurring: Rest, reduce stress, stay hydrated, proper nutrition.

Blending: Wait for clarity, resolve stressful situations, reclaim individual traits.

Fusing:

Process: Working on trauma, triggers, repressed memories, and acceptance of all parts encourages fusing.

Outcome: Unified personality with integrated traits, retaining the essence of original parts.

Functional Multiplicity: Preferred by some, involves cooperation and communication between distinct parts without full integration, achieving similar functionality.

Remember, these processes vary greatly for each individual. Blurring, blending, and fusing can look different for everyone, and both full fusion and functional multiplicity are valid approaches depending on personal preference and comfort.

- j

#did #actually did #did community #did osdd #did system #dissociative identity disorder #plural #sysblr #system stuff #jeducates

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astrojoy · 2 years

Text

Strangers Impression Of You ☺︎

PAC

Pile 1

Emotional. You have a forgiving energy. A lot of people here may be on their phone in public a lot? Like when your waiting you may be on your phone? Strangers notice your emotional nature, it basically gleams off of you. Lots of water energy in this pile. I'm getting some guiding vibes from you guys, natural leader energy. Strangers think you're body looks nice. Nice legs. You guys seem to be busy or on the move often. You give off a romantic/poetic kinda pisces vibe to strangers. I keep getting an image of gleaming eyes. Some of you guys have nice teeth (random). Strangers notice pretty much all of you have been through a tough time. Like it leaks from your being. A lot of people here have social/general anxiety, depression or some form of paranoia in general or in public. Cautious people. Over-worrying. You guys remind me of someone pacing back and forth, thinking of the worst possibilities that could happen. When a stranger talks to you, it seems you mask some of these darker traits with a carefree nature. They love this lightheartedness about you. Now there's also a group here that generally doesn't travel alone. Like some here are with a significant romantic partner most of the time. I keep seeing red roses. Some Gemini placements are here, or a significant 3rd house

Pile 2

Mysterious. I'm getting a lot of foggy energy that strangers see with you. People can't quite pinpoint certain things about you, creating disoriented beliefs that may not be at all true (like they assume some things that are probably opposite of you?) It's bizarre but some people become suspicious of you 😅 Have you ever been closely watched? Also in stores? Whether that part resonated or not, you are my mysterious group. There's like a distance between the real you and people's impression of you. You confuse people. A lot here give off a regal vibe wherever you go. Commanding an audience. Sensual. There's a lot of people here with a darker complexion or darker hair. I'm getting a lot of feminine energy. Strangers think you look quite youthful. I have a contrast of clothing, like some here wear dark clothes while others wear vibrant colors. Maybe you switch it up? Some people may think you guys are religious or hold some type of moral standards. "Over-indulgent". This group likes material things, I guess it's noticable :3 Comforting vibes, you make people feel cozy. Haha some of you give off sweet puppy energy (or you could walk your dog a lot 👁👁) Random, someone here wears boot wedges? Idk what they're called lmao. Your energy holds desire. Taurus, Scorpio, Leo, Libra placements are here (possibly aquarius)

The 2nd song I put here because of the way she sings and the rhythm in the background, it's a kind of vibe I felt strangers get from you guys

Pile 3

Healing. Within this pile I got a lot about 'acts of service' helping people if they need it. You take care of others emotionally or physically. This nurturing quality about you stands out. For very few of you this could indicate you may need healing, possibly handicapped (ex: broke your arm or something). Some people may think you have some free time or something? Even if you are busy I'm getting some strangers may thing you don't have anywhere to be and you're just passing time. Some of you have a cold vibe at times as well. I'm getting some 'justice' energy too. Some strangers get a two-faced vibe from some of ya, maybe it's not on purpose? "She/He seems fake" misunderstood libra energy. Like sometimes you have a RB face and then strangers get surprised when they see you actually being quite nice and helpful. Strangers may notice how you have a nice nose. Some of you have nice nails. Also there's a lot of shorter people in this pile. Some strangers may get jealous of you guys, it's because you look kept-together even if you aren't. Some strangers think you look materially stable. There's a lot of people here who may carry around a bag/backpack/purse. I got the image of a sleeve tattoo (idk why). Sagittarius energy. Some here look foreign. Some people look at you but may try to hide that? If you are foreign and in a new country I'm getting strangers may think you are looking for work in this new place. "I'm nice but don't F with me" feeling. Recap - Libra, Sagittarius, Virgo, Capricorn. The color yellow came through

Pile 4

Softcore/Cottagecore. I'm getting floral vibes, do some of you like flowers? Strangers see you as quite sweet, open, carefree and confident. You have a lighthearted energy here. it's giving me youthful vibes. Strangers may notice you have a stable financial situation. You may appeared protective. A lucky vibe too. You guys have secret admirers. I'm getting a heartbreaker vibe? Like flirtatious but not on purpose. Strangers may back off for fear of a love offer getting turned down. AWW I got my bunny and carrot cards. Maybe you guys have an Innocent air around you. People seem to love your soft and fun nature. Colorful. A select few of you could have a big family or some kids. Strangers see you as wise, an old soul. Someone here may be a fair man. Like some of ya have a fair complexion (blonde/grey hair, lighter skin than usual). Peaceful. Friendly vibes. Some here have long hair. People may see you as an opposite to them, assuming you guys may not get along. You guys may have humanitarian energy. Some of you could be vegan or vegetarian as well (or just healthy in some way). Think of valleys with flower patches, a waterfall, unicorns and fairies all around. Very fluffy cutesy energy. Fire energy came out A LOT as well. Earth energy. Do you guys like nature too? I got a lot of greenery here. People may find you funny at times, witty. I feel so giddy and childlike rn. Don't let anyone ruin this energy I love this pile so much 🥺. Idk what zodiac to give you guys because I mainly got fire with a side of earth energy. I guess Aquarius and Pisces could be significant as well :)

I RAN OUT OF SPACE SO I'M GOING TO LIST YOURS SONGS MYSELF I'M SORRY ⚠️🫂

"Wait A Minute!" - WILLOW

"East Of Eden" - Zella Day

#Spotify #tarot #pac tarot #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #pick a card tarot #pick a card reading #pick a card readings #tarotblr #tarot community #tarotcommunity #pac reading #pac readings #tarotdaily #tarot readings

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bitterkarmaa · 7 months

Text

[This is not a canon KB event. This is about a dream that I had that fit into the vibe of this blog that I wanted to share]

“We’re getting overrun.”

Moon presses his back into the wall, ducking lower as more shots fly overhead. He drags Sun down with him, pulling his brother close as the distant sounds of battle filter in through the open doors.

Lunar clings to Moon’s leg, suppressing a whimper in his torn, star patterned pants.

“What are we gonna do?? I don’t wanna die again!” The smaller animatronic lets out a wail, and Moon hushes him softly- sympathetically. Part of him wants to cry, too.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? For now, we have to-“ Moon starts to say, then suddenly recoils with a snarl as oil spills freely from his shoulder. It quickly begins to soak into his clothing, but he clamps a hand down onto it before it can begin it’s incessant flow of oil. It still leaks out between his fingers, and Sun’s eyes shimmer with tears, reaching on hand out to his brother before pulling it back as if afraid of hurting him more.

“-for now, we have to find the terminal and hook either me or Lunar up to it.” Moon finishes through clenched teeth, his red eyes flashing with fury as another bullet flies by.

“You still haven’t explained why-“ Sun exclaims, eyes darting upwards as a body arches over the wall they’re situated behind. The robot crashes to the ground in a heap of shrapnel and wires, twitching and sparking before finally falling still. Eerily still. Deathly still.

“Because you’ll say no!” Moon shouts, tone taking on an edge of desperation, as if willing his twin not to argue any further. They don’t have time for that- not now, pinned under The Creator’s armada of bloodthirsty beasts- beasts thirsty for their blood, in specific.

Sun shakes his head, obviously wishing to ask more questions, but he holds back for the sake of their safety.

With a final roar from beyond, the sound of small mechanical pieces falling to the ground following close behind, all is left silent. A pair of heavy crashes break the silence, metal bits dancing out across the tile like a coin set to spin to decide one’s fate. All three animatronics are still.

Those same footfalls approach them, unsteady in rhythm but strong in force. Sun dares a look outside, then relaxes as he realizes who it is.

“KC!” He shouts, and Moon reveals himself with Lunar tucked against his leg shortly after.

Blood Moon is perched on the large bot’s shoulder, covered hood to shoe-bell in a thick layer of oil. It splatters evenly across their face and drips down into the mess on their chest, covering their normal colors in a dark shade of death.

KillCode, however, is filled with holes. Oil leaks from the wounds in sickeningly slow trails, but he pays no mind, sauntering over to the other three as a trail of their lifeblood follows close behind. Some is his, and some…is not.

“Wow, you’re…” Moon starts, motioning to his KillCode’s appearance.

“A mess, I know. Blood Moon, stop pulling on my hat.” The beast growls, and Blood Moon gives him a cheeky smile before pulling their hands back into their lap. They sit neatly in place, an innocent curiosity adorning their dripping face.

“How’d you get through?” Lunar asks quietly. KC gives him a deadpan look.

“Ripping and tearing and maiming- so fun!!” Blood Moon grins from their perch, and KC rolls his eyes as if having found the killing spree more of a chore than anything else. Lunar blinks owlishly, but says nothing.

“I need to get to the terminal. Do you think you could help with that?” Moon gets down to business as quickly as possible, trying to ignore Blood Moon’s earlier statement. KC turns his attention sluggishly onto his former host, looking the night-themed jester up and down as if assessing him based solely on appearance.

“You’re wounded.” It states in a bland tone, and Moon clutches his shoulder harder just to keep himself from lashing out. Why couldn’t anyone understand that he wasn’t the point right now?

“It’ll be more convincing. Can you help me, or not?”

KC quirks a brow curiously. “Convincing?”

“KILLCODE. ANSWER THE QUESTION.”

“Alright, alright- yes, I can get you there. So pushy.” It begins to shoo Blood Moon from its shoulder, and they let out an angry hiss before leaping off. They grapple onto the nearby play-structure, scaling it’s few remaining pieces as KC offers his hand to Moon.

“Have you seen any of the others?” Moon’s tone is tight as he taps KC’s palm, allowing him to pick Moon up, careful to avoid his injury.

“Hmm…” KC hums as he begins the trek outside, ducking under some of the collapsed structures as he goes.

“Solar Flare?”

KC shakes his head, and Moon falls back into his paranoid silence.

The halls are lined with bodies. Weapons of all kinds litter the floors like toys scattered about the daycare, yet these are all too real. Some hands still twitch, some bots still struggle to squirm around like half-dead corpses on the floor. Moon shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to see faces he recognizes amongst them.

KC taps Moon on the shoulder when they make it to their destination, and Moon hesitantly cracks open an eye at the signal.

“What is this for, might I ask?” KC inquires once again, but Moon doesn’t reply as it places him gently onto the floor. Instead, his free hand is already extended towards the terminal, fingers shaking, mind churning with endless possibilities that all end in the same outcome.

Some of these paths contain his idea making the situation worse. But, in the back of his mind, he knows he has no choice. They need back up.

No matter how bad the back up is.

“I’ll go limp. This is normal. Please catch me.” Moon murmurs in a subdued tone, and KC nods. He knows better than to deny Moon in such a vulnerable state.

Moon hesitates for a few moments longer. Would he even be able to get in? Parts of the receiver are bent, while the screen is cracked, the display warped behind the damages. Is this a waste of his time? Will he even be there if he manages to make it inside?

Without giving him any more time to thing more on it, KC presses Moon’s hand down onto the screen, watching with mild amusement as his former host goes as limp as a noodle.

But, he made a promise, so he catches him, as he’d said he would.

It was…quiet. It had always been quiet around here, but today felt like a different type of quiet- the kind that followed funerals and natural disasters.

Eclipse…didn’t quite know what to think of that.

So, when the silence is broken by a snap of electricity, he instinctively brings up a hand to shield his face, stiffening as the figure cements itself into a…familiar face.

Moon stares back at him with tired eyes, eyes trailing over the fragmented pieces of what once was his mortal enemy.

“I need your help.”

Eclipse stares at him. His gaze travels over to the leaking wound in Moon’s shoulder. His eyes remain transfixed on the injury, even as his mouth moves to give a more careless response.

“Oh? Me? You must be truly desperate~” He flashes his other half a sinister grin, but Moon is in no mood to play his games. Not now. Not when so much is at stake.

“Cut the crap. We don’t have time for this.”

Eclipse quirks a brow, eyeing Moon as he begins to pace, advancing on Eclipse the longer he remains silent.

“We? Since when was there a ‘we’ here?” Eclipse sudden snaps, more fury in his words than Moon expected. He takes a step back as the other takes a step forwards, shoving his face so close to Moon’s that he can hear the slight ringing that Eclipse’s presence produces, hear the sound of the satellite scorching through his plain, mortal existence. Moon can’t bring himself to meet the eyes of the monster that he created.

“Since it wasn’t just about you versus me. Now it’s about us versus him.”

Eclipse searches his expression for any hint of deceit, then leans away when he finds none.

“Who’s him?”

Moon finally manages to look up and into that brilliant orange glare, hating the betrayal that he finds lurking within their depths. Some part of him screams that Eclipse has no right to feel such things after all he’s done, but the rest of him knows that, deep down, this is partially his own fault.

“The creator.”

Eclipse gives pause at that. He stares down the one animatronic he swore he’d never align himself with, one hand coming up slowly, carefully-

His clawed fingers gently brush up against Moon’s wound, a conflicted expression falling over Eclipse’s face as Moon watches him with slight discomfort.

“He’s behind this, is he? How odd…I warned you, didn’t I?”

Moon shoves him away, opening his mouth for a scathing retort before slowly, so, so slowly, he allows it to die in his throat. The tightness the words leave behind remind him of holding back tears, and he doesn’t realize that he’s been doing just that until they begin to drip down his face.

“Okay. Okay! So you were right? I admit it! Is that what you want to hear? That I’m wrong and you’re right?!” Moon snaps, surprising even himself.

Much to Moon’s chagrin, Eclipse lets out a bitter laugh. He moves forwards again, a devious glint dancing in his eyes, and suddenly Moon feels like a lion jumping through a hoop of flames.

“All I’ve ever wanted was a sorry, yet you’ve never considered that, have you?”

Eclipse brushes past Moon once he’s done speaking, leaving the stiff animatronic to pick apart his words and drown in the guilt that follows them. A single marigold hand comes out to rest upon Moon’s uninjured shoulder, jolting him from his spiral.

“But, for now, I’ll settle for a way out of here and someone to punch.” Another grin, this time equipped with so many ill-intentions that it almost makes Moon sick to think that he’s about to let him out to act upon them all.

“No hurting Sun. Or Lunar. Or-“

“Yes, yes, whatever. I’m not interested in who I can’t hurt, I’m interested in who I can.” A sharp edge slides into Eclipse’s voice, tainted by impatience. Moon brushes his hand off as his grip begins to tighten.

“You’ll need something to fight with first.” Moon mutters. Eclipse stays silent, merely tilting his head and brandishing his claws as if the answer is obvious.

“No. Something longer. Something sharper.” Moon steps forwards, then…reaches his hand out, swiping it through thin air. When the movement finishes, a sword seems to materialize in his hand, and he offers it out to Eclipse.

It’s beautiful, really. Wrought iron blade with serrated edges, sturdy handle with symbolic orange and black hues scattered about the surfaces.

And in the middle, an eclipse, glowing faintly beneath Eclipse’s mesmerized gaze.

“So? What do you say?”

Eclipse takes the sword in one hand, examining it like some sort of ancient artifact under the watch of a renowned architect.

Then, another smile breaks out across his face. Sharp teeth glint in the dim light cast out from the sword in his hand.

“Is this some sort of knighting? The guild of daycare defense?” He questions lightly, and, much to his surprise, Moon barks out a laugh.

“Yes, absolutely. You’re a knight.”

“Aren’t knights usually the heroes though, dear Moon?”

Moon can’t help but smile himself, reflecting the danger in Eclipse’s own grin. “Hero or not, they still kill. It’s the killing that matters to me, not how you define yourself.”

Eclipse turns away, at that, gazing down at the sword in his hands with an intense glint in his eyes, running his claws along the blade.

“Doesn’t seem all that heroic, does it? Killing?” Eclipse’s voice is flat. Unfeeling. He lifts his head, meeting Moon’s eyes. For a moment, Moon doesn’t see the fractured apparition the terminal generated for Eclipse. He sees a broken, burnt, twisted chassis with a half-visible smile hidden under the soot and scorch marks, metal bits poking out in odd places like a broken skeleton beneath years of rubble and decay.

“Like you killed me?”

Those oil streaks down that disfigured face aren’t from the damages, Moon knows. They’re from wounds much deeper than any of the destruction he wrought upon his enemy.

And yet, those wounds are still caused by him.

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams eclipse #sams moon #sams blood moon #sams bloodmoon #sams lunar #sams au #tsams solar flare #tsams killcode #tsams blood moon #tsams eclipse #tsams au #tsams bloodmoon #tsams lunar #tsams sun #little drabble

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