#insert tag space 5

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

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The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N.  He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow. 

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them! 

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them. 

It was ridiculous. 

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about. 

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did. 

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction. 

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out. 

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored. 

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls. 

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there. 

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance. 

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around. 

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall. 

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails. 

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.” 

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot. 

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some. 

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep. 

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted. 

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest. 

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve. 

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box. 

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box. 

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table. 

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.  

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.” 

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.” 

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night. 

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent. 

“Dean.” She called after him. 

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently. 

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek. 

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter. 

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already. 

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be. 

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be. 

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books. 

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories. 

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice. 

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line. 

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed. 

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks. 

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left. 

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood. 

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him. 

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

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Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve!

Notes and TW: Overthinker reader having a conversation with Mr. "Just Trust Me" Jade Leech. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-writes @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe

“Would you like some tea?”

Jade offers you a cup of something that smells like lavender. You shake your head.

“I’m okay.” You turn your attention back to your screen. He sets the cup and saucer next to you anyway. “Who knows, maybe you’ve put a suspicious substance in it.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I can do something out of the kindness of my heart?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “You? Absolutely not. Give an inch and you take a mile.”

There’s a beat where he doesn’t reply. You look up at him, wondering if you’ve said something strange, but his back is turned as he walks to his seat. When he turns back around to settle in his chair, his expression stills like a frozen pond. Perfectly crafted, carefully unreadable.

A few hours have passed since his phone call. You’ve decided to work in Jade’s office today, thinking that you might get a clue or a burst of inspiration if one of the subjects of your thoughts is in close proximity. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his quiet hums and constant catering to your needs indicates that he’s rather pleased. Aside from the cup of tea releasing a wispy veil of steam, there’s also a plate of cookies and a bowl of cherries on his desk beside you.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

You close your laptop and sigh. There are too many to count, all swirling in your head without rest.

“Still thinking about what you told me this morning.” You don’t want to address the bigger issue—that (Y/N) apparently forgot who you are—so you start small. “I didn’t expect you to actually fall asleep.”

“Neither did I.” Jade frowns in thought. “I imagine it is a result of too few hours of sleep throughout the week.”

“Even so, you said it yourself. You can’t sleep around strangers.” You drum your fingers on the desk. “Maybe you actually do feel at ease around her.”

“That is not the case.” His voice carries certainty that surprises you. When you glance at him, you notice that his mouth is set in a firm line. “I was quite unsettled when I woke up.”

“Huh.” You can imagine it. His shock at his lapse in vigilance. But even so, no matter how tired he is, he has never made this sort of blunder before. “I guess there’s a first for everything.”

A shadow passes over his face. He stands next to your chair and leans over you. His eyes stare straight into yours—piercing mismatched eyes with an almost magnetic pull.

“I will ask you the same question as last night. Do you really believe that manuscript is a reflection of things that will certainly come to pass?”

Your heart jumps. Is he using Shock the Heart? But a few seconds pass, and no words leave your lips. This is not his Signature Spell. This is Jade Leech asking you a sincere, serious question. Besides, you have no reason to lie.

“Like I said, I don’t know—”

“Then don’t talk and act as though it is.” Is that frustration in his voice? He maintains eye contact with you, and you feel as though you can’t look away. “I, for one, think a predetermined future is horribly boring. My actions dictated for me, every event predictable . . . . I would sooner abandon it all and throw caution to the wind. The only reason why I am following the manuscript is because it outlines a way to restore my parents’ health.”

His sentence ends on half a breath, as though he originally intended to say more. He doesn’t. You wait, but nothing comes out.

“And?”

He kneels beside your chair, no longer towering over you or crowding your space. When he speaks again, he is quiet. But in the silence of his office, you hear it clear as day.

“And because that is what you want.”

Many history textbooks praise the Sea Witch for her spells and potions. One of the most famous ones took away a mermaid’s voice. You wonder if this is what that mermaid felt like. A storm of thoughts, but none able to be processed by your vocal chords. Parted lips that leak no sounds. You stare, nonplussed.

Eventually, you manage to let out a breathy, barely-heard whisper.

“What?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “That is the truth. If that is what you wish for, then I will do my best to live up to your expectations. I know your good friend (Y/N)’s life is difficult. I know you think that by following this manuscript, everyone will be happy, because that is what it says will happen.”

You continue staring. The words seem to pass through you. It’s as though you are sitting in a dream, your surroundings wavering and surreal. What is he saying?

“The truth is that I could simply care less about (Y/N). She is at most an acquaintance. The reason why I give her special treatment is because I know she is precious to you.” He keeps rambling. You get the sense that he has been keeping quiet about this for a while. “As for the matter concerning my parents. If we follow the story, there is still no guarantee that they will be cured. Even you said you do not know if the manuscript’s plot will certainly come to pass. If Vil Schoenheit refuses to help my family, we will think of another way. He is not the only alchemist or curse expert in the world.

“I will follow what you want. But do not ask me to fall in love with (Y/N). That is the one thing I cannot do.”

“Why?” Your brain feels like porridge. Nothing seems to be getting through it. You cannot reason out a single thing. Isn’t (Y/N) created to be loved? Aren’t they written to fit like a glove on each other’s fingers? You’ve read the story. There doesn’t seem to be a particular reason why the Jade in the story obsesses over her aside from spending time together. It doesn’t actually matter. It’s the author’s will that their love is written in the stars—and the pages of that damn manuscript. It’s the point of the entire plot. “Is there something you don’t like about her?”

“Do I need a reason for failing to fall in love?”

Your mind blanks. Does he need a reason? He has a similar line in the manuscript. Do I need a reason for falling in love? If you think about it, isn’t it the same? No matter how you try and reason out the answer, love is not a puzzle with a logical answer. There is no formula, no recipe, no surefire step-by-step manual that you can follow to ensure success. Sometimes a spark causes a flame, and sometimes it sizzles out and dies. There is nobody to blame for either outcome.

You can’t wrap your mind around it. Why. Why. Why. Your brain, constantly overflowing with thoughts, cannot leave this topic to rest. A puzzle without an answer leaves you feeling antsy. Not knowing everything is a sin to your conscience.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That is how love tends to be.”

An unsatisfactory answer. You dig your nails into your palm.

“Then answer me this. Why do you follow what I want? Is it because I’m interesting? No, that’s not right. You just said following a pre-written script is boring, and that’s exactly what I told you to do. I don’t understand.”

“The script is boring. You are anything but.”

“Me? What have I done?”

He smiles, then, one wholly different from his polite masks or his teasing grins or even his unhinged laughter. It’s an expression you associate with the times he talks about his interests. The expression that blankets and scatters across his countenance like orange rays of the setting sun over ocean waves. A quiet and calm beauty. A fondness that he rarely allows to be seen.

“Did you know that when you have much on your mind, you look up to the sky? That is why you prefer rooms with windows. The attic in my home that you love so dearly is one such room, and you spend all your time there nestled on the window seat. On that topic, you prefer small spaces because it helps you feel secure while you think. This is because you tend to zone out, and it is easier to defend yourself when no threats can appear behind you.”

“Uh, this is more like a behavioural report than a reason.”

“I do adore observing your behaviour. Particularly when you are lost in thought. I find myself wondering what you’re thinking about. If you’ll share them with me. But oftentimes, you do not trust me enough to do so.”

You swallow hard. “It’s hard to.”

“Why is that? I’ve known you for fifteen years. Floyd has known you for just as long, Azul a little less. (Y/N) has only known you for one year. So why can’t you trust me?”

You fiddle with your fingers, no longer capable of meeting his gaze. This kind of outburst is not something you expected from Jade. How long has he been thinking this way?

“I can’t tell what’s going on in your head. That’s why. Everything you say or do just gives me more to think about. If you’re being genuine or not, if you’ll suddenly decide to turn on me, things like that.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes. His smile shifts from fond to rueful and raw desperation permeates his shaky voice. It sounds brittle, as though a well-aimed push would shatter it into infinitesimal pieces.

“Is it so inconceivable that I could do things for you without ulterior motives?”

You look away. “Only until it no longer serves your interests or amuses you. Even if I can’t trust you fully, I’m sure there’s at least some level of it between us. I mean, we see each other regularly. I even let you drive me home.”

“Yes, but I am afraid I am a greedy man. Anyone else turning their back on me would be tolerable, but you—if it’s you . . . . At least promise me this. Even if I turn on the entire world,” he declares quietly, “promise you will trust that I will not betray you.”

You open your mouth as though to reply. Nothing comes out. You try again, your fingers gripping your knees tightly.

“I think we’re too similar. We’re both too cautious. We both think too much. Because of that, I can’t let my guard down around you.”

“Yet that is exactly what fascinates me.” He places a hand over yours. “Trying to decipher your thoughts, wondering about the motivations behind your actions, these are all things I find myself enthralled by. Your brutality and decisiveness towards that which would benefit you, but your willingness to do anything for the people dear to you. Your cautious nature as you execute your bold plans. Every time I think I have you pinned down, I only unearth another layer. The mystery intrigues me. On the other hand, I cannot help but wish you would trust and open up to me a little more.”

“That’s contradictory.”

“I cannot help it.” He smiles wryly. “I am contradictory by nature, as are you.”

You study his hand that engulfs yours. Cool to the touch. Ungloved, too. You muster your resolve.

“Then promise you won’t lie to me.” You finally lift your gaze until it returns to his eyes. Clear eyes that have been by your side for years. The eyes of a liar and schemer. Ironic for the one who wields a Signature Spell that forces out the truth. But these are the eyes of Jade Leech, and you won’t try to make him be someone he isn’t. “Lie to everyone else, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me. You can try to trick me or give me half-truths. I’ll figure them out on my own. If I still get fooled, that’s on me. Just don’t outright lie.”

The pounding of your heart fills your ears. Then, it is replaced by the sound of his quiet laughter.

“I expected nothing less from you.” He brings your hand up to touch his cheek. It only lasts a moment before he lets go and stands back up, returning to his seat. “I give you my word. I will never lie to you again.”

You look at the teacup on the desk, the lavender tea inside now cooled. The untouched cookies and cherries. A soft clink rings out as you take the teacup and bring it to your lips. Sweet and fragrant. Even cold, the tea Jade brews is impeccable.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst fanfic #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #multi chap fic #mafia au #jade promised to brew a relaxing tea last chapter #lavender tea promotes sleep and stress relief #even if you don't drink it the scent helps #so he wins whether you drink it or not #slow burn

[animasola86]

4: A Special Need

This is a rather unusual story about a girl (reader) who comes across a special little friend that she likes very, very much. But does she love it more than she loves her boyfriend (Sebastian)?

Summary: Imagine: you have a weird little "hobby" that you don't want anyone to know about, but then things take a turn for the worse! In other words: Sebastian finds out about his girlfriend's little secret! Will he be jealous or will he accept it?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader Genre: Smut // Words: 6.2k // [READ ON AO3]

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! "Object" insertion! Tentacles/Teratophilia*! Angst! Vaginal sex! Kink shaming? (Additional tags on AO3!) (Side note: if you find the idea of using a squid as a sex toy weird/uncomfortable, please think of it as a dildo/vibrator/butt plug, maybe that'll make it easier to read!) Read at your own risk!

← CHAPTER 3 - // - CHAPTER 5 →

4

Once you accepted the fact that you carried around a tiny squid in your insides that would occasionally hum and throb and poke around in there, you didn't feel as weird about it any more (because you were too busy being aroused by it).

At first it was indeed strange, especially since the small creature seemed to test your boundaries by prodding your walls and keeping you stimulated throughout the whole day – which made basic interactions with other human beings very awkward when you suddenly flinched or winced or let a surprised moan fall from your lips, but the more it teased you, the better you became at ignoring it, or rather it seemed to learn that it couldn't be doing this all the bloody time. Maybe it also slept sometimes, you had no idea.

What you did know, was that it needed constant warmth and wetness, because when you tried putting the squid into a water bowl to keep it safe, it splashed about and crawled out of the bowl immediately, humming angrily as you picked it up off the floor. You started talking to it then, telling it you couldn't have it inside your pussy all day long, but it only hummed more angrily, its tentacles clawing at your fingers, its whole body shaking in what you thought was indignation.

Because the moment you lowered your hand and brought it close to your centre, it calmed down, almost purring now, and so you sighed, went back to the bathroom and let it crawl inside you once more. The more you did that, the less disturbing it became as you watched the creature disappear inside you, but it never stopped being arousing, and that made sitting in classes (or sitting in general) very difficult.

That first day after you found it – or it found you – might have been one of the strangest days of your life, and you'd clearly had your fair share of strange days. Despite being buried deep within your tightness, the little squid reacted differently to different surroundings, different people you talked to, different smells, noises, etc., by either forcefully crawling deeper, pinching your walls as it did so (which hurt) or by rubbing its tentacles against those spots that made your legs weak (which was also bad when you tried to use those legs but at least it felt better).

You knew then that it preferred the damp dungeons to the thin air of any of the towers, the quiet of the library to the bustling of the Great Hall, and weirdly enough the cold echoes of the Undercroft to the warm and bright atmosphere of your personal Room of Requirement, where you used to spent most of your time.

And looking at the data you collected, you realized that tiny squid was a lot like your boyfriend. Though whenever you spent time with Sebastian, the thing inside you was still on the fence if it liked him or not, especially since he couldn't keep his fingers to himself and tried on more than one occasion to invade your nowadays already occupied most personal space.

You managed to keep him away from your folds as best as you could without raising suspicion, mostly by distracting him in returning the favour, but you knew you'd have to find a solution to your little problem if you ever wanted to sleep with him again, which you wanted, every damn minute of the day, especially since you were so highly stimulated all the freaking time.

And as you couldn't (and wouldn't) leave your little friend somewhere it didn't like to be, your only solution was to stuff it somewhere similarly wet and warm and tight, but the first time you even tried to coax it there by pushing two fingers into your bum to ease its passage, it forcefully crawled back into your other hole, raging inside you for the next few minutes, causing you to almost lose your footing as you tried to make it back to your dorm room without your legs giving way under the constant stimulation.

Gasping for air, you could barely close the curtains of your bed before you were on your back, panting heavily as you wrestled your clothes off your body until you were able to press both hands between your legs and ride out the sensations caused by your angry little pet. When you came with a loud moan, it stilled inside you, and you realized then that it was feeding off your juices, calmed by the contractions of your body, and while you were still breathing hard and shivering from your intense orgasm, you pushed a finger between your folds and beckoned it to come out.

Its tentacles wrapped around your finger, and you gently pulled it the rest of the way before you brought the tiny squid – that didn't look as tiny any more now that you thought about it – closer to your face. It was glistening and warm, its scent mixing with yours, and when you pressed your lips to its wide head, it hummed against you. You still didn't exactly know where its eyes were, but you looked at it and it seemed to look back, and suddenly it jumped off your hand and crawled between your sticky thighs again.

You sighed, but then you felt it prodding against the tight ring of muscles curiously, and you inhaled deeply as you spread your legs wider and lifted your hips slightly, then used your own juices as lubricant as you pushed your middle finger into your tight arse, eliciting a quiet moan from your throat. The squid kept poking at your hand, and when you retrieved your finger, it pressed into you instead, its wide head struggling to fit, but its tentacles pushed it further until it was swallowed by your eager body, the rest of its long form sliding in with ease.

You thrashed your head back and groaned at the sensation. Between waves of pleasure and growing doubts about what the hell are you even doing, you slowly came to terms that this was your new normality. A normality you wanted to have, because it would have been easy to bring the squid back to the Lake, but you didn't want to part from it, not when it could give you all these kinds of sensations you had never experienced before. And apparently it liked to be with you too, because why would it crawl into your bum otherwise?

The blush became a constant feature on your cheeks as you traversed the castle with your little friend in either of your holes, switching it up whenever you needed to, and as you became accustomed to shoving it into your body at will, it too became accustomed to your rhythm and always did what you wanted from it.

That was until you were lying on the couch in the Undercroft with Sebastian one late night, kissing and cuddling, arms and legs entangled (because despite having your own little special sex toy friend, you still love being with him, your male human friend, for countless reasons).

As you roll on top of your boyfriend, the squid inside your bum starts stirring, and you gasp into his mouth unexpectedly, wincing slightly as you feel the creature crawling deeper as if to get away from whatever is happening outside its warm, wet den.

The sensation has your muscles clenching as you try to pull it back, really not wanting it to slip into your bowels, and your concentrated face makes Sebastian frown deeply. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly, his hands cupping your flushed face.

You nod distractedly, almost unable to breathe at this point. You've currently realized that every time you have an orgasm with the squid inside you, it would feed off it and grow, being a lot bigger now than it was when you first saw it crawling out of your pussy. Hence whenever it moves inside you now with its thicker tentacles clawing at your muscles, you'd feel it a lot more.

Inhaling deeply, you try to ignore the movement inside you, not sure what to do about it anyway, so you focus back on the freckled face in front of you and smile warmly before you lean in to kiss him, but he stops you, his eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you're alright?” he repeats, and you frown at the question. “You've been slightly off the last weeks. What's wrong?”

There it is, the question you've been dreading to receive. Of course he would notice the change in you, and carrying around a little sea creature in your insides that would occasionally bring you mind-blowing orgasms surely was a change you couldn't easily hide for too long, at least not from him. He is too perceptive for his own good. Yet despite being very open with him about basically anything, you just couldn't bring yourself to admit to the fact that there is something else that brings you great joy now.

Because Sebastian Sallow is still the most jealous boy you've ever met. And usually that isn't a problem because you barely give him reasons to be jealous, if at all, but having this tiny creature giving him a run for his money, so to speak, would make even the most not-jealous person furious, you just know it. And even if you obviously haven't replaced him for the squid living inside you, it might look to him like you have.

He is always sad when he has to say goodnight to you in front of your common room, knowing he would never be able to join you in your bed (and always tells you it's not the same to sleep on the lumpy couch in the Undercroft together), and if he finds out that this small creature can and has for about a whole month occupied the space he so desperately wants to be in, how can he not be absolutely devastated about it? (Also you don't want him to think you're weird for getting aroused by having a phallic-like creature crawling into your holes...)

So you kept it to yourself.

You hate lying to him, but it's for the better. “Nothing,” you answer his question with a smile, quickly leaning in to claim his mouth for another kiss to keep him busy. “It's just all the stress... the exams... the assignments... the fear of the future,” you add with a laugh, accentuating every word with a lingering kiss. “Don't worry about me, I bet all seventh-years feel like this these days.”

He hums against you in response, a deep sound that vibrates through your body, reminding you of the thing pulsing inside your bum. Clearing your throat, you put your hands on Sebastian's face and gently caress his cheeks.

“If you distract me tonight, everything will be better, I'm sure,” you whisper and wink at him, and with another deep hum leaving his throat, he grabs your shoulders and rolls you around until your back is pressed into the lumpy cushions of the couch, and he's hovering over you, his eyes dark and intense, and you shiver deeply upon seeing the hunger within them.

You're both out of your clothes in no time, and all you can think about is being close to him, become one with him, feel his skin on yours, share the sweat and slick, the moans and groans, hear his deep voice issue all these sounds that drive you crazy with lust while his hands grip you tight enough to leave marks, and you need those marks, as a reminder that he is the most important person in your life, and vice versa. And no strange magical sea creature will ever come between you – or so you hope.

Because suddenly your thoughts are back with the pulsing thing lodged inside you, and it's not the first time you wonder how it would be for Sebastian to find the squid there on his exploration of your body. Every possible scenario you've come up with is worse than the last, and you dread the day it will eventually happen. Maybe today isn't that day, you think as he starts moving his hands along your sides whilst kissing you deeply, and you squirm beneath him, hoping he isn't too adventurous today.

You've talked about anal sex before, yet never done it, but you know he wouldn't try something new without asking you first, and as he's busy kissing along your neck and working in more love bites, you assume your arse is safe for tonight, or rather that what is hidden inside. As your body starts reacting to his touches, you feel the squid pulsing even more, adding to the growing tension inside your stomach.

And tense you are, inside and out, and you don't even know why. This isn't the first time you had sex while that tiny creature was inside you, but that's the thing: it used to be much smaller then. You might have overdone it with your alone time recently as it only has become bigger in the last days.

Your mind is spinning as you're caught up in the never-ending cycle of thinking about possible what if scenarios, and you're so distracted that you barely feel Sebastian's preparations, his fingers working swiftly, and only when he pushes his cock into you with one single hard thrust, you come back to your senses and cry out in a mixture of shock and surprise as he buries himself completely inside of you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare up at him, propped up on his arms as his dark eyes wander over your face.

You hold onto his wrists as you start bucking your hips against him in an attempt to move along as if you haven't been lost in your own mind for the last minutes or more. He remains bent over you, his thighs pushing your legs upwards as he shifts only slightly against you. When he rests his heavy erection inside your tight walls, you can feel the squid pushing against your muscles from the other side, wanting to join the action apparently, and your eyes widen as you realize that he must feel it too, so you quickly start grinding your hips against him, clenching your walls deliberately, even grabbing the back of his neck to pull his face down to yours.

He obliges and meets your trembling lips, his kiss soft and careful, but you quickly make it messier, needier, as you deepen it with your tongue slipping into his mouth. With a deep grunt he leans down on his elbows and kisses you back with just the same amount of fervour, maybe even more. You wrap your arms around his neck and start pushing your hips upwards against him until he finally moves as well, drawing back and plunging in, over and over again, quickly falling into a steady rhythm that is both fast and deep, and it doesn't take long for you to completely succumb to the sensations.

Moaning against his lips you feel the tension inside your stomach erupting into a wave of pure pleasure as it washes over you with a force that makes your thighs twitch, your toes curl and your muscles contract violently, and in doing so you feel your insides convulsing, moving, and in your haze you barely feel the gentle caresses of these eight little arms you've grown to love so much over the last weeks. Yet once you realize that the squid is about to slip from your bum, it is already too late.

Despite being caught in his own haze as he ruts into your core with reckless abandon, he seems to feel the foreign touch as well, and you see it all unfold in slow motion. You feel too weak to do anything as your orgasm still shudders through your body, as your walls clamp down on his cock, your limbs too twitchy to control, so when his brown eyes widen slowly before he leans back on his knees and stares down at your connection, you don't have to see the tentacles wrapping themselves around his base to know what's going on.

With a deep growl that could also be a yelp or guttural scream, Sebastian jolts off you, slips from your depths as if you've never even been connected, and takes several steps away from the couch, completely ignoring his precum leaking cock, as his shaking hand points at the small creature crawling over your centre. Yet it's not the fact that there is a strange little squid seemingly coming from nowhere that has touched him at the most inappropriate time, it's the fact that you remain so calm and collected as you lie on your back, looking from the squid to your boyfriend and back, and not sharing in his panic.

That's when he explodes.

“What the fuck is that?” he yells with an anger you haven't heard from him in years.

“Sebastian...” you manage to croak out, your voice just a breathy whisper as you lower your hand towards the creature that seems to lean towards your touch, when it's suddenly grabbed by a bigger hand. “No!” you call out and sit up quickly, ignoring the trembling of your own legs, and quickly grab his wrist, keeping him from hurling the poor creature through the entirety of the Undercroft.

The stare he is giving you chills you to your bones. “What are you doing?” he says threateningly quiet, and you know he is more than pissed if he resorts to talking in this low tone.

“Don't hurt it,” you whisper, gently prying his tight fingers open to free the small squid from his crushing hold. To your surprise he lets you, and when he watches you cradle the creature between your hands, his mouth falls open. “It didn't mean any harm...” you add softly.

“You... know that thing?” he says in an even quieter voice, slipping from shock to disappointment to indignation.

You inhale deeply, feeling the squid's little arms coil around your fingers. “I... I do,” you then admit, biting your lip as you look back up at Sebastian, meeting his wide eyes that narrow as he takes in your words.

“You keep a pet squid around?” he asks in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Where do you even keep it? Where did it come from?”

That's when your face turns bright red, and you turn away from him, trying to find an answer that wouldn't humiliate you completely. “It... wasn't supposed to crawl out...” you whisper barely audible, your eyes frantically searching the couch and its surroundings for a possible storage place. Before you even consider a different answer than the awful truth, you feel a warm body behind you as Sebastian points past you towards the pile of clothes on the ground.

“You shouldn't keep a squid inside the pocket of your robes,” he comments, and you are tempted to laugh at how innocent and easy it would have been to tell him just that. That you keep the squid in your pocket, instead of where you really keep it.

“Yes...” you breathe, your voice about to break before you clear your throat. “You're right...”

“I suppose it got curious, huh?” he says then, leaning over you to take another, much calmer look at the creature in your hands. “Why is it so... wet?”

His words cause you to gasp and shiver. “Uh... m-magic,” you then stammer the lie that could have been the truth all along. “Keeps it... wet...”

Suddenly you feel very stupid, not just that, disturbingly weird, downright demented and perverted and absolutely disgusting, as you realize you could have kept the squid in a different kind of environment, if you so much as thought about it properly, but your lust for the sensations it invokes in you has been clouding your mind, making you think it is normal and the only way to shove that thing into your holes to keep it safe.

Shaking your head, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep the tears of frustration down. The creature in your hands pulses slightly, its tendrils nudging your fingers. Next to you Sebastian is watching you almost the same way the squid seems to look at you. His anger is completely gone from his face. He tilts his head, and out of the corner of your eye you see him examining the elongated body of the squid and its wide head, and you hear it in the way he inhales deeply, that his mind is slowly aligning with yours, despite everything.

“Where do you really keep that?” he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder deeply. “Because, you know, I've noticed something about that little guy...”

You hold your breath as you stare at your palms and the thing on them.

“It's rather... phallic looking, isn't it?” he keeps whispering, leaning closer to you, his warm body pressing into yours. Your hands start to tremble, and you yelp quietly when he suddenly closes his bigger hands around yours, seemingly supporting the squid on them. “Is that why you've been so distracted lately?”

His question impales you like an icicle, numbing you with a sudden cold rushing down your spine. He knows. He knows exactly where that thing has been and what you've been doing with it these last weeks, and the realization makes your heart stop. But he doesn't sound angry, he sounds... amused. Almost mocking. Definitely teasing.

And you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Preferably you and the squid, so you're not alone in your eternity in hell. Even thinking that makes you want to groan loudly, show your frustration about yourself and the situation and how you've handled it and the fact that your boyfriend knows and doesn't explode in rage and how absolutely embarrassing and mortifying and humiliating it all is and –

When you feel his lips on your burning cheek, you freeze, blinking slowly. “Red suits you, love,” he whispers and walks back to sit down on the couch, crossing his legs slightly as he looks up at you, the smuggest expression on his freckled face you have ever seen.

Swallowing hard, you meet his gaze, but you can only bear it for so long before you look back at the squid lying in your hands, gently humming, seemingly observing the scene around it – and the mayhem it has caused by slipping into your pussy in the first place. For a moment you project your anger and frustration at the stupid phallic looking thing, and it seems to sense the shift in your demeanour as its tendrils tentatively close around your fingers, gripping strongly while it pulses against your skin, trying to remind you of the good times it's given you.

“You two want to be alone then?” Sebastian's voice cuts through the little moment you had with your unusual pet, and when you look up at him, he laughs deeply as your eyes narrow and you throw him the darkest gaze you might have ever thrown him. He laughs even more at that. “Come on, love, don't be so tense... you might squish the little guy.”

“Stop!” you call out in rage as you stare at him. He raises his eyebrows, the laugh frozen on his face. “Stop with the... innuendos and the... the... just stop!” you whine out and turn away as tears start flowing down your cheeks.

You feel horrible, childish and embarrassed and deeply disturbed at your own actions. For a moment you want to hurl the squid through the Undercroft for real. But you don't, you keep it safe between your trembling fingers, as you chew on your lips and let out quiet sobs, your tears dripping from your chin and down onto its long body.

Behind you, you can hear the quiet squeak of the couch and then the tapping of bare feet coming closer. “I'm sorry,” you hear his deep whisper close to you. He still keeps his distance, but you can feel the warmth of his body, and for a moment you are tempted to turn around and throw your arms around him and bury your wet face in his chest, but you don't move, you can't, you don't know how to handle the situation.

Luckily for you, despite taking a piss out of you initially, Sebastian is better at talking than you give him credit for sometimes. “Listen,” he starts quietly, hovering behind you. “I didn't mean to belittle you like that. Or even judge you for it. That's not my place. I'm here to support you, you know that, right?”

You inhale deeply, chewing on the inside of your cheek nervously.

He keeps going. “You know, having... certain desires is something completely normal, or it should be, even if society may think differently. But it doesn't matter what others think, me included, when it comes to your happiness. And if that... thing in your hand makes you happy, then I am happy too. For you. If this is a way for you to decompress, to relieve stress, then that's totally fine. I know I can't be with you every hour of the day to do exactly that, so I am glad that you found a different way to keep your mind... well, not busy, the opposite really, uh, to keep your stress levels low by... uh... doing whatever it is you're doing...”

The more he struggles to find the right words, the more the corners of your mouth twitch. He's trying, and you love him even more for it. Holding the squid in one hand, you lower your other hand and slowly turn around to him. His gaze moves from your hand to your eyes quickly, and seeing the slight blush on his cheeks warms your heart.

But despite his stammering, he doesn't seem to be done. “And you know, I think it's... incredibly sexy to have a girlfriend who knows what she wants...” he whispers softly, giving you a warm smile as he extends his hand and gently grabs your free one. “Even if it's fucking a phallic looking sea creature...”

Your mouth falls open, and you are tempted to slap him if only you had a hand to do so. He chuckles softly and leans in to press his lips to your cheek as you struggle to free your hand from his grip.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, looking deep into your eyes as you stare at him, still indecisive whether to forgive him or not. Then again you should be grateful that he's actually trying to understand your situation instead of just fussing about it. Weirdly enough he doesn't even seem jealous. And why should he? You would never replace him with a little squid. Right?

Then again, a magical little creature like that would never look at you like he does now, saying he doesn't judge you and then still make jokes about it. But maybe that is who he is, always resorting to humour when things get too serious, too tough, too outlandish? Too strange to understand? If you look past your own lust-filled mind, you do realize that it's strange, of course it is, it's abnormal, it's – no. No, it's not. It's what makes you happy, like he said. It's only embarrassing because nobody tries to understand the needs you have.

And if that need is – yeah, we get it.

Sighing deeply, you close your eyes, press your lips into a thin line, and focus on the soft pulsing that thrums through your hand as you hold the little squid. Not as little any more, which makes the whole deal even harder to understand, but maybe it's not about understanding after all. It's about acceptance. Before anyone else, you realize you have to accept your own desires, no matter how twisted and disturbing and wrong they may be, and once you can do that, others will too – as seen by the patient gaze Sebastian is throwing you as you eventually open your eyes again.

He gently squeezes your hand, and you squeeze right back as you try to smile at him. His other hand is at your face then, as he wipes at your wet cheeks. “Come on,” he whispers and pulls you back towards the couch without another word. You follow him without hesitation. He sits down, and you sit beside him, placing the squid on your lap, watching it lie there for a moment in the groove between your closed legs, its tendrils twitching, lazily moving over your thighs towards your hidden centre.

“Eager little guy,” Sebastian comments quietly as he wraps one arm around your shoulder, joining you in watching the creature move on your lap.

“It sometimes reminds me of you, you know?” you whisper then, your voice hoarse.

He laughs. “Really?”

“It's eager, as you said, but also considerate, and seems to be able to read my mind and does everything I want... it's always there for me, it makes me happy, very happy...” you list quietly before turning your head to him, smiling shyly. “Just like you.”

He looks at you silently, his eyes warm.

“It's also, obviously, a great lover, but you knew that already, right?” you add with a smirk that finally breaks his silence as he barks a loud laugh.

“Is it better than me?” he teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Comparing people is really an unhealthy thing to do, you know?” you whisper with a quiet chuckle that makes him raise an eyebrow. “You are both very unique in everything that you do.”

His eyebrow rises even higher at that.

You lean closer and grab his chin to tilt it down before you kiss his lips softly. “Don't be jealous,” you whisper. “You have no reason to be. I love you, Sebastian,” you add, kissing him again.

He keeps staring at you before his eyes wander down to your lap where the squid is trying to press itself between your thighs, eager to get away apparently. “Maybe it is jealous...” he says quietly.

“Oh it most certainly is, it acts weird when I'm with you, it –”

His eyes narrow playfully. “Now, exactly where do you hide it, when you're with me?”

Your face turns bright red all over again. Hitting his chest, you groan. Instead of saying anything, you inhale deeply and shift on the couch, slowly opening your legs as you do so. The squid's tentacles grip your thighs as it sees its chance, and while you know what's about to happen, you look up at Sebastian, who stares at your crotch with his eyes wide and his mouth open and his face just as red as yours as he witnesses how the not so little creature presses his long body between your tight folds and vanishes inside your body in a swift motion that makes you shudder deeply.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers with his voice slightly higher than normal. “That's...” You see his lips moving, but no more sounds come from him. It's almost amusing if it wouldn't be equally mortifying. But then he finishes his sentence, and it's your turn to stare at him. “Hot. That's hot. I don't know what else to say, but you have no idea how much that turned me on just now...”

Your laugh is both surprised and soft, and when your eyes wander over his body, you laugh even louder. “Oh I have some idea...” you whisper, your hand gliding over his thigh before you pull his legs apart slightly, revealing his proudly erect cock.

He meets your gaze and smirks at you before his hands find your face and a second later his lips yours as he smashes his mouth against your own. You gasp into the sudden kiss, but quickly grab the back of his neck and kiss him back almost desperately. Happy to be back on normal terms with him, and not just that, apparently on even better ones.

You had no idea he would react like this. Not once in your many what-if-scenarios was this the outcome. And you're glad that, despite it all, he can still surprise you like that.

Somehow you end up in your original position, back pushed into the cushions of the couch with Sebastian leaning on his elbows and his body weighing down on yours. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, while deep inside you, the squid starts thrumming against your walls, mirroring the tension that's building in your stomach.

“So,” he whispers between kisses. “Seeing that my... favourite hole of yours... is currently... occupied... how about I... explore your other one... tonight?”

You laugh against his lips. “You don't like to share a hole?”

He frowns at that. “Would it want that?”

“Would you want that?” you ask back.

“No, no, would you want that? I'd imagine that might be rather... painful?” He watches you closely, shifting slightly on top of you.

“Painful for whom?”

“You!” he exclaims with a surprised chuckle. “Or... it? Or me? Does it bite? What if it gets jealous and strangles me with those... tentacles?”

Your turn to chuckle. “It might get territorial if it's too tight, you're right,” you then agree, smirking at him.

His concern turns into that smug expression you love and hate so much. “Better leave it alone in there. Besides, it did have its chance in your... tight... little... bum,” he then says, accentuating his words by slipping his hand under your body and teasing your puckered hole with careful little prods. “Didn't it?”

You squirm against him, laughing softly. “And you won't be sad that you're not the first to breach my... little bum?” you ask quietly, biting your swollen lip.

He gives you a playful pout before he smiles widely. “Nah, it can have that. I was your first in everything else,” he says proudly, leaning closer to kiss you deeply. “Your first kiss,” he adds and moves his hand around your hip and towards your centre. “Your first love, your first... lover, your first boyfriend, in that order,” he laughs softly, and you feel his fingers teasing your folds.

As he does, the squid inside you starts stirring, humming almost angrily, and soon enough you feel the familiar tickle of its tentacles pushing past your entrance, and when they do, you see Sebastian's eyes widening as he quickly withdraws his hand. He leans back on his knees and stares at the little tendrils protruding like angry little antennas before they slip back into you, vanishing out of sight. He clears his throat and shakes his head, exhaling a laugh.

“I might never get used to that sight...” he whispers, a slight blush spreading over his freckled shoulders. “How does it feel?” he then asks, looking back at you.

You rub your warm cheeks. “Really good,” you admit. “It's humming right now, and it can make its body soft or hard, depending on... well, what I need. And the tentacles... tickle nicely, but they also have a really strong grip, and some can become bigger and –” You stop talking as you notice the smirk on his lips, and you blush an even deeper shade of red.

“You sound happy,” he then whispers and surprises you yet again.

You smile shyly. “I am,” you reply before you reach out your arms to beckon him closer to you. He complies and lies down on top of you, his weight pushing you into the cushions. “And not because I have a... phallic looking thing inside my pussy, okay?” you clarify with a laugh as you press your lips to his warm cheek. “I'm happy because you accept me for what I am... what I do... what I... need...”

He cradles your head between his big hands and kisses you softly. “Of course, love,” he says quietly. “I'm here for you and your needs... even if I'm sometimes an idiot about it...”

You poke his jaw in response and grin at him. He smirks against your lips. “Thank you,” you whisper and close your eyes as he leans closer to plant soft kisses on your forehead, your temple and your eyelid.

“Don't thank me yet, I will ravage that sweet little bum of yours tonight,” he then says and leans back on his arms, smiling down at you despite the dark gleam in his eyes. “Right?” At least he still asks you about it.

You chuckle and nod. “Please do,” you breathe softly, biting your lip.

That's all he needs to hear before he scrambles off you and grabs your waist, almost forcefully flipping you onto your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp-laugh, feeling your insides churning in anticipation, which in turn makes the creature inside your tight walls pulse and thrum almost aggressively, its body hardening as it prods against your soft flesh. You gasp under the sensation and when Sebastian lifts your hips up and starts kneading your bum cheeks eagerly.

Your face is pressed into the cushions of the couch as you try to get into a more comfortable position. Your heart is thundering inside your chest, and you just know this will be a night to remember, all parties involved will make sure of that, you can already feel it in your aching muscles.

← CHAPTER 3 - // - CHAPTER 5 →

Notes: Originally this is where the "short fic/long oneshot" ends, but I kept writing and writing, and two more chapters came from my fingers... so there'll be more, much more of this filthy little tale!

*Also I'm not too sure I labeled this right. A squid isn't technically a monster (even though it's closest because of its tentacles and magical nature I guess?), so it's not technically Teratophilia (attraction to monsters), but I also don't want to call this Zoophilia (attraction to animals) because even though a squid is more or less an animal, it just gives off a different vibe. Maybe it's more akin to Ophidiophilia (attraction to snakes)... Difficult thing, these niche kinks.

The time I spent worrying about the correct label when this is just a silly little smut fic. Oh well.

Thanks for reading!

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#mysmut #smut #reader insert #x reader #female reader #f!reader #fem reader #dirty mind #ao3 writer #ao3 smut #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #thirsty thursday

[cellythefloshie]

Cellythefloshie's Birthday Bingo Celebration 2024

It's that time of year again!

My birthday is in September, so we will have the "deadline" set to September 2nd 2024.

I will reblog any fics on @cellysbookshelf and will be following the tag #cellysbingo2024 but please be sure to tag me at @cellythefloshie to assure I don't miss it!

5 in a row = bingo!

at the start of the fic please include the 5 tropes you have chosen

There is no word count or expected format. You can write it as a fic, or in my imagine/blurb format (example), I will be happy with either.

I do not have a preference for reader insert or Original Character content.

Will only read player x reader or player x original character stories. I am not interested in player x player content.

Please do not write about players drafted after the 2018 draft. I will not read them.

If you have a player you are unsure about, feel free to message me and ask about them!

Smut is welcome but not expected. Please tag all 18+ content accordingly.

If writing smut please avoid themes of BDSM, degradation (mild is okay), non-con (dubcon is okay) and anal sex. I thought this list would be longer, but I can't think of anything else.

RE: FREE SPACE - pick any trope on the board that is not in line with the row you are after.

RE: INSPIRED BY - this can be anything inspired by a song, album, tv show, etc. Example: Inspired by a Taylor Swift Song. Inspired by this Grey's Anatomy Episode. Get creative!

RE: TABOO - includes and isn't limited to infidelity, stepcest, sex work etc. Please specify the taboo element in your fic if you choose this space.

Now, if I have tagged you I do not expect you to write anything. But if you could please give this a reblog it would be greatly appreciated - and thank you for making hockey rpf such a wonderful community to be a part of! @hockeyboysimagines , @hagelpoint-3821 , @hischierdevils , @stlbluesbrat21 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @claireelle18 , @senditcolton , @mp0625 , @laurenairay , @swissboyhisch , @comphy-and-cozy

I welcome stories from any and all in celebration of my birthday!

#celly things #celly rambles #celly events #cellysbingo2024 #;; { posting this early because i know people wanted to participate but ran out of time last year }

[beskarinhyperspace]

A Ripple In Space |Kylo Ren, *ongoing

*Mature, Explicit, NSFW*

// AO3 | Wattpad | MASTERLIST

You have been kidnaped and brought on the finalizer where you meet the famous Kylo Ren. The one who brought so much fear and destruction to the galaxy. Not being able to know the truth about your identity, he keeps you imprisoned on his ship.

Both POV Fem.reader insert

*Canon Divergence, slow burn, softdom, hurt/comfort **Kylo is supreme leader, Rey? we don't know her..

Tags; slow burn, fluff, smutt, angst, comfort, touch starved kylo, fools in love, insecure kylo, he needs a hug, feelings, plot with p, no y/n, pet names.

1. More Air  -Silly girl, I need you alive..

2. Black And Grey -What is this? What does he want?

3. Leather And Blaster Dust  -This was a new kind of power, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

4. Viper -I just want to know you more.

5. Prejudice -I want to do that with you, all of you.

[envysnest]

Snakeskin (Sephiroth/Reader) (ch. 13/?)

AO3 / Pillowfort

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Tags: First Time, Reader-Insert, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Frank Discussions of Past Rape/Abuse, Everyone is Queer, Canon-Compliant (if you squint), Pre-Crisis-Core Seph, Slow Burn, i continue to disappoint my friends and family, sephiroth is a virgin and in this essay i will, Reader is a Cis Woman, fluffy sex, Praise Kink, Gratuitous Biochemistry

Summary:

You are a young biologist, fresh out of graduate school, working in Shinra's R&D Division under Professor Hojo. You had long since given up on finding a partner and starting a family, preferring instead the company of your cell samples and your scientific instruments.

As the conflict in Wutai worsens, you strike up an unexpected friendship with a First Class SOLDIER.

(Sephiroth/Reader Slow Burn)

TW's for this chapter: Dissociation, trauma flashback, body horror/violence (related to the trauma flashbacks). Comfort and soothing comes with all of these events!

—

A door closed. You startled awake. How long had you been lying there? The water was still hot. Condensation dripped from the mirror. You looked down at your hands, where the water had wrinkled your fingertips into little raisins. When you sat up, the wine made your head spin.

Someone was in the apartment with you.

You held your breath, held very very still, and listened.

Did Sephiroth have cleaners or other people over? What if someone saw you? You looked desperately at the open bathroom door, wishing you had closed it behind you. The person (intruder, whoever they were) was humming to themselves and puttering around the main living space. You heard bags hit the floor, zippers and buckles being undone. A ghoulish image filled your head: a Turk, sent to fetch you, waiting to pounce just beyond the door. No touching, they’d say. The ethics board will be notified. 

You drew your knees to your chest; the tub water sloshed violently. 

The intruder called out your name. “Are you in the bathroom?”

Sephiroth. 

Oh. You loosened your grip on your knees. “Yes,” you called back. When would you stop being so paranoid? Sephiroth had trusted you with a key, after all; it wasn’t as if he had people coming and going freely. You had almost forgotten he was due to return home.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yes,” you called again, for lack of anything else to say.

There was a loaded pause. You could hear his footsteps in the kitchen.

When he finally spoke, his tone was breathless with laughter:“Did you fall in?”

Please kill me. You rubbed your face with your hands. “No, Seph,” you sighed. “Just in the tub.” 

“Good,” he replied; you could still hear the laughter in his voice. “Because if I had to conduct another rescue, I would lose my mind.”

You smiled. When you relaxed your arms, you felt pain seep out of your muscles. You had been tense, holding in fear of— 

What? Sephiroth being angry with you? 

You thought back to your earlier worrying: it was so easy to disregard his feelings when the man himself wasn’t in the next room, unpacking from an arduous mission. You felt a little childish about how you had behaved the past week. He deserved so much better than your petulant attitude. It was his first…Thing. In the next room, Sephiroth began whistling. He should have an agreeable partner who didn’t think awful, mean things about him when he was away. His life was stressful enough.

With a jolt, you realized you had left the stockings in the dryer. So much for surprise: if he did his laundry, he’d see them, soft and wrinkled, in a sad little heap. You looked down at your knees, at your body tucked into a ball. 

A dark shape appeared in the door. You shrunk away from it.

“Don’t get up,” Sephiroth said, one hand outstretched to you. He looked— excited? “I have a gift for you.”

“A…?”

Sephiroth turned and disappeared into the bedroom across the hall. “I was hoping to get your opinion on it,” he called. You heard him rummage in the closet; you craned your neck to try and see him. A few boxes thunked to the floor.“I get a lot of promotional material I don’t need, but this looked interesting. I wanted us to try it together.”

You swallowed past a lump in your throat. The images your mind conjured weren’t exactly welcome. “I’m scared,” you called.

“Don’t be,” he called back. “I think you’ll like it.”

More rustling. You sank into the water to your chin. You wished the water wasn’t clear: even curled into a fetal position, Sephiroth could see all of you. So much for the surprise.

Sephiroth was gone for several minutes, rummaging through his clothes drawers. You stared at the empty wine glass. Did he look at that framed picture in the closet every time he came home? Did he speak to it?

Who was she, exactly?

When he returned, he was dressed in a loose teal shirt and navy sweatpants. The shirt’s vinyl print was faded and cracked: Livin’ on Island Time, it said, the font a cheery purple, next to a glossy margarita.

His hands were cupped around something cylindrical. 

You leaned back, away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice your hesitation. Or, for that matter, that you were naked. There was no snide comment, no leer, no raised eyebrow. You may as well have been meeting on the 64th floor. 

Sephiroth nodded to the book on the side table. “Great choice. I find Becken’s spare prose masterful, especially during the lecture hall scene.”

You had fallen asleep around twenty pages in.  “Oh.” You watched as he carefully set the wine glass, then the book, onto the bathroom’s marble counter. “Totally.”

“Let’s get this table out of the way.” He moved the wooden side table back into its nook. You didn’t understand why until he knelt next to your left arm, right where the table had been. “Here.” 

The cylindrical object was a small amber bottle, nestled in his hands. He offered it to you over the lip of the tub; you picked it up, held it up to the light. The label was from a luxury beauty brand, one you could never afford, had its logo printed across the front. You sat straight up. This bottle held around fifty-thousand gil’s worth of product, and you were naked in a bathtub. The body oil inside gave off a faint aroma through the cap: something woody, floral. 

Sephiroth crossed his arms and leaned them against the lip of the tub. “Apparently this is a warming massage oil,” he said, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “It’s supposed to be good for sore muscles.”

“Seph,” you breathed. You checked the back and scanned the ingredients. “They just…give you this? For free?”

He shrugged. “They usually want a sponsorship out of it,” he replied. “I turned this one down. But,” he said, his tone mischievous, “I don’t have to return what they give me.”

Suddenly, the cardboard boxes piled in the closet made perfect sense. You felt a pang of envy. Every paycheck you received seemed to disappear the second you got it. The tights, though in your price range, had been your “treat” for the week. An endless flow of free luxury products felt unreal, decadent. He had handed this to you as casually as a pair of chopsticks or a glass of wine.

You looked up at him, feeling unmoored. “You’re…giving it to me?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s your gift.” He leaned his cheek against his forearm, looking up at you. “You want to try it now?”

“Yes,” you said. “Please?”

He scrunched his nose as he smiled. “‘Please,’ she says.” He gestured to you. “Go on.”

You could barely keep your hands still as you removed the cap. You broke the plastic seal and brought the bottle to your nose. A forest, tinged with citrus and juniper, filled your nostrils. It reminded you of a rainforest, somewhere far away, during a downpour: peaceful, as if you were bathing outdoors there, alone. It smelled expensive.

“Wow.” You offered the bottle to Sephiroth. “Smell!”

He took the bottle from you and inhaled. He coughed, turning his head away. 

You grimaced. “That bad?”

“That is a lot,” he wheezed, holding the bottle at arm’s length. He blinked rapidly against the fumes. “We probably don’t need much.” He turned the bottle over and scanned the instructions, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “It says a palmful. I’m afraid to use more.”

You offered him the cap, and he set it aside on the bathroom counter, right next to the wineglass. It wasn’t until he repositioned himself behind you that you realized what he meant.

You froze, staring at the open door. “Wait. Wait wait wait. Like. Now, now?”

“Oh,” he said behind you. “I wasn’t clear. Did you want me to put it on you?” A pause. “I thought it could be…” He cleared his throat. “A nice activity.”

Those books under his bed. Your stomach sank. You were sure at least one of your therapy books had mentioned massages as a way to introduce intimacy. He must have been pent-up, and anyway, that amount of high-quality takeout wasn’t cheap. This is what you’re here for, you thought. You can’t have forgotten that already.

But you wanted to hope anyway. It was in your nature to. 

Your breath hitched when you tried to speak. “Oh,” you said, then, “Um,” then, “If you want?”

“If I want?” Sephiroth teases, and you dimly recognized that low tone, the one he used when he spoke to you in bed. You were definitely not imagining things. “What do you want?”

Affection and disgust each roiled within you, locked in a tight embrace. Did normal people feel this way when they had sex? Did normal people blow ten thousand gil on lingerie, hoping it would impress their partner into staying? 

“This,” you said. “I want this.”

He chuckled. “The lady always gets her way.”

You looked down at the water, at your body underneath the surface. Sephiroth set the bottle aside and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you said to the water. It wasn’t as if he needed to ask. Not many people did.

His palms settled on both of your shoulders. The smell of juniper and cedar wafted by your nose. When his thumbs pushed into either side of your spine, you stifled a pleased gasp: Impossible warmth trailed after his touch. He repeated the motion, digging his thumbs in deeper.

“How’s that?” he asked behind you. 

You pressed back against his hands in reply, making a soft little hum as you did.

“You’re all tight up here,” he murmured. “Do you lean down when you work?”

A few months ago, Hammond had slipped you a tiny poster for your cubicle: a shrimp in a suit and tie, hunched over a desk. No shrimping!! it said. “I’m always leaning down,” you say. The hot water, the warming oil, his careful hands digging right where you wanted them: it was all making you drowsy. He steadied his hand on your front and pressed into your shoulder with the heel of his hand, and you felt your muscle shifting for him, like your body was opening itself to his touch. (Traitor, you thought.) “I know HR has these ergonomic meetings, and they’re mandatory, but…I don’t know.”

“Take advantage.” Sephiroth switched to your other shoulder. “There’s always money for desk chairs, believe me.”

“I’m so jealous of your apartment,” you blurted. The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. How rude of you; how snippy; how petty. 

Sephiroth sighed. “It’s a wonderful space. If only I was allowed to use it more often.”

“I’m sorry, Seph,” you said. “I didn’t mean it that way, and— and here I am using your hot water— I didn’t mean—”

“Actually,” he said, and his voice was gentle, “I would argue your presence makes it a home.”

You turned around to look at him. Sephiroth’s answering smile was small. Shy. It was so different from the frozen Late Nite Midgar smile; different from the smirk he wore during fights. 

It was you: he was different around you. Reality tilted in strange ways around him, distorting and stretching into long, languid shapes, like light around a black hole. There was no surviving an event horizon; you would fall, willingly, into this one.

Sephiroth nodded towards the door. “You’re going to have to face forward if you want me to keep going.”

You turned forward. It seemed silly that he would hurt you. Or…did it? Affection and disgust again, dancing that strange tango in your brain: that odd feeling that your skin should crawl where he touched you, that confusion when all it felt like was bliss.

“Did you mind when I called you a tease?”

You started. “Huh?”

Sephiroth’s hands paused at the base of your neck. “Calling you a tease.” He shifted his hand behind you and went still, like he was considering something. After a pause, he made a v with his knuckles and pushed down on either side of your first vertebrae. You sighed into his touch. He asked, “Was that going too far?”

You turned around to face him again. The bath water sloshed around you. “What, like…yesterday?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes downcast. His ears were pink. “The message I sent.”

You couldn’t imagine the man from your screen getting up, going home, and looking up how to have sex. “I…no. It was nice.”

His face brightened, and heaven help you, you were incredibly fond of him. “You liked it?” he asked.

“You’re still learning all this stuff,” you said as you turned forward. “I should be asking you.”

“I never considered that,” Sephiroth replied, and you could hear his smile. “I only think of pleasing you.”

You smiled at the doorway. “Goes both ways,” you murmured. “Don’t feel pressured. Okay?”

“You’re too kind,” he said. One hand pressed against your sternum. “Lie back. I’ll get your arms.” His hands moved to your left bicep, thumbs pressing in and pushing upwards towards your shoulder. You leaned back against the tub, staring up at the ceiling.

When the silence became too much, you turned your head to look at him. “How was your week?”

Sephiroth growled at your arm.

You smiled. “That bad?”

“That bad.” He focused on your left hand, rubbing tender circles into your palm. 

“Want to complain?”

“Do I ever. Let’s see…” He turned your hand over and began massaging your arm again. “I thought of you during a morning intelligence briefing. Most of it could've been an e-mail. I wanted to message you about it."

“Why didn't you?"

“I couldn't let everyone see me on my phone. You’d be surprised at what affects morale.” He smiled, looking away from the tub entirely. “It was hard to stay away."

You sat up. “Seph," you breathed. His ears flushed that sweet, particular scarlet you adored, the shade of ripe fruit. “That's so sweet of you."

That made him meet your eye again. He smiled at you, scrunched his nose. “You would have made the time pass faster,” he said, and this time, he sounded more confident. 

You look down at where he took your hand in both of his. The oil was a bronze color, so stark against his milky-white palms. “I don't-- know what to say."

“You don't need to say anything. Compliments are free.” 

You opened your fingers and let them linger over Sephiroth's open palm, whispered them over that calloused skin, those veins like purple ink. His breath caught; his eyes met yours. Watching you closely, he stroked the tender underside of your wrist, just the pads of his index and middle fingers against your pulse. You shivered; his head tilted in gentle curiosity. You got that small feeling again, the good one, the one that made you feel like porcelain. You, something priceless; him, the faithful admirer. Remembering last weekend, you thought he might want to feel it the other way around.

You leaned towards him, holding the edge of the tub for balance. “Let me compliment you back, at least.” 

Sephiroth’s face shuttered. He suddenly looked exhausted as he pushed your hand back to you. “Please don’t.”

“What?" You didn’t like that: how quickly he shut down, how his eyes traveled down to rest on the bathmat below. You withdrew your hand from the tub's edge. “What's wrong with that?"

“’Sephiroth, the war hero.’” He did a sarcastic little sparkle with his hands. “’The great and mighty SOLDIER, defender of the free world. Come see what shaving cream he uses.'"

“What about…” You lied back and looked up at the ceiling. “The things that only I would know? Or that your friends would know?”

He wordlessly gestured for your right arm. You turned around to face the glass shower and offered it over the lid of the tub. Sephiroth took your hand, but he still wouldn’t look at you, preferring instead to stare at his thumbs as they worked over your palm. The oil left gentle heat wherever it touched. Silence fell again, and you looked ahead, at the shower. You watched a droplet creep down over the glass wall. It eventually joined with another droplet further down, and the two continued their quest towards the tile as one.

Sephiroth huffed, and you looked to him. “I…” He worried his bottom lip in his teeth. “I’m not really a compliments person.”

You waited for him to follow up on that. He didn’t.

“Can I…at least try?" You held up your free hand in surrender. “Unless you wouldn't want that?"

Sephiroth looked up at you, and for a moment, you thought he might be game, until—

“Tell me about your week, instead,” he said, and his smile was a little absent. “Anything exciting?”

You remembered the baying, jeering crowd at Late Nite Midgar, how Sephiroth had looked lost until someone put Masamune in his hand again. 

“Besides Hojo?” you asked.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes dramatically. There it was, he was back from wherever he had run away to. “You must be excited for your presentation.”

“I think we have good data.” You trailed your fingers over Sephiroth’s arm. Goosebumps raised on his skin. “But speaking in front of that huge conference room? Kinda makes me wanna throw up.”

“Tell me about the data you have. Practice your presentation with me.”

You bristled. “Well, I don’t exactly have it right now.”

He shrugged, but you caught the quirk of his lips when he did. “Just talk to me about it.”

You thought for a moment. “There’s sugar in mako, or something like it, I think. A sugar,” you added, “not, like, sugar for coffee or tea. It…how do I explain this…”

Sephiroth studied your face. To your relief, he looked content, almost peaceful. “Go on.”

“It…binds glucose— sugar receptors on the liver cells. We think, anyway. There’s high blood glucose after dosing, too. Still have some follow-ups in mind, but I don’t even know what the liver does with it. It’s not like mako poisoning causes weight gain. If anything, it’s—”

“The opposite.” Sephiroth wrapped his hand around your bicep. You tried not to think about how easily he could shatter it, and then failed. 

You closed your eyes and turned away, away from where he was coaxing his hand up towards your shoulder. “Right. And mako is an appetite suppressant, isn’t it? Maybe it’s binding GLUT1 competitively. Or it’s messing with insulin output?” You hugged your knees with your free arm. “I don’t know. I’d have to ask Yun’s team if they’ve seen evidence of diabetic shock in test subjects. I’m not sure if the body would be able to pull up glucose from food if there was a polysaccharide in the way.” You hesitated. “Did you…get any of that?”

Sephiroth smiled and nodded. “Mm-hmm. Every word.”

You laughed, and then you remembered Friday afternoon. “Oh!” you exclaimed, trying to sound casual. “Off-topic, but I-- I saw the strangest thing. Maybe you’d know something? Genesis looked like he took a bad hit to the face.”

His hands stilled. Sephiroth gave you an odd look. “You saw Genesis hurt?”

“His nose was broken.” You gestured to your own nose with a cupped hand. “Do you know why?”

“I do.”

“What was it?”

Sephiroth’s answer was swift and casual, as if he was describing the weather:

“It was me.”

There was a high-pitched ringing in your ears. You licked your lips, but they felt painfully dry. “Why?” was all you managed.

He sighed heavily beside you. His hand lingered on your shoulder. You imagined him shoving your head down under the water, how the water would burn your sinuses as it rushed into your waiting lungs. 

Would you fight back? Would you splash water on the tile floor?

“We had a fight,” Sephiroth said carefully, “and he said something…unkind.” His voice was tense: you could hear him tip-toeing around the truth, and this frightened you even more. “I lost my temper. The next thing I remember was seeing him turned away from me.” Sephiroth’s hand left your shoulder. “I regretted it immediately,” he continued. “We haven’t spoken since.” He hesitated. “You say he was still injured?”

You stared straight ahead. “What did he say to you?”

“I’d rather not repeat it.” There was pain in his voice. “Please, when you say he was—”

“It was broken.” Your voice was hoarse. “He had a black eye.”

“I know, but when?”

“It was yesterday—no, sorry, Friday—”

“Still?” 

Still. That word made a bell ring faintly in your mind. Genesis belonged to Hollander’s team, and it was no secret that Hollander and Hojo didn’t get along. Nevertheless, Hollander’s SOLDIERs couldn’t, somehow, be more fragile than Hojo’s. At the very least, Hojo’s SOLDIERs healed quickly. Didn’t they both report to Lazard? And if that was the case…

“When did you fight?” you asked.

“Monday. Sometime in the afternoon.”

Sephiroth hit a First hard enough to bruise for five days straight.

Suddenly, you wanted nothing more than for him to stop touching you. 

Your eyes darted around the bathroom. Sephiroth asked something, but it was muffled, as if coming from far away. You had the odd sensation of floating, face-down, in the tub. He asked something again. You blinked at your knees. You thought of the studio audience laughing, Genesis’s pained glare as he stalked past you on Friday afternoon, the painted skull on the poster Sephiroth’s face. You thought of Angeal crying out in silence on your muted laptop.

When you came to, you were standing. Sephiroth was wrapping something warm and soft around you: a bathrobe, one far too long and baggy for you. Your skin was already dry. You looked back at the bathtub, but it was empty.

“The water was getting cold,” Sephiroth said. He was focused on tying the belt around your waist. From this angle, his long bangs whispered against your shoulders. “I didn’t want you getting sick on my account.”

“Wouldn’t want to waste my PTO,” you said. 

His eyes flicked up to yours. His expression was unreadable. “Come on.” He put a hand on your lower back. “Let’s get you out of this bathroom.”

He ushered you across the hall. You walked with him, or you’re sure you did, because when you blinked again, you were standing in front of the bed. Sephiroth’s arms snuck around your waist and undid the robe’s belt. As the robe slid down, Sephiroth bent forward and kissed the exposed skin of your shoulders: first left, then right. You shivered. He smiled against the crook of your neck. You could only think about how odd his mouth felt on your neck. You thought of the party again, of that boy’s cold and clammy lips on your skin. Sephiroth’s mouth felt the same way. The robe fell to the floor.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice a low purr next to your left ear.

“Yes,” you lied.

“Good.” Sephiroth loosened your hair, ran his hands gently through it. You were sure it was lying awkwardly against your scalp now, but all you could think about were those large, warm, friendly hands meeting bone and cartilage. 

“Okay,” he said. “Stay still.”

He took your head between both of his palms and gently turned it to one side. You saw your frightened face in the bedroom’s full-length mirror. Your naked body looked pathetic next to his clothed one. Sephiroth wasn’t looking in the mirror, focused as he was on you. You met your own terrified eyes.

An image, clear as day, surfaced in your mind: Sephiroth twisting your neck with a sickening crack, leaving your skull hanging limply to one side—

“No!” you shouted, and your body moved. His hands left you: you weren’t sure if you pushed them away, or if he had taken them off of you.

You felt your own face in your hands, as if to confirm your skull was still there. The image wouldn’t leave your mind, and you wrung your hands, as if to flick it away from you. You stumbled to the bed and leaned over it, panting. 

It was a long time before you were able to stand up straight. You looked behind you, back at Sephiroth.

He blinked down at you. His hands were still in mid-air, his entire body stiff and unmoving. He looked lost. Regret burned in your chest. 

His voice was soft. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no—“ He had done nothing wrong. You sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing your arms over your bare chest. “I just…” You shook your head and hunched over, further hiding your body from his view. 

“Your neck seemed tight,” he offered. “I wanted to help—“

“Sorry,” you said, and you winced at how harsh your voice sounded. You purposely softened it. “I…I didn’t…” 

You trailed off. The impulse seemed stupid, now. Of course he wouldn’t break your neck. Of course he would be tender with you. Hadn’t his hands felt good earlier? He kept trying to initiate, and you wouldn’t let him. The room was spinning; you pressed your hands to your face.

He touched your shoulder. “I won’t touch you like that again,” he said, petting your skin tenderly. You despised it. “Would you prefer to lie down?”

That conjured a worse image. You shrugged off his touch. “No.”

The room was silent.

“I’m confused,” he said. “Would you like me to go into the other room?”

You shook your head. “No, it’ll…it’ll pass. Please, just…” You massaged your temples. “Give me a second?”

“This is about Genesis, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pain arced through your chest, like lightning burning a tree from the inside-out. You weren’t sure what your outburst was about, other than your body betraying you for the umpteenth time. “I don’t…I’m not sure.”

Something rustled at your feet. Sephiroth’s hands appeared in your vision, offering you the crumpled bathrobe. You took it from him, but you made no move to put it on. Instead, it sat in your lap, all balled up like you had been in the tub. You worried at a loose thread. How much had this cost? Or was this free, too?

“Why don’t I get you a glass of water?” Sephiroth asked.

“Okay,” you said to the robe.

You watched, blankly, as Sephiroth straightened up and walked for the door. You looked down at the robe again.

“It’s stupid,” you said to the floor, to your bare feet on the carpet.

“What is?”

“I thought…” You pressed your thumbs to your eyes until you saw stars. You shouldn’t have said anything. “I thought….s-something…bad was gonna happen.”

“Why?”

You opened your eyes again. Sephiroth was halfway out of the room, lingering in the doorway: just turned to you, as if you had caught him mid-action. He rested his hand on the doorframe.

You sighed. “I saw…” You threw your hands up. “Seph, it really is stupid.”

His expression was tender, expectant. “No it isn’t.” He gestured at you. “Go ahead.”

“Do you…?” You had to get this out; he wasn’t going to let it go. It felt like you were at the front of the classroom, being mocked by the teacher for passing notes. “Okay.” You took a deep breath. “Do you remember…those, um, those…?” You snapped your fingers. “What are they called.”

Sephiroth smiled. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Ugh. Like those…s-stupid promo…videos or whatever.”

He inclined his head. “You’re…” He laughed and shook his head. “Going to have to be more specific.”

“The promo one! Where you and Angeal fought!” you blurted. “From ’96.”

“Which one?”

Which one? How many of these awful videos were there? Sephiroth driving his sword into Angeal, the blood in the grass, ad infinitum, on thousands of blurry screens. “The one where you, like.” You mimed stabbing someone at your feet.

He tapped his finger against the doorframe as he thought. “Ah,” he said finally, face brightening in that way you thought you were fond of. “Yes, that was a good fight.” He turned to face you, jamming his hands in his pant pockets. “Why do you ask?”

Nausea turned your stomach at how calm, even eager, he looked to discuss it. You dug your fingers into the comforter. “I, um…it. It came up in my recommended videos and I…it…”

He inclined his head towards you, silently urging you on.

“Scared me,” you whispered.

He startled. “Scared you? What about it scared you?”

“Like…just—“ You stared at the carpet. “With Genesis, and— and the— videos— I thought what if I make him mad and—“ You covered your face. “And when you held my head I was like he could just—“

You had his full attention now. You waved at him. “Seph, it was…” You sighed and put your face in your hands. “I told you,” you muttered. “Stupid.”

“Did you think I would hurt you?” he said, and his voice was small. Afraid. You never wanted him to sound like that again. You shouldn’t have said anything.

“Yes,” you sighed into your hands. “I’m sorry.”

You felt the bed dip: he had crossed the room to sit next to you. “May I hold you?”

This, you could do. You could always let him hold you.

You wanted him to.

You wordlessly turned and pressed your forehead to his shirt. He folded you into his arms, leaning over you: his warmth, his body, everything that made you feel safe and familiar and loved. Though the angle was awkward (and immediately undid his hard work back in the tub), you felt blessed relief. His hair, soft and familiar, draped over your shoulders, whispered past your cheek.

You felt, rather than heard, his voice: “I will never do that to you.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you whispered into his shirt. He rubbed soothing circles into your back.

“No, it—“ He sighed with exasperation. “I thought you had seen those.”

“I’ve only been here for nine months,” you said into his chest. “I just don’t really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

“Oh?” he said. “That must be why you’re so normal.”

“Shinra only hires you if you’re nuts.” You pressed your ear to his shirt, just to hear the steady thmp-thmp of his heartbeat again. “It— it was in my hiring packet, at least.”

“I must have missed that clause. Here.” He released you and gestured to the robe. “You’re going to catch cold. Seriously. Put something on.”

You twisted your mouth. “Thought you wanted me undressed,” you mumbled.

Sephiroth suddenly laughed, full-throated and loud. You jumped. “Maybe later,” he said above you. “But not now. I’m starving.”

The food. “Oh!” you said, looking up at him. “I still owe you. I— I left most of it—” You pinched your index and thumb together. “I tried to eat, like, just a little of everything—”

He bumped shoulders with you before standing. “I told you,” he said, his voice trailing off as he stretched. You heard his joints crack. “A detailed review is payment enough.”

You stood up to dress, but Sephiroth was halfway out the door again. “Come on,” you said to his retreating back. “Let me throw you a couple thousand gil. Please?”

“It was a gift.” He disappeared into the kitchen beyond. “Did you eat yet?” he called.

You shifted from foot to foot. Before you could catch yourself, you looked towards the full-length mirror again, at your reflection. You had to roll up the sleeves of the robe to cross your arms properly. The old temptation to lie caught on your tongue in this place: you could say you were stuffed, really, you were. You could lure him back to bed and let him do what he wanted with you, as if letting him inside of you would make your brain stop screaming for help. At the very least, those cold, clammy kisses on your shoulder had made everything go completely still.

“No,” you said to your reflection. “I’m starving.”

“Then come out here and join me already.”

“In...this robe?”

Sephiroth laughed. The noise carried across the kitchen tile. “Yes, in your robe. There’s no dress code here.” He was rummaging around and fussing already. “We’ve done worse on these counters.”

You felt embarrassed at the memory, but that feeling of safety flared in you again. You looked down at yourself, making sure the robe was secured around your waist. After some hesitation, you pressed the bathrobe to your nose and inhaled deeply. The fluffy, baby-soft terry fabric smelled like him.

You shuffled out into the hall beyond. Sephiroth leaned against his kitchen counter, staring in concern at his phone. He chewed his bottom lip.

“Seph?” you asked.

He looked up at you, and there was something stern, even dire, in his face. You held your breath. What could you have done to anger him? Was something wrong?

“I’ve invoiced you for your share of the bill,” he said, voice grave. “You had better check your phone.”

“Oh.” You pat the robe’s pockets, but they were empty. “Shit.” You cast around for your phone; it was on the countertop, still plugged into your charger. “Let me—” There was a new notification from the Shinra messaging app sitting at the top of your home screen. “I think I get paid next week—”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Sephiroth said, still entirely serious, and you read the notification:

ShinPay User s1979 has requested 1 gil!

You groaned. Sephiroth threw back his head and laughed.

“Really?” You slumped into one of the bar chairs as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Really? You could have just told me to get you next time.”

He smirked and pushed himself up off the counter. “Ah,” he said, still watching you as he opened the fridge, “but then you’d never listen to me.” 

“Is everyone using ShinPay now?” You dismissed the notification. After a moment, you silenced your phone, too, and you put it face-down on the countertop for good measure. “Am I getting old?”

“Every minute. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” Sephiroth placed each takeout container on the counter. “I feel myself age every time my infantry shows me some new cat video.”

You leaned your cheek against the heel of your hand. “Just cat videos, specifically?”

“Some of them just aren’t funny,” he said to the fridge, and his tone was so petulant you laughed.

“Every time the new semester started at GU, I felt, like, a million years old.” You watched him heap noodles and rice onto clean plates. “It was like a nightmare where I just aged and aged, and everyone just kept getting younger around me.”

“I could use you in my company. Some of this slang is just…” Sephiroth shook his head as he placed a plate in the microwave.

“I know, but do you really want to talk like your cadets?”

Sephiroth gave you a desperate look, nose wrinkling with horror and disgust as he did so, and you giggled. 

He turned back to the microwave. “I’ve got hot pepper somewhere,” he said to it, almost thoughtfully.  “I ought to pile it on your food.”

The microwave chimed, and Sephiroth switched the plates. You crossed your arms against the countertop. “And what if I liked spicy food?”

Sephiroth handed you the plate he had just heated; the ceramic was white-hot under your hands. He gave you that affectionate smirk again. “Then I’ll make sure I’ve got hot pepper available.”

He had given you far too much food, as always: curry sauce dribbled into the fried rice, chicken mingled with shrimp. The food hissed and popped from the microwave. The abundance of it touched you, just as much as the bath, and the massage oil, and the tender hug, and the words of encouragement.

When he sat next to you with his own plate, you nudged his calf with your foot. He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“Thanks, Seph.” 

He seemed to know you weren’t talking about the food. His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. This time, his mouth was just as warm and soft as you remembered.

“Don’t mention it,” he said against your skin. “I’m here for you.”

—

You watched from the living room as Sephiroth loaded the dishwasher. When he straightened up and dried his hands off on his sweatpants, you spoke up again. “Come back to bed?”

He looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there. “Are you sure?”

If anything, he looked more unsure than you did. “Just to cuddle,” you said, and you looked down and away. You fiddled with the bathrobe. “I’ll…put on my pajamas and come sit with you.”

“I can do that,” he said softly. “The bed or the couch? We can always watch a movie.”

Your reply was immediate. “Bed.” You added, “It’s so much bigger than mine at home.”

He smiled at you from under his lashes and nodded towards the bedroom. “Plenty of time to enjoy it before you go tomorrow.”

—

Once you were dressed again, you brought the robe back into the bathroom and hung it up. Sephiroth was waiting for you in bed, lying on his side. He had taken his shirt off. You instinctively reared back, until you saw the waistband of his sweatpants, just peeking out from under the comforter. 

He lifted the sheets next to him in invitation. Yes, he was wearing his sweatpants still: he wasn't going to force you. “Come here.”

You crawled into bed next to him, snuggled close under the covers. Sephiroth held you tightly to his chest, letting out a satisfied sigh. He was all warmth and solid muscle and pale skin. You nuzzled gratefully into his collarbone. He bowed his head, pressed his nose to your hair and breathed in deep.

“So…” you started.

“So.”

“What’s with the voices you do?”

Sephiroth’s rumbling voice reverberated against your cheek: “The ones telling you to quit your job and kill your boss?”

You rolled your eyes. “Never mind.”

“No, no.” A gentle hand stroked through your hair. “Enlighten me. What voices?”

“You do these…” You looked down at your nails. Your cuticles, normally dry and cracking, were so much softer. The massage oil had likely softened your skin. “The impression of Hojo, I mean. You did it so well.”

Sephiroth’s hand paused, and he laughed. “What do you mean?” You felt him shift to look down at you. “You only heard the one voice.”

“You can do more?”

He shrugged. “Just about anyone you can think of,” he replied. 

You traced the length of his side with your eyes. “How? How do you do it, I mean.”

He rolled over to lie on his back, one arm still wrapped around your shoulders, as if he was reluctant to let you go. You rested your cheek against his pectoral muscle and looked out the window with him. It was still pouring outside, the rain hitting the window in irregular tap-tap-taps.

Finally, he shook his head. “It just comes out of me. I’m not sure why. The lab assistants…” He laughed, covered his face. “They used to scream at me for it. Said it was unnatural. I think someone tried to get it banned.” 

You looked up at him. “It’s a little uncanny. It sounds like the person’s inside of you, shouting up.” You clutched at your throat and pointed at the ceiling to demonstrate. “Like, out of your mouth.” 

Sephiroth wrinkled his nose as he returned his arm to your shoulders. “Oh, god,” he said. “I certainly hope not.”

“Really?” With a fingertip, you drew aimless shapes on his chest. "You can imitate anyone?”

“Sure. Try me.”

“I’m…scared to ask what I sound like.”

Sephiroth’s face contorted with embarrassment. “Oh,” he said. “I’ve never tried.” He looked out of the window again. “I don’t wish to offend you.”

“That bad?”

“Of course not. But…” He laughed, tilted his head this way and that. “I learned that people aren’t…appreciative of it, let’s say.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did someone get mad at you for it?”

“Of course.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “There was a bigger guy named Samuel in my troop fifteen years ago. He used to annoy me. Such a big, brutish kid. Always cruel. We were waiting our turn to run a simulation. He jumped the line and pushed me against the wall.” 

Sephiroth’s voice changed into a brutish, unfamiliar growl: “Watch it, freak.” 

You could picture Samuel perfectly: a shaved head, broad shoulders, a pathetic, wispy mustache highlighting a permanent scowl. “And what did you do?”

Sephiroth let his head fall back against the pillow. “I said it back to him, just like that, and he knocked me out.” He smiled and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. “It was worth it to hear everyone laugh.”

Your eyes widened. You sat up. “You got concussed?”

Sephiroth shrugged. “I was fine. I was a smaller kid, so that hit laid me flat.” He rolled onto his right side, towards you, and propped himself up on his elbow. “I was more disappointed about missing the exercise.”

You rested your head on your pillow. Everything Sephiroth said opened more questions. You wanted, so badly, to ask about his training. You wanted to hear how young he was when Shinra pushed him onto the field. His eyes traveled over your face as you watched each other.

“Can you do Angeal?” you asked.

“Oh, please.” He smirked and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was replaced by Angeal’s: “I get that we could save an hour by taking a taxi, but I would prefer we walk. It’s a nice day outside, and we could use the exercise. Cabs are so expensive these days.”

You clutched at your hair in exaggerated surprise. “What?! Seph. How?!”

Sephiroth laughed. “Here, you want Genesis?” Another deep breath, and this time, Genesis’s voice left his mouth: “Loveless, Act Fifteen, Verse 3: And should the sun rise again on another morrow.” Sephiroth raised his arm to the ceiling, eyes turning upwards in a perfect impression of fine art. “You will hear me recite this again, from the beginning.” 

You giggled. Sephiroth grinned at you as he lowered his arm. You choked out, “You are so…so mean!”

“Believe me, they hate it.” 

You slapped his chest playfully. “You have to do me. Come on.”

He suddenly withdrew his arm. He rolled over and pulled the comforter up over his body, leaving you partially exposed to the air. “Good night,” he mumbled.

“Don’t ignore me!” You shook his shoulder. “Please? I won’t be mad.”

He yanked the comforter over his head. “I can’t hear you. I’m asleep.”

“Pretty please?” You draped yourself over his body. “Pleeeease?” Hanging upside-down over his head, you tugged the edge of the comforter away from his face; his glowing eyes peered back at you in the dark. “I won’t be mad,” you said to them. “I promise I won’t.”

“Someone’s persistent.” His voice was muffled by the fabric.

“It’s not super mean, is it?”

Sephiroth shifted under you, and you rolled off of him as he sat up again. “For you?” He shook his head as he rearranged the pillows under him and leaned back. “Never.”

You laid back down on top of him. His fingers traced the curve of your cheeks with a painful fondness. You’d never get tired of his unnatural warmth, especially when the rain outside poured so heavily. You thought, again, of your steam heater, of the bloody nose you got on Monday, while you slept. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him; you draped one leg over his. Sephiroth made a little noise at your cool feet pressing against his legs, right where the sweatpant cuffs had ruched up to expose more skin. 

You gave him what you thought was your best hopeful look. He stared at you for a moment, took a deep breath-- 

“Fine,” he sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, then beckoned to you. “Give me something to say.”

You...hadn’t thought that far ahead. You cast around the room; the textbook was still sitting next to the leather armchair. “Maybe my research?” you asked.

“Doesn’t have to be your research.” He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You could even describe the weather.”

“I feel like…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “My research will give you more material?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. Try me.” He rested his hand against his belly, so near to your shoulders.

“Let me do…the elevator pitch? How’s that?” Tried-and-true: you could recite your research proposal in your sleep.

Sephiroth smiled and raised his eyebrows at you. When you didn’t speak immediately, he nodded encouragingly: Go on.

“So…” You tried to speak slowly. “My team focuses on mako and its influence on cell growth and repair. Previous studies have isolated the protein MAT-beta in the liver, which manages oxidative—”

Sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed. “A little slower?”

You smiled back. Just like you to rush, anyway. “Sorry. Okay.” You took in a deep breath and tried to enunciate each word. “My team studies the influence of mako on cell growth and repair. Keep going?”

“My team—” The voice was too high, too clear: a SOLDIER’s command. He cleared his throat. “No. Wait a second.” He tried again, and his next attempt was still strange to your ears: “My team studies the—” He tilted his head and beckoned again. “One more time, please?”

“My team studies the influence of—”

“My team studies the influence of—”

“—mako on cell growth and repair.”

As he repeated each phrase, his voice shifted, croaked, stretched. You heard many different people, none of them you, but each, conceivably, somewhere between your timbre and Sephiroth’s. “My team—” A shift, a minute crack in his voice. “—studies—” Another shift, this one lower. “—the influence—” 

And finally: “My team studies the influence of mako on cell growth and repair.” A perfect mirror, like listening back to an old video of yourself. Uncanny.

Your eyes widened, and you drew back from him. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Sephiroth said back, in your voice. “Is that, like, a good ‘oh’? Or…I’m sorry.” He waved a hand. “Just forget I said anything.”

And despite the uncanniness, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. It was so him to remember how you spoke. You remembered, again, that he had been thinking of you during his mission.

“Ugh!” you said, playfully wrinkling your nose at him. “I really sound like that?”

He lifted his head from the pillow with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You asked!” he laughed.

“No! It’s amazing! You have a missed calling as an actor, Seph.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it— not when he was still smiling at you like that. “The public outcry to my Sector One Live performance says otherwise.”

Of all the videos you had watched, that one had somehow eluded you. “When were you on Sector One Live?”

“A few months ago.” His hand drifted across the comforter, towards your hands: slow, tentative.“You would have thought I destroyed the set. Reena wouldn’t stop reading reviews to me—” He closed his eyes. “Look at me, assuming you know everything. I meant my publicist, Reena.”

“What did you do about it?”

His hand inched incrementally closer. “Nothing I could do,” Sephiroth replied. He looked up at the ceiling. “So…I never did it again.”

You reached out and took his hand in both of yours. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Seph?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah?”

You drifted your fingers across the back of his hand. “In some of the interviews I saw, you didn’t…look…very happy.”

The jovial environment between you evaporated. Sephiroth turned his head away from you and stared out of the window again. You could see the two of you reflected there: faint shadows against the driving rain. His mouth twitched.

“Did you want to do them?” you whispered.

Sephiroth’s mouth twitched again. He removed his arm from your shoulders, let go of your hand.

He rose. “Let me close those curtains,” he said. Hesitating on the edge of the bed, he added, “The windows are mirrored, but…you know.” He flashed you a smile over his shoulder, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “No free shows.”

“No free shows,” you repeated. “Right.”

As Sephiroth crossed the room, you looked away from him, to the half-open closet doors. Hidden inside was that strange photo. You played with the comforter between your fingers. It would be inappropriate to ask about it now, not when Sephiroth seemed to retreat back into some dark, quiet place, hiding from you. The curtains squealed as he pulled them shut.

For a long time, Sephiroth stood there at the window, clutching the curtains hard in both hands. He turned his head, just enough for you to see his quiet expression. He was looking at the ground, at a precarious stack of books near the leather armchair.

“I thought I followed instructions,” he said, as if to himself. “How am I meant to behave when everyone’s looking at me like that?”

“For what it’s worth,” you offered, “You make me laugh.”

A pause.

Sephiroth turned back to you. “Probably time for me to turn in.” He was wearing that absent smile again. “You’re welcome to join me, but if not, I have a reading lamp you can use.”

You glanced towards his alarm clock, and—

“It’s ten already?” you asked. “Shit.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” 

You had forgotten that he had just come straight from work, straight into your arms, straight into a—

A panic attack.

“Oh, Seph.” You backed away from his side of the bed and winced. “You had such a long day. ‘M sorry.” 

The absent smile turned wry. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You had the urge to hold him close, to cradle his head against your chest, as you had done the week before. You opened your mouth—

“Ah.” He snapped his fingers. “Laundry.” He gave you an exasperated look, touching his forehead briefly. “I almost forgot. I must finally be losing it.”

It all came back in a rush: the tights were still in the dryer. You sat up in bed. “Wait,” you said, “I still—” 

But Sephiroth was already halfway out of the room. You swung your legs over the edge of the mattress. Your voice was a weak, half-hearted bleat: “I have stuff in there—”

“I’ve got it,” he said gently. “I’ll put them in your bag.”

Your feet hadn’t even touched the carpet before he was gone. You heaved a sigh and crawled back under the covers. There was some jealous part of you that hated how Sephiroth got to surprise you first. You hadn’t been able to return the favor. 

The moment the thought hit you, you recoiled with disgust. What were you doing? Why did you think of him this way? What prompted this ugly, impulsive side in you?

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, let the smell of his apartment wash over you. He was safe. He was being kind. You appreciated everything he had done. You would surely pay him back eventually. You could buy some other surprise for him. You repeated the thoughts to yourself, over and over: he’s safe he’s kind you’re safe you can pay him back later he’s safe he’s—

“Oh,” sighed Sephiroth from the kitchen. “What a shame.”

You sat up again. “What? What’s wrong?”

The rustle of fabric. “I think the dryer ate your clothes.”

Dread sunk its claws into your belly. It looked like you would have to buy something else for him. “Oh, no.”

“I’ll show you.” Footsteps, and then Sephiroth appeared in the doorway.

And—

He was holding the tights. They were intact.

Oh, no.

To your mortification, Sephiroth held out the tights for you to inspect. “These seem ripped,” he said sadly. “I’m afraid the dryer isn’t the most—”

“Seph, no,” you blurted. “They came like that.”

He blinked and looked down at the tights. “Oh.”

And then, as you watched, his eyes went wide. A blush started at the tips of his ears and crept down his neck, under the collar of his shirt. He looked up at you. He cleared his throat.

“Oh,” he said.

Whatever reaction you expected, it wasn’t that one. You wrung your hands in your lap. “Yeah, it was…supposed to be a nice surprise.”

Sephiroth bunched the tights against his chest. His mouth had a funny turn to it, and it wasn’t until you saw his deerlike, stricken expression, how he stared just past your left ear instead of meeting your eye, that you realized it wasn’t disgust, or even just embarrassment. 

It was want: boyish, mortified desire, something vulnerable and desperate. Like you were special. 

The urge to hold him close hit you all over again. You couldn’t let anyone else have him. You couldn’t. The Silver Elite would destroy him; they would tear him to pieces, like ravenous animals. Any other man who had touched him hadn’t appreciated this tenderness, else they’d become just like you: a possessive little creature, completely and utterly his.

You smiled gently at him; his eyes fell to the tights. You took a deep breath. “I…take it you like them?”

His voice came out in a breathless rush: “I’m cursing Heidegger’s entire department right now.”

“Sorry you couldn’t see them in action.”

Sephiroth turned his head away from you, hiding his face. He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to wear them next time.” His voice cracked on wear them.

To be continued!

#momofics #sephiroth/reader #sephiroth x reader #sephirothxreader #self ship #self insert #ffvii crisis core #crisis core #sephiroth #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ff7 remake #ffvii remake #ff7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #ff7r #ffviir

[tyxoxo]

One Night Only - V.

ch.4, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: pure filth, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction)

tagging: @sukistrawberry @mingiandbaconjam @baecobies @produmads

a/n: guys this chapter was going so well and then i just hit a dead end (darn writers block >.<) i will attach a link to a piece i cut from the final draft cuz i felt like it was boring and messed with the pacing :))

Chapter 5

Renjun was still expecting an answer. His jaw clenched as he saw you reach for your chopsticks and grab a piece of food without another word.

You didn’t want the rest of the hangout to be awkward just because you lacked an explanation.

But you needed a couple more seconds to come up with a response, plus you were quite hungry.

“I was just curious is all.”

“Yeah, suuure.” Renjun’s drawn out annoyance had a hint of lightheartedness, much to your relief.

“He hasn’t seemed to scare you off yet. You must really like it there.”

“Hmm?” Your mouth was too full to make a comment of inquiry.

Renjun shook his head with a smile as the two of you continued your meal in comfortable silence.

~

The optical illusions museum was a nice change of pace for an off day. Not too much out of your comfort zone, but enough to keep your brain stimulated.

The two of you were currently in a liminal space of sorts, an Ames room with furniture to boot. Renjun looked awfully tiny on the couch in the upper corner whilst you looked gigantic next to a standing lamp in the opposite corner. Passerbys stopped every once in a while to view the two of you move around the small area.

“I wish they had a camera to take a shot of this and print it out for us.” Renjun said as he stomped along the floor to touch the other props placed in the room.

“Just ask someone to take a picture for us. I’m sure they will.”

“Good idea!”

You leaned against the yellow painted wall as you watched him skip out to ask a stranger who happily agreed. In those few seconds you had the idea to check your phone, not really understanding why you were expecting something from him.

The two of you had never exchanged messages before; the only reason you had each other's numbers was that Mark insisted on it in case of call-ins.

“You ready?” Renjun hopped back over to his favorite spot, the couch. You got back in the corner and aided in an awkward pose as the elderly lady snapped a few pictures with a smile.

Once she was done, the both of you bowed in thanks as Renjun retrieved his phone.

You hovered over his shoulders to view the pictures, both giggling at the results.

“I’ll send you these later okay?”

“Sounds go-”

You were interrupted by a call that popped up on Renjun’s screen…

Caller id: Jeno

Embarrassingly enough, your heart dropped.

Renjun accepted it but remained close enough for you to hear the other end of the line.

“Dude…I just got an email from a Seoul Fashion Week associate!”

This much excitement was unheard of.

“Woah, really?!” Renjun jumped slightly, disregarding his inside voice.

“I read through it like five fucking times. I guess they want me to audition for LIE?”

“That’s the one I was hoping for!”

“Let me finish! It’s in 2 weeks, at the Dong…dae..mun Design Plaza.”

You found it oddly endearing how he slowed his reading to make sure he pronounced the name of the plaza correctly. Though, you mentally shamed yourself for using that favorable of a word to describe his comprehension skills.

“Okay but still! They probably want you to bring a bunch of stuff. Did it say? Y’know what, nevermind! We can discuss it later when I get home.” Renjun rushed, knowing you were standing closeby, but you didn’t mind.

“Where are you anyways?” Jeno asked, seemingly eating cereal based on the crunching and tapping of his spoon in the background.

“I’m at that optical illusions museum I told you about.”

You blessed Renjun at the fact that he spared mentioning you were there, even though it was much deeper than that.

“With who? You’re too lame to go by yourself.”

With a look of regret towards you, Renjun mouthed a “sorry” before spilling your name.

You slammed your eyes shut, waiting for his presumed dickhead response.

That still didn’t prepare you.

The familiar disconnect tone rang through both of your ears.

It was uncalled for.

“What the hell?” Renjun’s voice was far from calm, baffled by the “Call Ended”. You knew exactly why he hung up, but Renjun sure didn’t.

It was best if it stayed that way.

“We should move, I think there’s some people that want to get in here.” Your tone of voice had dropped to that of disappointment but you spoke quickly to distract Renjun, who was on his way to call him back.

Planning an escape would be ideal.

Was he unsatisfied about last night? Disgusted? Appalled?

These were the questions that became of justified interest; yet you weren’t guaranteed an answer, even if your life depended on it.

What made it worse, was that you would have to see him again at work tomorrow, if he didn’t call in.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Renjun snapped you out of your inner monologue, eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

“I’m fine. I know you need to go help Jeno. We can meet again later.”

“Well wait a second! We still have 2 more sections left to look at!” Renjun pointed back towards the art pieces that were indeed waiting to be seen. But based on the impending catatonia that was bound to erupt out of you, there was no patience left in you to stay here.

“No, it’s fine. I know this is a big deal and you need plenty of time to prepare. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You turned on your heels and walked towards the exit, leaving Renjun in the middle of the crowd.

There was definitely something he was missing, and he had to figure it out.

~

“Jeno, I’m homee!” Renjun’s voice rang through their apartment as he took off his shoes by the door.

He heard the flush of a toilet and running faucet water, assuming Jeno was busy in the bathroom.

“The museum was super cool! You would’ve liked it.” Renjun spoke low, trying his hardest to gauge Jeno’s body language as he appeared out of the bathroom.

“Mm.” Jeno didn’t bother making eye contact, instead plopping on the living room couch to view the emails on his laptop with the most horrid sitting posture.

Noted.

Renjun joined him on the couch, leaning in to adjust his eyes to the tiny font.

“Okay so let’s go over this again.” Renjun said as he quickly scanned the email for anything Jeno could’ve missed.

“They need you to bring a physical portfolio, ID, aaaand, that's it. They’ll supply you with clothes and makeup for the audition.”

“Duh, that’s what it says.” Jeno spoke matter-of-factly, obviously annoyed.

“I’m just trying to gather all this info, no need to have an attitude… jeez.”

“We have time to gather everything. I’m gonna head out.” Jeno slammed his laptop shut on the coffee table and rose from the couch. Renjun immediately took note again:

Distancing.

“Okay you sounded so excited earlier. Now you don’t give a shit? What’s the deal here?” Renjun got up from the couch, purposefully blocking Jeno’s view of the front door. He was beginning to get hot-tempered, oddly matching his best friend's habitual energy.

“All I said is that we have time! You automatically think I’m disinterested now?”

“This is a big deal, and you’re blowing it off! Don’t come to me pissed off if no one ends up wanting you!”

Renjun tried his best to fight back a lip quiver, somewhat apologetic for saying such a statement.

Jeno froze. Eyes stinging and anger brewing.

There was an uncomfortable pause. One where Renjun considered asking if there was missing a puzzle piece to you and Jeno’s madness.

Before he could commit, Jeno grabbed his keys and phone off the coffee table and shoved past Renjun, slamming the front door shut on his way out.

~

Jeno already knew where to go to get away from Renjun.

The subway ride felt like a drag, but he found himself staring off into space; eyes nowhere near a female like usual.

Jeno experienced déjà vu, realizing he was in Hongdae.

But he wasn’t here for you. He was here to see Haechan and Jaemin, to take his mind off the overstimulation present in his life. He needed something boring, for once.

2:32pm

[jeno]: im on my way up

[haechan]: kk

Jeno shook his head, the way it never failed for Haechan to make him cringe with the use of “k.”

Jaemin was the one to open the door. Stopping in his tracks at the sight of him.

“You look like you just got laid. How do you feel? Better I hope?” Jaemin’s devious grin paired well with his bizarre observation.

“Whatever.” Jeno scoffed as he took off his shoes near the door and made his way to the kitchen.

“No, I’m serious. Who was it this time?” Jaemin followed behind, eager to hear Jeno’s storytelling, as it was something he was always good at.

Instead, Jeno made headway towards the pizza box sitting on their kitchen island, not even bothering to ask for a slice.

“Sooo…?”

“Don’t make me leave.” Jeno took a bite out of the pepperoni pizza, chewing rather savagely.

“Can I make a few guesses?”

“No.”

“Oh wait, I think I know who.” Jaemin’s cheshire grin grew even wider at his own speculation.

“It’s that chick you work with isn’t it?” This time Haechan chimed in, making his first appearance from his own bedroom.

“Y’know, I came over here hoping to relax, not play 20 questions.” Jeno finished the slice within their sentences, grabbing another and dragging his feet to their living room.

“We knew it. Sorry.” Jaemin followed again, sitting next to him on the couch.

“I’m guessing it went terrible, based on the fact you’re not saying much.” Haechan said as he grabbed the remote to turn to a scary movie, Jeno’s favorite, hoping to cheer him up from his “awful” experience.

If only they knew it was the complete opposite.

You were absolutely amazing, he thought.

He just didn’t want to share that. And to gloat about you, felt unnatural unlike the others.

If he could keep you to himself, he would. No one else needed to know.

“Well there’s plenty of them left out there.” Jaemin patted Jeno on his back, feeling smug that his friend felt comfortable enough to come around.

They had everything misunderstood, but maybe it could stay that way.

~

11:25pm

You were being suffocated by your thoughts.

To think you were replaying the events of last night again, made you somewhat nauseous.

Jeno. Naked. You. Naked.

How he rearranged your guts in the most filthy way possible.

But it was everything you wanted. And more.

It wasn’t often you were faced with the dilemma of grabbing your phone and staring at your contacts, contemplating communication; finger hovering over his name.

Before you could even take a breath, a dropdown notification covered the upper half of your screen:

“jeno”

It wasn’t even a text. The obnoxious ringtone being the only indication to snap you out of your disbelief.

If this was “pre-fuck” Jeno, you would’ve let it go to voicemail.

Your trembling thumb tapped the green phone symbol, opting to hear him talk first.

“Probably wasn’t expecting me huh?”

His voice was still just as cocky, with a sneer to go along with his mixed signals.

[cut part]

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #feedback is appreciated <3

[lendeah]

After the Weave 5.

series masterlist

Summary: As they search for clues among the nobility's estates, the group struggles under the weight of their investigation into the murder of the Duke. In the dark and winding halls of the Crimson Palace, Astarion and Elara become caught up in a tangled web of feelings and yearnings, heightened by an impending private meeting that holds the potential to alter everything.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD.

Word count: 5.1k

Also on AO3

note: *Insert evil laughter*

We all stand in the dimly lit hallway, both Astarion and I sobering up after a long night. Exhaustion weighs heavily on my body, as I haven't slept in nearly two days. Even Astarion looks drained, his usual charm overshadowed by pronounced dark circles under his eyes.

"We had nothing to do with the Duke's death," I say, "We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Shadowheart's expression remains stoic, "We know that," she says calmly. "But to everyone else, you are the only vampire present and therefore an easy target for blame. They will come after both of you if we don't act soon."

I let out a defeated sigh, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond measure. "I agree, but can we please discuss this tomorrow? I fear I may collapse from exhaustion at any moment."

"Tsk'va, you've grown considerably feeble since the last time we stood together in battle," Lae'zel says with a disapproving scowl.

Thankfully, Shadowheart nods in understanding. "Of course, we can continue this discussion tomorrow when you are both well-rested."

The gith groans at this, clearly disappointed. The three of us turn to Astarion, his nervous demeanor palpable as he clears his throat. His eyes dart between Lae'zel and me before finally settling on Shadowheart, who stands regally across from him. "Ahem... did you intend on spending the night here?" he asks tentatively.

Lae'zel arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What does it look like?"

He quickly plasters on a charming smile. "Of course, sorry, my dear Lae'zel. You and Shadowheart are always welcome in my humble abode." He paused for a moment before adding, "The thing is... all of my bedchambers are currently occupied."

My own eyebrows furrow in disbelief. "In a palace?!"

Astarion coughs awkwardly. "Well, yes, you see... Cazador didn't have many visitors, so the place didn't need that many bedchambers and possesses, in fact, only three. The three main rooms are all taken and the rest are being used by our servants, so..."

Shadowheart exchanged a doubtful look with Lae'zel before turning her steely gaze towards me. "I suppose I could make do with the floor for one night," she stated stoically, though I could sense an underlying weariness in her voice.

Lae'zel folds her arms across her chest, clearly not pleased with the idea. "I will not sleep on the floor like some dog," she declares firmly.

Astarion's red eyes flicker between the three of us, his mind working rapidly to come up with a solution. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options. Finally, he speaks up, "Well, the beds are big enough. We could always share."

I can feel my cheeks heating up at Astarion's suggestion, the memories of our encounter in the basement flooding back to me. I glance over at him and see a playful glint in his eyes. I then consider the idea of sharing a room with Shadowheart and shudder inwardly, things are still definitely too tense to share that kind of space. Shadowheart seems equally uncomfortable with the idea, shifting on her feet and avoiding eye contact.

And Lae'zel...well, as much as I love her she has always been uncomfortable to be around, even without sharing a bed.

"Well, you two could take my room and I can sleep somewhere else," I offer.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel both look at me with surprise, as if they weren't expecting me to offer my own bedchamber.

"Oh, how noble of you, my dear," Astarion says with a sly grin. "I had no idea you were so selfless."

I roll my eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. "It's not like I have anything valuable in there anyway."

Lae'zel snorts in disbelief. "And where will you sleep then?"

Astarion speaks up before I can answer. "With me, obviously."

I can feel my cheeks heating up at the thought and quickly jump in. "Not in a million years. I'll just take a blanket and sleep on the floor somewhere else."

Astarion's grin widens, and of course he is enjoying my discomfort. "Oh come now, it won't be that bad. We've shared a bedroll before."

I quickly respond, "You were only resting momentarily while you fed, not sleeping."

"Details," Astarion shrugs nonchalantly.

Shadowheart clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her, "There's no need to go to such lengths. We'll find another solution."

Astarion chuckles. "Oh come on, let's not make this any more uncomfortable than it already is. I'm sure we can all handle sharing a bed for one night."

The exhaustion grips me with unrelenting force, and I simply cannot summon the energy to refute him any further. The other two women seem to think the same thing, as they remain silent.

With Astarion in the lead, we navigate through the grand hallways of the castle until we reach my bedroom. I can sense Lae'zel and Shadowheart's tension as they say their goodbyes before disappearing into my room, leaving me alone with Astarion. As he steps into the doorway of his adjoining room, a sly grin crosses his face, making me feel uneasy.

"Shall we?" He gestures towards his door.

I hesitate for a moment before following him inside. As we enter, my breath catches at the sheer beauty of it all. The room is dimly lit by candles, giving it an intimate and cozy atmosphere. Every wall is alive with vibrant tapestries, each depicting scenes of nature and mythology in intricate detail. The paintings are so lifelike, it feels as if I could reach out and touch the creatures within them. Bookshelves line one side of the room, every shelf overflowing with an array of tomes. It reminds me of my own room but on a much grander scale. The bed itself is a massive piece of furniture, fit for royalty. Its four posts stand tall and regal, draped in luxurious fabrics that cascade to the floor. As we make our way towards it, I can't help but notice how soft and inviting it looks to my tired body.

Astarion nonchalantly removes his shirt and pants, and I turn away in a fluster, feeling my cheeks grow warm. I realize with dread that I have left my sleepwear in the other room, leaving me with the option of either sleeping in my undergarments or the extremely uncomfortable gown. After hesitating for a moment, I attempt to strip down to my lingerie. However, the intricate design of my dress makes it impossible for me to undo the tightly-laced corset on my own. After struggling for some time, I let out a defeated sigh. It seems like fate is working against me tonight.

"Can you help me?" I ask, looking back at Astarion, who is now perched on the bedframe looking at me with amusement.

He quirks an eyebrow "I would rather watch you struggling for a little while longer, but thanks for asking."

I groan and turn away from him and focus all my energy on trying to loosen the ties.

Astarion chuckles and I can't help but admire his naked form as he stands up from the bed frame. His body is toned and strong, his skin radiating a soft glow in the dimness of the room. My heart races at the sight, and I'm sure he can hear it too. He walks over to stand behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck. "Let me help you with that," he murmurs, close to my ear.

As he works, I can feel his cold fingers brushing against my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. When Astarion finishes loosening the ties on my corset, a sense of relief washes over me. I quickly turn around and take a step back, trying to put some distance between us.

"Thank you," I say, avoiding eye contact.

Astarion smiles knowingly and takes a step closer.

"My pleasure," he says, his voice low and husky.

I quickly strip off the rest of my dress and slip under the covers. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he turns away to blow out the candles, leaving us in a dimly lit room.

"You take the bed," Astarion offers, throwing himself onto a nearby chair.

His offer shocks me. I dread the thought of sharing a bed with him, but I also feel guilty about kicking him out of his own bed.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not like I will sleep much anyway, it doesn't matter to me," he says with a nonchalant shrug.

"No, I can't let you do that. There's plenty of room for both of us in here. You're not sleeping on a chair in your own room."

Astarion stays silent for a moment before his lips curve into a mischievous smirk as he stands up from the chair.

"Oh, darling, if you insist..." he says, crawling into the bed next to me.

As he eases into the spot beside mine, I can sense his presence even with the ample space between us. I lay in the bed, my heart still racing from Astarion's closeness. I try to focus on calming my mind and finding some comfort in sleep. Astarion stays quiet beside me, his fake breathing even and calm.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of any thoughts about him. But again, all I see is Astarion's eyes as he looked at me in the basement, full of desire, his hand wandering on my thigh and his lips teasing against mine... I sigh defeatedly and turn to face him, my eyes finally meeting his. The intensity of his gaze takes my breath away, and for a moment, I forget everything else.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, trying not to let my voice betray the fluttering feeling in my stomach.

"I can't sleep," he says simply. "Your heart is beating too loudly."

I swallow nervously and try to calm myself down. "I...I can't help it," I murmur.

Astarion shifts closer to me. "It's quite distracting," he says with a chuckle. "Is it because of what happened before?"

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks once again at the memory of our encounter in the basement.

"I was drunk," I say, hoping to brush off the subject.

Astarion is silent for a few beats and then asks. "Do you regret it?"

I'm caught off guard by the question. "I..." I trail off, unsure of how to answer. Part of me regrets giving into my desires and touching him that way, but another part of me can't help but feel constantly drawn to him.

His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "I have no regrets, my dear." he admits, "But let's be clear, this is not a marriage proposal. I believe in granting you the freedom to indulge in your desires without any obligations or attachments, if that is what you wish."

Astarion's words linger in the air between us and I can feel my heart racing at the implications. Does he really mean what I think he means? Is this just a game to him or does he truly want me?

"Are you suggesting a... casual arrangement?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I try to steady my racing heart.

Astarion hesitates for a moment before answering, "Why not?" His voice is so soft it's nearly drowned out by the rustling of the sheets. "We both have needs. It's no crime to fulfill them."

His words strangely make sense. Yet, something within me recoils at the idea.

How can I feel this way about Astarion? He's been my friend and companion for quite long. The thought of us being anything more than that never crossed my mind, especially with Gale in the picture. Plus, I've always believed in true love, and the idea of giving myself to someone without an emotional connection scares me. But lately, there have been moments of intense chemistry and longing between us, making everything so complicated and conflicting.

"I... I need time to think about it," I say, my voice trembling slightly.

Astarion nods, his expression unreadable in the darkness. "By all means, my dear. Take all the time you need."

I let out a shaky breath and nod. I need to figure out my feelings and make a decision without any pressure.

The weight of silence is now heavy between us as we lay in the dark, our breaths creating the only audible sound in the room. The air felt charged with unsaid words and unspoken desires. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before breaking the peace.

"For me, it helps when someone touches my hair," he says suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"When I'm restless at night, I find it quite pleasurable when someone plays with my hair. Perhaps you could, you know... give it a try?"

His words catch me off guard, causing my mind to scramble for a response. But exhaustion weighs heavily on my body and I am desperate for any kind of comfort.

After a brief pause, I find myself nodding. Immediately, he wraps his arms around me, and a sense of calm washes over me. I hug his torso, relishing the touch of his bare skin against mine. I thought this would be uncomfortable after what just happened, but it feels natural, almost familiar. Astarion's fingers begin to comb through my hair, sending tingles down my spine as I melt into his touch, allowing the weariness to gradually fade away. I bury my nose in his neck, and he smells so warm despite his cold skin. He continues this for a few minutes until I am on the brink of sleep.

His voice breaks through my drowsiness, whispering into my hair. "Asleep already?"

I keep my eyes closed and keep quiet, hoping he will stop talking. However, after a few seconds, he continues. "Do you know how I found out about this?"

My heart quickens, but I remain still, giving no indication of being awake. "It was during those nights at camp when you let me feed from you," he continues in a hushed voice. "Your delicate fingers would always comb through my hair, making it nearly impossible for me to stay awake."

My cheeks flush with embarrassment and I resist the urge to snuggle into his chest to hide my blush. He keeps threading his fingers through my strands. "But tonight, rest assured, my love. It is your turn to relax and allow me to take care of you," he murmurs tenderly.

Despite my attempts to stifle my emotions, I can't help but smile at his words, feeling a flutter in my chest. His touch is surprisingly soothing and soon enough, I find myself drifting off to sleep.

------------✧♡✧-------------

The sound of birds chirping outside the window startles me awake, and for a split second, I can't remember where I am. But then I see the empty space next to me and remember last night. Was it all just a dream? A twinge of disappointment hits me in the gut.

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, squinting against the dawn light piercing through the curtains. The smell of Astarion still lingers on the pillow next to mine, a teasing reminder that last night was indeed real.

I glance down at my underwear and realize I have nothing decent to wear for the morning. In a rush, I jump out of bed and make my way over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. It's much bigger than mine and filled with expensive, high-quality clothing. My eyes scan through the options, hoping to find something that will fit me. Eventually, I settle on a simple white shirt and a pair of elegant pants that are slightly too tight around my thighs. It's not ideal, but it will do until I can retrieve my own clothes. I quickly braid my fiery curls and slip out of the room towards my own quarters.

I rap my knuckles against the thick wooden door, and a low murmur of voices drifts out from within. "Enter," Shadowheart's voice calls out. I press my hand to the cool metal handle and push open the door, feeling a rush of anticipation. As I step inside, my eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected company. Shadowheart stands by the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Next to her is Lae'zel, her imposing figure taking up most of the small room. Across from them sit Astarion and Dalyria, both with serious expressions on their faces as they engage in a heated debate. The group is hanging around a desk, studying a map spread out in front of them.

Shadowheart turns to look at me, her expression unreadable. "Good morning," she greets me curtly.

"Morning," I reply, unsure of what to do next.

As I awkwardly hover in the doorway, Astarion's gaze flickers to me, and then my clothes. His smirk widens, and he leans back in his chair. "Well, you look positively ravishing in my clothes," he says with a playful tone. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as the others turn to stare at us curiously.

"It's not like I had much choice." I retort.

His gaze gleams, following the contours of my figure and settling on my thighs, and a hint of hunger swirls inside.

I shift uncomfortably, pulling at the too-tight fabric of the pants. He grins wider, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Well, it's a good thing I have impeccable taste then," he says with a wink.

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the flutters in my stomach at his teasing.

"Enough banter," Lae'zel interrupts. "We have more important matters to discuss."

I nod, grateful for the change in subject, and walk over to the desk to glance at the maps, trying to make sense of the markings and symbols scattered across them.

Dalyria notices my confusion and points to a spot. "We are currently here," she gestures, "and we suspect the spawn have been hiding in this location for the past few months. The circles surrounding it indicate where the murders have taken place."

I nod my head slowly. "But the location of the Duke's murder was far from there."

"Not only that, but how did they get to murder a well-protected and connected member of the nobility in a ball full of people?" Shadowheart chimes in.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," says Dalyria, her brows knitted into a frown. "The Duke was well-guarded and his estate is heavily fortified. If no one caught them in the act, it means the murderer knew his way around. Which also means, everything was previously planned."

Astarion leans in closer to examine the map and speaks up, "So, the mastermind is someone close to the Duke while this spawn is the actual murderer."

A hush falls over the group as we all consider this possibility. A traitor within the Duke's inner circle could explain how the murder was carried out without anyone noticing.

"But who could it be?" I ask, turning to look at each of my companions.

Shadowheart sighs, "If someone really let them in to do it, it must be someone who wanted the Duke dead, but for what?"

"The council of four..." Astarion mumbles.

"What?" I ask.

"The council of four," Astarion repeats, his voice gaining a hint of urgency. "Duke Ravengaard was one of them."

"And with Wyll gone, the substitute would be someone else from the nobility," Shadowheart adds.

We all exchange worried glances, each of us silently contemplating the possibility.

"There are plenty of players in this game," Dalyria says grimly. "But we can't afford to make assumptions without evidence."

"We need to find out who would have motives to gain that power," Lae'zel declares, her hand resting on her sword hilt.

My voice is firm as I speak, my eyes meeting each of my companions with determination. "I agree," I say, nodding. "We must gather more information before taking any action. It would be wise for us to split up and interrogate the nobles separately." I turn to Astarion and Dalyria, including them in my plan. "Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and I will handle that task, while you two continue searching for the spawn. Perhaps if we find one of them, they will reveal the identity of our culprit."

Astarion raises an eyebrow at me, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "I'm curious to see how you three would fare in a room full of nobles with your charming personalities."

Dalyria chuckles and shakes her head, glancing between Astarion and me. "Don't let him fool you," she says, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "He's just pissed because he didn't come up with the plan himself."

------------✧♡✧-------------

As we make our way through the bustling streets towards one of the noble's estates, I can't help but feel uneasy.

"We can't draw attention to ourselves as murder investigators." I remind them of our precarious situation. "We'll need to mingle and be subtle about it."

"Or else we will meet the same fate as the Duke," Lae'zel interjects, her tone ominous. She's not wrong. If this murderer is indeed among the nobility, then prying too openly could lead us directly into their crosshairs.

We start at the top of the list Dalyria had provided us. Belt, Bormul, Caldwell, Durinbold, Eltan... But to no avail. Even though most of them I talked to at the past party, they don't seem to have any relevant information for us.

As we leave each estate and move on to the next, my frustration grows. It seems like we're getting nowhere. It's already night-time by the time we make it out of the Hhune family estate, and Lae'zel leaves to get some water from a vendor, leaving Shadowheart and me alone.

I look at the cleric, feeling uneasy. The last time we were together alone I told her a lot of regrettable things.

She catches my gaze and raises an eyebrow, studying me with a curious expression. "Is there something on your mind?" she asks, breaking the silence between us.

I bite my lip, hesitating before speaking.

"I...I'm sorry for what happened between us," I say, my voice heavy with guilt.

"I was angry and frustrated but that's no excuse for how I treated you."

Shadowheart looks at me, surprise and then understanding crossing her features. "It's in the past," she says softly. "No need to apologize," she says, shaking her head. "You were under a lot of pressure and it wasn't easy for any of us."

I nod, relieved that she doesn't seem angry or hurt by my words. But I can't shake off the feeling that there's still something between us that needs to be addressed.

"Shadowheart...I want you to know that I am grateful for you," I tell her earnestly. "I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I do consider you my friend. And I am so sorry about Karlach. I should've been there for you as your friend."

Shadowheart looks at me with a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Thank you, I appreciate that," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I am sorry about Gale as well."

I nod, understanding the weight of her words. We both have our own burdens to bear, but it doesn't mean we can't find comfort in each other. We exchange smiles before she wraps her arms around me in a warm embrace. Standing there with Shadowheart, I feel a wave of relief and comfort wash over me. It's been a while since I've allowed myself to be vulnerable with someone, and having her back in my life feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

When we finally break apart, she clears her throat, clearly eager to shift the subject. "So, you and Astarion..." Shadowheart starts, her tone cautious.

I know what she's getting at, and I sigh. "It's complicated," I say, not wanting to delve too much into my relationship with the vampire.

"Complicated how?" she presses on.

I hesitate for a moment before deciding to be honest with her. "We have...something," I admit, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through me. "He offered me a casual arrangement."

Shadowheart's eyes widen in surprise at my confession. "A casual arrangement? With Astarion?" she repeats, her tone incredulous.

I nod, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "Yes," I confirm, avoiding her gaze.

"And you accepted?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of disapproval.

"It's complicated," I repeat, not wanting to reveal too much of the details.

Shadowheart frowns, clearly not satisfied with my answer.

"I just... Look, do whatever you need to get better, okay? But be careful with Astarion. As much as I love him..." Shadowheart sighs, her expression troubled.

I sense her worry and hesitation, and I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. I know Astarion has a reputation for being a seducer and manipulative, but he has been nothing but kind to me when I needed him most.

"I appreciate your concern," I say sincerely, wanting to ease her worries. "But like I said, it's not a big deal. I don't have any deep emotional attachment to Astarion; it's just physical attraction."

Shadowheart's brow furrows in confusion and a hint of worry. "But if it's just physical, why even bother with him of all people?" she asks, clearly not understanding my reasoning.

I shrug, feeling embarrassed and unsure how to explain myself. "I don't know... Maybe it's because I'm still grieving over Gale and Astarion has been a distraction. Or maybe it's just nice to feel desired again," I admit with a sigh.

Shadowheart nods, not completely convinced but willing to trust my judgment. We fall into a comfortable silence until Lae'zel returns with the water.

"Enough time wasted. Now - forward," she says, handing each of us a waterskin.

I take a long sip, parched from the conversation and the night's investigation. I glance at Shadowheart and find her looking at me with a small, understanding smile. It's a strange sort of comfort and the tension that was there before seems to dissipate.

We move on to the next names on our list: Ilzimmer, Neverember, Heltharn... Each estate is more lavish than the last, with ornate gardens and gilded gates that scream privilege and wealth. But despite their ostentation, they are as unyielding as stone, offering no new leads or information.

The walk back to the Crimson Palace feels longer and heavier than before. The weight of the investigation hangs heavily on our shoulders, and I can't help but feel discouraged by our lack of progress.

Weariness washes over me as we step into the palace. The day's unending rush of adrenaline and anxiety has finally caught up to me. I can see the same exhaustion etched on Shadowheart and Lae'zel's features too. However, we press on towards the dinner hall, where we know Dalyria and Astarion are eagerly waiting for our arrival.

The place is just as magnificent as I remember it, with its high ceilings and grand chandeliers. They both look up as we enter and greet us with warm smiles.

"How was your day?" Dalyria asks eagerly.

I exchange a glance with Shadowheart before responding. "We didn't find much," I admit with a sigh. "But we'll keep interviewing tomorrow."

Dalyria nods sympathetically before speaking again, seemingly oblivious to our exhaustion.

"We didn't uncover any clues about the Spawn, but we did receive news about the council," she announces eagerly.

Astarion lets out an exasperated sigh. "They've requested a private meeting with Elara and me tomorrow evening."

My heart drops at his words, a sudden chill running down my spine. A private meeting with the council? That can't be good.

"Said it was urgent and quite secretive," Astarion continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back in his chair with an air of nonchalance.

Dalyria takes a sip from her own drink before leaning back in her chair. "I'm sure it's just formalities," she assures us, although she doesn't quite meet my eyes.

I can't help the pang of unease that washes over me. There's no doubt in my mind that Dalyria's not telling us the whole truth.

"Let's not trouble ourselves about it tonight," Shadowheart suggests calmly as she fills her plate.

As the evening wears on, we eat and drink in lighthearted conversation, diverting all topics from the investigation or the meeting. However, as we retire for the night, I find myself unable to shake off the gnawing unease that settles in my stomach.

I step behind the rest of the group, lost in thought, when suddenly I feel someone grab my arm and pull me into a narrow corridor. My heart jumps in my chest as I turn to see who it is, only to find Astarion's smirking face.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

His body cages mine against the wall, his arms on either side of my head as he leans in close. I can feel his warm breath on my face and my heart starts to race.

"Just wanted to have a private conversation," he purrs, his lips so close to mine that I can almost taste them.

I try to push him away, but he's surprisingly strong for someone so lean and agile. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He lets out a chuckle and leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "I'm afraid not," he whispers before pulling back slightly."I know I said I'd give you time to think, but I've been... rather impatient. After all, time has always been a fickle friend of mine." he admits, his eyes focused on my lips. "Have you made up your mind?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My mind is a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty, torn between my physical desire for him and the complexities that come with it.

At my silence, Astarion's charming smile fades slightly. "I... apologies, I shouldn't have pushed you ," he murmurs, leaning slightly away.

In that moment, all doubts and questions disappear from my mind. The pull between us is too strong to ignore any longer. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before responding.

"I want it," I finally manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion's smirking expression returns as he leans in closer, his lips only inches from mine. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. Astarion leans in closer until our faces are mere inches apart. Our breaths mingle as he looks deep into my eyes before closing the distance between us and pressing his lips against mine.

Tag List - @astarioffsimpmain, @amazingnerd, @ayselluna

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic

[dipplinduo]

Have you ever scrapped ideas for Sweet & Sour?

Yep!

My process has luckily been more of "transform an idea that doesn't fit" situation for most things, but I'm happy to talk about some of the things that didn't make the cut. Whipping out the notes page...

Lacey was actually meant to be the spotlighted E4 member that gets close to Juliana, not Drayton (hence the focus on her in Chapter 1 & 2). She was actually my favorite at first, and I envisioned her as being a positive, grounding guide for Juliana, and also somewhat of a middle ground influence for Kieran. But then I wrote my spin on the cafeteria scene, and I was like "oh my god wait, Drayton's character is so enticing and flexible, and he's especially fun to insert as an influence in the Kieran/Juliana dynamic". SOOOOOO I quickly decided to pivot and make him the spotlighted one, and have him do more of this brotherly figurer role who was very cunning and comedic. Before I even realized I got overtaken by the iconicism, and now he's just part of my brand in general. Whoops. The "Drayton Being Iconic" tag existed on this blog before this happened so I honestly should've seen it coming LMAO. I do have very important plans for the rest of the E4 and what role they're playing, though :

Don't laugh at this one - it was also early development LOL. I was going to have a party scene where Drayton convinces Juliana to pretend she got drunk (I know) as part of a roundabout and wild way to find evidence that Kieran had a soft spot for her (I KNOW). Kieran was essentially gonna waltz in (to a social event he otherwise never would make an appearance in) and he'd get all flustered as Juliana latches onto him. He would've decided to sweep her away from the party and take him back to his dorm. I ended up scrapping this entirely because while teens do party and all that...yeah, and also we pretty much got the dynamic moments I wanted to portray much better through the chapters where Juliana got sick.

Kieran/Juliana dynamic was also gonna have a moment where Kieran gets it in his head to start flirting with Juliana because he thinks that she’s flirting to get him to put his guard down. And that's where they both kinda were gonna secretly realize their feelings LOL. In hindsight lowkey fire still, but yeah, kinda just didn't have the space for it. We do have flirty Kieran era though, and that's still based.

This one is kinda known already, but originally the Applins were the only stars of the show (hence the name of the fic). I added Ribombee in early on after enough people wanted it and gave it lore/a connection to Kieran and his mother. Before Ribombee was conceptualized, I had different plans for what happened to Kieran's parents (he would still be an orphan regardless).

Briar was originally going to make a "deal" with Clavell regarding getting Juliana to come to Blueberry early, although it wouldn't be revealed until Juliana discovers this later. I scrapped this in favor of something much better because I didn't like the implications it had on Clavell's character, and honestly, only Blueberry is supposed to have the sketchy admin/systematic stuff going on anyways lol.

Kieran was meant to show more obvious signs of sleep deprivation (e.g. falling suspect to illness more frequently, slowed reactions). This idea is still good and realistic, but yeah, ended up leaning more into other symptomology that went well with the toxic chain curse (e.g. irritability, obsessive fixations, self-criticism, overworking himself, fatigue, etc.)

Ribombee was going to sleep powder both Kieran & Juliana in the cave scene of Ch 5. I decided to make it a bit more organic by having Kieran up and reflecting on everything + having Ribombee appearance in a more mystical way. Plus, I thought it would mean more if Kieran & Juliana opted to cuddle up themselves rather than being knocked out. There was a part of me that was worried the dynamic was progressing too fast this way with this change, but it seemed to have landed well! :)

This doesn't really count as a scrapped idea, but related: I 1000% retconned something with the Drayton POV chapters (if ykyk, LOL). But YEP. It's CANON. And frankly it's a decision I personally love that has implications, but also won't screw up the storytelling for where we're at now, either.

There's actually a lot more, too, but like I said: most of my ideas tend to upgrade. And lolololol OMG this is especially true for some major lore stuff. I just don't want to reveal it because I don't want to give y'all hints on where we're going!! LOL.

And also...there are cuter moments I haven't used in S&S and probably won't be able to because I account for what makes sense with the given dynamic. BUT what I do end up doing is taking those unused ideas and putting them into What-Ifs or other stories. There's one I'm particularly thinking of that I was dying to put in S&S D, but I don't think it would trip up the current Kieran as much as it would've in earlier chapters, lol. SO. It's going in The Dichotomy in Our Hearts instead! xD

This was super fun to write, hope it was enough substance for the question! <3

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana x kieran #fave #asks

[alieinthemorning]

Always Here [Miya Atsumu]

Content: Established Relationship, Married Couple, Depression, Familial Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Header: @/tsumoos

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Miya Atsumu was a strong man. Not only was he strong physically (which he had to be as the MSBY Black Jackals Setter), but he was also strong emotionally for you. When you had bad days, he was there to support you. When you could barely keep your head above water, arms failing against the tides, he grabbed your hand, and pulled you back in. Saving you for yourself. However, he wasn’t the strongest. No one was. And although you also extended your hands out to him, sometimes he needed a second pair.

“Samu…” You hated to bother him on his day off, but some things were worth it.

“I’m on my way—” You heard shuffling on the other side of the line. “Has he said anything to ya?”

You sighed, bottom lip wobbling. “No, and that’s what’s worrying me the most. He just came home crying—I don't even think he noticed that he was.”

“…Okay, stay on the line with me, will ya?” You knew that he only asked because you yourself were on the verge of collapse.

Osamu was such a good brother to the both of you. You pocketed your phone as the urge to fiddle with your wedding band became stronger. You don’t know what you’d do with Osamu to keep the both of you afloat, but you also felt terrible for always needing him to help you. If you were a better person, then—

“Talk to me. I can hear ya overthinkin’ from here.”

“…sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand what yer going through. Anyway, lemme tell ya about a costumer I had yesterday—” And then he changed the subject just like that.

You chatted with him until he knocked at your door. He looked the same as always with that black cap, and deadpan expression, but his gaze was full of worry, already looking you over. And seeing him…made you break down. You bit your lip hard as you rushed him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. His arms immediately wrapped around your frame.

“It’s okay. I’m here now—for the both of ya.”

“I know…thank you, Osamu.”

He pulled you back, a grimace on his face. “Ew. Don’t call me by my name like that—It’s weird.”

You chuckled, despite the tears that were still freshly rolling down your cheeks. “Sorry, Samu.”

“He in the bedroom?” He asked as he fully pulled away from you. You nodded, and he entered your home, heading that way.

You shut and locked the door behind him, then made your way to the bathroom. You took a little extra time to compose yourself (as well as wash your tear stained face) before joining the two of them.

They were on the floor, backs against the bed with their heads peeking over the top. Samu was on the far side, closer to the wall, and when you joined them, Tsumu was in the middle of the both of you. The twins were shoulder to shoulder, so you dropped your head on Tsumu’s other shoulder. A firm way to let him know that you were there—the both of you were.

And after a few moments, his body relaxed, and he sighed.

“Thanks.”

But he didn’t tell either of you what was troubling him. And you’d just have to leave him be, and hope that next time he would open up to the two of you.

Because no matter what, the two of you would always be here for him.

Digs up a plot, so that I can push that we're only 5 followers away from the 750 follower event (and if we reach it before Valentine's Day then it can be Valentine's Day themed aka fluffy)

Anyway, that aside, I really love these two. I also love expressing big, strong men's vulnerabilities, and letting them know that regardless, they're loved. :3c

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: hq!! #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu & reader

[lore-gore]

Also PLEASE post about your oc! I'm trying to get up the courage to make one for hh x3

Finally! It's time! My most detailed oc that I've been working on for five years! (I am so nervous about sharing this)

Originally they were a self insert but grew to become their own character. (Which is why we have the same name. So I suppose they are both a self insert and an oc?)

I'm including bio, relationship with characters, and scene inserts

Hopefully this does not come off as cringe (I better get complements or I will cry)

Tw for death, murder, violence, bullying, obsession, stalking, mentioned kidnapping, shipping with alastor because why not, British people

Also tag me when you make yours!!!

@myroanokenightmare666 @frilledshark-enthusiast @astral--horrorshow you prommied

Bio:

Lorelai "Lore" Dagenhart

The token spooky weird goth character

Ghost Demon (based on an onryo)

She/They

AFAB Nonbinary

Biromantic Asexual

24

Autistic

Goth

British

From Birmingham

Chaotic neutral

Scorpio

Gen Z

Born October 31, 1999

Died October 31, 2023

Stabbed in the heart

Killed her old bullies (The four main ones; failed to kill the last one. Or did they?)

Was bullied severely (called names and slurs, beaten up, tripped, shoved, desk was graffitied, hair pulled and even cut, had liquids poured on her to trigger their sensory issues, rumors spread to the point not even the other goths wanted to hang out with her because they thought they sacrificed birds, locked in closets, etc.)

Failed to make friends

Tried to act "normal" for a while but because she had already been established as the weird kid it didn't work

Decided to commit to being weird

Loves being eccentric

Says weird, random, and ominous things

Likes scaring people; is good at it

Special interest is horror

Was a semi popular horror author

Drew their own covers

Has a cute style and a realistic monster style

Had good parents growing up

Parents owned a funeral home

Dad was a funeral director and mom was a mortician

Were similar to Morticia and Gomez

Speaks English and British Sign Language

Sister was deaf (her name was Faye)

Scared of bodies of water (especially running water)

Doesn't mind rain

Can still swim

Bright rooms give her sensory overload (puts on sunglasses to combat this)

Wears sound filtering earbuds

Rarely holds conversation

Either infodumps or barely contributes

Avoids eye contact

If they force herself to make eye contact, they will hold it for way too long

Only really makes eye contact when trying to intimidate someone

Struggles with social cues

Won't realize someone is upset unless they tell her

When that happens, they will simply sit and listen, which works well

Can recognize fear

Fluctuates between touch adverse, touch positive, and touch indifferent

Has a heart-shaped face, a small nose, pure white skin, long black hair parted in the middle that reaches the floor, big droopy eyes that are completely black, including the sclera, dark circles, black lips, and white fangs

Tall

6'5, 7'0 with her platforms

Very thin and bony

Wears a grey hoodie with a red x over their heart and heart shaped lock prints running down the sleeves, a pleated black skirt, black and white striped stockings, knee high lace up black 5 inch platform boots and a binder

Facial expression is usually neutral

Voice is also usually monotone

Has a haunting singing voice

Cold to the touch

The temperature in the room lowers when she gets upset (the more upset they are, the colder it gets; she is unaffected by this)

Can float

Can turn invisible

Has prehensile hair

Every time they cut it it grows back

Can't be styled either (will just return to its normal state)

Can store things inside of it

Easily sneaks up behind people

Just pops up randomly

Good at hiding

Can somehow fit into small spaces

Very flexible

Double jointed

Left handed

Anger is almost always silent; plots revenge

Very vengeful

Holds grudges

Has an amazing memory

Can think on her feet

Prefers routine

Can be very blunt

Not great at telling lies, tells half truths instead

Got A's and B's in school

Book smart, but not street smart

Had two black cats named Misery and Misfortune

Has befriended the crows by feeding them

The crows bring them little trinkets

Loves animals, especially the spooky ones (cats, rats, bats, owls, wolves, ravens, crows, snakes, spiders, moths, centipedes, as well as possums)

Favorite animal is bunnies

Favorite movie is The Ring

Favorite season is fall

Favorite holiday is Halloween

Full on cosplays for Halloween

Cosplays outside of Halloween as well

Loves candy and other sweets

Hates the taste of alcohol and coffee

Likes tea

Has taken edibles multiple times before

Often slams things without meaning to

Uses both slang and complicated vocabulary

Switches between using proper punctuation, capitalization, and spelling and ignoring it when posting as it's more chaotic

Tumblr shitposter

Made vines when it was still around

Can play the guitar (bass and electric) and piano

Doesn't quite know how to dance

Good at gardening

Offered to take care of the hotel's rose garden after seeing its neglected state

Is now the hotel gardener

Horrible at cooking

A literal hazard in the kitchen

Bad luck seems to follow them when she cooks

The food itself tastes either mediocre or terrible

Collects weird t-shirts

Humor is a mix of dark and surreal

Has a maniacal laugh

Stims by pacing, flapping hands, rocking, cracking neck (neg), and/or bouncing leg

Sleeps with arms crossed over their chest like a vampire (taught herself to do that as a kid and it became a habit)

Sleepwalks sometimes

Even creepier when they sleepwalk

Wanders around, stares at walls, crawls, says cryptic things, laughs

As a human she had brown hair that reached their back, pale skin, and occult blue eyes. She was 6'0, 6'5 with platforms. They wore a long black trenchcoat that reached the floor and a black T-shirt with a ghost on it. (The rest of her outfit was the same.)

Their full demon form has hollow black shadowy holes instead of eyes, a slit mouth that spans her entire face, long claws, and is 8 feet tall with long limbs and an echoing voice

Voice also echoes when being intense

Found the hotel shortly after arriving in hell. (Literally was just wandering around and stumbled upon it. They stopped to admire the little details, Vaggie noticed her through the window, Charlie went down to greet them, and the rest is history.)

Got a double degree in creative writing and digital art

Thinks she's pretty in a haunting way

Creative when it comes to insults and threats

Has an axe-shaped electric guitar and an axe-shaped bass guitar (literally Marceline's bass and Marshall's guitar)

VERY progressive

High Empathy

Music tastes consist of gothic rock, alt rock, punk rock, electric swing, and horror soundtracks

Parents introduced them to gothic rock and punk rock

Pirates movies

Thinks she is unlovable

Has trust issues

Assumes the worst in people

Despite this, you can win their trust by listening to her infodump

Never sits correctly

Feet on the couch, perching on the armrests or even back, crouching on the floor

Grew up agonistic

Dabbles in witchcraft (séances, tarot readings, tea leaf readings, and as a kid curses)

Always carries around a kitchen knife

Had a bobcut with bangs as a kid and wore the school uniform (white button up, black skirt, black tie) with black combat boots, black and white striped stockings, her black trenchcoat, and sharpie eyeliner

Used to explore abandoned places

Loyal to their friends

Cannot flirt or tell when someone is flirting with her to save their life

1920's outfit is a black below the knee dress with long cuffed sleeves, a grey sash, and a white collar with a white ribbon tied around it and small black heeled shoes with a strap.

Bedwear is a plain white short sleeved nightgown with her striped stockings

Never told their parents about being bullied because she didn't want them to worry

Told the teachers about being bullied but they ignored them, even when her parents got involved

Doesn't trust authority because of that

By the time they finally told her parents it was too late to do anything so they just had to push through until graduation

Killed her bullies because she couldn't live knowing they got away with what they did

Wore a ghostface costume to kill their bullies

Decided to name herself Lore because it "fits my new form"

Smells like freshly turned soil

Voice claim: Jamie from The Haunting of Bly Manor

Singing voice claim: Chibi from The Birthday Massacre/Ashley Serena/Emily Rohm

Relationships:

Alastor:

Best friends

He loves how weird she is

The only time he'll watch movies is with them

She likes showing him her favorite horror movies and infodumping afterwards

He likes spending time with her

Both have crushes on each other (He's uniromantic asexual; died at 29)

Lore assumes it's one-sided, thinking she's undateable

And Alastor loves them... Way too much

To the point of obsession

Drags her around everywhere

Definitely stalks them using his shadow

Watches her sleep

Will kidnap them eventually

Partly because he wants to keep her safe and partly because he wants them all to himself

Lore will be angry, scared, but also kinda into it (check feels unlovable)

Will probably try to make her become a cannibal like him, either by sneaking demon meat into their food, forcing her, or some other means

Charlie

One of their first friends

Sees that Lore is actually a kind person

Lore is not entirely sure her plan will work, but is supportive because that's what best friends do

Anyone who messes with her will face her wrath

Vaggie

One of their first friends

Accepts her weirdness as just who they are

Thinks each other are cool

Listen to goth music together sometimes

Has a bad feeling about Alastor's friendship with her

Angel

Creeped out by them

One of her main scaring targets

When he first met them he thought she was a ghost

Admires their chaoticness though

Will grow closer

In pain with her obliviousness with Al

Husk

Brushes them off as just a weird kid

A little worried about her friendship with Alastor

Nifty

Different flavors of weird

Forever confused about their gender

Hates when she tracks dirt in

Ships them and Alastor

Once wrote a fanfic about the two and showed her

It was smut

Lore enjoys her weird moments and finds her endearing

Sir Pentious

Scaring victim number two

Did not like him

Had not completely forgiven him for trying to betray them and kill them twice until he sacrificed himself

Katie Killjoy

Hates her

Reminds them of her old bullies

Slashed her tires after the interview

Tom Trench

Hates him because he's Katie's accomplice

Was the one that set him on fire (molotov cocktail)

Since Charlie was already taking care of Katie they went after him instead

Vox

At first did not understand why Alastor like her

Until he dug around online and realized "Ah... They're weird as shit nevermind."

Lore hates them because Alastor hates them

"My friends enemies are my enemies" type shit

Valentino

Hates him after Charlie told her what she saw at the studio

Had to hold themself back from fighting him after seeing him in the club

Lucifer

Always wanted to meet him

Still feels bad Charlie doesn't have a good relationship with him

Glad he's at least trying to fix it

Cherri Bomb

Lore brought weed gummies during their night out so she likes her

Rosie

Finds them charming

Endorses Alastor's obsession

Scene Inserts:

Pilot

Vaggie: It's all highlighted.

(Lore appears behind Vaggie, going from invisible to visible)

Lore: I think, you should scrap this, and just say Happy Hotel over and over again like a subliminal message.

Charlie: I'll just have to resort to my impeccable improv skills!

Lore: She does improv?

Charlie: Well, there's my friend Lore.

(The camera pans to Lore. She hisses.)

(The camera pans back to Charlie, slightly weirded out.)

Charlie: And someone named... Angel Dust.

Tom: WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP ME

(Lore learns into the frame, holding a lighter and smirking)

(Silence after argument in limo.)

Lore: I set a man on fire.

(The three turn and stare at her.)

Alastor: What do you do my dear?

Lore: Fester.

Charlie: She's the gardener.

Alastor: My what an intriguing lady you are.

Lore: I'm not a lady I'm a creature.

Vaggie: They mean she's Nonbinary.

(Alastor raises his eyebrow.)

Vaggie: Like identifies outside the gender binary.

Alastor: Ah! How delightfully chaotic!

Alastor: And what can you do my effeminate fellow?

Angel: I can suck ya dick.

Alastor: Ha! No.

Episode 1

Alastor: Founded five days ago by Lucifer's naive daughter Charlotte Morningstar!

Alastor: Enjoy riveting conversation with one of our two (Lore emerges behind the couch) residents! Wow!

Angel: We're in Hell toots. That's kinda the end of the road, ain't it?

Lore: He's right. Death is the end of the road. One long, winding road.

Angel: Why?

Episode 2

Alastor: Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor. Lore, care to accompany me?

Lore: I don't like people.

Alastor: Then you'll only have to interact with me! (Loops his arm around hers) Best of luck, chums!

(After Stayed Gone)

Lore: Why am I here?

Alastor: Moral support!

Charlie: So... This is the bar and the bartender. And here is the garden and the gardener!

Lore: The roses aren't ready to be cut yet. If I find that you cut any, I will cut your fucking hands off your pathetic little body.

Charlie: She's joking.

Lore: No I'm not.

Vaggie: This is going to be your whole day! (Claps)

Lore: My turn:

Hello,

my name is Lore

I like blood

And guts and gore

Charlie: That's enough-

Lore: Reality is fake

Someone's going to die

In the lake

Vaggie: I'm sorry what.

Lore: You heard me.

Episode 3

Vaggie: Wow, you are slimy.

Lore: Like a worm. But not a cute one.

Episode 4

Husk: She was the weird kid who was bullied no matter how hard they tried to fit in, so she decided to just own it and commit to the title. Also never orders alcohol. And Nifty-

(After Charlie leaves)

(Silence)

Lore: You watch us sleep?

Pentious: Oh, not you. Alastor already watches you sleep.

Lore: He what.

Episode 5

Charlie: And this is Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, and Lore, our guests!

Sir Pentious: Your Majesty!!!

Angel: Hey, you short king.

Lore: This is my childhood dream come true.

(After explaining Alastor's backstory)

Lore: Sick.

Episode 7

Vaggie: They can be killed.

Lore: Seriously I've been researching any weaknesses for months now.

Episode 8

Alastor: It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Always makes one sentimental, aye Niffty?

Niffty: I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!

Lore: You know it's funny. Hell is the only place I was actually able to make friends.

Alastor: Ahh, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.

Niffty: I dub thee, king roach!

Alastor: Oh, to understand your twisted little mind. Hahaha....

(They all laugh.)

Lore: Never change Niffty. Hey, can I be the roach jester?

Alastor: Hmm. I'd rather rule alongside you.

(He grabs her hand and kisses it.)

Lore: Oh.

(Beginning of battle)

(Brandishes knives with hair)

Lore: Come and get me you fucking tar-and-feathered hypocritical bitches in a box! See how a ghost defends its haunt.

Vaggie: New coat of paint!

Lore: New flowers

Charlie, Vaggie, Lore, Husk: With a little sorcery

Husk: New lights across the marquee

PLEASE feel free to send me asks about them!!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #tw bullying #tw murder #tw death #tw obsession #tw violence #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #yandere alastor #alastor x oc

[the-down-upside-finch]

WIP List (Tag Game!)

Thank you for the tag, @anyablackwood!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

...I don't think you understand what you are asking me to do.

*drags out my folder labeled "WIPs," where each of my stories have their own folders because I have to be organized* So, we have, in an order that descends into the "unnamed" docs: (The * means that this is a big folder with even more stuff inside of it)

Potentially Kinetic (webcomic)* - PK S1 by Chapter - PK S2 by Chapter - Idea Blurbs - Timeline

Stained Integrity (webcomic)* - (1) Stained Integrity (Revision Doc 2) - (2) Stained Integrity - [insert title]

Pentad of Un (novel)

Minding Q's (novel)

Secrets of a Gon (novel series)* - (1) Secrets of a Gon - (2) Secrets of a Gon: Fairling - (3) Secrets of a Gon: Witchery - (4) Secrets of a Gon: Krow

The New Magicians (novel series)* - (1) The Lucky Ring That Brought Bad Luck (The New Magicians) - (2) The Wooden Stick From the Wizard's Castle (The New Magicians) - (3) The Jeweled Heart From the Mage’s Dungeon (The New Magicians) - (4) The Ruby Crown That Shapeshifted When Worn (The New Magicians) - (5) The Glass Box Which Held an Unseen Curse (The New Magicians) - (6) The Feathered Mask That Could See Darkness (The New Magicians) - (7) The Hiltless Sword That Was Held By Shadows (The New Magicians) - (8) The Blue Cloak Worn to Cover a Curse (The New Magicians) - (9) The Spotted Egg From the Dragon Caverns - (10) The Bottle of Dust Stolen From Thieves' Bazaar - (11) The Ghostly Ship That Sank With the Sun - (12) The Arcane Ingredients Needed to Brew a Potion (The New Magicians) - (13) The Shell-Made Throne at the Bottom of the Sea - (14) The Gon Blood of the Last Descendants

Parallel Shadows (novel series)* - (1) Parallel Shadows (Revision Ver.) - (2) Light of the Railing (Parallel Shadows) - (3) Burning in Degrees (Parallel Shadows) - (4) Perpendicular Grid (Parallel Shadows) - (5) Crossed Between Axes (Parallel Shadows) - (6) Divisual of Angles (Parallel Shadows)

Wager and Cursed (novel trilogy)* - (1) Betting on Mushrooms - (2) Flying for High Stakes (Wager and Cursed) - (3) Always Bet on Blackmail (Wager and Cursed)

Shakedown (stream-of-consciousness experiment)

When It Showers

Link & Pin* - (1) Link & Pin — (The Quill & The Feather) - (2) Link & Pin — (Murder of Crows) - (3) Link & Pin — (Blue Overcast)

The Final Straw

A Stanger Comes to Town

Navigating Peril With a Compass and a God

150 Million Tonnes

Lies Von Iash

Shards of Midnight

Something in Retaw

The Neitherling & Champion

Beachcombers

Deck Them All

The Hotel With the Glass Elevator (previously titled "GGD Crew")

Half-Hour Identity

Head Space

Twisted, Entwined

Out Phazed

Non-Stop ∞

My Life is a Comedy (and I am a Side Character)

Two-Faced Flip

(post-apocalyptical world where you can kill someone for like a house)

(the necromancer/holy knight thing)

(Where the knight gets stuck protecting the practitioner)

(Attempt to write mystery)

(that one story idea)

(Untitled WIP, Walled-In Town)

A prince that can turn into a dragon visits a kingdom where he is supposed to marry the princess and he turns into a dragon to share his secret but someone sees him so they have to make up a whole situation where the princess is captured by the dragon and

Like 82957 short stories that I'm not going to list here because. there are literally so many of them.

Y'all. That's like 35 WIPs in my stupid WIP folder, not counting the individual stories within each series. THERE'S NO WAY I FOLLOW KNOW MANY WRITEBLRS BUT I'M NOT ABOUT TO BACK DOWN FROM A CHALLENGE So I'm (gently) tagging: @my-cursed-prince, @athenswrites, @amaiguri, @k-v-briarwood, @the-grim-and-sanguine, @planets-and-prose, @owlsandwich, @card-queen, @zestymimblo, @lordcatwich, @wordswrittenbynight, @worldsfromhoney, @ahordeofwasps, @autumnalwalker, @nettleandthorne, @bassguitarinablackt-shirt, @gwenthekween, @harleyacoincidence, @dancinginsepia, @fire-but-ashes-too, @aziz-reads, @serendipminiewrites, @maskedemerald, @da-na-hae, and literally whoever else wants to do this because. Yeah. Open tag.

(I realize after typing all of that that the game is probably just supposed to refer to only one specific WIP but you know what. I already typed all of that so I'm just going to live with it. Have fun y'all.)

#Zeta Rambles #HONESTLY? HOW DARE YOU EXPOSE ME LIKE THIS #I'm either about to get ROASTED or everyone's going to be scared of me #Yes every single one of those docs has at least several coherent paragraphs and a story outline. Yes I am insane #Okay I'm gonna go hide in a corner now hopefully I don't get flagged for spam tagging ahahaha #Writeblr #Tag Game #WIP List Tag Game #Long Post #ZootaWrites #Oh by the way my main account was tagged but I'm just doing this on my sideblog