#i too wish to shape him into a ball of meat with my hands and season him with my favorite spices

[palarien]

the courtroom know-it-all...

#i love this sprite of his so i had to redraw it #nagito komaeda #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #adding this tag like a day later to say Y'ALL ARE SO NICE AND FUNNY THANK U... #the multiple ppl who've said 'i hope he explodes' or otherwise wished violence on him: yeah #i too wish to shape him into a ball of meat with my hands and season him with my favorite spices #lyubimaya kotletka...

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “please,” aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.”

(or aemond's first time with his handmaid).

warnings: explicit lang. a tiny bit of angst at the beginning. protective!aemond. p in v smut. slight breeding kink. spitting kink towards the end. fluff. all around good vibes bc aemond's in love and we all love that for him.

notes: happy birthday to me. pls be nice to me, i'm unfortunately entering my twenties today.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Aemond spends the better part of the chilly winter day searching for his handmaid.

You had been missing when he returned to his bedchamber at midday, wishing to eat his lunch in your company. Did she forget my first rule, by chance? Aemond thought to himself, holding the chalice to his lips. Perhaps…but he could not stomach another bite of his roasted meat, his mind too consumed with thoughts of you.

So he looks throughout the kitchen wing, and the library and Great Hall, until he passes by his mother and sister in the hallway.

But neither woman claims to have seen you, and he’s left twice as confused and frustrated and concerned as he continues to wander about the Red Keep like some lovesick and anxious fool.

“Ah, my prince,” Lord Larys Strong purrs as his steps falls alongside Aemond’s. “Perchance I could be of service. I overheard you are looking for your little handmaid.”

Aemond turns to look at him. “Yes,” he answers, his eyebrow raising, “-have you seen her?”

The lord’s smile is sly. “Several hours ago, actually. She was heading up to the servant quarters…” but his smile then drops, quickly replaced with a frown, “but she seemed to be in tears, if I’m to remember correctly. Poor child, she was an awful, trembling mess, never once looking up to meet my eyes when I greeted her.”

“She was crying?” Aemond cocks his head sideways, swallowing down the ire beginning to bubble inside his chest.

“Yes. It was rather grievous and sad,” and Clubfoot shakes his head dolefully. “A maiden like her deserves a smile on her face at all times, would you not agree, my prince?”

Aemond’s jaw clenches, and he glances to the stairs leading upwards to the servant quarters. Someone made you cry? His blood turns cold, and his fist balls up at his side. Remembering where he was, he gives the lord a curt nod. “Thank you, Lord Strong,” and leaves it at that, rushing up the stairway and down the hall, whilst hundreds of questions thronged in his head.

Who dared make you cry? You, who is rightfully his- his handmaid, his woman. You were supposed to remain safe and happy within his room, tucked away from ill-tempered bastards and envious tongues. If he could not protect you…

He turns the corner, huffing. He’d see whoever made you cry is punished, Aemond decides as he walks down the strip, passing by shut door after door, until he hears fainting sobbing. A sniffle, then, and a tiny hiccup that soon follows. That stops him in his steps. You. You. You, you, you…

“Love,” he whispers, knocking his knuckles on the door before slowly cracking it open. “Love, it’s me.” You twist to meet him in sullen silence, and his heart shatters at the sight. Your pretty doe-eyes are both red and teary, and your bottom lip quivers. It’s busted too, more scarlet now than pink. But it is the ugly bruise coloring your left cheek- large and hand-shaped, that causes his eye to widen.

“Who?” he spat, crossing the room to gather you in his arms, his voice raising. “Who’s done this to you?”

But you lower your eyes, and bury your face within his neck, hiding away from his gaze and questions. Aemond softens, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, pausing when you flinch. “My love, I need to know at once. This…this is a horrible injustice served upon you, one I know you did not deserve!”

You shake your head, face crumpling as another sob escapes you.

His eye narrows.

“Was it my brother?” Aemond demands. “Or a houseguard?”

“No,” you mumble, feeling ill, like your tummy is tied in a knot. “It was neither, my prince.”

“Well?”

You sigh. “It was one of the septas, a new one to the castle. I do not know her name,” you explain. “She caught me in your room and scolded me, saying how it was beyond disrespectful and ill-mannered of me to flaunter about your bedroom as if it was my own. She said…she said you would have my head for such, and when I tried to explain myself,” and you hiccup, feeling a wave of fresh tears, “-that I was your handmaid, she slapped me!”

“She said I would have your head? That I would kill you?”

You nod, wiping away the few fat tears streaking down your cheek, wincing at the slight sting from the bruised skin. “She said she would bring it up with the Queen herself, that there was no need for insolent little maids like me running around the castle. Oh, I’m so sorry, my prince. I’m terribly sorry. Please, please, please forgive me!”

But Aemond’s thumb brushes lightly across your plump lip, shushing you. “Those words should never fall from these lips, sweetling. They were not made for that.” You feel like crying again, this time from relief.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, my love. I couldn’t even imagine…” his voice trails off. How could this septa easily plant a seed of doubt within your mind, and make you think he would ever harm you? Or call for your death? As if you’re not the very air he breathes every day.

“You terrified me when I could not find you earlier, love.”

By now, you’re a lot calmer and breathing fine again, nestled within his embrace. Your cheek still stings but you’ll live. You lay your head against Aemond’s chest, listening to his faint heartbeat in his breast. Thump, thump, thump.

No more words are shared between the two of you, but his kiss on your temple says much more than anything could.

Soon, Aemond takes you back to his bedchamber, to his tub, and calls for several women to tend to you while he busies himself in burning the servant garb you were wearing today, until nothing is left but sooty ashes and singed cloths. He refuses to allow you to wear that shabby, tainted dress you were so wrongfully punished in. If not for you, then for himself. It eases his mind. And someday you’ll wear nothing but the finest and prettiest gowns, he swears, ones that are fit for no one but a princess.

He’ll have a talk with his mother too. His queen mother has a soft spot for his handmaid, he knows, and Helaena too. This will not go unseen and unpunished.

The prince returns when your bath is finished, and dismisses the women before carrying you off to his featherbed. You’re still quiet, hushed, lips pressed in a tight line while he dries your hair. “You do not need to do this, my prince,” you tell him softly, nervously lacing your fingers together. “I’m undeserving of such treatment, really. It should be I who does this for you.”

“Nonsense, sweetling.”

He’ll be your husband one day, and is merely practicing his husbandly duties, although he doesn’t actually say that piece aloud. It’s all a bit tricky right now, but he’s already decided he will not marry anyone who isn’t you.

Aemond bends to kiss your shoulder, ever so tenderly. You have four pretty birthmarks littering the skin, and he presses a sweet kiss atop all of them. He loves it. You’re so fucking gorgeous. “You’re mine,” he mumbles, nuzzling his forehead against your shoulder blade. “It’s my duty to care for you.”

“No, my prince, ‘tis my duty as your servant.”

He smiles up at you. “Ah, and I’m your protector, best to remember that, sweet girl.” And he leaves nothing more to be said, quickly standing you up in front of him, naked and breathing messily and too shy to meet his eye. Oh, but you’re too pretty for your own good, he tells himself. His fingertips gently trace along your hipbones while he leans to nuzzle his face into your tummy. Aemond then feels your soft hands finding his hair, fingers raking through as you sigh deeply.

“You smell good,” he whispers. “So damn good.”

You giggle. “Do I, my prince?”

Aemond hums, raising his face up to kiss your nipple- once, twice, thrice. He feels you suddenly tense against him, your breath catching in your throat. “Nice and warm and all mine,” he adds, blowing a puff of warm air over your breast that earns him a sweet little moan, one that sends blood rushing down to his cock. His arms circle around your waist, hands falling to knead your asscheeks.

“Let me make love to you.”

“My prince?” you ask, eyes widening as you recoil from your prince’s touch, your legs suddenly feeling weak like water.

Did you hear him right?

“Please,” Aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “Allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.” I see my future in your face. My children in your eyes. His hand cups your right breast, catching a hard nipple between two fingers. My sons at your breasts. His handmaid has come for him, to deliver to him everything he’s been so cruelly denied in this life. “Say yes,” he murmurs. “Let me finally claim you as mine own.” It is your blood I need, your blood on my sheets, and my seed in your belly, and your life and name as my own.

You close your eyes, yet still see your handsome prince grinning at you.

It’s wrong, you think. It’d be so wrong of us. I’d be banished.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

“Okay, my prince,” you say, with a bated breath. “Make love to me.”  

An hour later, the wind has risen to a sharp howl against the stone walls, and fat raindrops ping against the windowpane. A winter storm, but there is little to no need to worry about such.

You’re quite nicely warm and dry, and safe within your prince’s arms as he nudges your thighs open. He’s already been down there, spending a good half of the last hour feasting on your wet cunt. It was like he’d been fasting for weeks; he took little mercy on you.

“Open wide,” he mutters. “Good girl. Keep ‘em like that for me.”

You whimper. Your Prince Aemond is gorgeous, with silver hair that shines like fresh snow and pale, naked skin that is covered in faint scarring, undoubtedly from boyhood. You’ve never seen someone so beautiful. His arms are thickened with lean, lithe muscle as he holds himself above your body, one hand laced firmly in yours.

And he looks down at you with bright, violet eyes, with a look perhaps only a man gives his new bride on her wedding night.

It makes you squirm beneath him.

He slides his cock in slowly, hissing at your tightness. “FUCK.” His head dips down near yours, lips barely grazing your ear as he lets out a low moan. “Gods be fucking good, you feel so fucking good…wrapped around my fucking cock, at last,” he says, voice raspy. “Right where you belong.”

Aemond feels that he won’t last long. He’s back to the days of his boyhood, during his thirteenth nameday when Aegon took him to the whorehouse, and he felt a woman’s touch for the first time.

Except now he has the woman he wants- soft and submissive and cunny wet and ready for him- and it is his turn to teach and guide her.

“Ah, my brave girl,” he tells you, pausing to kiss your forehead, then your swollen, pink lips. “It hurts, I know. It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

And afterward, Aemond Targaryen’s watching as you shake and sob and fall to utter pieces, your beautiful face scrunched up in blissful pleasure as his thrusts soon quicken, and his hips snap into yours with such a harsh pace, it’s sure to leave dark bruises behind.

Your hands find his shoulders in a tight grip, in some desperate attempt to cling onto him whilst he fucks you good.

And, thankfully, it’s his name that tumbles out of your mouth, and not his stupid royal title. It follows your cries and moans and whimpers that echo throughout his bedchamber. To Aemond, it is poetic in some way. Several months back you were seated on his settee, singing, and now you’re buried within his sheets as he makes you a mother.

His loins ache for release, and he fondles your breast, toying with your nipple as he pounds you only harder. Aemond hopes to any god listening that the guards outside are listening in, and the serving girls too. He’s a prince of the realm- he means to claim all his rights. Let them all hear as he plows into his handmaid and stuffs her full of his sons.

Beneath him, you shudder and gasp- again and again- before arching your spine and flinging your arms around his neck. “AEMOND,” you scream, feeling a sudden tightness deep within your belly, almost like you’re only several seconds away from exploding into flames. Perhaps you are.

“Mercy on me, Aemond! Please!”

“Shhh,” Aemon coos, cradling your face as he fucks you through your orgasm. “I have you, pretty girl. You’re okay. Doesn’t this feel good? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, so- so good, Aemond…!”

He grins at your fucked-out face, and the little bit of drool pooling around the corner of your mouth, before lightly tapping his fingertip against your bottom lip. “Open up,” he commands, squeezing your cheeks together, when your mouth opens, he spits in it. “Now swallow- mmm, such a good girl, always doing what I say.”

Aemond chooses all his words carefully, loving the way his sweet little handmaid preens under all his given attention and praises, so prettily that he’s willing to discard all of his morals and seed her full of his future bastards. Silver-haired babes that would gurgle at him happily, and grow to carry on his name and legacy.   

For her, he thinks, leaning to kiss you again, feeling your cunt clamping down on him, she’s worth every damn thing and more.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[nextinline-if]

I have come to you with a request for fluff to balance out the angst(which i too love)✋🏻😌

How would the ROs react if MC whisked them away in for a day in spring, to a clearing in the woods, where they prepared a big picnic with the ro's favourite food?

Also, what is their and James favorite food, if it wasn't asked before?

You don't need to answer this anytime soon, please take your time! <3 you're great💕

Thank you for your patience <3 you are a very kind and sweet anon.

Favorite Foods - ROs + James

Constantine: Puls - kind of porridge. He likes it served with cheese, eggs, and meat (especially pork sausages).

Felix: Souvlaki (typically from a street vendor) - bits of vegetables and meat on a skewer.

F: Dumplings - ball-shaped dough fried in oil and drizzled with honey.

Margaret: Lamb with fresh vegetables and an apple pie for dessert.

James: Tiganites - pancakes made of wheat flour, olive oil, and curdled milk. Topped with honey.

RO's Reactions to being whisked away

Constantine: Constantine peeks around you from where he sits behind you on the horse. His eyes widen in surprise.

"Hey, no peeking!" you tease.

He chuckles and leans forward, resting his cheek on your back. "Fine, I can be patient - for you."

You laugh. "We're almost there."

A few minutes later, you come to a stop and both get off the horse.

"Wow," Constantine says, looking at the massive spread of sausages, various types of cheese, eggs, vegetables, and porridge. He turns to you, a wide smile on his face. "You did all this for me?"

You laugh lightly and grab his hand, pulling him along. "Of course, I thought you could use a day off."

He sits down next to you and starts to make you a plate. "Oh, no," you tell him, as you grab the plate. "Let me wait on you."

He sighs but a smile still sits on his lips. "As you wish." He watches you with a longing in his eyes.

Felix: "Remind again why we're walking through the forest?"

You laugh and give Felix a playful shove. "Be patient, will you? It'll be worth it."

He moves closer to you and gives you a smile that sends your heart racing. "It's already worth it - just being here with you."

You clear your throat. "Didn't realize you were so sappy," you tell him, a smugness to your voice.

He grimaces. "Me either, but you seem to bring it out."

You grab his hand and pull him along into the clearing. "Ta-da!" You watch his face for a reaction.

His eyes go wide. "What's all this?"

"A picnic with Souvlaki from all your favorite street vendors." You smile at him and he smiles back, a soft look in his eyes.

"This is sweet," he says, turning to you. "Too sweet. Are you trying to butter me up for something?"

"Maybe some kisses," you reply with a wink.

He smirks at you. "I must be a pretty good kisser for all this effort."

You roll your eyes and plop down next to him as decides where to start.

F: "It's a beautiful day," you tell F, as you both walk through the forest.

F nods. "Yes," they say, turning to look at you. "Almost as lovely as you."

You can't help but smile. "As much as I enjoy being bathed in compliments, that's not why I brought you out here."

F laughs softly. "Alright, why did you bring me into the forest on this perfect Spring afternoon?"

Just then, you both walk into the clearing, where you have a spread of dumplings with various syrups, including honey, strawberry, and raspberry.

F stops and their mouth falls open. "Wow." They turn to you with a grin. "I thought I was supposed to be the romantic one."

You laugh. "Not today." You watch happily as F starts tasting the various dumplings.

After a moment, F looks at you, a small smile on their lips. "This is...the best day." You smile back and reach out to squeeze their hand.

Margaret: Margaret attempt to peek out the carriage window. You gently push her back against the seat. "No," you say, a smirk on your lips.

She huffs. "You know it's not my nature to just get in a carriage and go to some random place, darling."

You grin at her. "But that's exactly what you've done."

She narrows her eyes at you. "Fine, fine. I shall be patient, as painful as it is."

A short time after, you exit the carriage and offer your hand to help her out. Once you're both out, her eyes fall on the picnic. She glances at you, a heartfelt smile on her lips. Then she giggles and gives you a push. "Last one to the food gets the smallest slice of pie!" She winks at you from over her shoulder.

"Hey!" you shout, taking off after her. "That wasn't very honorable."

Her laughter rings out around the clearing. "There is no honor where apple pie is involved!"

#food #ro’s reactions #f faramund #felix faramund #james verissimo #lady margaret #constantine dimas #fluffy asks #you're great too anon <3 #I kind of want to put together a PDF cookbook

[curveybay]

With Peach kidnapped once again, Bowser was going to make sure this time was the time she stayed with him, since as of late, he had taken to enjoying the idea of Peach being less thin and more fat, it just turned him on so, but he needed a way for Peach to become his ideal shape for her.

And so, he'd make sure what she got to eat was sweet and addicting to where she'd crave more and let herself become fat, even topping her pancakes with a special sauce which was his cum to see if she'd notice or get hooked on wanting him to fuck her overweight booty.

(I know Peach isn't on the list, but I just liked this idea, it's a prompt if you wish to write it up.)

Bowser had managed it once more, an invasion of the Mushroom Kingdom and spiriting the delightful beauty that was Princess Peach from her people. This meant that it was merely a matter of time before the Toads gathered their composure and sent that damnable Red Plumber after him once more. But the King Koopa had a solution to this unbearable cycle of immediate success followed by harsh losses; this plan would also let him keep Peach all to himself.

Bowser had imagined all the ways that Peach was perfect to be his queen. She had a gorgeous voiceand an amazing body and was incredibly attentive beyond measure, everything he desired and wanted from a potential prospect. But in the set-up for this latest scheme, he had pictured her softer, larger, heavier than she'd ever been before, and the kingly dragon turtle found these projected visions of Princess Peach swelling bigger and bigger for him to be incredibly erotic. So much so that Bowser had prepared something special for Princess Peach while he had her in captivity: Super-Thick; a magically empowered addictive additive that would reshape Peach's body and mind to his greatest fantasy.

Super-Thick was slowly sprinkled into the Princess' food and blended into her drinks, ever-so-gently starting the beautiful blonde's transformation. Bowser watched as she tried to deny her hunger for the first few days. Still, the drugged water left her feeling starving, giving him the perfect opportunity to enter with mouth-watering, rich dishes like roasted meats, potent alcohol, plates of pasta, and deep-fried treats. King Koopa watched Peach's resolve dissolve away as her magically induced hunger won over her principles. With each hearty spoonful and mountainous mouthful, Super-Thick's second unique property manifested; as Peach inhaled the revolving buffet of foods, both powerfully savoury to the sickeningly sweet, her body swelled and bulged. Gaining inch after inch after inch as she strained and stressed her pastel-pink dress until that silky-soft fabric exploded, freeing Peach from it's tight confines.

Bowser leered and ogled his prize and bride as she grew bigger and hungrier, entirely forgetting about Mario or her kingdom. He could see it in her eyes, how they glazed over as she tore into a stack of pancakes; she was ready to become everything he desired. Bowser towered over her, his iron-hard cock in hand as the regal dragon turtle pleasured himself as he watched his perverse fantasy become a reality. "My, my; aren't you just the perfect piglet. You don't want to go back, do you? You want to be my queenly sow." He teased as he groped at Peach's ever-growing bust and her barrel of a belly that was spilling across her thunder thighs.

"N-noo… I don't… I don't wanna leave… this is too good… I need more. Oh, I'm so, so hungry…" Peach moaned out as she continued eating and gorging herself, splattering syrup and precum all over her soft, pudgy face and her massive potbelly.

"I'm so glad you agree," Bowser growled as his hand turned into a blur. "Because I have a special syrup just for my queen!" The King of all Koopas roared as his balls roiled and churned, pleasure shot through him like crazy, setting his blood boiling with lust. He even felt his cock and balls swell with all the years of pent-up lust and maddening want he ever felt for Peach just as he came. Every inch of the former Mushroom Princess was drenched in dense, thick, oily dragon jizz.

He watched as Peach gulped and shovelled fistful after fistful of his dense, pudding-like cum into her mouth, splattering it across her wobbling, blubbery physique as the princess found herself consumed by a new ecstasy. An ecstasy that led the hungry, insatiable princess to her one true beloved.

It had been weeks, and Mario had pushed himself harder than ever before, trying to rescue Peach from Bowser's vile, taloned hands. He had finally made it to the dragon turtle's flying castle, bested his forces and even knocked out the dastardly wizard Kamek; all that was left was Bowser's throne room. With a running jump, Mario kicked the filigreed doors open and was brought face to face with a reality he could have never imagined.

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

Mario stared, mouth agape as he witnessed Peach bouncing wildly onto Bowser's lap. The high royal of the Mushroom Kingdom looked nothing like the petite beauty who invited him over for tea and cake. Her belly was as large as a Chain Chomp's head, and her face was partially buried in a sea of jiggling titflesh. All while Bowser's gigantic hands sunk deep into her fat, pillowy thighs and the marbled mountains of Peach's assmeat.

"Gwarharha! You were too late, Mario!" Bowser cackled as he hilted deep into Peach's ass, flooding and stuffing her guts; loving the feeling of her body swelling as his balls churned out rope after rope of hot jizz. "She doesn't to leave, do you? You want to stay and turn into the perfect queen; stuffed with rich food and richer cum."

Peach didn't even notice the Red Plumber as she leaned against Bowser and kissed him deeply. "I want to be yours, stuffed with your food, your magic, a-and your cum! Flood my belly, my ass, and my womb!" The princess cried out as she came from watching her belly distend and almost touch the stone flooring of Bowser's throne room. "G-go home, Mario... this is where I was always meant to be. On Bowser's lap and bigger than even the brightest Super Star."

[sorry for the super-late answer, writer's block and really mess with ya]

[rockheadcd]

@electrivolt​ said: "What... what's a lantern rite?"

The question is immediate the moment they return home, little ball of fur just a little reluctantly slipping out of his cozy spot between layers of fabric and instead opting to allow the fox to take a seat right on top of the table, tails swishing and legs crossed as he watches his human put aside the recent purchases. ( and waiting for his fish, too. roark better not forget that. )

"And why are so many people talking about it? Is it important? They sounded happy about it. And rushing. Do we have to do something too?" Has Roark forgotten to mention something to him again? He better explain now, his fox needs to know everything. / the gays go to a lantern rite p1. | accepting.

"Ah? Oh, right, I guess you would've never seen the rite from the outskirts beyond the mountain pass, huh," Roark pauses halfway between putting their basket of food for the week on a low counter, having let his small furball wiggle out from the depths of his jacket and onto the table. The market streets were bustling with crafts and materials, brightly colored lanterns strewn en masse and stalls being set up along the docks. Roark knew immediately by sheer habit, but this would have been Volkner's first, right? If Inazuma had anything similar, there was a good chance the kitsune was already ushered into hiding by then.

Well, then it's settled—he has to introduce him the right way. "It's a yearly celebration to bring in the new year. All the lantern material you see that's everywhere is so everyone can carve a wish into plaustrite, light a lantern with that wish, honor fallen heroes, and let go so it floats away." He continues while he organizes their plethora of meats and vegetables, sprinkling dash of salt on some of the cuts he's elected to be good for a curry and rice some time during the week. It's all fluid muscle memory. "When everyone releases them around the same time, the lanterns are like stars all grouped together—people come from all over to do this one thing together, guiding the honored home. It's really fun, and there's so much good food during the festival—" He whirls around, bounding over to the kitsune and taking his hands into his own, squeezing them and swinging them side to side, abandoning his beloved's tuna in his excitement. "And then—and then, there's the big mingxiao lantern that's built by everyone in Liyue and it's freaking huge and amazing and it's usually an adeptus but like! Watching it lift into the air after so much plaustrite! With the fireworks! Have you seen fireworks before, Volk?! They're so fun and colorful and loud and they explode into shapes now—it's so fun! Let's go and make our wishes together!"

Volkner can't say no to this adorable face, could he? ( not that roark was trying to convince him ) He only abruptly lets go to get back to the fresh slab of tuna that said kitsune had so politely ( read: kept pressing his cold snout into his chest ) reminded him to bring on the way home, separating food groups into their appropriate containers and placing them neatly into the icebox for later. Once Roark starts prepping the cutting board and his filet knife, Volkner will have his tuna in hand soon enough. That is, if he manages to get Roark to shut up.

"So you know those floaty rocks I've been coming home with recently? Those are the plaustrites! Civil Affairs usually asks for some level of procurement so they can guarantee enough people can engrave their wish, so needless to say, I like to do my part to help out with the lanterns. They allow the lantern to float away—I'll show you how it does it when I drop off this batch. Everyone that can do something usually does, whether it's gathering, or cooking, or even building the fireworks you'll see around. All if it is just for the celebration and charity in the end." With how happily he spoke about it, maybe it was an important tradition to him, one that he wanted to share with Volkner, now that he was here. “Everything is so delicious and vibrant along the docks, I have to show you everything there is to offer, if you’d have me! We can even make it a date and dress up nice, if that sounds fun to you, yeah?” 

It’s a miracle that he doesn’t manage to cut his fingers while he’s babbling excitedly, soon taking out a small dish to serve the freshest slices of tuna for the week for the fox in question, making sure there were no surprises of the parasitic variety, and upon finishing his examination, he comes back to Volkner to offer him his food. “So, you up for it?” 

#electrivolt #🌙 ━ / asks. #🗻 ━ 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁! / roark ic. #🌑 ━ 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗌𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. / genpact verse. #roark you are SO normal about lantern rite jesus CHRIST.

[catch-the-wind]

when reader is sick hc's p2

PART 2 IS FINISHED WHOO

here's a link to part 1 uwu

so i'm still brainrotting over this and i would like to date almost every character rn~ i probably won't add more to this unprompted but if anyone wants a part 2 just shoot me an ask! <3

tags: gn!reader, xiao x reader, zhongli x reader, ningguang x reader, beidou x reader, kazuha x reader, amber x reader, keqing x reader, venti x reader, scaramouche x reader, thoma x reader

xiao

this man is so awkward goodbye

he’s really popping into the kitchen of wangshu inn like mr. smiley yanxiao i need an order of almond tofu and uhh whatever the hell it is sick people eat

asks cloud retainer if there’s a medicinal thing she’s created and hey can you fix my s/o

meanwhile his s/o is like xiao- xiao- XIAO- it’s a COLD i’ll SURVIVE, stop leaving me to find solutions and just come cuddle

so xiao cuddles <3 he’ll read to his partner but it’s likely he’s also just sitting there in silence holding his s/o

he likes the companionship, doesn’t talk much. comfy silence all around

his partner probably falls asleep on him at some point but he’s okay with it

he probably watches his partner while they rest and he’s super frowny because he hates seeing them in pain :(

but also the gentle forehead kisses while his partner rests <3

he tells zhongli that he needs time to be with his s/o while they’re ill. he makes it sound like his partner is dying which is...overdramatic but also he just wants to dote on them and make sure they’re okay

he asks verr goldet what things a sick person might want while his partner rests and then he tries to kinda sorta subtly ask for help getting them

tries to dote on his partner subtly but he’s so grumpy all the time LOL

n e ways he gives his partner smooches and cuddles and that’s all that matters uwu

zhongli

he doesn’t even have to really say it to hu tao, she just knows he’s about to ask for a few days off. he does ask, ofc bc he’s following the protocols of social etiquette

he goes to his partner’s home or they’re in his for the entire time they’re sick

has a shopping list of foods for a sick person, also gets tea

has no mora to purchase anything on his shopping list so he hits up tartaglia LMAO

tartaglia comes w zhongli just to visit zhongli’s s/o

hu tao also comes to visit zhongli and co but he’s so wary of her because is she about to pull a prank- really she just brings him some tea he likes and wishes his s/o well <3 she probably sings to them too but it’s a little creepy if you listen to the lyrics LOL

this man is not reading his partner stories, they’re getting histories, pov morax. he knows so many little details that are lost in time but are kept safely in his memories

the man works out, tell me otherwise. he may choose his own body and he knows he has cake but the man works out and trains. he’s a god of WAR and he keeps himself in good shape. n e way he works out in the living room or backyard while his s/o is sick and he trains w just a shirt and pants and he’s so pretty aHEm i think my asthma is acting up again hang on

okay but muscles rippling and you can see it through the clothes that aren’t even that tight BUT BRO WHY ARE YOU GRUNTING SO MUCH PLEASE NO ONE ELSE DOES

would probably get his partner toys and such and one of them is a little dragon <3 give it smooches every day

he’s distracted when he answers hu tao or the adepti because he’s thinking ab his partner instead

ningguang

the frown on her face when she finds out PHEW

she takes her partner’s temperature with the back of her hand and she’s all frowny all day. ganyu is lowkey concerned bc what’s the matter with lady ningguang-

her partner stays in ningguang’s home and she’s working from home for a while <3 there are millelith guards and members of the qixing popping into her home office and even beidou once or twice. bei is also worried ab ning’s partner, but she’s doing the hearty slap on the back and the “get well soon!”

ningguang ordering food from wanmin and xiangling personally delivering it <3 xiangling and guoba are both showing up with some hot soup and guoba is there for cuddles pls he’s so cute

ningguang will read to her partner, probably tells them about her day and entertains small talk until they fall asleep

she cooks some of her qiankun mora meat and tries to make her partner soup <3 the millelith and the qixing have never seen their tianquan in a kitchen working before but she would only ever do it for the people she loves

keqing is in the corner quietly shipping while munching golden shrimp balls goodbye

i think ningguang respects ganyu too much to force her to run around for stuff but ganyu probably likes ning’s partner enough to do it anyway

ning and cuddles and temple kisses and she won’t give her partner smooches on the lips :( but she’s soft for them so they get cheek kisses and spooning them to sleep

beidou

she stays at her partner’s place while they’re sick because the crux might make them feel seasick instead

but she goes back and forth to the crux to get her things and take care of business and such. her crew probably loves her partner so they have things for bei to bring back <3

bei doesn’t even leave her partner’s town but she’s got sango pearls, cecilias, qingxin, cor lapis jewelry, dendrobiums (even though those are like. blood flowers. they’re pretty it’s fine) and many many fruits

xiangling comes by with food for bei and co and sticks around to hear beidou telling her partner stories about her time at sea

beidou is. she’s so buff okay. she carries her partner in and out of the room and to the living room or kitchen or brings everything to her partner and you can see how defined her muscles are bye i’m in love with her

we already know bei learned to cook a little bit from xiangling but beidou is absolutely learning to cook more while her partner is sick. xiangling is there giving her cooking lessons while beidou’s partner watches <3 bei with that look of concentration and she’s so quick with the knives too i’m- okay but her spoonfeeding her partner?? *chef’s kiss* ;)

beidou puts too much pepper in a dish and it deffo clears sinuses LMAO but she tried and it actually does taste very good if you can handle your spice 🤷‍♀️ i cannot so find me with a gallon of milk later

n e ways beidou cuddles her partner to sleep and falls asleep as soon as she knows they’re resting <3 many cuddles and many kisses, even if they insist not to because cooties will get u sick bei 🥺

visits bubu’s pharmacy to get her partner’s medicine herself but also has remedies from other places too! zhongli deffo helps her with some other gifts for convalescents so it’s historically, traditionally and socially acceptable

kazuha

is so worried omg

wherever his ass is, he’s going to his partner as soon as he finds out they’re sick. he’s so frowny and worried it’s almost cute but also,,,kazu it’s a cold, it’s FINE

he goes to collect qingxin and sweet flowers and stuff himself and makes his own poultices and soups and such <3

he shows up at his partner’s home with arms and buckets of flowers and herbs as soon as he possibly can. bei understands if he has to go tho, she gives him leave uwu

makes his partner soup and dried fish and gives them many smooches <3 they are not allowed out of bed LOL they just have to stay there and wait for him to dote on them

many many cuddles and smooches. he plays leaves and grass and recites poems for them he’s so cute <3 sigh, this man plays grass and i’m out here simping

also comes bearing gifts from wherever he was last tho. if he was on the crux, he’s probably got gifts from beidou and the crew even if they don’t really know kazu’s partner, they just know he’s happy and that’s what matters. if he’s not on the crux, his boss probably gives him leave and a gift or smth even if it’s just like a tea or a bottle of wine or smth

he’ll cuddle and be a blanket. but he’s also got fabrics that beidou picked up in inazuma and he uses that as a blanket for his partner <3

will tell his s/o stories of his childhood, his time wandering, his time with the crew, his work. anything they want to know or have questions about, he’ll tell them.

forehead kisses, temple kisses, holding his partner’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of their hand ugh i love him

deffo gets sick because he can’t deny his partner smooches on the lips smh. and then it’s his partner’s turn to play nursemaid

the crew from the crux probably drops by to check on kazoo man and co. they bring some regional delicacies and blankets and their best cold remedies with a slap on the back for kazu and a gentler pat for his partner. like w ningguang’s partner, bei probably gives kazu’s s/o a hearty slap but it’s not enough to hurt them

anyway i’m in love with him

amber

she’s so worried she’s such a sweetie omg

she goes to her partner immediately and fusses over them before they have to gently tell her that they’re fine

she goes to collect sweet flowers and stuff and goes to ohm, albedo and barbara for help making medicines and such

doesn’t want to leave her duties unattended to but jean also knows that amber wants to be with her s/o so she tells amber that she has fewer duties for her <3

jean tells kaeya to go make sure amber is doing okay and doesn’t need help or anything so he drags ohm, diluc, albedo and lisa too LOL

lisa was planning on going anyway, she just used diluc to carry her books w this opportunity <3 albedo is just treating amber’s partner w meds and potions and things and lisa takes a peek at that too

she’s so sad she doesn’t have ohm’s super cold skin so she can’t be a human cooling pack for her partner </3 but she gives them many smooches on cheeks and foreheads and temples

barely resists giving her partner kisses on the lips bc she still wants to go to work but also wants to give her partner what they need and sigh. it’s a struggle for amber

she wears pajamas and cuddles with her s/o <3

cooks her partner some (fully cooked!!) meals, not her specialty steak. but she makes soup and goes to good hunter and gets good hot food there too

keqing

wants to take some time off to help her partner feel better but also doesn’t want to leave work. ningguang probably sends her home at some point because she’s fretting and working and stop feeling so bad keqing, you have sick days

she still goes to work but she’s just taking marginally shorter days sigh, she goes home early instead but brings work home so she can do it while sitting with her partner

wears leisure clothes when at home with her partner but the fact that she has clothes she doesn’t use for work is shocking LMAO the cat ears stay tho ;) catgirl always

ganyu comes by with keqing’s work, some wanmin takeout and a card and gift for her partner <3

xiangling hears that keqing is home with her partner while they’re sick and brings food over to keqing’s. she’s got extra golden shrimp balls for keqing. AND AGAIN. GUOBA CUDDLES ❤️❤️❤️

keqing feels so bad for not doing as much work, she’s making herself almost as sick as her partner </3

ningguang comes over one night with beidou while keqing is doing work in bed while her partner is resting and she sees keqing stressed as all hell. she just gives keqing some food and tells her to actually rest. soft!ning and bei being moms god i love them

okay but keqing tucking her partner in with a sweet kiss before retreating to her work in the corner, the lamps turned to the lowest they can possibly be because keqing refuses to leave her beloved but can’t not do work

keqing trying to cook food for her partner that isn’t meant specifically for survival but for taste is so cute. she’s trying to cook golden shrimp balls and soup and stuff and she’s not bad at it! she took a single night of giving her s/o hot tea and some wanmin soup before she learned the whole cookbook so she can be the one to cook for them <3

venti

he brings his partner wine u cannot tell me otherwise

he goes to diluc’s. not the tavern but straight up dawn winery and asks diluc if he can get a bottle of wine for his s/o and please please please he’ll go fight some of those slimes for you, please? with the big 🥺 and staying outside diluc’s window to beg bye

diluc just gives him the wine with a glare but won’t make venti do the commission <3 venti legit says “thank barbatos” and gives diluc an ~ehe~ before he gets ready to glide away. he turns around and asks diluc if he’s sure he can’t do the comm but diluc just glares at him all broody~

diluc comes by to check on venti’s partner too bc where does venti live- venti is just camping out at his partner’s place for now and feeding them and giving them wine and diluc just kinda goes a little pink but glares while he says “get well soon” and leaves a windwheel aster from near the winery

venti makes soup and many vegetable/fruity foods because “they’re good for you! have some wine with that ehe”

jean comes by at some point with barbara to check on venti and co. they’ve got other foods and some hydro healing for venti’s partner <3

ohm comes over to see his friend and brings him some medicines, food and wine. he gets to witness the anemo god get all soft and squooshy for his s/o it’s so sweet

he uses anemo to entertain his partner with some gentle breezes playing through leaves <3 but he also plays his lyre for them and gives them smooches in between and during songs because he’s a god ofc he isn’t gonna get sick, pay the bard with kisses. and where’s his gratuity :( 😗

he doesn’t read to his s/o but he does tell them stories with a musical accompaniment. sometimes his partner will fall asleep so he just smiles so softly and tucks them in and continues playing his lyre at the window while they sleep <3

but also brushing his partner’s hair back and giving them a kiss on the forehead please i love my beloved kinnie

n e ways venti forehead smooches and playing the lyre for his s/o <3 no cough meds ehe, just dandelion wine and whatever ohm gave him (that was, in fact, the cough medicine)

scaramouche

bro this dude looks like he CANNOT be assed but he really cares <3<3

his work schedule doesn’t change but he’s going to his s/o’s home super often with soup and food and medicine and extra blankets

even to his partner, scara looks broody but he always looks like that LOL

tartaglia finds out where scara is going and he brings food and toys and stuff too <3 scara later has to read one of the kids books tartaglia brought and he refuses to voices but it’s very sweet anyway

scara probably asks sandrone if his doctor brother can get him some good cold medicine but would never admit that he asked ohm for help LOL. ohm shows up anyway and finds out <3

can and will cook soup but that’s all you’re getting from him. the takeout he brought is most definitely not something he made, no sir’am he would never do something as soft as cook for them. soup doesn’t count, it’s oboiling water with some added flavor, shut up tartagalicious he’s not soft

will give his partner kisses only after he thinks they’re asleep. refuses to give them any affection besides a headpat or two and maybe one hug when he shows real concern. his partner isn’t quite yet asleep one time and then feigns sleeping when they hear scara’s whispered “i love you” and he presses a kiss to their forehead 🥺❤️

he takes off his hat inside the house but will go around with a blanket around his shoulders to mock his partner smh. the blanket is on his head like a hood and he fake sniffles with an almost derisive laugh but he gives his partner a real smile at the end <3

9/10 times will never admit that he’s soft unless it’s a Very Serious Moment but he’s a squishy dood for his s/o and his s/o only

will not read or sing to his partner but he’ll sorta cuddle if they ask very nicely and many times. it’s just kind of him sitting next to them and they kind of have to muzzle before he’ll move his arm for his own comfort LMAO

will bring his partner gifts and food, a few flowers but he’ll just claim he’s delivering it from someone else with a look of fake disgust </3 maybe like two of those are actually from other ppl and not him

when his partner is actually feeling really sick, he won’t be a big smol meanie and he actually looks so concerned~ his partner means a lot to him and he doesn’t want them to feel sick or in pain so he’ll cuddle them unprompted and rub their back, run his hand thru their hair, soft forehead and temple kisses and “i’m here, baby” and “i love you” and falling asleep with his partner tucked under his chin <3 he’s actually so sweet bye 😭

thoma

thoma feels so bad when his partner is sick. it isn’t even his fault but he feels so bad because he wants to protect them, even from tiny little germs 😭 i’m sorry u can’t be my immune system thoma it’s FINE

he asks to take off work and ayaka just kinda sighs but smiles and waves a hand to dismiss him bc yes ofc you can, simp

ayato just laughs when he sees this LMAO BYE

thoma’s partner stays at his home, in his bed or a guest room (idk if he has his own place or stays w the kamisatos as their literal live-in maid but anyway)

his partner gets his care, any doctors or caretakers around ritou, the medic from the crux, the kamisato family doctor- this man is using some of his favors for medicine and then cuddling his s/o, ugh i want to date him sm

both kamisatos come by with some food for thoma and co but poor ayato can’t even keep his grin contained, poor thoma is conditioned to be nervous ab what ayato feeds him LOL

he’s cooking for his partner, legit gives them a list of options and an “anything you want, my love?”

cuddles his s/o even tho they might protest but it takes like 0.2 seconds to stop protesting bc that man is comfy

tells his partner stories about what it was like back home in mondstadt and his journey to inazuma and why he’s there as well as his stories about all the different kinds of people he’s met

taroumaru coming w kozue to the kamisato estate to get some hot tea to thoma 🥺 and the cuddles and nuzzles from this great doggo for thoma before he turns to his partner too 😭 straight up jumps in the bed and licks their faces a little before nuzzling in for a hug

n e way thoma gives a lot of hugs and kisses and cuddles and i think he’s hella touchy-feely and misses home and treasures his partner even more because of it

my beautiful red shield ❤️

#genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #ningguang x reader #beidou x reader #kazuha x reader #amber x reader #keqing x reader #venti x reader #scaramouche x reader #thoma x reader #genshin fluff #hc's #lyz.writes #part deux was fun i wanted to add more to thoma's lol #i'm so in love w him help

[semischarmed]

“Ben”

I was out on a socially distant walk by the woods when I notice a fire dance across the night sky and into the woods. Against my better judgement, I decide to investigate.

A small glowing silver ball sat among the forest wreckage. I reach out, almost by trance, and immediately feel a spark course through me on contact. In the process, my clothing ignites in brilliant green flame. Then, I feel a presence. Immediately, I turn around, still holding the orb. Amidst the green flame was a puddle of metallic gray slime. It vibrates before sending out a little slimy limb which slowly rocks side to side, as if to examine me, before jumping for my face.

For once in my life, I react quickly enough and instead catch the thing in my hand. It was slick, and unbelievably cold. The mass begins to glow dimly, as I hold it out in front of me. I stare at it expectantly as it again forms a tiny limb, re-examining me. In a flash of green, the little wad of silver goo transforms into what appeared to be a tiny silver human. No, human’s not quite the right word. It was humanoid, sure, but the proportions were all wrong, almost cartoon-like. It had a larger more bulbous head with large reflective eyes and a small, near indiscernible mouth. The hands were larger as well, while the arms and legs were far thinner. Despite strange the sight before me, I sense no ill intent. Its beady little black eyes watch at me, displaying not only life, but intelligence. Words cannot explain how I knew, nor can it explain why I ask my next question out loud in a language it certainly did not understand. “What are you”?

Its eyes begin to glow as it opens its mouth to speak, “Human...” it states in plain english. I jump back, almost dropping the thing out of my hand before catching it. “Thank you. I have chosen a form and language most suitable to your own. I am weak from my crash and from your atmosphere. You are not afraid or angry?” It takes its little arm and gently strokes my skin. “Your body appears to be incompatible with my physiology... perhaps due to your contact with my craft. As I understand it, your species is incredibly hostile. If you are intending on destroying me, my only wish is for a swift and painless death.”

I stood dumbfounded until I realized the small orb-egg-thing he came in was some kind of craft. “uh... this yours?”

“You seem unafraid of my presence and do not appear to intend to destroy me, despite these circumstances. Perhaps my information is incorrect? Has your planet had contact with other such beings previously?” it asked. “No.. uh, I can’t explain it but you don’t really seem like a bad-“

“-Guy” it corrected me. “My closest equivalent to your species is what you would classify a male. You appear shocked. Are you alright?”

Holy shit an actual, real-life alien! And it speaks English! I screamed in my head. Despite the absurdity, I cannot help but respond plainly, “Oh, um, this planet has not had any contact before. At least not that I’d be aware of.”

“I see, you are a friend then. Thank you human, I am in debt to you” it states. Looking at the small humanoid before me, I cannot help but want to protect it. It obviously did not intend to do anything or it would have killed me by now. Still, I felt somewhat bad, he really did not seem like a bad guy and, from the movies, it never usually ends well for the alien.

“You came in a big crash, right? So the government or whatever is probably looking for you. We should probably find a safe place for you, um... what can I call you, anyway?” I ask. It looks at me in silence again, then flashes an impossibly bright, green light from its hands before pondering for a moment, and stating “You have not lied. Thank you for your sincerity and your support. I may be called Ben.”

“Ben?” I can’t help but chuckle a little. “You travel all the way across the universe and you’re just plain old Ben?” Its formed its own little smile, which I find endearing. “My true name is—“ the rest was unintelligible. “Ben it is!” I laugh, “Look, we need to get you out of here. I’ve seen what they do to aliens in the movies.” Ben produces a small oddly heavy rock. “Understood. Please. Drop this into my crash site. It should cover our traces” it states in a weak smile before falling over momentarily. I oblige.

“Cool, cool. So...um.. what now? Also, are you alright?” I ask.

“Your planet... It is poison to my form. I am moments away from death. I need a genetic input to adapt to this atmosphere. I would feel safest inside a human.” Inside?

“Well.. uh... i dont really have much going on, on a friday night so...”

It smiles again. “I appreciate the gesture, friend, but as I have mentioned, our forms are incompatible. As such, I require a different vessel. Please select any of your choice.”

“You’re a little forward, buddy” I add playfully.

“Apologies human, your language is somewhat difficult to grasp. I appreciate any and all attempts at assistance”. The little silver alien in my hand sits down.

“Ok, let’s get you somewhere safe... Anyway I know just the guy....”

Fucking Austin. That smug tool was the my bully from way back when and was/is a massive jerk. He was also fucking hot and he knew it. I think he got off on it too- After years of torment, I couldn’t wait for this little alien to do whatever it needed to do inside him.

The walk back is embarrassing as my naked form scrambles in the dark, hoping to avoid any onlookers. Thankfully, it was the dead of night, and our neighborhood is fairly empty. I walk up to his garage, lit by a lone bulb, where he was presumably working on his car. Sweat and grime cover his torso. Of course, he strips to shirtless as soon as he notices me, offering me a tantalizing peek, like he always did when he brought a girl over. “Why are fucking naked you creep. The fuck you want, fag?” He sneers as his eyes immediately lock on to the small orb I am using to cover my junk.

“THIS!” I shout, extending out my other arm, holding little alien man. For a moment, nothing happens and he raises his eyebrows in amusement. It quickly shifts in shock when Ben springs to life, jumping onto Austin’s bare chest. The little silver man clings to his sweaty chest hairs, using them as leverage to scramble up Austin’s face.

“The fuck?!” He spat as he swats at the little alien. With a fervor, Ben dodges and continues inhumanly and follows with his quick dash, crawling up to Austin’s right nose. Austin attempts to get the little silver man off him but to no avail. Despite his shape, Ben is incredibly slippery, and Austin’s thick fingers cannot get a good grasp.

Austin screams as Ben has lodged himself inside Austin’s right nose, secreting a silvery slime while he burrows ever deeper into him. Austin’s eyes shut tight and his mouth opens in anguish. “FUCK!” he shouts as he tries to pull my friend’s tiny legs out. Ben is victorious in this struggle and Austin’s fingers again slip. “AHRRG” He shouts, while right side of his face crinkles in pain. I watch in amusement as Austin is reduced to small, rhythmic grunts. “....Fu-...Fu-... FF....hu...hu”. I no longer see any semblance of my alien friend so he must have crawled deep, deep inside of Austin.

Stillness washes over Austin before he starts again, mumbling slowly. “S-stop.... get out” he repeats, as his body starts swaying back and forth and his head bobs forwards and backwards. His eyes roll to the back of his head in delirium. Abruptly, he screams “GET THE FUCK OUT” in an angry growl and one eye rolls back go lock on to me. “YOU!” He shouts. Before he can move any closer, the veins in his body flare to life and I notice they start writhing, throbbing, coursing with some silvery liquid before returning to normal. Austin’s face quickly goes from anger into unconscious stupor as a line of silvery drool escapes his mouth and his entire body begins trembling. He slumps foward and then falls. I run forward and struggle to try to hoist the massive pile of quivering meat up. Still, he topples over, falling right on top, crushing and pinning me beneath the weight of his muscled form.

Despite the situation, I am completely entranced. I can barely breath from the weight of Austin on top, only managing steady, shallow breaths. He continues convulsing, causing the day’s worth of grime and sweat to smear onto me. Hot. Just feeling him like this, feeling his skin meet and rub across mine, was turning me on. This was physically the closest I have ever been to this man. His convulsions slowly die down, until he is just sleeping on top of me, pinning me to his dirty garage floor. I remark him, the breathing in his shallow breaths, the heat from his previous struggle, his salty, putrid sweat that now caked both of us. I was taking in all the Austin that I had previously only dreamt of having.

His gentle sleep is broken when his eyes shoot wide open. They’re incredibly wide, dilated, glassy. Silver tears escape their corners. His lips curl into an open mouth, breathy smile, and he motions to speak “..... ahhhhhhh” he states moving the muscles on his face and vocal cords as if for the first time. Despite the absurdity of the situation, I could clearly tell what was happening. Enough movies and TV and wishful dreams to more or less grasp what had just occured. The man before me was not Austin-at least, not the Austin I knew. This was all Ben.

“Sorr-“ he murmurs, as he pushes himself and his weight off me. He watches himself, first moving his digits one at a time, while he examines how muscle and sinew stretch and contract to accommodate his commands. He gently rubs his hands together, as if to wash them, remarking on every feeling. With these gentle fingers, he traces over his left bicep, following it’s curves and valleys, as if he had sculpted them himself. He tugs a little at strands of his armpit hair, remarking on the new texture, before sniffing the droplets of sweat that had clung to his fingers and making a sour face. “You humans are so fascinating. It’s like this body is constantly producing its own serum. what a wasteful process. Such a high temperature as well... your are.. inefficient models.” He licks his right bicep like a cat, which causes a stirring in my pants. “Still, these byproducts of your living... they are quite delicious”.

Austin’s tour then follows his chest. “I see you are bound to your forms, with no ability to shift”.’ He cups his left nipple, remarking at the musculature within. “Hmm... that description is inaccurate...You appear to be somewhat capable of physical change, though not as drastically as my species.” He twirls a finger around his left nipple, smiling slightly at the stimulation. “Oh...though your species has a far heightened pleasure ceiling. This is...” He trails as he repeats the maneuver with his right nipple and stifles a moan. I stand, awestruck and slightly horny at the sight of my former bully pleasuring himself. He continues, taking his hands further down and feeling each ab before he stops at his pants. Austin pauses, curious, raising his head as if to scan his own brain for information, before flatly stating his catchphrase “Bet you’d like to suck this fat cock, wouldn’t you?” He spat to the side before immediately resuming his former tone, “Apologies, human emotions are... difficult to reign in. This vessel is responding to my intrusion unpredictably...“ He then wears Austin’s personality again. “But anyway thanks bitch, for giving me this hot, hot, jock cock. Time for me to pay up. I got cash... booze... weed... other shit” he winks. “So what’ll it be?”

In the heat of the moment, I could only reply back what I wanted. What I’ve always wanted. “Let me suck your fat cock” I reply automatically.

The mood shifts immediately and Austin’s face is perplexed. “This function you are requesting, it does not lead to procreation. It lacks any of your societal benefit...What good does it do you?” I decide to push a little further than I normally would have. “Let me show you” I state, giving him a wink. I strip Austin down and gently grab his thick cock, relishing in the moment. It flares to life, slowly hardening, increasing in size. I clasp my hand a little tighter around the rod start with slow, rhythmic strokes. Of course, I look to the face Ben was wearing for any cues, but it remains emotionless. I start to pull away before Ben finally speaks up “I see... benefit. Please, continue demonstrating”. Fuck. After all these years. All his teasing, he was finally here and he was finally mine.

“My body appears to recall this... this behavior is consiered gay, yes”

“Fuck yeah it is....”

“My body... these memories I have commandeered indicate this is something Austin is neither familiar nor entranced with. I will try to apply its equivalent knowledge accordingly” he stated flatly, somewhat confused at the situation. “Apologies... as I have mentioned, your language is a little complex.” I ignore him and continue.

“I personally.. to find this behaviour... hmmm.... acceptable...but.. he.. appears to.. I... Hmmm.... Fuuuuck!” he screamed, as his body abruptly leaned forward. His emotionless face begins to dance with a wellspring of feeling. It cringes first, then flashes into one of bliss, then pain, anger, intimidation, until settles into sneer. Mine of course flashes imminent doom. Oh Shit.

“Uh.. little buddy? You there?” I ask nervously. He grabs me, dragging my face near his. I am prepared for the worst.

“You know, he really fucking hates this. I can feel him resisting... Fuck you!” He spits. I still cannot tell who is who, until he clarifies. “Austin must really, really hate you.... but I dont” He leaned his face further in, giving me little chance to react before he jams a thick slimy tongue into my mouth. When he pulls back, his face then showed an odd emotion-cute, even. He was looking for approval. I, turned on by the past events, quietly nod in shock. Emotion immediately shifts back. “Come here, bitch!” he screams, pulling me back to him, bringing our faces close together while he hocks a wad of Austin’s spit at me. That part, I was familiar with and I instantly wince, expecting the normal pummeling I’d get. Instead, he sticks his hand down to scoop some of cum he had just released and aggressively smearing it all over my face and running Austin’s seed through my hair. “You’re mine forever, you get that right? Fuckin twerp. You fucking want this, right?” Austin stated with a sneer. He jams his tongue into my mouth again for another sloppy kiss and I explode cum in my underwear. Goddamn this was hot. Fuck. All those years of torture and in the end, here he was, seeking my approval, seeking to be mine. The sneer plastered on his face shifts immediately to one of concern and validation-seeking.

“Are you alright, friend? I apologize for the scare, I was attempting to follow-“

“No, no, no...” I mumble in heat. “Turn... FUCK...turn whatever the fuck that was back on. This is, god, this is everything.”

My little buddy complies, rolling Austin’s head and eyes back before immediately shifting his face back to his trademark sneer and giving my face a sloppy lick. “Bro, this body fucking hates you. You know? Feelings are created by brain and all that shit, like damn... all I wanna do inside this hunk of flesh is give you the pummeling you fucking deserve.” he states menacingly, before giving my face another lick. “But dont worry I fucking love you, bro. Look at me when I’m fucking talking. I am Austin. New and improved. Maybe this was what I was missing in my home-world. Maybe your degenercy has tainted me. Maybe this vessel has. To be honest, we don’t really give a fuck. Well, he does but I speak for us both now. This little... experience...has been a delight and a revelation. According to this meatbag’s brain ‘you’re gay as shit’ so, help me to help you. Austin’s gay as shit now too. For you at least. Help your daddy Austin betray his species find me some more of these kinds of males. Whichever you like. I’ll make our wildest dreams come true.” He comes in for another sloppy kiss, and sticks his muscular hand down my pants, corralling my seed and scooping out it out moments later. It is slick with my cum. “Hahaha this body finds this act so revolting. According to his memories, he finds you utterly disgusting. Well... I’m into it, let’s stick some of you inside Dear old Austin. I’ll stuff your cum so deep in him, he’ll never get it out. Our boy is quite the fighter too, he’s resisting me, even now”. Austin regains momentary control. “NO FUCKING WAY” His arm struggles and shakes as it brings the cum-covered hand to his mouth. In the end, Ben is successful and Austin has no choice but to jam the slimy hand to his mouth, slurping each digit individually, caking his insides with me. “Mmmmm but you taste so fucking good...bro... well to me at least. This body physically hates this. Too bad our little Austin isn’t in control right now. And when I’m done with him, he’ll come back wanting more”. He repeats the gesture with his other hand, and cracks his neck, piloting Austin far more naturally. “As long as we keep him well-fed, I can continue to pilot this hot piece of ass without resistance. We will transcend this meat-suit. With me running the show from this fucking hot bod, and you at our side, we will be unstoppable.” He states in deranged glee. I worry slightly until Austin’s persona flips to Ben’s normal formal tone. “Ah, apologies, as you know, this body thinks very highly of himself” he states with a slight chuckle ”but no worries... no more outbursts.”

“Some more information about myself, while I make some rearrangements to this body’s brain. My species has the ability to commandeer others into vessels, though I believe this is a byproduct of our formless nature more than our intended purpose.  You see, home-world has isolationist tendencies. We keep to ourselves. I am somewhat aberrant in this matter. We are powered by genetic diversity, yet they choose to remain within the one world when there is a whole universe outside of home to explore. I am different. I want it all, I want to see, hear, feel, experience what this wonderful universe has to offer. For that, I was cast away, to travel this lone plane with my craft. This life is a quiet one, so I am fortunate to have met you.” He strokes my cheek lovingly with Austin’s hands. I initially wince out of habit, but he seems to have understood. “Thank you, for everything,” Ben says sincerely with a kind smile. I beam back but immediately blurt out what had been on my mind throughout his whole monologue “why me though?”

“As you know, each human’s genetic output is a mix of information.”

“Uh huh” I trail, struggling to follow along.

“Well, your specific combination produces a nectar to our species which we would find intoxicating. Perhaps it had been slightly altered by my crash.”  Ben stares at me with Austin’s eyes, relaying an intelligence that my former bully had never previously had. “Beyond that, in my eons of travel, I have never met a more kind or accommodating individual”

“I like your genetic material, your signature, your blend...it is... hmmm...there is no equivalent phrase for this- at least within your capacity of emotion- but make no mistake, it’s delicious and I would like some more.” His demeanor shifts. “Do you like Austin? Do you like me?” He asks in a playful tone as he circles Austin’s nipple with his finger. Austin then grabs my arms, rubbing them across his abs. “Yeah, this meatsuit is a fucking keeper, isn’t he? I can tell you love this bitch” He teases with Austin’s mannerisms. Ben has been getting really good at this, he’s practically imperceptible from Austin when he’s acting. I nod eagerly in approval, still feeling up my former tormentor as he stretches his arms and gives a yawn.

“Good, good. Well he’s all set. Let me just get our friend Austin prepped. I will to give him some autonomy but, given my penchant for your genetic information, you may see a slight adjustment to his personality.” He winks. “Please bring my pod over, I must conserve some energy, I believe to you humans to understand the equivalent to be hibernation.” I pull the pod up to Austin. “Lower bitch” he commands, grabbing my arms and pulling the pod to his dick. He strips Austin naked before wrapping Austin’s vascular hands over mine, moving them in a way that splits the pod open. He then uses Austins hands to slowly wrap my fingers around his dick. “Pump,” he commanded. I comply, masturbating his dick until it explodes a stream of silver all over the pod. The silver gel congeals into the pod and Austin’s body drops unconscious. I catch the pod and gently place it on his table.

I watch Austin expectantly. He wakes, showing me a look of confusion before sternly asking “the fuck are you looking at, fag?” He then sniffs the air, raising his thick biceps to quickly verify if the smell had been emanating from his armpits. He grimaces, “Goddamn I reek...Did you do this?” Eyes lock with mine as I see only fury blazing. His eyes go wide as his face displays the recollection of our nightly encounter. He quickly runs over, blocking any escape route out of his garage. “You bitch!” He shouts. Before I can react, Austin pushes me up to the wall, shouldering my body and neck and locking me and my airways in place. He raises a fist, and I flinch until... well... nothing. I watch his face, attempting to discern what had just occurred. He releases his grasp slightly, allowing me to finally catch my breath.

He was still furious. Unimaginably so, but I see it tinged with something else as well... shame? And I then notice another feeling, as I begin to feel his heartbeat and breathing quicken. It’s an emotion I have only been able to see in him once- only when Ben had been controlling him. It was lust. He again motions angrily to punch me with a muscular right hook, before stopping his own hand, mere inches from my face.

“I UGH...FUUUUCK....” he shouts, looking away seemingly angry at himself before he punches the wall beside me, leaving a dent. He looks back at me, motioning to give my cheek a tender stroke before he catches himself and shakes his head in anger. “That spiteful bitch! I dont know what little trick you pulled you little asshole, but... hmmmm” he moans, smelling the scent of my fear and desperation... ”man have you always smelled this good?” he mumbled quietly to himself. I decide to take a little risk with this opportunity “Yeah bro? I taste pretty good too,” I state seductively.

That seems to have set him off. He was still somewhat angry obviously, but the lust only seems to have only deepened and overtaken him. He rushes our bodies closer. Sweat drenched abs hover tantalizing close to my stomach, as his sculpted biceps and vascular forearms bound my cheeks. He leans in, inches from my face.

“You want this ass, right? I can be a fag too, only for you” he whispers, leaning even closer to me as I breath in my prior bully’s hot steamy breaths. I instantly go hard. He notices and proceeds by planting a slow, sloppy kiss on my lips. I have to admit, Austin was a great kisser, better than Ben even. Hungrily, Ravenously, his lips pry mine open as his thick tongue dances inside my mouth, greedily tasting me. I reciprocate. In turn, he hugs our bodies together, and I feel his large form encapsulate my own with a warmth and an odd tenderness that I had never even fathomed him capable of generating.

He pulls back, breaking me out of my trance. “But, can you put that little thing back in me... I... uh... together...we uh...look, I want him back. I need him back.“ He begs. “Something...missing inside me.... fill it”.

Goddamnit Ben. I gesture with my head to the motionless pod containing my friend while I chuckle to myself. “He’s sleeping”. Slight adjustment my ass.

He looks back at the pod, obviously disappointed. Then he looks at me, gaze softened, the facade from his usual persona all but broken, “Sorry, can’t help myself... well fuck it, I know you always wanted this anyway,” he mumbled as he nuzzled my neck and shoulder, taking in my essence in deep inhales. I feel myself blush as he continues and then does a quick survey of my body. “When he’s using me.. I can feel... I-I know he loves you... look, I know he wants more... but you fucking better- I’m gonna stay your fucking favorite right? You can use me too, or whatever. I can be your bitch. I can be whatever you want me to me... Just, keep me around, ok? And keep him inside me” I muse at how the old me would have killed to hear similar words from Austin, years ago.

He pauses for a moment, looking away in disgust at his own actions before yielding and scratching his head as he forces out his next words:

“look man... just... the thing that’s missing from me... well this is gonna be weird ask bro, but...can you cum in my mouth?”

—————

I’m a little bit shit with the titles but thats neither here nor there. Used some other similar stories I’ve read in the past for inspiration. Hope y’all like it. Next one’s probably gonna be a continuation on that Chrysalis one. What kind of possession stories are your favorite? 

#male possession #malepossession #male puppet #alien possession

[whirlybirbs]

"can you stop moving?" w/ cullen? i loved your other piece 🥺

;   MAULING    —

summary: the hunting party returns.

pairing: cullen rutherford  /  mage ! inquisitor (lavellan)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i nearly scrapped this but the dialogue was too much fun, and i strongly enjoy cullen being reduced to a worried ball of anxiety over the herald so,,, y’know...... the other great feat in da:i beside corypheus....... bears

It’s Dorian’s voice that Cullen hears first — it’s a curt shout that cuts through the early spring air. Winter has lingered, and as Cullen pushes up from his bed and through the large doors to his quarters, he hears the desperate call for the healers. 

The air is cold against his face. Bitterly so.

It’s early — the sun is just rising over the horizon and as he jumps into his boots, dressed in nothing more than his leathers and tunic, he can hear Sera trying desperately to keep someone’s attention. 

Ser Cullen Rutherford can’t help the way his heart sinks.

You had set out with Dorian, Sera, and Bull two days prior — with the supply lines stretched thin after the battle at Haven, a ride through the Frostbacks may provide some game with spring slowing crawling into the days. There’d been chatter of some rams, fennec, and elk being spotted by scouting parties a week earlier. The entire Council had been thankful for this news — Cullen reasoned full bellies may result in an uptick in morale. 

You’d been eager to take up the task, and... 

“Sure, we can handle it, you said,” comes Bull’s voice, rising above the early morning fray that’s spilling into the courtyard, “Be enough meat for twenty men, you’d said!”

It’s dripping with sarcasm, the angry sort that works itself out of the Qunari under pressure — and as Cullen barrels down the battlements, into the cold air, he finds there’s plenty reason for it.

You’re slipping from the back of Dorian’s mount, into the arms of the healers, when he stumbles upon the scene.

“Oh good,” Dorian croaks, “Now, Cullen is here to witness the height of your stupidity, your worship. Isn’t that nice?”

Cullen’s eyes are wide — and almost immediately Sera has narrowed in on the flash of terrified concern at the gruesome scene before him. She notes that Cullen looks rather disheveled; that tunic of his leaves little to the imagination. Tight in all the right places as Dorian would say. Hm. He’s worried. Cully-wully looks a bit scared. 

The trickster is laughing sheepishly, trying to step into the Commander’s view, when you speak up from the spot on the canvas stretcher. A bloodied finger waggles in the air as the healers shush you.

Maker, there’s mirth in your voice. “Worth it.”

“Was it, Inquisitor?” barks Dorian, moving to hand off the reigns of his horse as he rounds Cullen’s side, “Was it, really?”

“What in Andraste’s name happened?” comes Cullen’s voice, finally, as he spurs into action, pushing past Bull and Sera and Dorian to crouch by the healers. His hands are rasied, as if to silence the fray long enough to wrap his head around just why the Herald of Andraste is now laying amongst the mud. 

You’re in horrid shape, and the amount of blood painting your robes is not lost on the Knight.

You, suddenly, find your pride has run off — and you feel  small under Ser Cullen’s eyes for the first time ever. His hair, all wild blonde tresses that have been muddled with sleep, curls in the morning air. There’s worry etched into his expression and guilt is all that lands on your tongue in reply. It’s like cotton, and suddenly you feel sick. 

(...Has he always been this handsome?)

You’re thankful Dorian is the one to respond in your stead.

“Her ‘holiness’ thought that a black bear might be a worthy opponent this morning,” he waves his hands, dark eyes looking incredulously at the woman he considers to be one of his closest friends — it would be almost laughable, the entire scenario, if the carnage wasn’t so horrible, “Something about pelts! And meat! And Maker knows what else!”

You cry out in pain — and Cullen’s gaze snaps quickly at the sight the peeled away bandages reveal. Bull or Sera or Dorian had done a good enough job patching you up, seeing as somehow you hadn’t bled out. The four long drags of a black bear’s claws run down your jaw, along the curve of your neck and shoulder. They’re deep. They’ve painted your tunic crimson. 

You shiver. Bitterly, you avert your eyes from the lot of them hovering over you. “I hadn’t anticipated the mother —”

“The...!” Cullen’s mouth snaps shut, “Maker, just how many bears were there?” 

At once, the whole party speaks. “Three.”

Cullen, really, can only shake his head and close his eyes. Maker preserve him. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”

“We have,” you inhale sharply as a healer, whose hands glow a warm orange, passes the magic over your cheek, “enough meat to feed the entire camp now.”

Bull tsks. “You almost became a kebab, kid. No use in serving up Inquisitor stew.”

“I —!” 

Your voice drowns in the sudden flash of pain. This is a lesson. A rather nasty one. One that you’re hoping doesn’t scar, but... with the way the healers are chattering in hushed tones in Elvish has you imagining just how gnarly the wound is. It certainly felt like a lesson that would lay etched into your skin for months to come. 

“Just rest, Inquisitor,” Cullen sighs, and you wonder how hard you’d hit your head on the way down — he looks nothing like his usual part, stripped of armor and furs. Now, in the morning sun, he’s no Knights Templar, no war-born Keeper of Mages, no lion crested Commander of the Second Inquisition. 

He’s simply Cullen. 

Exhausted, worried, and freezing Cullen.

“You’re going to need your beauty sleep now, my dear,” Dorian chirps, shaking his head, “Gone and ruined your beauty this has.”

Cullen frowns at that. You see it. It’s gone in a blink.

The tension you two had been playing upon for the last month is gone. Evaporated. In its stead, concern lingers. It snatches your breath. 

Guilt, still, sits on your tongue.

“The meat...” 

Your voice wanders off, finger hanging in the air — but, Cullen catches the meaning. He’ll have requisitions see to it. Sure enough, there’s an obscene amount being towed by Bull’s stead. In a make-shift, stick sled lay three enormous pelts and enough meat to keep everyone’s bellies full for the night.

Then this was not for nothing.

Cullen stands and you both avert your gazes.

“I’ll see to it that it’s cleaned and prepared, your worship,” and then, as he leans from one boot to the other and props his hands upon his hips, he speaks a bit amusedly, “And do get some beauty sleep.”

In the cold morning air, you sense a thaw. Not only of the ground but perhaps between the Knight-Commander and yourself.

And it’s not entirely unwelcome.

#cullen rutherford x inquisitor #cullen x lavellan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen rutherford x reader #cullen x female lavellan #hehe #dragon age imagine #dragon age reader insert #cullen rutherford x you

[cleanlenins]

Ectober Day 1: Trick

Trick of the Light

Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick

Jack had gone to the reunion to reconnect with his old friend Vlad.

Vlad let's Jack learn intimately what he has dealt with twenty years ago.

AO3 

This is my first attempt at gore or horror in general, so be warned and mind the tags.

Blood and Gore, Major Character Death.

Jack couldn't believe what he had seen, let alone what he had just heard. The words rang in his ear, even after the room had fallen into dead silence. He held his breath, the shock of what was in front of him stealing the air from his lungs. His mind rejected the words he just heard. Had he even really heard them? They couldn’t be true. This must be-

"This is a trick," Jack said, his words rushing out. The only answer was a chuckle.

"A trick?" Vlad Masters's grin widened. Hands behind his back, he strolled closer to Jack, eyes still glowing a frightening red. Jack felt the urge to step away from the burning stare, but was immobilized by the metal restraints that kept him in place, helplessly standing to face his best friend.

"A trick. Ghosts are liars. You're possessing Vlad! You can't be him. Get out of my best friend, you ecto scum," Jack said with forced bravado, there were no weapons or tools to back up his demands. He once more tried to break out of the metal cuffs around his arms and legs. To no avail.

"You really are dense. There is no one in here but me," Vlad took another step closer. Jack tried to lean away, but could barely move an inch. Vlad tilted his head, smirking as Jack flinched.

"The only trick was you believing that I would forgive you after all these years. That after twenty years, we could just pretend that nothing happened. That you didn't ruin my life," Vlad continued, grin fading with every word. His eyes glowed an even a brighter red.

"Vladdie, I never-"

"Visited while I was in the hospital? While I was dying from your incompetence? Never thought to check on me? Never considered me when you married Maddie, when you knew I had feelings for her?" Vlad asked, carefully watching Jack's reaction to each word. The bigger man couldn't help but flinch as if he had been slapped. "The things that you never did, Jack Fenton, could write a book. The only 'never' I care about now is Never Again ."

With that, Vlad stepped away, back turned to Jack. Jack felt a trickle of fear settle in his gut. The sharp clack of Vlad's shoes against the metal floor seemed abnormally loud as he walked away. Like thick nails hammered into a coffin.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Jack stuttered. Vlad did not answer, nor show signs of even hearing the larger man’s question. He typed on a large computer, his back completely toward Jack. Jack gulped and sweat started to bead on his brow as he listened to the click of the keys. The methodical sound caused Jack to shiver.

"V-vlad, talk to me. I'm sorry everything happened this way, but I'm here now. We can fix this. We can find a cure," Jack squirmed against the metal. He startled when the harsh squeal of metal scraping against metal sounded overhead. He couldn't see into the darkness, but he heard the screeching noise come closer through the shadows. He swallowed convulsively. "Vlad, just talk to me! I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry. Sorry would mean that you had the self-awareness to realize you did something wrong," Vlad tapped a key, before turning toward Jack. Jack could only make out the glowing red eyes, Vlad's features skewed by the dull glow of the computer screen. Jack shuddered, imagining he could feel the heat of the hatred in those inhuman eyes. A hatred that seemed to burn against his very soul. "No, you're not sorry. You're just afraid. "

Jack's breath sped up as he continued his struggle against his restraints. An electric whirring sound filled the room. Jack's eyes locked onto a pinprick of growing green light. It seemed to twist in the air, pulsing as it grew. From the size of a dime, to a quarter, to a tennis ball. His heart hammered in his chest as the green energy grew. The pulse of the machine sped faster, small bursts of electricity zipped through the air at random intervals, causing the air to taste of metal and ozone. The light grew larger, spinning and twirling in an unstable elliptical. Jack gasped for air frantically, his hands shaking and teeth painfully chattering. The light grew more lopsided and unstable. A low hum grew rapidly in pitch until it hit a note so high Jack's ears ached from the noise. The soft hum of the machine transformed into a monstrous roar. Jack tried desperately to move away, the heat of the energy-the ectoplasm started to burn his cheeks, like standing too long near an open oven.

"Vlad, please! I have a family. I have kids!" Jack begged, trying to look past the growing energy. He saw nothing but two dots of red.

The energy seemed to break free of whatever tethered it in place. Jack screamed as the ectoplasm rushed into his exposed face. He imagined this is what it would feel like to dip his head into molten lava, the burn sticking to his flesh. He writhed as he felt the charged energy sear off his skin, the dying flesh seemed to slough from the muscles of his cheek in great chunks. His eyes boiled in their sockets, the goo trying to pour down his cheeks before they sizzled away from the intense heat. A mockery of tears he wished to shed. Jack continued to scream, even as his tongue fried in his mouth, the taste of blood and charr choking him as the melted muscle slid down his throat. Still Jack screamed and begged wordlessly for Vlad to stop, even as the ligament in his left cheek gave out and his jaw detached, hanging by sizzling strings of meat. He thrashed, trying to get away from the heat, the pain, the horror of the feeling that went beyond physical. The knowledge that he wasn't the first to experience such agony. The world seemed to twist in impossible shapes, nothing but the horrible green.

Suddenly the heat was gone and he felt a jarring thump against the side of his head. He could finally focus on something other than pain. Other than the insensate revelation that pain was all there was. And yet now. He felt nothing, nothing but deep-seated wrongness and the memory of the trauma. Not cold, nor pain. He knew that he had no eyes, but somehow he could see. See even clearer in the dark lab than before.

The green light was above him, focused in a single line. It was the only thing he could focus on, the brightness doing nothing to illuminate the room. How was he on the floor? Was he able to free himself? He couldn't move. He couldn't even speak. How did this happen? What is happening?

The green light began to fade, dissolving away far quicker that Jack would have assumed. And as it faded, Jack felt a bone-deep horror.

There he stood, still attached in the cuffs, unmoving and slumped against his restraints. His hazmat suit torn and burned, the rubber melting to his skin. The material barely held his left shoulder in place, the joint having given out as the intense heat sheared off the skin and muscle, the arm nearly dragging on the ground with a bit of blackened bone sticking out where it was once attached.. But what sent him into mental hysterics was further up.

All that remained was the blackened bone of his neck, each vertebrae precariously balanced. As he watched, the top two toppled to the ground with wooden clacks. His head was completely gone.

Once more, he heard the tell-tale sound of Vlad's shoes clicking against the metallic floor. Jack's soul trembled as the sound came closer.

Those two glowing eyes stared down at him with satisfaction. Jack could do nothing as one finely polished shoe lifted and settled just over where his eye should be.

He felt a crack.

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt trick #Danny Phantom #Cartoons #My Writing #Phanfiction #gore #body horror #major character death

[bubble-booty-cuties]

Once Naoto revealed her true self to the PTs, I can only imagine what kind of outfits Ann and the others got her to try on to properly show off her assets to the boys.

Gonna hijack this ask just a little as a continuation of my last thing, so, sorry if it's not 100% what you wanted~!

____________________________________________

"Are you sure these look alright? They don't exactly feel like they.. Fit.." Was all that was heard on the other side of the curtain, two sets of feet poking out from the bottom as the shuffling and muttering finally stopped.

"What are you talking about, they fit perfectly! They really show off that amazing figure of yours Nao-chan! You've got such pretty legs~!" Came the much happier and bubblier voice of Ann, no doubt the one who convinced Naoto into the dressing room.

"Y-You think so? I dunno, it just feels like it shows off so much.. Aren't pants supposed to hide all of this?"

"You might as well just surrender! When Ann wants you to try on some clothes it's like she suddenly hits max level hard mode, and there's no escape rope!" Futaba yelled out to the bluenette, remembering the time she was forced into different outfits, and even a bikini. "You're lucky I was able to hide the little skirt she wanted you to try on!"

"A-A skirt?!"

"Come on Nao-chan, you said you wanted to get in touch with your feminine side, right~? Well here's your chance, and you look amazing~!" Suddenly the curtain was yanked away to reveal both girls, one considerably more red then the other.

"W-Wait! I'm not ready!"

"Ooh, nice, those shorts are totally skin tight!" Futaba sat on the waiting chair with her knees up to her chest, eyes going up the long legs of their detective friend. "See, told you they'd fit her better!"

"Y-You picked these out?!" Naoto didn't like the way the breeze so easily brushed against her bare thighs out in the open, or the way it brushed so easily against her mostly exposed rear.

A sleeveless white button up shirt hugged her torso in ways that not only pushed her sizable chest up and out into the opening, exposing more cleavage then she ever had before, it also hugged her thin waist neatly, riding up just enough to show off her flat midriff and belly button, her exposed shoulders didn't help her feeling any less exposed either.

All that could have been fixed with a jacket, however. What couldn't be fixed was the way her tiny blue shorts rode up between her plump globes of flesh like a second skin, revealing her jiggly, pale flesh for anyone to see if she so much as turned an inch to the side, let alone bent over. Just the thought made her head spin!

"Duh, shorts are the best!" Futaba cheered, motioning to her own booty shorts covered bubble butt, said but was sat in her seat, however. "Home is where the pants is not, and small shorts are like totally cheating to feel like you're not wearing pants at all!"

"How did I get myself into this mess?!" Was all Naoto groaned as she pulled her hat down to cover her face, even as her other was balled up into a fist behind her, trying in some way to hide her but from view from the many people passing by and admiring her figure in the store.

"Oh good, you're finally back! What do you think? Doesn't Nao-Chan look absolutely adorable~?"

"Wha-" Naoto suddenly turned on her heel to see her senpa- Uh, her number one suspect! And he had very obviously been looking lower on her body then she had hoped. "S-Senpai! I-I thought you were-"

"I figured I'd stop by and check on you guys since Ryuji took Yusuke to the arcade." Cool, calm, and collected, like he wasn't just eyeing her butt like a piece of meat! Were his glasses some kind of shield that hid his emotions?!

"Go on Nao-Chan, he never lies, why not ask him how you look~?"

"Th-That's not-!"

"You really just set her up for the trap!"

"What?!"

"Futaba-Chan is just joking around, go on, ask him~!" Ann suddenly grabbed the small girl's shoulders and pushed her towards the much taller young man, so close in fact she had to look almost straight up to see his emotionless face.

"I-I.." Naoto suddenly pulled her hat down just over one eye, her face beet red as memories flooded her mind of the things this man had done to her in private. But, she needed to know.. "H-How do I look, Senpai?"

____________________________________

The rest of the day was a blur, and all she could remember were the hungry looks as people saw her walking around with her friends dressed in such revealing clothing.. And she wasn't sure to be grateful or worried that her Senpai had chosen to walk behind her the entire time, never getting out of step..

Well, she chose worried as soon as he offered to walk her home, offering his feline companion to Futaba to bring home herself.. Then there walk towards her temporary residence began, and he was as kind as ever, as per usual he spoke clearly and the conversation was pleasant.. And just as soon as she forgot what it was she was wearing did she let out a squeak of surprise at the way his hand grabbed her almost bare cheek like a stress toy.

She wish she could say she told him to stop, or at least wait when they weren't literally in public! But she didn't, and she didn't wanna admit why..~

Of course, none of that matters now, not when she was very suddenly bent over forward against her dining room table, her face bright red, as it seems to be a lot around her suspect. Hands gripped her wide, bare hips and yanked her sizable rear back against the young man, her entire, much shorter body rocking back as she was once again introduced to the long, wide, throbbing bulge in her Senpai's pants, pressed firmly against her butt while he rocked his hips against her.

"C-Couldn't you have waited till I changed..?" Naoto just couldn't say no to him, her heart raced a mile a minute, her breath came out in gasps and chokes, and she couldn't stop the little squeal, one she definitely didn't make, that escaped her lips when gave her plump rump a nice meaty smack, echoing through her rented residence so loudly she was sure it could be heard outside.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Damnit.."

It was happening too fast, and she couldn't even convince herself she wanted it to stop, she could only tell herself she was getting closer to the truth, she was gaining his trust! Right! He'd slip up soon, she's get the proof she needed, and she would have her thief- "Aaah~!"

Once more the young man smacked the bluenette right across her massive, jiggly pair of cheeks, her twin globes wobbling for multiple seconds after he'd already made contact, so perfectly round and shapely, it was a wonder she could slide these little blue shorts up over the swell of her hips and those planetary cheeks.

Naoto could only bite her lip to try and fight back the high pitched noises he always found a way to pull out, and she knew exactly what he was looking at while he forced her little noises out.

Those blue booty shorts rode up her cheeks like a thong, so tight and form fitting you could clearly see just how fat and bouncy they were just from how she walked around, even if she tried to hide it, even if Ann didn't actually choose the sluttiest shorts on the rack, her ass was just too fat to be anything less then mesmerizing with every step she took. And now, right there between those mounds of wobbly bubble booty was the young man's throbbing cock, smushed between that warm crevice while each and every ripple of her flesh sent shivers of pleasure up his spine.

But, tonight wasn't the night. Days of heavy petting, of driving the little detective wild would be leading to her getting fucked, it was practically inevitable, even she knew that, but not tonight. No, tonight he'd had to stare at that fat ass in a pair of shorts for literal hours, and he was about to get his fill.

"W-We have class in the morning, Senpai, we can't-Gasp~!" The busty tomboy detective gasped loudly as she was very suddenly met with he sensation of her suspect's teeth sinking into her meaty backside, having quickly knelt down to face inches from her raised bubble butt, mauling, groping, gripping, and massaging her cheeks like a soft dough while he very roughly and eagerly bit her asscheek like it was a piece of cake. Though he'd argue it was the entire cake.

"Senpai, I haven't showered, y-you shouldn't..~" She hated how feminine he made her sound.. Literally, her voice rising in pitch into a soft, girly tone that made her feel even lewder then her position made her feel.

He didn't listen, he never did, and she didn't exactly kick him off of her, not as she felt her own folds grow wet from the excitement she swore didn't exist. No, not even when he pawed and massaged her pu-.. Her lower region through her shorts, roughly grabbing and rubbing his thumb against her while he continued biting and smacking her ass.

"Senpai can we please at least move to the bed?!" She felt so exposed bent over her table, where she's eaten multiple times and will no doubt remember this moment every time she does from now on. She didn't expect to be the meal spread across her own dining table, but obviously the young man behind her had other plans.

"Nope."

And just like that she felt his expert fingers undo the button and fly Ann had gifted her, said shorts slipping down the swell of her round, pale, creamy smooth cheeks faster then she could even register, and before she knew it she felt the bespectacled suspect grab both cheeks in both large hands, pull her globes wide apart, and expose her most precious regions to himself with nothing but a pair of moist panties between him and her.

"W-Wait!" He didn't.

Naoto squealed loudly and then bit her lip harshly as he abruptly shoved his face between her hot, jiggly, pillowy cheeks. Not even removing his glasses the young man began motor boating her globes while he pulled her panties to the side, pressing his mouth against her wet lower lips and beginning his quick attack on her very core.

"A-Aaah~!! Aaahhhh~!! Haa~!! S-Senpai~!!" Naoto had.. Pleasured herself before her suspect had ever began his attacks on her, she'd admit the feeling of having another person touch her was so much more intense then she could ever preform herself, but this was on a whole other level! Each and every flick of his tongue against her pussy felt like he it her nerve ending on fire, pure, pleasurable fire! She could barely keep herself standing, pressing her full weight on the table, and now the young man's head, no doubt giving him what he wanted and pressing her face deeper between her cheeks.

Her knees shook and buckled, she couldn't stop her cries and squeals, and her flushed red faced dripped with sweat as pleasure overtook her in ways she'd never felt before. And as he.. As he ate her out, loudly lapping and licking her dripping wet slit, every smack across her cheeks, and there were plenty, felt so.. Good~! She'd never though a smack across her behind could feel good! Maybe she thought it did a little when he had done it, but it was something so small, but now~? Oh god, it amplified her pleasure in such confusing ways~!

"S-Senpai~! Aaaah~!! P-Please, I-I can't~!!" Naoto's eyes rolled just a bit as she experienced pleasure like nothing she'd felt before, and that was before he suddenly pressed his tongue inside her pussy, writhing, wiggling, and licking every inch of her love tunnel he could reach. And she could barely hold on for dear life.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh~!!" Stars exploded across her half covered vision, her hat falling askew across her head while she gripped the edge of the table, and she didn't even remember her own name. But, it was simply from lack of experience that she had cum so quickly, because Joker was just getting started.

As quickly as he started, he stopped, dragging his tongue up higher while Naoto gasped, squealed, and tried not to pass out, until his tongue met her backdoor, and then he began what he was fantasizing about all day, grabbing both hefty, meaty cheeks and beginning his meal proper.

"Hggkk~!! Wh-What are you-?!Oooohh~!! H-Haaaa~!!!" Naoto grit her teeth as pleasure once against filled her body, but not from her dripping lips, no, from her puckered pink backdoor. She wanted to tell him not to lick such a place, but how could she when she could barely remember where she was? The pleasure filling her ass was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and she didn't know whether to tell him to stop or do it harder!

And just as she felt the man press the tip of his tongue against her little ring, she too felt a pair of finger slip into her abused folds, once more filling her love tunnel, but not to overshadow his tongue piercing her asshole, filling her with such, horribly confusing pleasure and lust~! Oh god, what the hell was he doing~?!

Naoto's eyes cross as the man frantically fingered her dripping cunt while he just as eagerly began eating her ass, her cheeks wobbling around his face the entire time as she wiggled and twitched all over the place, squealing, screaming, cumming and squirting all over her thighs and dining room floor.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH~!!!!!!"

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Naoto's entire body went limp against the table, drool dripping down her chin, cum dripping down her legs, and her feminine voice horse from screaming. And she felt incredibly empty as the young man's fingers and tongue left her holes twitching and needy.

Sliding down, Naoto panted, gasped, and shivered in pleasure as she landed on her knees, her own juices making a small puddle on her hard wood floor as she heard her Senpai moving behind her.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow then, Naoto?"

Said detective looked up at the young man passed her hat, giving a shaky nod, and watching him walk out the door.

He was it, she knew it. Him and his friends were the Phantom Thieves. She couldn't prove it, but in her heart she knew. Wh-Which means she'd need to investigate him more! A-A lot more! Possibly every day until she got proof! A-And tomorrow she'd wear more clothes that Ann had bought he! Yes! It- Uh- It threw him off, yes, it threw him off! She only need to dress like this more to get him to slip up!

[usohtsuki]

sakuatsu fic recs!

*possibly haikyuu!! manga spoilers

the world needs to know about these beautiful miya atsumu & sakusa kiyoomi fics - let me know if i’ve missed any must-reads and i’ll update as i find more (last updated 30/04/2020). this does not include incompleted fics.

☆ = nsfw

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional (series) - DeathBelle ☆

(there’s no series description so this is just the description of the first fic)

Atsumu said into the heavy silence, “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it.”

"Thought about what?" said Sakusa.

Atsumu smiled to himself, smug. "You know."

"No, I don't."

"You know. Of course you’ve thought about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed, Omi-kun. I’m a real catch.”

Sakusa was appalled. "You're disgusting."

"You flatter me. I'm not judging you. I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it, too."

Sakusa shifted, slowly, to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t scowling, but his expression was unreadable. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Atsumu wasn't joking, and he was about to get more than he bargained for.

your highs and lows (series) - astroeulogy  ☆

a post-time skip canonverse series born from these two questions:

1. what if sakusa kiyoomi, known too-blunt jerk, is equally straightforward about his soft, tender feelings?

2. what if miya atsumu, resident big fat jerk who doesn't care if his teammates hate him, is too emotionally stunted to notice when his one of his teammates actually likes him?

did you get your wish? - bastigod

"Miya-san, do you have any regrets?"

Atsumu hummed in response. The fabric of his jacket crinkled as he shoved his hands into his pocket. "Getting sentimental, Sakkun?" He sighed. "I suppose after your last tournament is as good a time as any for it."

good is the life, the life is good - fiskanel  ☆

From time to time Sakusa wants to empty a full clip into the head of some criminal, chop their head off and to feed the remains to starved pigs. Or avoid feeding and have a ceremonial burning so that he gets the feeling that he has done it himself, with his own hands, because now his nerves are getting the best of him. The first rule of their agency is no killing until other options get irrelevant.

got sunshine in a bag - fiskanel ☆

‘Is everything okay?’ Sakusa asks, running through Atsumu’s hair and trying to catch his breath.

‘Yes.’ In his post-orgasmic bliss Atsumu doesn’t exist as a person. He has a hoarse voice, swollen lips, watery eyes, and his semen is smeared between their stomachs. ‘It's okay.’

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition) - pseudoanalytics  ☆

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

School Bus Yellow - yuuki 

Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he likes a guy who wears ugly colored jackets and is afraid of germs.

Though, Atsumu’s probably not all that great himself. He’s still figuring that part out.

in disguise of revelation - wordstruck

“Did you need something, Miya-san?” Sakusa asks. Is this, Atsumu wonders wryly, how thieves feel when they’re caught.

“Omi-kun,” he replies with a slow-blooming foxkill grin. (And he hits a nail on the head — the unwelcome nickname makes Sakusa’s eye twitch just slightly.) “Lemme set for ya.”

Ah, there it is. A flicker of something colder behind that flat gaze, a there-and-gone-again that still hits Atsumu like a lightning strike. It makes his grin widen. Cavalier mischief is his best shield.

“My name,” the other boy says, in a voice of steel under paper, “is Sakusa.”

we are not shining stars - wordstruck

“I wanna see the Shinhotaka Ropeway,” Atsumu explains, as if this is a reasonable explanation for dragging your professional-volleyball-playing teammate out on an impromptu eight-hour road trip to a tourist attraction six hundred kilometers away.

“Uh huh.” Osamu pauses. Atsumu can hear his twin silently contemplating various reasons for Atsumu’s continued existence. “Is Sakusa-kun your hostage?”

“He wants ta see the Shinhotaka Ropeway too.” (This is a blatant lie.)

(Ten days after they lose to the Schweiden Adlers, Atsumu knocks on Sakusa Kiyoomi's door and invites him on a road trip.)

Notice - bastigod

Embarrassingly, Miya Atsumu is the third person to notice his crush on Sakusa.

And it's his crush in the first place.

The Germaphone and the Asshole (series) - metaandpotatoes  ☆

(there’s no series description so this is just the description of the first fic)

“The germ thing,” Atsumu says, looking as if he is intensely trying not to care. Eloquent as always. And unexpected, again. An inconvenient turn of events, if the habit persists. Adjustments will have to be made. Reaction times calibrated. Kiyoomi steps back again, what he hopes is an unnoticeable amount.

“The germ thing,” Kiyoomi repeats. Atsumu—headstrong, think-never Atsumu—hesitates. Kiyoomi briefly entertains the thought that he is trapped in a lucid dream.

flowers and all that bullshit - ugaytsu ☆

Atsumu asks for flowers, Sakusa gives him an interesting one.

On Edge - cajynn ☆

Atsumu needs to learn a lesson in patience. Thankfully Sakusa is a very skilled teacher.

Multiples of Two - yuuki

He does everything in multiples of two. The day Sakusa Kiyoomi died, Atsumu checked his pulse twenty-eight times. Okay, so Sakusa Kiyoomi has never died. And Atsumu has never been close enough to Sakusa to be able to check his pulse. So what if Atsumu is just being dramatic again? He’s allowed to be dramatic when he’s in love with a man who has less emotion than a rock.

after hours - novacaelum

"Are you scared of being caught, Omi-kun?"

"No." Sakusa's voice is strong despite his breathlessness, Atsumu smirks and crashes their lips together again.

crushed - strawberrycitrus ☆

"Can you crush a watermelon between your thighs?"

The entire team bursts into laughter, whereas Sakusa looks disgusted by the thought, because of course he would - Atsumu imagines that getting anywhere close to a food product with his legs would probably get him killed on sight.

The watermelon doesn't stand a chance.

show me how - emeraldpalace

Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

Black Jackals teammates verify controversial relationship announcement - pseudoanalytics

Despite initial public skepticism, sources close to Miya Atsumu (#13) and Sakusa Kiyoomi (#15) insist the relationship is authentic and not a publicity stunt.

Towers - slice_of_cheesecake

As the second prince of Inari Kingdom, Prince Atsumu has his duties to fulfill. Other than that, his twin brother, Crown Prince Osamu, just can't be bothered with such a troublesome quest, unless it's about food.

There's a nefarious sorcerer that is infamous for terrorizing neighboring kingdoms and Atsumu is given the task to slay the villain. But as soon as he sees the evil sorcerer, he suddenly forgot about his quest. Instead, he makes it his top priority to know more about this mysterious man and how he came to realize that all things are not always what they seem.

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

touch me, hold your hand to the flame, keep it there as long as you can stand - kaashiboo  ☆

“I don’t trust you,” Sakusa says, and: “Don’t touch me.” Miya Atsumu does not flinch as grazed joints press against their shoulder, unfolding slowly, grasping onto them. Their breath hitches. Closed eyelids flutter, but don’t open up. “Don’t touch me,” Sakusa repeats, pleadingly, his fingers trembling so hard he thinks he can’t keep this up. Yet, he’s the one putting more pressure into it. Desperately, starvingly, longingly. “I won’t.” Atsumu promises. “I won’t touch ya, Kiyoomi-kun. I won’t.”

you make my heart burn - myhopeisjhope

“What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face.

Kiyoomi made eye-contact with him then, his eyebrows knotting in annoyance, but Atsumu was too interested in the cute pair of beauty marks above Kiyoomi’s eye to care about the glare that was sent his way.

“What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back.

And that was exactly when Atsumu decided he liked the guy.

we’re falling out of touch - NovaCaelum

Sakusa loves Miya's hands. They look coarse from playing volleyball for long hours, they curve perfectly and set a ball as if he's reading the player's thoughts. As if he could. If it was true, then he'd know how Sakusa can't drag his eyes away from long fingers, rough calluses...How Sakusa wants to run the pads of his fingers over the shape, memorise it as if he'd never have the chance to do it again.

sometimes we have to wait (it takes time to find you) - ProudHaikyuuTrash

Three times Atsumu falls in love and is left heart-broken and the one time he gets his happy ending. 

The Misadventures of Crackshot and Limber - astroeulogy ☆

Six months ago, the hero known as Bloodhound became the latest in a long line of mysterious disappearances. When a sudden break in the case leads his old partner and twin brother to the home of Southpaw, the most famous hero in Osaka, things take a turn for the—strange. 

drive me mad (series) - Ceryna  ☆

snapshots of a tattoo & motorcycle AU fusion, featuring Kiyoomi with tattoos and a motorcycle, and head-over-heels pining Atsumu.

Heresy - honeybakedgrace

“I’d like to see that,” Kiyoomi jokes, a cheeky grin curling up the corners of his lips. Atsumu closes the gap, slowly, then all at once, until they can feel the other’s breath on their lips.

“It's too bad,” Atsumu trails off, eyes cast onto Kiyoomi’s exposed neck.

“Too bad?”

“Too bad,” Atsumu echoes, “in another life, maybe I coulda shown ya.”

Shades of Ink - DeathBelle  ☆

It’s fortunate that Miya Atsumu is such a good tattoo artist, because that appears to be his only redeeming quality. He’s too loud, too cocky, and so overtly flirtatious that Sakusa almost leaves the shop before he even steps inside. But he’s seen firsthand that Atsumu does good work, so he stays and suffers through it.

The longer he's there, the more he thinks maybe Atsumu isn't all bad.

When Atsumu asks for a tattoo from Sakusa’s shop in return, Sakusa knows he should turn Atsumu down. He doesn’t.

What should have been a routine business transaction turns into something more hands-on than either of them expected.

compositional control - almondblossom ☆

Sakusa Kiyoomi hated Miya Atsumu’s smug face, how bossy he was to the staff, and how full of himself he got. Even worse, he was outraged by how good Atsumu looked when he edited the photos from their shoot and how he ended up staring at them long after he was done. He loathed him and his pretty face and how it was all he could think about.

I Heard Your Voice - mrkscafe

Where Sakusa meets Atsumu while at work.

“Hey there, Pretty Moles-kun!”

Don’t turn off the light (I’ll give you what you like) - Liberty_Fede ☆

Atsumu thinks he can tease Sakusa, but gets completely wrecked instead.

three roses and a smile -  strawberrycitrus

“I just got this job, I’m not givin’ it up for some moral boost ‘cause I actually need to pay my rent, ya insensitive -” Atsumu waves his hands around, trying and failing to come up with the right word to convey the amount of injustice that this gaunt motherfucker has brought into his relatively simple life thus far.

“If you can’t pay your rent, go get a job at the McDonald’s over by 8th Street,” Sakusa growls, “it’ll pay more than your researcher position.”

If you even attempt assault on a coworker, forget teaching about cells - you’ll fucking be in one, Atsumu.

Live A Little - DeathBelle ☆

Sakusa's first mistake is getting on the motorcycle.

The second is his inability to walk away from Atsumu.

just a boy undercover (and a boy with a getaway) - volchitsae

Atsumu reaches out, clearly ready since birth to fuck with people. "Hey, I'm Atsumu Miya. Nice to work with The Lonely Lance." Osamu tries to kick at the back of his knee, but Atsumu is already moving toward Sakusa to get into his space.

Sakusa grasps the tips of Atsumu's fingers with his gloved hand for half a second before snatching it back. The warmth of the leather makes Atsumu's fingers twitch.

"It's Sakusa. I know who you are." Atsumu notes that he does not look pleased at all.

Instantly, his feud with Osamu hits the back burner. Atsumu wants to piss off the living shit out of this guy, 24/7, 365.

godeater - hozier

I’m still waitin’ for the day you consume me whole.

let them eat chaos - mirabilis

Standing between God and Ozymandias himself, Kiyoomi forges the remains of the boy who once challenged the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium and lost.

Saltwater - DeathBelle

“I said I was taking a walk alone.” Sakusa’s voice sounded odd, washed out by the low roar of the ocean. He sounded small, insignificant, and maybe he was.

“Yeah, I heard you.” Atsumu sounded the same as ever, loud and bold and always teetering on the edge of obnoxious. He stepped up beside Sakusa, maybe looking at him, maybe gazing out at the water.

“And you didn’t listen,” said Sakusa. “That’s typical.”

“I listened. I just heard what you didn’t say, too.”

an observational study of the modern desmodus rotundus - firtree

Ever since meeting Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi's life has been a continuous stream of very unlucky incidents that have bled into a veritable sea of regret in which he finds himself, with no hopes of swimming back to the shore. In short, everything that is wrong with his life can (and will be) be attributed to making the acquaintance of Miya Atsumu.

Or: Some might think that becoming a vampire is the biggest problem that Kiyoomi will ever have to face. Wrong. His biggest problem comes in the form of Miya Atsumu and the crush he definitely does not have on him.

Reaching Through the Screen - cajynn ☆

“Oh my god.” Atsumu looks both shocked and thoroughly amused. “Omi-Omi. Is that porn?”

Euterpe - 09271996

Atsumu does not sing nor spare a glance at the instrument even once. His fingers alone do the wonders. Like a person meditating, only having his fingers move all according to instinct. He plays a hauntingly sad song, if Sakusa would describe it. He is not familiar with it but the way the chords resonate around the room and gives goosebumps to his skin, he knows that if he goes to sleep, it’s going to haunt him.

want you in my room - volchitsae ☆

"we hooked up and now the city has shut down for a week due to a pandemic and now we're stuck in your apartment" AU -- There’s a comfortable quiet while Sakusa butters some toast until Atsumu’s phone starts ringing from where it’s plugged into the wall. Sakusa scoops it up from the desk in the living room and hands it over to Atsumu, who puts it on speakerphone.

“Yo, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says, around a mouthful of cereal.

“Oh, so now you pick up.”

“My phone died!”

“We thought you died. It’s lucky you weren’t murdered. Unlucky for me, I’ve always wondered what it was like to be an only child.”

“You mean, I’m lucky I wasn’t murdered by his dick –“

“SHUT –“

Atsumu grins and shoots at look at Sakusa, who raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of coffee.

take what’s yours and make it mine - claudusdiei

atsumu falls in love four times in his life

(or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

nothing but some heartburn, baby - volchitsae

"your apartment is next to mine and i can hear you and your partner dancing and singing and the bed moving and you two laughing and talking in hushed tones and it won’t let me sleep so i bitch about it to you 24/7 and one day it stops and one day turns to one week and then months and i haven’t seen you smile in forever please let me in, i’ve been knocking for ten minutes" AU

Sakusa is just trying to pass med school.

as you are - waitaminute

Kiyoomi learns that falling for Atsumu is the easiest thing in the world.

bet on it - kambedon

Volleyball players are known for a lot of things.

Intense plays, long rallies, arm-breaking serves—those are only some of the things they are known for. But in Japan, the volleyball players (high school, college, and professionals alike) are infamous for something that no one really expected: their betting pool.

(or alternately, everyone finds out that one of the best spikers in Japan, Sakusa Kiyoomi, is dating someone and they try to figure out his identity while the person he’s dating remains clueless about it.)

two slow dancers - babbito

Atsumu smiles, Sakusas face still downturned in displeasure. It only makes butterflies storm his stomach, the fluttery feeling making him feel warm.

“You wanna know somethin’ Omi-kun?” He asks, Sakusas eyes still bore into Atsumus, waiting for him to continue. “You look really pretty when you sleep.”

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand - volchitsae  ☆

“And that’ll be $27.50,” Atsumu says, fishing out a card machine from one of the bag pockets. “Debit or credit?”

Sakusa pulls out his wallet and pays with a credit card, and Atsumu dutifully packs it all away before extending the bagged blood over the threshold. Sakusa takes them but raises one eyebrow at Atsumu, a silent question at the maid costume and not the regular red and black polo shirt with slacks.

Atsumu fiddles with the bag strap. “Honestly, I was tryin' to come up with a pizza boy porn line, something about having ordered sausage and relating it to vampires, but I’ve got nothin’,” he confesses, which makes Sakusa laugh. Atsumu sees the flash of sharper than usual canines in his smile.

i keep a window for you, it’s always open - volchitsae

Atsumu scrolls around on YouTube, feeling like he's spiralling a little into the odd corners of it when some recommended videos are "I'm a Plague Doctor and You've Been Diagnosed with the Black Plague ASMR" or videos of people eating truly remarkable amounts of food. No judgement (maybe a little bit, he's no angel), but mukbangs make him hungry and whispering roleplay makes his ears itch. A video called "Study With Me: Pomodoro Technique #1" appears and he clicks on it.

The channel's name is endomiphins, and the thumbnail features a view of a man from the neck downward at his desk, notebook and laptop open.

Atsumu presses play. -- Sakusa is a barista by day, ASMR and study YouTuber by night, and Atsumu falls a little in love with both.

#sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #atsuomi #sakuatsu fic rec #haikyuu #haikyuu manga spoilers #haikyuu spoilers #msby black jackals #black jackals #haikyuu fic recs #fanfiction

[r3volutionary-queen]

Chapter 31 Sneak Peek

In his arms, Darcy was laughing.

She lay back against his chest, her head slotting perfectly under his chin, and she laughed. It was sunlight to his soul, bright and pure and warm and kind and it softened every jagged edge inside of him. Steve pressed a lingering kiss into her hair and tightened his arms around her middle, making her giggle even more—a happy sound that he could have listened to for the rest of his life.

Below, Bucky sprawled across both of their laps, using their thighs as his personal pillows. Darcy’s fingers were carding through his long hair, nails scraping gently across his scalp until the man was all but putty in her hands. His dark head swiveled up, love-drunk eyes openly watching her before crinkling around the edges, squinting like two happy half-moons. That gray gaze then slid upwards and met Steve’s soft look.

It was like staring into a marbled sky moments before the sun broke through.

“Love you,” Bucky mouthed to him and Steve’s heart swelled and swelled and swelled until it threatened to burst.

In this place there were no shadows, no war, no death. In this place Darcy’s skin was not littered in scars and Bucky’s arm was warm and whole.

In this place Steve did not burn.

He would have been content to spend eternity here, if it weren’t for the tug on his shoulder, soft but insistent.

Steve jolted and inhaled on instinct, lungs gasping for air as he surged back into consciousness. It was not a peaceful float to the surface; it was sudden and jarring, like the leg of a once trusted chair snapping beneath him. Pain was the first thing to register, a raw kind of agony, as if someone or something had pried him open and scrambled all of his insides. Blood trickled down his shredded throat and he swallowed with a grimace.

Another tug and a voice, quietly murmuring—urging.

“Wake up.”

Blue eyes fluttered open; everything was a blur. Icy rain stung his skin like a thousand needles, cold mud seeped into his suit, and thunder cracked through the air, so loud and so deep it rolled over his skin and shook the ground beneath him. A second later, the sky splintered in a dazzling flash of light as white-hot electricity threaded the earth to the clouds.

And hovering over him, silhouetted against that bright flash of light, was a strange face. Strange because they were familiar; strange because they were dead.

Or at least they were supposed to be.

And then it struck him—

The stone.

Steve’s heart lurched in his chest. The world spun and tipped itself out before righting once more. He blinked and blinked again in disbelief, in fear, in hope, in a painful, terrified mixture of all three.

“T…” he started with a sandpaper rasp. “T’Challa?”

The Wakandan king’s mouth curved and brown eyes softened in relief. His dark brows rose and he dipped his chin, nodding once. “On your feet, Captain.”

Stunned, Steve could not move.

“Am I dreaming?”

“This is no dream,” T’Challa assured him softly. He lifted his head and spun on his haunches, looking at something Steve could not see. A light filled the king’s eyes, both kind and fierce. He glanced down at Steve where he lay, beaten and broken, and T’Challa’s words pierced right through his weary heart. “Hope has not deceived you.”

The words sank beneath his skin, cutting into the meat of his heart, and Steve’s eyes misted. There were things he wanted to say, to ask, but the words couldn’t make it through his tightened throat. For a long moment, he could not even breathe. It felt surreal, liminal.

Hope has not deceived you.

It was strange, almost, how hope felt more dangerous, more treacherous, than the very war surrounding him. A fight could destroy his body, but hope? Hope, or rather hope lost, could ruin his soul. It had been a long time since he allowed himself to truly hope and so when it bloomed in the center of his chest now, like a warm pool of sunlight cascading down his limbs and filling him to the brim, he shook under its raw power.

“Are there,” Steve swallowed heavily, his voice thick, “Are there others? How many?”

T’Challa watched him closely and the corners of his eyes fanned out in a warm smile. The Wakandan king shifted on the balls of his feet and held out his hand. “Rise and see for yourself.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond when an animalistic roar ripped through the air like a serrated knife. The blond stiffened, recognizing the Hulk’s bellow of rage instantly. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and before he could stop it, that dangerous, treacherous hope inside of him grew wings and took flight.

It rose up the length of his throat and surged out of his mouth in a single, wet, hysterical sob of a laugh. He clapped his hand over his mouth and his eyes screwed shut.

All around him, the rain continued to fall.

Finally, Steve sniffed and wiped his face. With a grunt, he slapped his hand into the king’s waiting palm and it was the strength of the Black Panther, not his own, that pulled him to his feet. Instantly, his back erupted in a blinding pain and he staggered, groaning, shoulders hunching as his muscles trembled and stretched. Steve shook and panted through chapped lips, trying to push past the all-consuming agony. His vision blurred, static around the edges, and then finally, he lifted his gaze to the battlefield—

And froze.

Over the last few months, Steve had grown accustomed to the feeling of shock. He knew what it tasted like, how it jolted through his veins, paralyzing him, but this shock was not one born out of terror or dread.

The shock that rolled through him now was one of awe.

The battle still raged; the rain had sunk the fires back into the earth and a white-gray smoke clouded the blood-soaked ground. Explosions flung mud in the air, coating the chaos of fighting armies in filth until it was near impossible to tell who was who. But beyond all of that, beyond the looming warships and the waves of Chitauri and the wolf-like monsters of Thanos, was something else entirely.

Amid the debris and the bombed-out craters and the piles of bodies littering the ground vast beyond number and recognition was an army—and not just any army.

It was the Avengers.

His team, his friends, his family; the world’s last hope. All of them, every last one he had watched dissolve into ash just months ago.

They were scattered but they fought like creatures that exhaustion, despair, and even death itself could not subdue. And even beyond that, a great host of Wakandan warriors were charging into the fray with what was left of the Asgardians and the Skrulls.

And for the first time since any of this began, they were pushing Thanos’ army back to the tree line; theywere overwhelming their enemy.

Wonder overtook him, and indescribable joy; it was beautiful—stunning, robbing him of all thought and word, and for a moment, Steve wished he could paint this.

The only thing that was missing—

Steve’s stomach dropped.

His mind splintered into a million pieces upon the realization and fear prickled along his skin like the legs of a thousand spiders. Panicked, Steve spun around wildly, searching the chaos for two familiar shapes.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

Snapping his head up, a wild kind of insanity tugged at the edges of his mind as he held T’Challa’s worried gaze. Because if the stone had knocked himout cold, he could only imagine what it had done to Bucky, let alone Darcy. In fact, he knew all too well what that stone did to her every time she touched it and the memories that flooded his mind had him in a blind terror.

“There’s a woman,” Steve gasped out, choking on the words, his eyes still roving over the vast, simmering field. Raindrops slid down his face, dripped from his nose, his jaw, his chin. “Darcy. I need to find her. I have to find her—she was hurt pretty bad and… She’s—and Bucky—”

A blood-curling scream.

Steve whipped around, heart in his throat. Somewhere to his right there was a high-pitched female scream—a wail, really—and Steve had never heard Darcy make a noise like that before, but he knew instantly that it was her.

His heart told him so.

Steve couldn’t see her, couldn’t see much of anything beyond the flurry of war and the blasts from the enemy’s weapons. He paled and his vision spun as a new and torrential kind of fear seared through every vein in his body.

“Go,” T’Challa urged at his side and Steve snapped his head around, panting and trembling all over. The king clasped his shoulder, tilting his head toward him. “Do what you must. We will meet when this is over, my friend.”

Unable to do anything but nod, Steve mustered up the very last of his strength (all he had left) and turned and ran into the heart of the battle. Even as the abyss of terror threatened to pull him under, Steve felt something inside of him shift, something endless and ancient, and suddenly his spine was carved out of steel. He was going to find her, both her and Bucky, and he was going to get them out of this place—even if it broke his back and heart and left nothing but his bones behind.

He was going to find them both and he was going to bring them home.

(GUYS IT IS HAPPENING. WE ARE LIKE 6K IN ON THIS CHAPTER SO PLEASE EXCUSE IF YOU'VE MESSAGED ME TODAY, I'LL ANSWER LATER BECAUSE THE FLOW CANNOT BE INTERRUPTED KAY THANKS)

#darcy lewis #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wintershieldshock #shieldshock #stucky #wintershock #ignition #fic sneak peek #fic snippet #darcy x bucky #darcy x steve #steve x bucky #bucky x darcy x steve #endgame fix it

[reifromrfa]

Surprises: Vanderwood x MC | Mysme RBB fic

Hi guys! I’m sure you’ve seen this project in the fandom, there are a lot of talented artists and writers who are a part of it ^^ This piece is for the @mysme-rbb and it was such a thrill to write it! I’ve missed writing for the fandom and I’m glad I got this opportunity to do so <3 Even luckier that I got paired with two amazing artists! 

For this first collab, I got paired with the wonderful GLX ! Please check out their instagram HERE!  We’re super lucky to have collaborated on a character we both love: Vanderwood! So I hope you enjoy the story and I hope I can write for everyone again soon ヾ(@^▽^@)ノ PS: I’ll edit this post with the link to the art once it’s out! ^^

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Surprises

In collaboration with gl.artsy 

"Hurry!"

Vanderwood chuckles and closes the car door, hoisting bags and baskets on his arms and shoulders. MC laughs and hugs the beach towels to her chest, grinning widely.

"Sorry...I'm a little excited," her grin turns sheepish but Vanderwood shakes his head, his smile mirroring her own. Seeing her this happy makes him feel things he hasn't felt before --pleasant feelings. Feelings...that a secret agent just doesn't have the luxury to be thinking about, much less feel. But he's not a secret agent anymore --he has a legal job now, one where he doesn't have to risk his life everyday or dirty his hands. Hell, the dirtiest his hands can get with his new job as Jumin's bodyguard is cleaning up after his cat.

With his free hand, he reaches for hers and weaves their fingers together.

Today is their one-year anniversary and Vanderwood wants everything to be absolutely perfect. He's not one for grand gestures and romantic stuff, but he knows celebrations like these matter to girls.

In the past year he's been with MC, he's gotten used to watching those cheesy romantic chick flicks. Never in his life did he imagine he'd be forced to watch those kinds of shi--stuff. But he's braved through The Notepad, A Stroll to Remember, Crazy Silly Love...and he's learned a lot from those movies. For one, his girlfriend ends up crying every time they watch the shows together.

Every. Single. Time.

But he'd see how immersed she is in the scenes where the guys make a big move for the girl. Vanderwood would notice how she heaves a deep sigh and wipes her eyes, a dreamy smile on her face.

Ha...he's new to this relationship thing but he's not stupid; Vanderwood knows how this works. The bigger the gesture, the happier MC will be...

...right?

He's startled out of his thoughts when MC tugs his hand, pointing at a spot on the beach. "Over there! There's a free spot there!"

Vanderwood follows after MC and starts setting up their towels and beach umbrella. This is the first step in his grand surprise for MC today: spend the morning at the beach, a place MC rarely went to. The excited look on her face is all the confirmation he needs; he did good, choosing this as the start of their date.

MC sits on the towel under the shade of the umbrella and takes off her wide-brimmed hat, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opens them, she turns to Vanderwood. "Baby, this is perfect. The skies are clear, there's a breeze and there's not much people; it's almost like we have the beach to ourselves!"

Vanderwood chuckles, sitting beside his girlfriend and reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "You like it?"

At his touch, she blushes and smiles, nodding her head. "I do, Vanderwood. I really do."

He leans forward, lips quirking up into a smirk. "Good...that's real good, MC." Vanderwood can see the blush on her face deepening as he inches closer and his own heart races, eyes darting to her slightly-parted lips. As he draws nearer though, he hears a whooshing sound through the air and a distant yell: "LOOK OUT!"

His reflexes kick in and Vanderwood pulls MC against his chest then pins her against the ground, using his body to shield her from whatever it is --MC doesn't even have the time to process what's happening. But she feels herself warming, eyes fixated on Vanderwood's tense expression, at the way he's hovering on top of her, holding her protectively against him.

A second later, their umbrella is knocked over and a spray of sand flies across Vanderwood's back. He turns away and shields MC's eyes, a million thoughts already flying through his mind.

"Could it be that some agents found me? How many are there? How am I gonna get MC safely to the car? The taser's in the bag, if I could just reach it in time

"Vanderwood turns his head to look for the target-

-when his eyes fall to the white volleyball lying on the sand near them.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, that's my fault!!!" A kid with blonde hair is running up to them, waving his hand and trying to bow at the same time. Vanderwood's eyes narrow. Wait a minute...isn't that-

"Yoosung?" comes MC's voice.

Sure enough, Yoosung's purple eyes widen as recognition dawns and he laughs, running faster. Right behind him is the silver-haired actor and Jaehee Kang, all dressed in their beachwear. Zen smiles when he spots the two familiar faces but it only lasts for a second --the moment he realizes the position the couple are in...

"YA!!! Vanderwood! What are you doing!" Zen glares at Vanderwood, pointing an accusatory finger at the Silver Spoon's bodyguard. Vanderwood narrows his gaze at the actor but hurriedly straightens himself, his face feeling warm.

"Baby, are you okay?"

"I am...what was that all about?" MC takes Vanderwood's hand and he pulls her up just as Yoosung stops in front of them, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Sorry! Zen hit the ball too hard and I received it wrong so it went flying...I didn't know it would end up here where you guys are! I didn't even know you two were going to be here too!"

Vanderwood rubs the back of his neck, wishing they'd leave him and MC alone. It's not that he doesn't like them, but today he'd like MC all for himself. "Ha...yeah, what a coincidence."

"Ya, you!" Zen jabs a finger at Vanderwood's chest, eyes blazing. "What the heck was that!"

Vanderwood looks at Zen with a deadpan look on his face. "I thought there was a threat, so I was defending my girlfriend. Will you stop having perverted thoughts?"

MC giggles. "It's true, Zen! He was just trying to protect me~"

"That's very quick thinking." Jaehee pipes in, picking up the ball. "I suppose that's what makes you a great bodyguard, Vanderwood."

"Ha...thanks." Vanderwood feels awkward still, but for an ex-agent with no family and no friends...his life's shaping out real good. Still, friends or not, he wants these people to go away and let him pamper his girlfriend. "So, now that that's settled-"

"OH! Why don't you two join us in a game of volleyball? Please!!! I'm tired of picking up the ball all the time!" Yoosung begs them, hands pressed together in front of him.

"Aww, that sounds fun! We're game, right, baby?" MC says, winking at Vanderwood. To the others, she says, "The two of us will be in a team against you guys! You'll see, Vanderwood will carry our team!"

Vanderwood can't help but feel proud at MC's words. Okay...maybe one game of volleyball wouldn't hurt. After that, they'll go back to their spot and maybe he can go swimming with MC, or get some cool drinks.

~

Yoosung, Jaehee and Zen stayed with them the entire time. After volleyball, they took MC and Vanderwood to their rented cabin and shared their meal. Vanderwood and Zen ended up grilling meat and seafood for the rest but it was actually fun. The non-stop chatter and laughs, the volleyball games, seeing MC enjoy herself --okay okay, it's not so bad that their first date got interrupted. But of course, Vanderwood has more tricks up his sleeves.

A long drive and a shower later, Vanderwood and MC change into more semi-formal attire as he drives them to one of the fancy restaurants in town. The restaurant is situated atop a building, with the entire floor encased in glass windows so guests can dine with a view overlooking South Korea. It's fine dining and Vanderwood has never been to a classy restaurant while off-duty; to be honest, something like this kinda suits Jumin Han more...but Vanderwood doesn't want to take MC to their regular dining spots. No, for this special day she deserves something special too.

As they're led to their seats by the hostess, Vanderwood once again intertwines his fingers with hers. "I heard this place has the best seoullangtang."

MC tugs at his hand, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Baby, this place is really expensive...you didn't have to."

Ha...oh no, doesn't she like it?

"It's our anniversary," he tells her, lifting their hands and then turning hers so he can kiss the back of it. "Don't even think about that, baby."

MC turns red at Vanderwood's blatant display of affection. Usually, he's more reserved and careful when they're in public; she assumed it's because of his past and she didn't mind. But today, he's been more touchy and showy...MC has to admit, it's giving her heart a pleasant workout. They're seated right by the window and Vanderwood is the perfect gentleman, pulling her chair out for her and helping her onto her seat. MC feels shy all of a sudden as Vanderwood slides into his seat across her. With the dim lighting from the restaurant, the candle in the middle of the table casts Vanderwood's face in a warm glow and MC unconsciously swallows, entranced by him.

Their previous dates were never this fancy and she's not complaining --she loves wherever they are, be it the beach or the supermarket, a fancy restaurant or McFonald's. As long as they're together, she's happy.

But seeing her boyfriend all dressed up in a crisp button-down shirt and a coat, hair tied into a half-ponytail, brown eyes staring at her --she can't help but feel the depth and seriousness of their relationship. Today is their anniversary, which means she's spent 365 days with this man...more than that, of course. Ever since they met, her days have been full of color and life. MC reaches across the table for his hand and holds it tightly in hers.

"I love you, Vanderwood."

Vanderwood's glad it's kinda dark because his heart does that weird little thing and he feels his cheeks burn as a smile spreads across his face. "I love you too, MC."

She mirrors his smile and it's strange but MC feels like she did the first time she met him in person, nervous and intimidated, but at the same comforted by his presence and intrigued. This once mysterious man is hers and though she knows she's barely scratched the surface of all that he is, she can't wait to learn more about him everyday, for the rest of their lives.

"Baby, order whatever you like, okay? Haha, don't be worrying about the prices." Vanderwood says as they open their menus. MC's eyes are skimming through the dishes (half of which she can't even pronounce because they're in different languages) when she hears the sound of a familiar voice.

"I didn't expect to see you both here this evening."

Vanderwood tenses. No freaking way...

But he's been hanging around that voice for months now and he'd recognize it anywhere --his boss, Jumin Han. Vanderwood reluctantly looks at the man standing beside their table, the leader of the RFA at his side. Jihyun at least looks apologetic for barging into their date.

"Jumin! Jihyun! What a coincidence!" MC exclaims happily, smiling at them. Truth be told, she was looking forward to spending more alone time with her boyfriend, but she also doesn't want to be rude to her friends. "Did you guys just arrive?"

"Yes. A business colleague recommended this place. I would have asked for a private room but Jihyun preferred to stay close to the windows."

Jihyun laughs good-naturedly at Jumin's words. "This place is popular for their stunning view of the city, after all. We should get going to our table, Jumin, let's not bother them..."

"Have a good time, boss, Jihyun." Vanderwood gives them a little wave. "Nonsense. We haven't seen MC in a while. Perhaps we should ask for a bigger table and dine together."

You've got to be kidding me.

"Jumin-" Jihyun tries to interrupt, but Jumin is already gesturing for the host. In mere minutes, Vanderwood and MC are seated with Jihyun and Jumin. Of course...it's not all that bad. He didn't have to be so formal with his boss since they're outside of work, and Jumin knew his way around the menu; the meal Jumin ordered for them was mouth-wateringly delicious. Vanderwood had no idea which ones were good, so he's grateful for that part, at least.

But seriously...this was starting to get annoying. Would the RFA be popping up at his planned dates with MC? Vanderwood represses a sigh though, and fights the itch for a cigarette.

They enjoy their meal and, realizing he has no choice but to endure it, Vanderwood relaxes and allows himself to enjoy the company.

All of a sudden, they're bathed in a hue of colors and MC's eyes turn to the windows, widening with surprise. The sky is lit up by fireworks --something Vanderwood had arranged for. Her eyes are bright and her smile is priceless. As the fireworks paint the night sky with streaks of brilliant color, MC feels a peace inside her, knowing that's exactly what she was thinking of moments before. Vanderwood is like the scene outside, illuminating her life with the most dazzling colors.

And while MC gazes at the beautiful display, Vanderwood stares, enchanted, at the woman who brought light to his life.

~

The last stop of the evening is the last showing of the latest romance movie, a movie MC has been waiting for. Vanderwood settles into their comfortable lazy boy couches, glad he paid for these seats.

"I'm so excited, I've heard a lot of good reviews already!" MC whispers to him, leaning close. Vanderwood chuckles.

"Baby, it's gonna be amazing." He leans closer to her, stealing a quick kiss in the dark theater. MC bites her lower lip as he pulls away, wanting to tell him how much she loves him. But the movie starts and MC has to stop herself from squealing in excitement. She keeps her hand locked with his, eyes focused on the screen.

Vanderwood feels relaxed now, knowing no one can interrupt them, knowing he can enjoy this moment with his girlfriend and sneak glances at her cute reactions.

But just thinking those thoughts has jinxed the situation. The doors to the cinema creak open and Vanderwood picks up the sound of popcorn bags and two hushed whispers. He glances at the empty seats beside him and sighs.

"Oh! If it isn't Mary and MC!"

Vanderwood curses inwardly and almost slaps his hand to his face. No. No freaking way. No damn way.

But after some shuffling sounds, Saeyoung plops down on the seat beside Vanderwood with Saeran occupying the other.

"Ohoho, I didn't know you were into romance movies, Vandy~" Saeyoung whispers before leaning forward in his seat and waving at MC. "Hi, MC! Thanks for restarting this guy's heart! If you ask me, you should have used a tase-"

"Ya! Shut up!" Vanderwood says, a little too loudly. The audience shushes him and Vanderwood slinks into his seat while Saeyoung covers his laughs with a hand.

For the duration of the movie, Vanderwood has to put up with Saeyoung's reactions and his hushed side comments. At some point, popcorn starts to fly towards the brown-haired man too, bouncing off his hair. Saeran shakes his head, heaving a sigh as Saeyoung takes another popcorn and throws it subtly to Vanderwood. The ex-agent was ready though; he catches the popcorn and throws it back to Saeyoung, who slides down his chair dramatically.

"I've been hit...Saeran ah, save yourself~~~"

Vanderwood glances at MC's face to watch her reaction and he's surprised to see her eyes fixed on him. She's biting her lower lip, trying to stop herself from laughing. Vanderwood smirks, reaching out and freeing her lower lip from her bite.

"You want a shot at the idiot?" Vanderwood murmurs near her ear. MC nods and takes a piece of popcorn then tosses it to Saeyoung, who's crawling up his chair as quiet as he can.

Saeyoung gasps and flops back down on the ground, holding his chest as though he's wounded.

"Sneak attack! Saeran, help m-"

"No."

"Okay no ;;;;"

~

Vanderwood stirs, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn.

Damn, what time is it?

Yesterday felt so long --with all that happened, Vanderwood feels exhausted and a little disappointed at himself for failing MC. Everything should have been perfect, but as luck would have it, the RFA just had to meddle in all his plans.

He lays in bed, blinking away his sleepiness, wondering if he can do anything today to salvage their anniversary. Absently, he reaches beside him, wanting to pull MC to his side and wake her up with kisses --but his hands come up blank.

"What the-?"

His head whips to the empty space beside him and Vanderwood sits up just as the door opens. MC comes in, balancing a small tray table filled with food.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Vanderwood asks, bewildered. He starts to move from the bed but MC makes a sound and continues moving towards him.

"No no, you stay right there," she says, eyes staring at the orange juice sloshing inside the glass. "Don't get off the bed, baby!"

Vanderwood freezes, unsure what's happening. Finally, MC lays the tray table on the bed and beams at Vanderwood. "Happy anniversary, baby!"

The brown-haired man blinks, surprised. Then a soft chuckle escapes his lips. "MC, baby...did you do all this for me?"

MC shrugs, her smile wide enough to light up the room. "Maybe~"

She carefully sits on the bed closest to Vanderwood, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Baby, yesterday was amazing! I wasn't expecting those surprises at all."

Vanderwood's brows furrow. "What do you mean..? MC...I...was gonna apologize-"

"What? For what?"

Vanderwood awkwardly scratches his cheek, not sure what to say. "Uh...ha, 'coz I didn't intend for the RFA to show up. And I mean, anniversaries aren't supposed to be celebrated like that...right? The movies we watched, the celebrations ain't like that."

Giggling, MC leans towards her boyfriend and kisses his cheek. "Oh Vanderwood, it was perfect. I had so much fun, even more so because our friends were with us celebrating our special day with us.

Without the RFA, you and I would have met in a different way. But I like our love story, because everything that has happened so far has led us to this moment, baby." She holds his hands, cheeks turning red. "I loved watching you play volleyball and grill our lunch, I loved listening to you talk with our friends, I loved catching my boyfriend all dressed up to take me on a fancy dinner, and I loved that you sat through another romance movie with me, all the while having a popcorn battle with Saeyoung."

MC squeezes his hands and all of Vanderwood's doubts vanish; his eyes fix on her, his heart beating loudly against his chest.

"Vanderwood...the girls in those movies we watch get one big gesture per movie but I got three amazing dates in one day. My friends were there to celebrate a special day with me: the anniversary of the day I promised forever to the love of my life. And I-"

Before MC could finish her speech, Vanderwood closes the gap between them and meets her lips for a kiss, pulling her close to him without toppling over the tray. MC's hands clutch the front of his shirt and her eyes close, her body tingling as he pours his emotions into their kiss.

"MC," Vanderwood says breathlessly, leaning his forehead against hers, "I love you. I'll keep takin' you out for dates, keep celebrating this day with you every year. 'Coz it's the day you and I got together, the day my life started to make more sense..." He gives her another peck and pulls her closer, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "But every day you remind me that there's more to life than fighting and running. Every day, I wanna see you smile and hear you tell me you love me."

MC giggles and wraps her arms around him. "I love you, Vanderwood." She lays her head on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart, a heart that's tied to hers. "Yesterday was amazing but today I'm keeping you all to myself."

Vanderwood chuckles, reaching for a piece of bacon and holding it near her lips. MC takes a small bite from it and Vanderwood takes a larger chunk. "You and me all day, huh?"

MC nods, reaching for her phone. "You and me, all day, everyday." She holds the phone away from them, opening the camera app. "Happy anniversary, baby~"

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you so much for the opportunity to participate, @mysme-rbb :) I had fun and kudos to the mods for an amazing project! 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3 (Commissions are full and closed atm ;A;)

#mysme-rbb #mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mm #mysmes #mysme #mysme big bang #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fic #writers on tumblr #mysme vanderwood #mystic messenger vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #vanderho #vanderbae #collaboration #mm yoosung #mm zen #mm jumin #mm jaehee #mm v #mm saeran #mm saeyoung #mm rika #mm vanderwood #mary vanderwood the 3rd #mm fluff #mysme fluff #surprise rei knows how to write fluff HAHA

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 24)

Notes: Chapter 24 - can you guys believe it?! I have brought you a lot of angst in the last few chapters, but there is a lil fluffy moment in this chapter which I hope you enjoy. Plus protective Cassian (one of my personal favourites).

As ACOSF draws nearer, I wanted to ask you guys a question. I initially was hoping to finish this fic before it came out, but I just don't think it's going to happen. So if you would still read E&L after ACOSF comes out, could you let me know? It will help me to make a decision on whether I need to start wrapping this all up sharpish, or whether I can continue to move along at my current pace.

Enjoy :) And I hope you all are having a lovely festive period.

p.s I’ve been having issues with tagging blogs lately. Let me know if you get a notification?

Chapter 24 Nesta

Nesta was drowning.

Drowning in the dark; in the unfathomable cold that bit at her ankles and dragged her down by invisible, insistent hands and sharp, pointed claws. Down, down, down Nesta went, into the inky blackness that sung of ancient horror, fighting for a breath that she could not take.  

Inside her head, Nesta was screaming; the sound an echo, as if she were detached from her body and she were listening to someone else. It was a scream of rage and unmeasurable pain as her body was torn apart and rearranged: her bones cracking and reforming into solid steel; her ears stretching into points; her limbs elongating. And with that fire a burning cold that was deeper than the gap between stars. Nesta screamed from the agony of it, but cold water rushed into her lungs and stifled the sound. Pain licked at her skin like the flames of a fire, until her blood was bubbling with rage and a thirst for revenge that ran so deep it became woven into the very fabric of who she was — of who she was being moulded into.  

Nesta should have passed out from the pain but instead she fought to remain conscious; wholly awake and wholly a witness as she tore at the edges of the blasted Cauldron. The sides were made of nothing but canvas, Nesta’s nails ripping through it as the Cauldron bucked and shrieked, like an animal caught beneath her paw.  

Bright light poured through the gaping holes, blinding her new born eyes that had not yet seen.  

She felt the power of it, the piece she carved out for herself in fury and with revenge singing in her blood. She made it hers, let that power sink into her bones, her skin, as they snapped and cracked and reshaped themselves…

The Cauldron continued to thrash and struggle. The water took on a thicker quality like tar, but Nesta did not relent. She ravaged that power until it was a part of her; stolen and consumed. Impossible to take back.  

And then Nesta was no longer drowning but falling.

The pocket of air hit her with such force that Nesta found herself with the irony that she could not breathe, even though it was what she needed more than anything in the world. But then her lungs were spluttering, her stomach lurching, and inky blackness — ancient death — was regurgitated onto crystalline rock. Nesta heaved until her stomach had no more and she was gasping for breath — cold, bracing fresh air that tasted like freedom — before she rolled onto her back, her hair plastered to her face.

She shivered from the cold and the unquenchable fury that would not see her yield.

Above her was midnight black, the stillness of what Nesta wanted to believe was sky but she knew was only an illusion. It brought her comfort even though she wanted to hate it; wanted to sob and scream until she was so exhausted that she couldn’t muster any more strength.  

And she should have been terrified but she also felt deathly calm, even as a voice spoke out of the darkness. It was a voice that was ancient; old and superlunary with a strength that whispered of unimaginable power for better or worse.   “I have been waiting for you, Nesta Archeron.”

Words like ice fire. Of steel and reserve. Of power beyond Nesta’s wildest reckoning.

It hurt to move but Nesta scrambled to her feet, slipping on loose rock and craggy stone. The sound that beat in her ears was an insistent, terrified rhythm, and it took Nesta a moment to piece together that it was her heart, throwing itself with a repetitive boom against strips of bone — a flimsy cage for something so fierce.  

Whirling around, Nesta tried to source the voice but found only that endless stretch of deep velvet, and in the near distance, a towering shadow that rose up, up, up into the darkness until it blended into the canvas, like something disappearing into the clouds.

Nesta made herself take stock. Made herself stand still. To dampen the terror and focus on that spiky, deep-set anger that still consumed her. Her back stiffened, her chin rose, and when she spoke for the first time with her new lungs, Nesta did not let her voice shake.

She clenched her fists until her new nails bit into the meat of her palms.    “Where am I?”

A sensual laugh as smooth as marble echoed around her — perfectly rendered. “Do you hear the wind? It moans your name, Nesta Archeron. Your twin can hear it. They’ve always been able to hear it. Your history written into the night sky where you only need join the dots. So easy to ignore until now.” A pause and Nesta felt that being move. Her head snapped around as the voice mused from behind her, “And your destiny: a sacrifice and a gift in the same moment.”

Nesta tightened her fists in an effort to ground herself and willed herself to lean back into   that odd sense of being rather than the fear that was making her heart race. She felt her nails break through her skin with a pop. She scented blood; metallic and salt. She was so cold she wanted to shake until her teeth chattered, but Nesta would not show weakness. She would not break down.

So Nesta rose up tall and made her voice ice cold; strong rather than brittle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another long, sensual laugh. A caress akin to a brush stroking the softest of bristles over her skin. “No, you don’t,” the voice agreed. “Not yet. But you will.”

A moment in time stretched out, the pause pregnant and awesome. Then a soft light in the darkness above, growing in size: a fleck, a star, a luminescent ball of light…

“What do you want, Nesta Archeron?”

“I want revenge,” Nesta replied, her voice full of a sudden vigour as vengeance lashed out on a forked tongue.

Again, more soft laughter that licked over Nesta’s body in a shiver. “You have already got that, have you not? Do you not feel that deathly power in your veins? That hum of primitive power that you have stolen, that has been woven into who you now are.”

“I will end him. I will end everyone who has caused my sister harm.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But what will that take from you?”

Hysterical laughter wanted to burst forth from Nesta’s lungs, as if she could only feel the sharpest of emotion and everything else were muted.

“Everything has already been taken from me,” Nesta spat, balling her hands into harder fists, her nails digging into her crescent shaped wounds.

Pain flared, fresh and sharp but Nesta paid it no heed. She was no stranger to pain and she would rally. Every. Damn. Time.

The light above Nesta continued to grow until it became distinct; a fiery palm emerging out of the dark. Nesta did not flinch. Did not scream or back away. Did not bow or yield or grovel. She only let pearlescent fingers close around Nesta’s own, the touch like a near-scalding bath that settled only when your blood thrummed beneath raw, pink skin. 

“So much sacrifice,” the voice pondered, turning Nesta’s hand. Nesta’s fingers unfurled from her palm without her willing it, until her palm lay open, the half-crescent moons bloody tears in her otherwise new skin. “But what about a gift?” the voice asked. “A gift for the girl who lives with such anger and guilt. The girl who sees the world in all its terrible glory and feels too much. What do you say to that?”

“I only want revenge,” Nesta repeated, her mind assaulting her with images of Elain as she was pushed under the inky water, as she emerged drowning and wholly new — wrong.  

No laughter this time. Only that hand rising, fingers coming together until they were pointed and pinching something out of the dark.  

A pearl of pure light hovered millimetres from those shining fingers, as if it were attached by an invisible string. It sung with such radiant brilliance that Nesta wanted to look away: it was the pure, unfathomable brightness of a midnight star. A melody that sung of promise and hope.

“What is revenge worth if it does not emerge from the desire to protect?” the voice asked, letting go of that drop of light. It did not fall like water; it floated down slowly, until it nestled in the crook of Nesta’s palm like a pearl that shimmered as it caught the light.  

Nesta remained deathly still, staring at the drop of possibility in her palm.  

“Revenge is choice, Nesta Archeron. It can be a wish for death and pain or to protect and defend.”

“Both,” Nesta said fiercely. “It can be both.”

“Multi-faceted and complex, as all decisions are,” the voice agreed. “And there are so many strands in you, aren’t there? Already you have felt one of them, although I do not think you have truly placed the puzzle pieces together. But here is another choice; something to cherish and use wisely on those who are worthy. Everything is cyclical. Day and night, birth and death, love and sacrifice…”  

The luminescent hand closed Nesta’s palm, but rather than the drop of light bring dampened by shadow, it sank into Nesta’s skin, until it too became a part of her.

“I don’t want a gift.”

But even as Nesta spoke she knew she did not truly mean it.  

She also knew it was too late. She felt her blood spike and thrum as that light channeled into her, twining around that deathly power that she had already stolen and forced into her remaking.  

A low hum vibrated the ground beneath Nesta’s feet. “Don’t want it or do not deserve it?”

And then Nesta was drowning again with such startling speed that she hadn’t the time to take a deep breath. Terror gripped her, and with it power sung in her blood, the sensation like boiling water, as if her very skin were bubbling with it even though that dark water bit with a cold akin to the fiercest frostbite.

As if fear had summoned it, silver fire began to glow at Nesta’s palms. Water rushed into Nesta’s lungs and with it, that power surged.

Up, up, up Nesta went, like an arrow unsheathed from a bow until the inky black was no longer concrete and colour swam on the surface.

Everything tilted as the Cauldron tipped, jerking the water and Nesta out onto the cold flagstones of reality.  

Nesta took a desperate, ragged breath through the gag that was suddenly back around her mouth, and cast a look around the room: to Cassian who was sprawled unconscious on the ground, his arm outstretched and his wings in tatters; to Feyre who was kneeling in her own vomit tucked into Rhysand’s side...

And on her sister’s face, Nesta could see what she was: ravaging, deadly, awesome. A face and figure to stop males and females in their tracks. A face and figure that would make humans and fae alike think twice.

But that was nothing of the forged steel in Nesta’s bones, in her blood, as she scrabbled across the floor to Elain on her long, unnatural limbs and tore the gag from her mouth.  

It was a steel that no-one could see but that they could all sense as Nesta locked eyes with the King of Hybern, that promise of death still swimming in those mercury eyes that moved.

She would have her revenge. Of that, she was sure.

***

Nesta gasped.

Her hands flailed, her body screamed with agony, her lungs were hoarse and raw, her abdomen set with a pain that went so deep she knew something was gravely wrong.

And through her veins… no whisper of her magic. Not a drop.

It was that which made her thrash, her lungs suddenly unable to breathe from the agony that wrangled through her body.

She heard her name. Again and again; the high-pitched desperation of a female. Feyre. But then something much lower. A caress. A rumble that quelled her fear and kicked the breath back into her with a force that had her gasping.

Nesta’s hand found a rough, calloused palm across the mattress. Fingers curled unbelievably gently around hers. She heard the rustle of wings. Smelt pine and musk and the bracing fresh air of the Illyrian skies.

“Nesta. You need to take your medicine. The morphine has worn off.”

Cassian.

Even with her eyes submerged in the dark, Nesta knew that Cassian had turned his head to murmur something in low tones to her sister — her senses heightened in the wake of the fear that was still bitter on her tongue.

Then light retreating footsteps. The click of a closed door.  A large hand on her temple. A wet rag against her lips. Nesta opened her mouth despite the foul tasting tincture which burned her throat and flooded her tastebuds; swallowing it down, begging it to soothe over the pain which she could not describe for its wrongness, even though she had been told that she would heal.

Frawley had come to visit her the last time Nesta had resurfaced. Had explained why she was there and what had happened. That Nesta had the gift of healing. That she had over-healed Mas's traumatic injuries and moved on to older ones. That she had sacrificed her wellness for someone else’s. That she would have died had Cassian not got her to stop.

Another power Nesta needed to train. As if she didn’t have enough to wrangle under control.

Nesta did not remember much after dropping to her knees at the widows camp. She remembered the click of a lock inside of her; the way her power had flipped from silver to startling, brilliant white. That she had known what to do as she lifted her hands over Mas and started to use her magic for something wholly good.

“What did you feel for your power came to the surface?” Frawley had asked before she took leave.

Nesta had bitten back a whimper of agony as she shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. She had been swamped in heavy blankets and consumed in Cassian’s scent.  His bed not hers. But the scent of him… it comforted her. She was too tired to rally against it. Had woken knowing that she was immeasurably safe even though memory tried to persuade her that she was not.

Eventually, when she realised that Frawley’s second eye had come to rest on her along with ice blue, Nesta had supplied, “I felt grief.”

“And what else?” Frawley had urged, her ice blue eye glowing with intensity.

Nesta had been too tired to answer. Her eyelids heavy from the sedative she had been given, despite the energising tea Frawley had administered to attempt to speed up the act of replenishing her magic. To fight the fatigue one felt when they had been drained of power.

And now she was waking again and Frawley was gone.

Braving the light, Nesta cracked open an eye. Her head throbbed, as if her brain were growing in her skull and it was pressing against bone.

Cassian was hovering over her, a crumpled frown twisting his brow as he dripped the medicine past her lips. He caught her eyes opening a fraction too late and she catalogued worry slide into relief before it was pushed back and a light was forced into those dark irises. When he smiled at her, it was too tight and anguished to ring true. She must have been in a bad way — very bad — for him to lose sight of his tendency to arrange his expression into that casual playfulness. For her sister to still be here, hovering by her bedside unsure how to act or how to behave. For her mate to be in the room next door, his star-blessed magic permeating Cassian’s bedroom even through stone and plaster and wood. She could even sense Azriel’s shadows moving like an agitated fog.

No Amren. No Mor.

Something to be thankful for.

“Mas?” she asked. Her throat was dry despite the tincture and the word came out scratchy and raw.

Cassian pressed a glass of water to her lips.

She drank.

“Mas has left to help relocate the widows and orphans,” Cassian told her. “I had her checked over by Madja and Frawley. She is perfectly fine. Roksana too,” he added when Nesta frowned. “Mas hasn’t flown yet,” he continued. “She wanted you to witness it.”

Something tightened around Nesta’s throat. It was not panic but… deep twisting affection for the housekeeper. It must be agony for Mas not to launch straight into the skies. Yet… Nesta was touched beyond imagining that she would wait for Nesta to witness something so precious. A moment in history that was not tainted in blood and death but joy.

Cassian had paused as if he were checking himself. He had moved away from her, to the dark dresser to the left of the bed. There was a clink of glass which Nesta supposed was him stoppering the medicine. “I know you do not like it here and I understand that. You were given no choice and Illyria is…” he trailed off, as if he were searching for the right word. “It’s brutal, in both harsh reality and its beauty. But the widows and orphans… they will not forget what you have done for them — how you fought for them. Mas has been shackled in so many ways throughout her life, but her wings… You have given her freedom, Nesta. She will never forget that ,and neither will those females who witnessed you healing her.”

When Cassian turned back to look at Nesta, his eyes were glowing with such intensity she did not know what to say. He seemed to understand that, breaking their gaze to stare out of the window.

It was snowing again. The scent of it was in the air and on Cassian’s clothes, from where Nesta imagined he’d been in the throng of it all, establishing order where there was chaos. She imagined that was why his family was here.

“Azriel has some information about the kerits,” Cassian said. He remained staring out of the window, his gaze fixed on the snow falling from the thin sheets of grey cloud strung in the sky. “About where we think they came from. We would like you to be a part of the discussion.” A pause. “If you would like to be, that is.”

Nesta held back a snort partly because she knew it would hurt too much. “I don’t think your High Lord wants me to be a part of any discussion.”

“Rhys specifically asked me to fetch you before we began,” Cassian replied, not flinching at her ice-sharp words. Nesta supposed he had become immune. “You are integral to the conversation.”

Noise caught in the back of Nesta’s throat. “I thought I was just a stain you all wished you could rid yourself of.”

No, not immune. Cassian flinched as if he had been burned, his wings spreading instinctively before he could catch them. He retracted them back in with a slow huff of anger. It was not a disparaging or exasperated sigh, more… defeated, as if it were a remark that brought him pain.

Still he did not turn to her. If anything, his focus became more intent on the scenery outside. At the bustle of Illyrians as they fought against the flurry of snow that promised to kiss everything white at the worst possible time.

Cassian’s jaw feathered. “If I remember correctly, it was always you trying to rid yourself of me.”

Nesta blinked at the coarse words that held no lightness, no mockery, no teasing. That were honest and unhappy. Twisted with a rejection which hit her to the bone.

You rejected me first, Nesta wanted to say, as she watched the taut muscles in Cassian’s back. They were vibrating with an energy that usually told Nesta that he needed to fight with his fists until his body was sated.

“We believe the attacks might be orchestrated,” Cassian continued. “Azriel went to scout the perimeter to see if there was any evidence. He has only just arrived back.” Finally, those amber eyes rested back on her. They were burning with a rage that had been purposefully dialled back, but Nesta knew how much Cassian cared about his people. “Will you come?” he asked.

Shock wound through Nesta at the confession. At the brutality of what Cassian was suggesting. Anger spiked through the exhaustion with such ferocity her magic should have been roaring, but it only remained quiet. Yet… a determination solidified in her mind. She did want to be a part of the conversation. Not just to be useful, but because Nesta cared about the widows and orphans. She longed to hold Roksana close and see Mas fly. To lay the dead to rest, to check in on the injured. To see if she could use her healing magic to mend their wounds. To show that she was not an observer but a fighter - a protector. That she would lay her life on the line to protect the females who had nothing and were helpless against every threat, just as she had once been.

She did not say all that. Instead, she just said, “Fine.”

A short nod as if Cassian understood. “We can do it in here or out there.” Cassian jerked his chin to the living room. “Frawley said you are not to move if it can be helped, but something tells me you’d sooner have died than be crowded on your sick bed.”

There. A small lace of lightness that had not been there before. Forced, maybe, but there all the same.

Nesta scowled. “You thought rightly.”

“It will hurt,” Cassian warned her. “For me to lift you.”

“Then do it gently.”

A soft snicker as he moved off the many, many blankets, and then strong, corded arms slid beneath her body.

Cassian’s voice was rough in her ear. “You’re the most stubborn female I’ve ever met.”

Gritting her teeth, Nesta tried to overcome the sharp, deep-set pain that made her want to cry out.

The way Cassian gathered her to him was pain-achingly careful but it was still too much, her wounds too fresh and Nesta gasped a high-pitched cry, digging her fingers so hard into his tunic that she knew they must have bitten into the skin of his shoulders. Cassian did not indicate that she had hurt him, he only cradled her closer to the hard planes of his body, his huge wing curving around her as if he could partition off the pain and keep her safe.

The glow of the membrane was not unlike that of rusty, glowing embers. Beautiful.

Cassian remained stock still, waiting for the pain to ebb and then, slowly, as if he were hesitant to do it, his forehead came to rest on the top of her head; a bowing gesture that was almost like a confession, folding her into a protective cocoon that smelt of pine resin and warmth.

If Nesta could move without crying out, she would have traced a finger down his wing, following the spider webs of his capillaries. She had never had the opportunity to study them this close up. They were as mesmerising as fire flames as they danced their way up into the sky; as captivating as woodsmoke as it were tossed about on a breeze.

“I thought you were going to die.”

Cassian’s voice was a low, deep rumble that she felt in the pit of her stomach. In her bones. In her heart.

“Not yet,” she replied drily, but the hoarse words were muffled by the embrace.

She knew what he was trying to say. Had felt it before. The way in which history had tied the two of them together. Had made them terrified not just of dying, but without the other. An immeasurable panic that clawed at her throat and tore at her lungs.

To end up on death’s door without her lying over him was unimaginable. They had vowed to go together and even now, when they were separate rather than entwined, she would still lay her body over his broken one and refuse to live.

“Don’t say that,” Cassian clipped, his voice suddenly sharp. Broken.

Even though it hurt to move, Nesta rolled her head to press against his chest, shifting his forehead so it was lower, his lips almost brushing her skin. Nesta could not bring it in herself to care. Cassian smelt just as his sheets had — pine, musk and untamed air. Comforting.

Hesitantly, as if she had surprised him, Cassian’s large hand came to cup her head.

For a moment, they stayed like that, until the burning question that had hung in the back of her mind became too much. “Why am I in your room?” she asked.

“I had to put Mas in your bed,” Cassian confessed. She felt him smile small against her — a promise of mischief. “It’s not the way I imagined I’d first have you beneath my sheets, but I guess I should just be thankful you’re alive.”

A quiet snarl from Nesta had Cassian lifting his head to laugh. The sound was a low rasp which did not hold its usual vigour.

He was still worried. She could feel it. The sensation was relentless as a crashing tide.

“Reign in your worry,” Nesta snapped weakly. “I can feel it and it’s making me nauseous.”

Another laugh, stronger this time, and then Cassian’s emotion vanished, as if it had been carried away on a sea-kissed breeze.

“I’m going to move now,” he informed her. “Best brace yourself for the pain, sweetheart.”

It was agony. The pain so awfully deep that Nesta could hardly breathe, even as Cassian moved as smoothly as possible. She wanted to cry out, to whimper, but she would not show weakness in front of her sister’s mate.

By the time she was settled on the couch, Nesta had broken that vow; distressed sounds escaping through gritted teeth as she panted desperately for breath. With a click of Rhys's fingers, the nest of blankets that Nesta had been swaddled in appeared on the couch, just in time for Cassian to lower her onto the cushions.

Nesta did not have it in herself to be angered that Rhys had helped.

At the sound of her sister's stifled shouts, Feyre rushed out of the kitchen. She was holding a steaming mug in her hands, which Cassian plucked from his High Lady and planted straight into Nesta’s palms.

Feyre allowed him to do it without a word of protest, anxiously wringing her hands as she studied what Nesta imagined to be her too pale face, the sweat that had broken out on her forehead…

They had not spoken properly since the attack, but Feyre had been there, hovering on the periphery; anxious and sick with worry that she did not know assaulted Nesta until she too became nauseous with it. Nesta’s icy guard had been down since she had dropped to her knees beside Mas, and she hadn’t the power to stack it back up. Not when she was as exhausted as she was, her power utterly diminished and her body focussing on healing.

Finally casting a glance around the room, Nesta saw that the flames in the log burner were raging mute. She wondered who had magicked them to become silent. She hoped it was Frawley rather than Rhysand.

Rhys was positioned to the right of the fireplace, and when Nesta’s gaze purposefully passed over him as if he were little more than part of the furniture, she felt his violet eyes flick to her, his expression no doubt hard and unyielding. But Nesta was too tired to battle today.

Cassian was watching her too, glaring with such intensity at her hands that Nesta was surprised they hadn’t moved involuntarily to raise the mug to her lips. Wanting him to stop, Nesta took a slow sip of tea even though it hurt to swallow. It didn’t work; those hazel eyes remaining unwaveringly fixated. He was standing right by her head, scrutinising everything she did, his wings spread as if he were contemplating launching into flight.

Nesta wanted to hiss at him, but then Feyre sat close beside her, and that made her want to hiss more.

At his place to the left of the hearth, Azriel’s lips twitched. He had been standing as still as a statue, like marble carved out of the finest stone, his shadows stolid, but now he shifted to face her.

Nesta guessed the shadowsinger could sense her emotions with her guard down completely.

She supposed there had to be a first.

When Nesta took the last sip of her drink, Cassian’s hands were immediately there, taking it from her, his siphons winking in the firelight. Nesta barely noticed. She only felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the first whisper of silver and brilliant white that twisted through her veins like two coiled serpents; intertwined yet separate.

Easing backwards with the intention of settling into the cushions, Nesta tried to ignore the pain that suddenly stabbed through her as her stomach muscles tensed. A sharp gasp escaped her, her breath knocked out of her lungs, but then cool, shadowed hands gripped Nesta’s shoulders. They took the weight off of her abdomen, slowly lowering her backwards until she was resting comfortably.

Behind her, Nesta heard Cassian’s wings snap in and out, clearly agitated at her pain.

When Nesta turned her head to Azriel, he dipped his head to her in acknowledgement. Black tendrils of shadow whispered back to him, curling around his arms and face, waiting patiently to be bent again to their master's will.

Then  the shadowsinger turned to Rhys, as if seeking the order to begin.

“Thank you for joining us, Nesta,” Rhys said tightly. “Especially given the circumstances.”

Nesta did not reply, could not find it in herself to do it, but she finally stared at their High Lord with unflinching determination.

As always, Rhys was irritatingly immaculate, leaning against the hearth as if he owned it. Already Nesta felt like he was tainting her space — her sanctuary — and although she wanted to spit at him to leave and not come back, she only gave a stiff nod.

It would appear both of them were going to be forced today. Circumstances that were greater than their feud were at work, and neither of them was going to be petty enough to undermine that.

“Feyre allowed me to view her memory of the kerits attack,” Rhys said. “Three males flew over the mountain minutes before it happened. They can’t have been a part of the usual patrol as they weren’t doing the scheduled circuit. Instead, they flew straight over the mountain pass. Do you remember that?”

Nesta frowned, reaching back into the far depths of her memory… The three dots that coursed across the sky, the winking flash of silver from steel.

Sharply, Nesta craned her head to look at Cassian, not thinking of her injuries. She gasped. The movement had twisted her abdomen in a way she was not ready for.

Cassian’s large hands fell briefly to her shoulders before he moved to perch on the left of the U-shaped couch, close to the corner where he had lain her down.

“Ragar—” she started.

But Cassian only shook his head, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his broad thighs. His wings were held in high and tight to his spine. “Accounted for,” he told her. “And his friends. They were in the sparring rings with Devlon and countless other witnesses.”

His smile was grim. “It’s one of the first thing I checked,” he confessed. “But it made us start to wonder if perhaps the attacks have been orchestrated. One attack can be passed off as a freak accident, but three attacks across three different camps is suspicious, especially given that kerits do not venture into populated areas.”

Nesta’s expression sharpened. “You think somebody purposefully led those beasts to the widows camp?”

Rhys’s nodded. “We think it’s a possibility.” He pinned his brother with those violet eyes. “What did you find scouring the perimeter, Az?”

The shadowsinger’s expression did not physically change, but Nesta felt his shadows chill. “Carrion,” he said coldly. “A trail of it leading to the mountain pass. Morsels of it. Not enough to feed a starving pack, but deliberate enough to tempt them out of the depths of the mountains.”

“This winter has been especially punishing,” Cassian interjected. “I bet food supply has been scarce. They struggle to survive as it is. The sounds they made as they hunted probably alerted other packs who joined the hunt.”

Feyre sat forward so she was hovering on the edge of the couch. “That would be why they were so vicious. They knew they were competing with other packs for food.”

Nesta’s stomach turned as she thought of how the widows and orphans had been seen as as a meal. How they had huddled to the Eastern point of the camp with nowhere to go and no means of defending themselves.

“The carrion was well hidden,” Azriel continued with a nod, his voice as smooth as cold marble. “Frawley examined the remains. They weren’t killed with siphon magic and there were no visible wounds to the bodies. We also found boot prints in the mud; different prints ranging in size in two separate locations within a miles range of the camp. They were fresh.”

Everyone’s expression tightened.

Nesta didn’t ask if the carrion was human or animal. She didn’t want to know.

“Frawley has taken samples to analyse them,” Azriel added. “She said she will show her sisters, as well. To see if they can sense an insignia.”

“So that means the attack was orchestrated,” Feyre said. “Someone deliberately led those beasts to the camp?”

Rhys nodded. “The attack was certainly pre-meditated,” he replied, pinning Cassian with a look. “The real question is who would arrange an attack on three separate camps.”

Cassian snorted. “You know what the lords are going to say. What all of the Illyrian’s at Windhaven are going to say.”

“That it’s an attack from another war camp,” Azriel supplied, his voice chilled midnight.

“War lords usually have no issue in taking responsibility if they played a part in an attack,” Rhys countered.

“I know that,” Cassian interjected, impatience lining his voice. “So will the lords when they stop to see sense, but the moment we tell them that we suspect wrong doing, all hell will break loose. We can’t afford to lose any more lives to petty feuds. We’re still reeling from the loss of males since the war and the Rite is already looming over the camp.”

Rhys nodded to show he had heard. Nesta wondered if he mourned the loss of lives like Cassian did. The High Lord looked tired, as if he had been torn away from his mate for too long. Yet nobody looked as ravaged as Cassian did. Nesta did not know if his brothers knew of his recurring nightmares, but she hoped they learnt of them. Sometimes Cassian looked so exhausted that Nesta vibrated with a concern she could not shake. In the past, she had bitten her lip one too many times to prevent herself from ordering him to go to bed.

Nesta knew how awful it was to force someone to do something they desperately wanted but were too fearful to surrender themselves to.

“We will manage the lords,” Rhys assured Cassian. “We can decide how we are going to play that consul, but for now, we need to get to the bottom of how the kerits managed to get past Windhaven’s patrols. You and I both know how meticulous Devlon is when it comes to security around the camp. Those males shouldn't have been able to pass over the camp without being stopped by the warriors on patrol.”

“Whoever they were, they must have known that Cassian wasn't going to be in the camp today,” Azriel offered, the spymaster in him coming to the forefront. “The only good news is that they clearly had no idea that  both Feyre and Nesta would be at the top of the mountain and able to fight. And," he added after a beat of consideration, "they certainly underestimated Nesta’s ability to slay the pack if she had been alone today.”

If Nesta hadn’t been white from pain, she would have had to freeze the blush that dared to grace her cheeks at the shadowsinger’s compliment.

An abrupt snort came from Cassian. When he spoke, his voice was brimming with anger, “Of course they underestimated Nesta. Even though they have witnessed her fire daily and sensed the enormity of her magic, they still can't fathom that a female could be more powerful than them. It has to be Illyrian’s at the root of it. Only they would be chauvinistic enough to fail to see what is right in front of them.”

“Which,” Rhys interjected, “has worked unwittingly in our favour. Rather than fuel hatred towards the Night Court and cement the growing opinion that we do not protect the Illyrian community, we had two High Fae slaughtering the pack well before any warriors arrived on the scene. And then Nesta brought Masak back to life — someone who the Illyrian males in this camp do not see as worthy to live amongst them.”

Through the exhaustion, anger heated Nesta’s blood. She felt her magic whisper. If Nesta looked inward, she could see the two strands. Could now sense the promise of healing magic in her veins amongst her silver fire. As if she had been granted the key in the face of Mas’s death and she had turned it over in the lock, setting that power free.

Yet, even as Nesta grazed that healing power, it was her silver fire that promised to roar.

“I didn’t do it to stop a Civil War. I did it to protect the females who cannot protect themselves,” Nesta snapped weakly. She was too tired to muster enough vigour into her words, but she was annoyed at the false implication behind her actions. That she had not done it out of love for the housekeeper, but because of politics.

“That may be,” Rhys said, his voice forcibly light, “and what you did was honourable, but we cannot ignore how the Illyrian’s might interpret the action.”

“What Rhys is trying to say,” Azriel interjected smoothly as Nesta’s nostrils flared, “is that the females already respect you. The way you defended them today will not strengthen the dissent, only highlight that there are fae outside of the Illyrian communities who have their best interests at heart. You, for example.”

“You know they like you,” Cassian said quietly. He did not look at Nesta. Instead, he remained fixated at the hands that were clasped tightly in front of him, his elbows resting on his broad knees. “You know they have accepted you since you defended them against the males.”

“I protect them because nobody else seems to bother,” Nesta said coldly. “How many innocent females died because of the cruel intentions of males today? How many were injured?”

“Thirteen dead, thirty plus injured,” Cassian told Nesta quietly. “It would have been many more if you and Feyre not been there. You moved so quickly you managed to slay the majority of the packs before they reached the females.”

Nesta’s expression hardened as she thought of the trailing guts that had glistened in the grey light of day; the way Roksana’s hands had slipped in Mas’s wet, sticky blood, and how she had croaked for help. Her first word aloud since Nesta had met her.

“That is still too many,” Nesta insisted, her voice betraying her — shaking with the anger and horror of it all. “Why would they target the widows first? Why not lead the kerits down the other side of the mountain pass where they would could reach the main camp and weaken Windhaven’s forces?”

“Perhaps the kerits were never intended to weaken Windhaven’s ranks at all,” Rhys mused. “Perhaps they were intended to prove a point.”

A shocked, prolonged pause.

“Are you saying,” Nesta said, her voice shaking, “that you think the rebellion could have orchestrated the attacks. That they might have specifically targeted the defenceless females because widows are seen as disposable, but their deaths would be enough to fuel dissent amongst the camps?”

Rhys stared at Nesta for a moment. His head tilted slightly to the side, in the same way that Cassian’s did when he was trying to puzzle her out. But Nesta barely saw it. All she saw was the twisted body of the kind cook who had fed Nesta every morning… Of lovely Durkhanai, with her beautiful curly hair and bright green eyes. A female who had been dealt the harshest of fates. She had not deserved her end. None of the females had. 

Feyre’s hand crept over the blankets to Nesta’s. Her sister’s slim fingers wrapped around her own. “Surely they wouldn’t kill their own race?” Feyre said, her voice shaking. Nesta wondered if she, too, was thinking of the discarded limbs and pools of blood. “There were children in that camp. The females didn’t even have weapons…”

But her sister did not understand just how harsh the camps were. Unlike Nesta, Feyre had not lived amongst the widows for months. She did not know just how willing the Illyrian’s might be to offer the widows camp as a sacrifice for the sake of politics.

“I would not put it past Illyrian’s to see widows as a necessary sacrifice,” Rhys admitted eventually after a long, pregnant pause. His violet eyes had softened with grief. “If this is orchestrated by the rebellion, I suspect that by targeting the widows camps Kallon was hoping to fuel the anger amongst the Illyrian’s that they are not protected. That the Night Court does not care for Illyrian’s and offers them no protection. The widows would have been seen as a necessary sacrifice. They are outcasts in Illyrian society with no families to mourn their deaths.”

A ringing sounded in Nesta’s ears. The noise tuned out the room around her. It took her a while to realise that it was fury. It burned. It was not hot, but cold - enough to give her frostbite - as if her magic was not replenished enough to fly but was trying its best to rally itself. Inside of her chest, something cracked. It sounded like bone. With it, came creeping fingers of light, reaching towards her...

With all her strength, Nesta clamped down... until shadows ate away the approaching light and the room righted itself.

When she came to, Cassian was growling low in warning, his wings stretching as far as they could without hitting her square in the face. At who, Nesta did not know. Did not care for his territorial display when there were bigger matters to discuss.

“And why isn’t there protection?” she asked.

Nesta’s words were as cold as the chill in her veins. Rhys stilled, and with it, his magic trembled. The growl was still rumbling from low in Cassian’s chest — deeper even — and he sat forward, bracing his weight onto his thighs as if he were getting ready to launch himself at… someone. Nesta wasn’t sure who.

Feyre was still gripping Nesta’s hand tight, her grip firm enough to hurt. If Nesta had cast a look to her sister’s face, she would have seen that tell-tale glaze over Feyre’s eyes. It was the kind of far off look which told Nesta that her sister was speaking to her mate mind-to-mind. Or trying to, at least.

“Why was there no protection around each of the Illyrian camps given that there had already been two kerit attacks?” Nesta continued, ignoring the rumbling sound that had her heart wanting to beat that little bit faster. “I have seen the protective shields the fae used in war — around your City of Starlight. Why is that courtesy not extended to the Illyrian communities?”

A long, drawn out silence of star-kissed eternal and a whisper of ancient silver.

“I have offered protection numerous times to each of the war lords,” Rhys replied eventually, his voice too measured to be casual. “Each of them have turned it down. They see it as a criticism on their duty as warriors to protect and defend.”

Nesta’s snort was harsh but the hard quality to her eyes did not change. “They are stubborn Illyrian bats. Get them to change their minds. Or are you not their High Lord?”

A flicker of amusement passed across Azriel’s face, his shadows lightening the sharp, beautiful angles of his face. “Nesta is right,” he said, causing everyone to turn. “The war lords don’t have the luxury of turning down our help when it looks as if there will be more kerit attacks. There shouldn’t have been a gap in today’s patrol. Windhaven has always prided itself on its security — all the camps do. Have we found the soldiers who should have been patrolling the perimeter? I think it wise to consider that they may have been compromised by whoever tempted the kerits to the camps. Recruited, even. They could well be the males that flew over the mountain pass.”

“Nobody can find them,” Cassian growled. “We have males out looking for them as we speak. As soon as they are found we will interrogate them.”

“Cassian and I will interrogate,” Rhys told Azriel as a rare flicker of surprise fell across the shadowsinger's expression. “I need you to visit your most trusted contacts in the camps and tell them that we believe the attacks might not be random. We need all eyes and ears to the ground to find out as much as we can, not least to anticipate where the next attack might be.”

A tense nod, but Azriel folded into shadow and disappeared.

Cassian’s fists curled into fists on the tops of his thighs. “We need evidence. We cannot assume this is the rebellion without it.”

“Of course not,” Rhys admitted smoothly. “Which is why we need you to try and snuff out as much information as you can when you and Nesta go to the Solstice luncheon next week. Accept the offer to stay overnight.”

Nesta hadn’t thought Cassian’s expression could turn any stonier, but it did. “No.”

“The more time you spend at Ironcrest, the longer Nesta has to pick up any untoward emotion, especially surrounding conversation about the camps. It gives Frawley time to look and identify the origin of the sword, and it gives you and Lorrian time to pry out any information. Insist on you and Lorrian overseeing the aerial and ground units that next morning, it will ease away any suspicion. A trip there is long overdue but it is time to act on this rather than gathering information, which we have been doing up until now.”

Cassian blew out a long, steadying breath. Then he conceded,  “With the Rite meeting been moved forward to that afternoon, it shouldn’t be hard to extend our stay."

Rhys nodded. “Good.” Then his violet eyes rested on Nesta. “You are willing to go with Cassian?”

A raised chin. Defiant. Strong. Despite the pain and exhaustion that wanted to pull her down, down, down. “Yes.”

“Then we have a plan,” Rhys said with another nod. “Azriel will continue to train you. If he is not available,  I will travel to the camps and train you myself .”

At the edge of her periphery, Nesta saw Feyre’s eyes widen. In her stomach, Nesta felt Cassian’s surprise, a sensation which grew as Rhys said,  “Welcome to the Court of Dreams, Nesta Archeron.”

*** 

By the time the meeting was over, Nesta was drained; her eyelids unbelievably heavy, her limbs aching. She desperately wanted to sleep, so she took the tincture Feyre brought her without comment and didn’t protest when Cassian carried her back to his bed rather than hers; agony fogged the rational part of her brain.

She was practically asleep as Cassian lay her onto his mattress. She felt his fingers coax hers away from where they were clutching his leathers. Blankets were pulled over her, the weight a comfort. A sedative was dripped into her mouth.

And then she slipped under.

When Nesta next woke, the taste was still bitter in her mouth but the room was dark; the light having receded even from the gap between the curtains.

In the armchair beside her bed was Feyre, her feet curled up beneath her and her freckled nose buried in Love in Velaris. A bobbing faelight hung overhead, willed by her sister’s magic. It illuminated the pages.

From the dent Feyre had made in the book, Nesta guessed she had been asleep for hours. Beyond the room, the bungalow sat still — the way it did when Cassian was not home — as if it too were sleeping, waiting for its owner to come back and breathe life into the rooms with his presence.

A few seconds passed until Feyre noticed that Nesta was awake. It gave Nesta enough time to catalogue the concern etched on her sister’s pale face; the tight expression which made Feyre’s sharp cheekbones even more prominent.

Nesta did not usually see the similarities between them, but now, as Feyre’s serious steel-blue eyes snapped up at the rustle of blankets, Nesta knew why others had said they looked alike.

“You’re awake.” Feyre spoke slowly — unsure — as she unfurled her long, lithe legs. When Nesta winced as she tried to get into a more comfortable position, Feyre jumped up and moved to the dresser. “Here,” she said, pouring some tincture onto a silver spoon.

Nesta hated the way she needed assistance to lift her head, but she allowed Feyre to do it in a rush of pear and lilac. Nesta was not proud enough to deny that she needed the tincture to smooth away the pain. And whilst the pain wasn’t as agonising as hours prior, it was deep-set enough for Nesta to consider whether she could persuade Feyre to allow her to swallow down the whole damn bottle.

After some water to chase down the foul taste, Feyre stepped back. “How are you feeling? Frawley seemed to think she could speed up the healing Madja did, but you were so sick…” Her sister trailed off, setting back to examine Nesta’s face. “You look a little less pale...”

“I’m fine,” Nesta said hoarsely.

Feyre opened her mouth and then closed it again, as if she were contemplating what best to say. The action annoyed Nesta. She wanted to be alone and quiet. To fall back asleep and wake when the pain was gone and she no longer felt helpless.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Nesta asked tiredly, turning her face to bury it into one of the pillows. It was a few seconds reprieve to calm the irritation that had started to hum through her.

Slowly, Nesta breathed in the scent of pine, musk and air that was so fierce Nesta felt as if she were almost a part of it. She had no doubt this was the pillow Cassian rested his head on. The scent soothed her, smoothing over that spiky, dangerous anger of hers to leave bone-lead weariness in its place.

“I wanted to be here,” Feyre told her. There was a subtle stubborn lift to her chin that Nesta knew Feyre had copied from her at a young age so many times that it had now become a part of who she was. “I wanted to look after you. To make sure that you were healing.”

“Well, I don’t need you to take care of me. You heard it yourself, I should be out of bed tomorrow. I just need to sleep.”

Nesta had intended to say it icily, but she was not well enough to muster the strength.

Feyre’s expression tightened, and for a moment, Nesta thought she might snap. But then she just straightened with determination; her tall, lean body rising to a height that called for attention. “Then let me say what I want to say and I will leave you alone.”

A long, stony silence and a blank, impenetrable mask that Nesta hoped with desperation conveyed the message she wanted to snap: Go away.

Instead, Feyre seated herself on the armchair and reached for Nesta’s ice-cold hand. “Nesta,” she started, the word practically a plea. “I know you and I - I know that our relationship has always been rocky. And you are right, there are many things that I hadn’t considered, not least when I sent you here. But… you almost died today and it’s made me realise what is important: I love you. I don’t think I’ve told you that before, but I always have. Even when we were younger and we were both so angry and bitter at our lot in life and we spent our days fighting. And I know you love me, too. Hiring someone to take you to the wall to find me told me that…”

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath and when she next spoke, her voice turned softer, dropping into a confession, “I forgave you and Elain a long time ago for when we were starving, Nesta. I want you to know that. I don’t — we were children. It was father that failed us, not you. I never saw it as your job to care for me and… I’m sorry that you were there when mother asked me to take care of you…. That must have been a horrible thing to overhear and… well, I would have felt resentment towards me, too, if I were you.”

More silence. Nesta would not allow herself to speak for the barbed words she knew would spill forth. About her sister’s mate and how whilst Nesta had tried to make amends, Rhysand’s obvious dislike of her had not disappeared with Feyre’s supposed forgiveness.

“I also want you to know that what you did in the war — you saved hundreds of lives. I know you witnessed unimaginable death and horror, but fae and humans are walking on Prythian because you struck down the male that promised to wreak havoc on our world. You did all of that and I never thought to thank you. And then I was so swept away by my duties as High Lady and recovering from Rhys’s near death that I did not give you the time I should have-”

Such careful tiptoeing around their father’s death. How Nesta had watched the life bleed out of his eyes, until they were nothing but glassy and wholly unconscious.

It was that which made Nesta cut her sister off. Even now, she had no desire to discuss his death. “I am not a burden you need to add to your list of priorities. I didn’t want your help. I explicitly told you to go away and instead you continued to force me to socialise when all I wanted was to be alone.”

Feyre let go of Nesta’s hand. Something akin to loss flashed through Nesta, piercing through the exhaustion and the pain in her abdomen.

“I think communication has always been an issue for us,” Feyre admitted, not backing down from the conversation. “I have spent time thinking over what you have said and you are right, I have not truly listened to you. But I was so scared for your safety I adopted drastic measures—”

“It is not your place to decide what is best for me,” Nesta said coldly. “I am not yours to command. And,” she continued with as much iciness as she could muster, “I do not think that an Illyrian camp is a place of safety.”

A deliberate pause to highlight how she were in bed suffering from major injuries.

“I thought if you were with Cassian that you would be protected,” Feyre said, her expression anguished. “I thought if anyone were to hold their own in an Illyrian camp it would be you. You are so strong, Nesta—”

“You thought a fae male could protect me when the protection I was promised by males has failed over and over again?” Nesta countered. “He is not even here all of the time. Sometimes he is away for days on end and I am left alone. You banished me to this awful place in front of an audience with no care for my feelings.”

But as Nesta spoke, something scrabbled in the back of her mind. Because it wasn’t fair to criticise Cassian for both leaving her and crowding her. Because Cassian had given her space and yet he had also been there, on the periphery if not right in front of her. Taunting her and encouraging her, but with so much space to grow. He had not made her train with him, dragging her spitting and screaming into the sparring ring. He had not thrown her out into the camp each morning and forced her to work or make friends. He had given her choices that she had more often than not denied over and over. And when she had done that, he had bought her more books or figured out the foods she liked to make the days a little less boring.

Cassian had not just protected her but allowed her to grow stronger. Had given her the space to decide for once in her life what she wanted to do and what she wanted to be. True, she might have been stuck in Windhaven, but she had never felt truly trapped. The skies made her feel unencumbered. The mud beneath her feet rendered her a part of nature rather than apart from it. The craggy mountains were a physical depiction of how Nesta was starting to see herself; sharp and angry but resilient and strong.

Outside the bungalow, Nesta heard the unmistakable crunch of boots in the snow. The low murmur of male voices floated through the bedroom window, which had been cracked open to circulate the stale air.

Feyre’s face crumpled in sudden irritation, and Nesta guessed that her mate had tried to speak mind-to-mind with her mid-conversation. From the way Feyre’s expression quickly cleared, Nesta got the impression she had banished Rhys completely or told him to go away.

The click of the magical lock from the front door rang through the bungalow, but Feyre’s attention was only on her. “Adjusting to the role of High Lady has been… a struggle,” her sister admitted. “Cassian, Rhys, Amren and Mor are my friends as well as my trusted advisors. But you are right, I spoke to you as a High Lady not as a sister when I told you to come here. I thought that using my new status would make you listen because my role as a sister had failed. It was a last resort and I knew… I knew that Cassian would look after you.”

Feyre stared up at the ceiling, as if the memory caused her pain. “As soon as you left I knew the way I had summoned you was wrong.” Feyre looked back to Nesta and sincerity swam in her eyes. “I did not consider that I had imprisoned you. I was selfishly only thinking of forcing you to be well.”

More silence.

Feyre got to her feet, her expression pained.

She waved a hand to the window, gesturing to the scenery outside. To the craggy mountains that stretched for miles and the sea beyond it. To the world that existed beyond Illyria. Beyond Prythian. “When you are healed, if you wish to leave Illyria you can. I don’t want you to feel imprisoned any longer.”

There was a finality to the words that rang true. Her sister meant them, even if it was obvious they caused her pain.  Yet… Nesta did not want to leave. Not now, not when she had promised to attend the Solstice luncheon to see what they could discover about the sword and the kerit attacks. Not when the females here were so vulnerable. Now when they needed help rebuilding their community — to mourn for the losses that Nesta had vowed would not go unnoticed.

“I said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Feyre halted at the door.

“And your help is invaluable,” Feyre said slowly, “but you are not obligated to do it. So if you wish to leave, you can. Just… please tell someone before you do and let us know where you are going.”

Feyre looked weary and Nesta wondered if she had even bathed since everything that had happened. Her body was clean like Nesta’s… but her leathers were crumpled and her hair dishevelled. Nesta’s own body felt like it was covered in a film of oil and invisible dirt. Her skin itched at the thought and she longed for a bath, even though she knew she would not be able to manage it without more rest.

When Nesta closed her eyes, Feyre’s blood-streaked face swam into view. She remembered how Feyre had gripped her hand in the midst of battle and told Nesta to lead the way to the Eastern side of the camp, even though they were in the thick of danger. Her sister had not hesitated or balked. She had only been fierce and unwaveringly brave, ready to put her life on the line for those who needed protection.

For all of their problems, when the two of them had been fighting side by side, it was the first time that Nesta felt as if she truly belonged with her sister. For a brief moment in time, their issues and past mistakes had bled away, as if they were inconsequential.

“I’d love for us to start afresh,” Feyre continued quietly from her place at the door. “We have both made errors, but I do not care about yours. I hope that with time you might be able to forgive me, and if you do, I’d like to start over, you and I, with a blank slate.”

Tags:

@arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @hatemecozuaintme @lovelynesta @melphss  @nestalytical @nestable @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @sjm-things

#nessian #nessian angst #nessianfic #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nestafic #cassianfic #cassian #acosf #acofas #acowar #acomaf #acotar #embersandlightfic

[e-milieeee]

the stars know (you and i are meant to be)—ladynoir

Summary: Between akumas and school, Ladybug and Chat Noir find some time in between to sit back, have a picnic, and stargaze. And perhaps learn a little more about each other. 

Notes: happy birthday @edendaphne! your art was some of the first i saw when i joined the fandom and i love it sm (this oneshot is based off of this). i hope you have a great day <3 

written for day 2: stargazing and day 17: future for @ladynoirjuly2020.

Her mother tells her that preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Marinette begs to differ. It’s just a meal, after all. There are three meals a day, and she finds it pointless to assign some sort of underlying worth to all of them.

But now, painstakingly arranging the bento boxes she’d made for Chat Noir, she begrudgingly understands what her mother means. She wraps them in picnic cloth, shouldering her bag full of supplies, and then drops out from her balcony to meet Chat.

They find each other halfway; Ladybug spots a familiar streak of black darting between rooftops. She knows he sees her: he always does.

Sure enough, Chat Noir turns up behind her in the span of five seconds and shoots her his usual blinding grin. “Good evening, m’lady!”

His smile is contagious, and Ladybug doesn’t even try to contain her own. “Hungry?” she asks him as they start to move again, racing over buildings at a breakneck speed. “You better not have eaten dinner before this, because I cooked a lot.”

Chat feigns offence. “I can’t believe you would even suggest I’d do such a thing. I’d eat the food you cooked me even if it’s burnt and cold, you know that.” He pauses, a contemplative look crossing his face. “Though I am expecting some world class cooking.”

Ladybug thinks back to the five hours she spent cooking their dinner, and the careful arranging she’d done of the bento boxes and the wide array of food she’d made sure to cook. It’s a fusion of both Japanese and Chinese cuisine—Chat’s favourites. Preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Perhaps her mother is right, but it’s still just an intimate gesture between friends. Yeah, that’s what it is.

“World class cooking pales in comparison to mine,” Ladybug jokes, although she also feels obligated to add on, “don’t raise your expectations too high.”

“With you, my expectations are always high.”

She shoves him just for that comment, inciting nothing but a slight falter in his movements and a large grin. With a shake of her head, Ladybug moves on, if only to hide her own smile. 

***

They set up their picnic on top of a hill.

It’s secluded, and that’s the best part of the location. Ladybug unpacks her bag to start tugging out the blankets she packed: some to sit on, others to huddle under when the night starts getting chilly. Then, even more carefully, she begins to lay their dinner bit by bit in front of them, until she finally spreads the feast out in front of Chat.

His mouth drops open, and he does not even attempt to close it. Saucer-plate eyes blink at her.

“For me?” Chat finally manages after at least thirty seconds of gaping. “I mean… you made all of this for me?”

Ladybug has to admit she’s pleased by his reaction, and even more so pleased by the fact that their slightly rough journey hadn’t ruined the aesthetic appeal of most of her dishes.

“Well, for me as well,” she teases, reaching over to tap on his bell.

He’s undeterred. “This is unbelievable,” he whispers, more to himself than her. “M’lady, I can’t believe you made this to eat with me.”

Something about his tone tugs at her heart. In an attempt to snap him out of it, Ladybug points out, “It’s kitty themed.”

“I know.” His voice wobbles slightly. “Are those cat cookies supposed to be me?”

“Yeah. They turned out kind of ugly, though.”

“No, they’re beautiful. I wish I could look like that.”

“Chat, you don’t have a nose in those cookies. You really don’t.”

He sniffles once more, and Ladybug realizes belated that he has teared up. “Chat,” she tries, this time in a gentler tone. “Are you… crying?”

He rubs his eyes rather violently. “No.”

“Kitty…”

“Fine, yes. I’m just very happy. These are happy tears. It’s okay.” With one last painful looking scrub over his face, Chat Noir lowers his hands. “You can introduce the dishes and we’ll eat.”

Knowing better to push, she obliges the request, even if Ladybug has her doubts on happy tears. There’s a certain melancholy in his words, the sort that carries an old sort of pain. So instead, sitting side by side, their knees touching and sitting just close enough that she feels the warmth radiating off him, Ladybug starts to name the dishes.

“These are the appetizers,” she tells Chat, who listens attentively. “Those are pork potstickers—they might not be as hot as they were before, though. That one’s called… um, lang… liang ni?” The words don’t sound like how her mother says them, but her Chinese is lacking in more ways than one and Ladybug can’t remember the name of the dish for the life of her. “Honestly, I have no clue what it’s called. I think it roughly translates into cold noodles.”

Chat leans over to scrutinize the dish. “It looks familiar.”

“The noodles are store-bought, but I made the sauce. There’s carrots, beansprouts, and cucumbers. And those tofu things. It’s also spicy, but I put the sauce in a container so if you can’t handle spice, you don’t need to add it.”

Never one to admit defeat, he folds his arms. “I can handle spicy food easily.”

“Okay, tough guy, I’ll take you up on that later. Anyway, I made us both bento boxes for the main meal, and…” She opens the box, and Chat’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“Cats?” he demands. “Rice cats? Oh my god, Ladybug, you’re unbelievable.”

Cats, indeed. She’d spent an hour shaping them: sticky rice balls shaped into little kitten heads, with ears sticking out at the side. There’s one made from white rice and another from purple rice, and the faces are styled from carefully cut pieces of dried seaweed, then sprinkled with sesame seeds. Ladybug’s certain that beneath the suit, her hands still smell like the seasoning she’d rolled the rice with because of the sheer amount of time she had spent on them.

“I made both Taiwanese fried chicken and teriyaki salmon for meat, then fried some vegetables. For health reasons. And kimchi, because we had some in our fridge and I thought, why not?” With that, she sets his bento box into his lap and gestures at the cookies. “Dessert. And something else afterwards, if you’re still hungry.”

“Something afterwards…?”

“You’ll see later,” she mumbles. “Anyway, dig in before it gets cold.”

Ladybug’s never been that great at accepting compliments, and Chat doesn’t lay off on them today either. He picks up the chopsticks with care and carefully picks up a piece of Taiwanese fried chicken. He pops it into his mouth, chews thoughtfully, then swallows.

Ladybug is never not in awe of how Chat’s eyes can literally light up.

“You weren’t lying,” he gushes. “This is world class cooking.”

“You’re laying it on a little too thick there,” she laughs.

“I speak only the truth, m’lady. This is amazing. Just like you.”

“Chat…”

“Okay, okay!” He’s still smiling as he moves to the rice ball. “I almost don’t want to eat them. They’re too perfect.”

Ladybug reaches over with her own chopsticks, stabbing one of his rice balls to split it in half, also tearing off one of the seaweed-eyes in the process. “There you go,” she declares sagely. “Ready to eat.”

Chat’s mouth drops open. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“I-I didn’t even get a picture!”

Ladybug pats his back. “Life is full of disappointments, isn’t it, chaton?”

He stabs her rice ball just for the hell of it before returning to his meal.

***

By the time she and Chat have practically cleaned out all the food (how he’d eaten nine cookies after the meal is beyond Ladybug), she’s so full that any slight movement hurts.

“Oh my god,” Chat is saying, tilting his head back. “I don’t think I’ve eaten so much for years.”

“I feel like I’m going to die,” Ladybug agrees. She’s lying back on the picnic blanket, staring at the sky. The sun had set twenty minutes ago, but traces of its light still peek out at the edge of the horizon, dyeing the sky a lovely indigo colour. Only the brightest stars are visible right now, but the others start to blink into existence one by one as day rests and night awakens.

“I feel like I’m going to die too.” He props his chin on his hand. “But it’s the good sort of dying. How privileged I am to be able to die next to you.”

Laughing hurts, but she can’t help but do so anyway. “Drama queen.”

He bats his eyelashes at her. “Only for you, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug wrinkles her nose at him in mock disgust, but a laugh is threatening to spill yet again and she’s not in the mood for another stomachache. Instead, she turns her attention back to the stars. The breeze that breathes over them is soothing.

They don’t do much for the next couple of minutes, simply gazing at the stars, wrapped up in a thick blanket of companionable silence. It’s easy like this, next to Chat Noir: Ladybug doesn’t have to read into these gaps of quiet, instead settling into them—because with him, they’re simply natural.

When the dark settles in completely and the sky alights into a patchwork of stars, Chat speaks up.

“Ladybug,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t turn away from the sky. “Mm.”

“Isn’t it funny that we’re here because of Hawkmoth?”

She pauses her stargazing to look at her partner instead. “What do you mean?”

Chat gives a little shrug, slightly sheepish. “If this… if none of this happened, or if Master Fu ended up choosing somebody else, or a million other possibilities, would we have met? Maybe we’ve passed each other on the street a thousand times and never knew who the other was. That thought has always bothered me, but I’m just… I’m just so thankful right now I can sit with you like this, even with the masks between us. I’m thankful that every time I transform, I know that I’ll see you again. I hate Hawkmoth as much as any other Parisian, but perhaps I have him to thank, for letting me meet you like this. And I hope that no matter what my future will bring, you’ll still be there in it.”

Ladybug can handle the flirtatious remarks, the casual confessions he peppers her with. But this—this is much more intimate, something she can’t help but cradle close to her heart. “Chat—”

“I know you don’t feel the same,” he replies. “And that’s okay. But for so long, no one’s really cared about me like you have, m’lady, and you mean everything to me and I hope you know that.”

Words evade her for a couple of moments. Then Ladybug extends her hand to him, and Chat’s fingers slip around hers, interlocking. It feels right—it always feels right with him.

“Me too, chaton,” she whispers into the sky. “I’m so glad I met you, and I hope that you’ll be there too, in my future.”

She can see his smile in her periphery.

***

Her mother tells her that preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Ladybug is inclined to agree, but she thinks that sharing that meal together (and what happens afterwards) is what really makes it so.

Notes: Fics masterlist here! 

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette #adrien agreste #fluff #ladynoir #mlb fic #my writing #happy birthday eden! i could go on forever abt how i love ur art but uh just know that u r honestly amazing <3

[smndragon]

Hello!! 🖤 I love your dark aesthetic!! Could I get a full reading please? My initials are ACM and my big three is Scorpio sun in the 2nd, cancer moon in the 10th, and libra rising! Thank you and have a wonderful day!! 🖤

it's kinda funny cause I'm answering this so long after and it shows cause my theme is different😭 I'm sorry it took time to answer this! Let's go!

Hm, Scorpio sun, Cancer moon, Libra ascendant. I see trees covered in moss and flowers. Pink and rainbow buds all around the branches and leaves. Garden rabbits and plants growing from the ground. There's a girl in the distance, a hay colored dun hat. Blonde hair passing her shoulders, soft tanner summer heat skin. A pale blue dress, it looked as if it had played in the grass for years waiting to fit her form. As if this place had grown just for her, the girl staring off into the distance of the hills and sun. The sky was blue, sprinkling bits of sun pieces and bright stars of all light colors. The balls of heat never burned, until now. Seeing my own clothes partially torn and burned from the ash and flakes of the burning flame. It scattered in my hands and left marks of black and red. I would like to say I was worried if it's burn me. But I was only fascinated by this world. The girl turned to me behind her with a look of curiosity, wide blue and green eyes, which sometimes changed to a light honey. (WHY DID THAT CORRECT TO HORNY) Bangs of the soft curly hair covered her forehead. To be honest, she looked like she came out of a slice of life anime or manga of sorts. Those eyes sparkled like casting spells was her gift, spells on the mind and human race. The trees limbs went to constrict around my body like snakes. The wood felt poking but safe. As if it were a chair or place made for me. She walked closer to me, she went to shake my hand extending her own out. I looked at it wondering what to do with my arms held. The tree moved and she grabbed my hand with her own two. Her smile was like walking a warm and soft sanded beach. Eyes closed to calm her pale blonde eyelashes. A button and small bit nose. She was small but she wasn't fully considered skinny. Her feet soles were green and mossy. The tree let me down for her to walk me somewhere. The grass of the hills grew to our heights around us, making it harder to catch up and see her. I feel this may have been the Libra ascendant. The sun's falling bits have off the energy of the Scorpio sun. The Scorpio may be going into the Libra's home with it's fire. Before I knew it, caught up in my own thoughts she was gone. Lost in the tall grass. Possible placements may be the chest, stomach, or shoulders. Maybe even could affect the knees somehow. The aura of the Libra is yellow, blue, or green, bright and untamed. You may have freckles, like walking barefoot, have a taste for adventure, have the ability to lead people places that are unexpected or new. Your Libra gifted you the smarts of a predator and the eyes of a humble pisces or animal.

The Scorpio sun is burning. A pile of hot burning fire and sun. Laying on top of the pile or coming out of nowhere. The Scorpio moves to get Infront of me. Putting it's head in my hand. Tied back dark red or brown hair. Eyes are thinly almond shaped. I grab their chin. The feminity of the Scorpio shows here. Your Scorpio may want to be dominated by others it loves. The eyes of the Scorpio are a dark red, daring and wishing. A bit of scruff on the chin. Around 5'5-5'11. Masculine facial features. A mark or mole under the eye. Dark clothes. That of a knight or guardian. Red and black with golden pieces and placements. It sometimes look as if he's wearing the sun when they shine. A long and nicely shaped thin nose. Curved out at the eyes. They smell of heat and freshly cut grass. As if the world were on fire. I see shining flames whenever their eyes meet mine. I'm ngl I have half the mind to kiss your zodiac right now. This is a sign worth loving. It treats your body as a temple and your mind as a deity or god. Ready to strike and defend you at every turn if it can. You may have been told you don't know when to back downs at times. Could also have back problems, or a beauty mark on the face also. There's not much here for me really, the Scorpio is humbly protective, they like being treated like a pet at times but they'll never let their guard down just yet. Possible placements may be the spine, back, or hands. Aura is red and golden. You could also like writing poetry, or something to do with hands. Possibly a physical activity or smth. You could also be someone who likes to do things only when interested, if you're not people will say you're lazy when that's not the case at you just have no interest though you're hard working. Something unmentioned was the Scorpio form at the beginning, I feel your Scorpio is very powerful in ways in the body. It can transform from the very sun, to a Scorpion, then lastly to the man.

The Cancer home is dimmed and cold. Ice pains my feet. Frost and snow fall from the ceiling and walls. The Cancer freezes sometimes here, but says it's warm. Silently begging for others to ignore it's cold breaths. The bane of ris existence at times is itself. It feels caved in and scared of the world. Possibly from a previous host or truama. The world doesn't fully terrify it, it just feels it already knows what's to come from certain things. This may make you uncommunicative inside or often. Because of the Cancer's dominance in your head it can move it's truama to you and cause you to worry or not understand things people associate themselves with at times. Unintentionally closing you off from the world or growing. It wants to feel safe and sane. Retreating when your other signs wish to take action. the Scorpio burns to partially cover the Cancer. To give it warmth it hasn't gotten on the outside. But also to cover this feeling deep down. The zodiacs worry for your poor Cancer. The crab that's iced it's blue shell to almost cracking. Your Scorpio may love this zodiac greatly in some way. Either romantically or as if very close friends. He visits the door of the crab now, knocking and waiting. Upon no reply he opens the door to see us both sitting down. Confused as to why I'm here but dragging something in behind him anyways. A possibile meat or warming blanket? He grabs a sheet to cover the Crab's shell. Patting it a few times. Going back to the bag to get meat and dusty ash. He creates a fire with a dimple flicker of the black mush. Throwing the food above the fire to stand up with sticks and tools. Taking a seat near me and the Cancer. It's silent, but tis ckmfotin. Your Scorpio worries for the Cancer. They've known each other for a few rounds of lifetimes. The Scorpio may have even seen it all. The sound of the Cancer's panic. Something happened in a previous host, the Cancer felt they couldn't save that person, that they could do nothing against the danger, costing their host much to even possibly their life. The Scorpio was not the sign in control then. A great respect for the Cancer before still present now. Possible placements are the shoulders also, the head, the lower back, or the soles of the feet. Could cause shoulder pains, neck pains, smaller or medium feet.

Your signs aren't perfect, but they do their best to help each other and you. The Scorpio sometimes feels a heavy weight watching over things by themselves at times. The Libra doesn't make it inside until now. Stopping by the door for a second before sitting with us. This is nice, and all in a few moments, it feels like home inside you.

The truama could have something to do with you or the signs it's hard to tell. May deal with panic attacks or anxiety.

Characteristics: because of the Libra maybe even a dirty blonde or blonde of some sort, maybe dark or brown hair, may go past the neck or a bit above or near the shoulders, wide dark eyes or blue and green mix. Smaller or medium to big hands. Just something on hands I feel is important. Could be white, mixed, or foreign to America (not mensing your life here just from my country possibly). May paint your nails or leave them blank, sketches a lot or some bit. Style could be dark or plain in tones of where you live. Could fit the occasion. Smaller feet. May be fairly small when it comes to weight. Height could be 5'1-5'6. Beauty mark on the face somewhere or freckles. Maybe on the back of the neck even. May glance off at times. A make also maybe in the inner thigh. Scorpios deal with eyesight either making it really gold or poor. So possible glasses.

Future relationship/soulmates: will nudge you possibly when they want to relax. Could meet somewhere in the convenience store a normal somewhat important or crowded solace to you. (stores are too common of s theme here lol) may want to give you piggy backs or get them. Dark fluffy hair or pale. Will look domineering but isn't really lol. Could always be snuggling up even in public which can bother you. Want the groceries? You'll get them they'll go out as long as they get to call you the whole way. To that you tell them to be careful when driving. Horny. Very soft and loving. Will give you time if needed when first meeting to talk to them or after asking you out at some point.

Other zodiac possible zodiac influence through other people: Scorpio ascendant, moon, or sun, cancer moon, Gemini moon, dominant, Aries sun, moon, pisces sun, ascendant, moon. Some Capricorn energy somewhere. Also maybe Sagittarius energy in you or another person. Maybe a mars Sagittarius around you?

Future/health: watch for possible things to do with electronics or not paying attention, walking in streets, we kinda discussed possible health stuff lol, back pain, shoulder aching, neck pains, panic attacks or anxiety, possible dark thoughts from the Cancer and even Scorpio.

Houses: having Scorpio sun in the 2nd house could mean an attachment to material thing from childhood. Financial gifts involving communication and interaction. Gains through others somehow. Having Cancer moon in 10th could mean you may make it doing something involving physical use or mental stability. Could be a social worker, nurse, something involving humanitarian stuff or possibly business if you focused on it. Could be a lawyer even, with Cancer there's a lot of possibilities from their talents. There's something great in you, you just have to drive for what you want. Possibly may want to owns little shop somewhere even. You'll gain possible reliable jobs through friends or connections even due to the 2nd house.