#its the moment when they both realize they can trust each other person to person and not just captain to lieutenant

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖳𝖱𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖥𝖨𝖳𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖱𝖤𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖯? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hey there! In this reading, we'll explore which romantic/writing trope might fit your relationship with your future spouse best. Some of these themes can get pretty deep, so if you're not in the right headspace for that, perhaps come back another time. <3

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST

PILE ONE

ENEMIES TO LOVERS. | RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIME. | STAR-CROSSED.

Romance Trope? Knight of Wands [Reversed]. | Ten of Wands [Reversed]. | The Hanged Man [Reversed].

For some, a person from your past might resurface. Either way, there will be a separation. When you first encounter your future spouse, one or both of you may be going through a dark time. I should state that this connection will never become manipulative or deeply toxic, which nobody should accept or endorse.

Nonetheless, this connection won't be smooth sailing in the beginning. While serious hatred will not arise, there'll be a struggle to understand each other, which stems from inner wounds. Seeing reflections of yourself in them, and vice versa, leads to frustration because neither of you has fully healed yet. Stubbornness on both sides leads to drifting apart. Impulsive actions worsen the situation, causing you to dislike each other.

Initially, I wasn't quite sure how to define the relationship because y'all aren't really enemies, just two hurt people.

Expansion. Community. | Hostilities. | Anxiety.

Your future spouse might come into your life through a friend or an acquaintance, perhaps in a familiar setting you visit often. The connection between you both sparks a profound realization, which leads to heightened anxiety and tension. It might feel like you weren't supposed to meet this person, but in truth, you were destined to cross paths. Because when you reunite in the future, you'll love each other through the toughest times and cherish each other even more during the best moments. You're meant to teach each other lessons that no one else could, guiding you back to where you're meant to be in the end. I definitely see sleepless nights, though. — You might find each other again in the place you originally met.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody? Dolphin : Innately Intelligent, Healer, Light Blessings. Bear :  Waking From Spiritual Slumber. Beginning Anew.

When you reunite, both you and this person have undoubtedly grown. It's a chance to begin anew with them at the right moment. Your future spouse has a knack for making people question themselves, but with you, it's particularly intense. While it may have caused hurt in the past for both of you, now you can work through it together.

While pulling the cards, I heard a distinct and amusing cackle, almost like a 'dolphin laugh,' even their giggles could be a loud and funny.

Insight. Hermit — Light : Seeks solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society of others. Refusing to help those in need.  Father — Light : Talent for creating and supporting life. Positive guiding light within a tribal unit. Shadow : Dictatorial control. Abuse of authority.  Fool — Light : Fearlessly revealing emotion. Helping people laugh at absurdity and hypocrisy. Shadow : Using humor to wound rather than liberate. Denial of your emotional truth.

Your future spouse will always have an introverted nature, but before change occurs, they are extremely reserved, perhaps to an unhealthy extent. They could be overly engrossed in work, other projects, or family matters, possibly taking on a leadership role for their siblings, which can be stressful even if they don't live together. Beneath the surface, they have a playful side. In the past, both of you might have been a too naive, but you'll reconnect when they emanate this strong fatherly energy. I'm hearing, 'Young, Dumb, and Broke.'

Additional. Soulmates : Soul Connection, Partnership, Agreement, Soul Contract. Coffin : Endings Bring New Beginnings, Growth, Change, Liberation, Transition.  Separation : Sadness, Missing You, Thinking About You, Yearning, Unsure of Future. Clock : Need Time, Takes Time, In Time, Cycles, Time to Heal, Progress.

There might be a bit of a chase for a while, whether it's conscious or not. When you make efforts to understand them, they might pull away, and the same goes for you. As much as it feels strange to say it, the label of twin flames could suit this connection. However, you'll eventually overcome this phase. It's possible you were only meant to learn the lesson of self-betterment from each other in this life, but both of your paths took unexpected turns, leading you to find each other despite it all. You both will make up time from not only your younger years, but previous lifetimes.

When everything falls into place and you seek forgiveness from each other, this connection becomes truly extraordinary. It's profound and complex, holding such true beauty. Eventually, it settles into something steady, providing the stability and fulfillment you both crave. Life together feels as close to perfect as it can get.

Take A Walk : Passion Pit. | Salad Days : Mac Demarco. | The Blower's Daughter : Damien Rice.

PILE TWO

FORCED PROXIMITY. | WORKPLACE.

Romance Trope? The Emperor. | Justice. | Four of Pentacles.

You and your future spouse will be drawn to each other no matter what, as if fate itself is pulling you together. You'll find yourself in situations where you encounter your future spouse frequently. I suspect this could be through some form of work. It's possible they might hold a higher position than you, maybe even a boss, though it's not necessary. They could simply have a lot of influence and trust. In some manner, this person plays a role in ensuring your financial stability.

Expansion. Angel of Strength. | Cornucopia. | Man Holding A Coin.

Once more, this person holds a certain sway over you. For some, this influence might stem from them being your client. They control your actions because they requested them.

It all depends on your current profession or your future plans. If you're primarily self-employed, even if you have a 'boss', this person might approach you as a client or possibly someone seeking work. However, if you're in a more corporate environment, they could be your boss or a colleague.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody? Dragon : Seeing One’s Most True Self, Balancing The Ego.  Bat : Darkness, Letting Go, Death Leading To Rebirth. Lizard : Instinctual, Sensitive to The Subtle, Dreamer.

Your future spouse isn't really the bossy type. They can be assertive but are generally understanding and flexible. I don't see a power struggle whatsoever. They could be a natural leader, yet I believe their compassionate and accommodating nature prevents them from being cutthroat or overly blunt. Their work is very important to them, but they also recognize the humanity in their co-workers.

Insight. Healer — Light : Passion to serve others by repairing the body, mind, and spirit. Ability to help transform pain into healing. Shadow : Taking advantage of those who need help. Failing to care for oneself. Thief — Light : Sheds light on the potential wealth within you that can never be stolen. Shadow : Stealing money, creative ideas, affection or other powers you think you lack.  God — Light : Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others. Shadow : Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people.

As I mentioned before, this person will play a role in guiding your career somehow. They'll have things to teach you, just as you'll have things to teach them. You might notice an increase in financial opportunities or wealth around the time you meet this person, probably because of their doing, but maybe not!

Additional. Karmic Relationship : Fleeting, Turmoil, Resentment, Lessons, Letting go and Loving you.  Camera : Reminiscing, Keepsake, Perception, Learn From the Past, Make Memories.  Girl Talk : Time with Friends, Moving On, Happily Single, Living in the Moment, Having Fun. Palm Tree : Stability, Security, Permanence, Growth, Endurance, Flexibility. 

Before anyone gets worried, let me clarify that I didn't take the Karmic Relationship card too seriously. I interpreted the message as affirming that this relationship will involve significant learning and growth. Not everyone will end up parting ways with this person, but everyone involved will gain valuable insights from the other. This connection could help both of you avoid repeating past mistakes. — As an alternate message, I'd like to add that it's time to let go of past relationships. Your future partner wants you to embrace self-love and believes in your ability to find happiness within yourself. Mastering contentment while single will not only attract them sooner but also teach you a valuable lesson that's ready to be learned.

Your future spouse will stand by your side and do everything in their power to support you. They aren't just interested in your safety and stability; they'll actively work to make sure it happens. Their actions speak volumes in this regard.

Partition : Beyoncé. | I Will : Mitski.

PILE THREE

SECOND CHANCE. | FORBIDDEN LOVE. 

Romance Trope? Two of Bows/Wands [Reversed]. | Seven of Vessels/Cups. | Two of Vessels/Cups [Reversed]. | The Green Woman. | Ten of Bows/Wands.

For many of you, I don't believe this is just an ex. I sense a third-party element at play here. Pinpointing a main scenario is too tricky; it varies for everyone by a lot. Perhaps you meet this person through a friend with whom you'll later drift apart with. Maybe your future partner happens to be a sibling of a friend. The possibilities are numerous. Nonetheless, there's someone who acts as a bridge between you both, influencing the connection. You might even have someone in mind already as you read this.

Regardless of the circumstances, I don't think your future spouse is the cause of this temporary 'separation', which might end up being a lack of communication for a short period of time until the situation resolves itself. I can't see a time where your future spouse was previously unkind or unpleasant to you, but rather it's more likely that the mutual person between you two played that role. If there are any rumors circulating, your future spouse will likely discern who's at fault and support you.

Expansion. Angel of Love. | Fifth Chakra : Archangel Gabriel. | Magician and The Mirror.

At first, your future spouse might assume they're to blame for the fallout and feel guilty about it. This uncertainty might delay the reconnection, even though they're fully committed to being by your side. They'll struggle with how to initiate fixing things, but eventually, they'll gather the courage to try. This reconciliation could happen online, if that resonates.

The forbidden aspect of this connection might originate from parental expectations, like qualities they require in your partner. Remember, you always have a choice in this matter. If not, it's not necessarily wrong but might be viewed with disapproval, such as getting involved with a friend's ex-partner.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody? Tiger : Lunar Force, Ease in Darkness, Feminine Energy.  Raccoon : Talented, Shadowy, In Hiding. Hawk : Watchful, All-Seeing, Messenger of Divinity.

Your future spouse is incredibly passionate and generous in their relationships and friendships, and this will shine even more when you two reconnect. They'll be open and sincere about their love for you once they emerge from hiding.

Insight. Addict — Light : Helps you recognize and confront addictive behavior. Shadow : Compromises integrity and honesty. Allows an addictive pattern to have authority over your inner spirit.  Avenger — Light : Desire to balance the scales of justice. Righteousness on behalf of society or oneself. Shadow : Resorting to violence in the name of a cause. Seeker — Light : Thirst for wisdom and truth wherever they are. Shadow : Inability to commit to a path once found.

After reconnecting, your future spouse will become more righteous, not just in relationships, but in all aspects of life. They won't stand for their loved ones being mistreated and will seek truth in murky situations, sharing their insights to keep you informed. They'll be honest about areas needing improvement while maintaining their patient and kind nature. By this time, they will understand how to be straightforward yet gentle.

Additional. The Butterfly : Relationship Evolving to the Next Phase, Healing the Inner Child, Growth. Boat : Receiving What You Need, Progression, Arriving, Moving On, Closure Issues. Girl With a Snake : Empath and Narcissist Paradigm, Being Charmed or Used, Enable Boundaries.  Heartbroken : Deeply Hurt, Sad, Separation, Breakup, Feeling Lost, Grieving, Mourning.

Reconnecting with you will be a healing and transformative experience for them. It will bring closure to their past, and you might need to reassure them that your aren't going anywhere. It's a bit odd, but lately, I've been watching Supernatural, and this person reminds me of Sam Winchester. They have a strong desire to protect you, but sometimes they might overextend themselves trying to provide for you. Which isn't your fault at all, they just need a reminder to relax and slow down.

Killer : The Ready Set. | She Looks So Perfect : 5 Seconds of Summer. | Holding Hands : The Magic Lantern.

PILE FOUR

FRIENDS TO LOVERS. | SOULMATES.

Romance Trope? Six of Pentacles. | Seven of Cups [Reversed]. | Three of Wands [Reversed].

Although it's one of the sweetest piles, it's also a tad messy. Not everyone will relate to this aspect, but take what resonates.

This person could be from your childhood or teenage years, or maybe someone you've recently met, or have yet to meet. Anything really. However, I feel for the majority it's someone you know. You have to figure this part out for yourself. But regardless, they're incredibly generous toward you, whether it's with money, affection, or understanding. However, this connection isn't without its challenges. Despite being very supportive, you'll have to navigate obstacles together. There might be setbacks or delays, but ultimately, your bond will grow stronger and develop into a romantic relationship.

Expansion. Strategy. | Storm Warning. | Healer of the Ages.

This part might only apply to a few, but I don't necessarily see it as your next relationship. Why? Well, because there are cards here, and later in the reading, that hint at some kind of breakup, which your future spouse helps you navigate through.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody?  Elk : Stable, Resilient, Headstrong, The Father. Turtle : Ancient Soul, Grounded, Trusting, At Home in the Self. Crocodile : Resting, Submerging, Collecting Energy, Cooling Off. 

Your future spouse will always carry the aura of a caregiver, being nurturing and extending their kindness towards both loved ones and strangers alike. They have a natural inclination towards being giving but possess a discerning eye when it comes to where and who they invest their energy. Their actions are consistent, and they seem calm and collected.

Your future spouse really embodies the ideal father figure and likely connect effortlessly with children. Patience and wisdom are strong in their nature, further enhancing this energy. They're like a true teddy bear until provoked.

Insight. Student — Light : Humility and devotion to knowledge. Openness to lifelong learning. Shadow : Arrogance in the pursuit of destructive knowledge. Unwillingness to translate knowledge into action.  Prince — Light : Romantic charm and potential for power. Shadow : Using power for self-aggrandizement.  Companion — Light : Loyalty, tenacity, and unselfishness. Shadow : Betrayal by misusing confidences. Loss of personal identity.

Think of your ideal "prince charming" - that's precisely who your future spouse is, whether in appearance or mindset. Gender doesn't limit this; it's about their energy and attitude. They have boundless curiosity, always eager to explore life and learn. Their fascination with you extends to wanting to know every detail, so they can envision and arrange everything in their mind. Loyalty and romance are ingrained in them, qualities you'll surely cherish. They're very charming.

Even in friendship, your future spouse exhibits a strong protective instinct, perhaps even a hint of possessiveness. You might not even realize your love for them until something sudden strikes. It's really like something out of fan fiction, where a seemingly random spark is actually the culmination of a slow burn. This realization may dawn on you when your future spouse defends or stands up for you in some manner. Suddenly, all the signs they've been dropping will become clear, and even the glance from them afterward will convey everything you need to know.

Additional. The Phoenix : New Phase, Rekindle, Renew, Transformation, Growth, Changed Mind.  Stabbed in the Back : Heartbreak, Pain, Separation, Deception, Shocking Attack. Palm Tree : Stability, Security, Permanence, Growth, Endurance, Flexibility. Mask : Not Showing True Feelings, Hide, Personify, Pretend, Delude, Gaslighting.  Sunglasses : Watching, Looking, Stalking, Gaslighting, Perception, Focusing Out. Keys on a Ring : Many Options, Decision, Unconventional, String Along, One Night Stand.

For those it applies to, I'm revisiting my earlier point about being in a relationship and your future spouse's good sense of judgment regarding character. If this doesn't resonate, feel free to skip and check out the songs instead. Thank you!

Your future spouse had already secretly admired you for some time. Aware of your existing relationship, they struggled to suppress their feelings. Amidst the chaos in their mind, they couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with your partner. They wanted to reach out to warn you out of genuine concern, but you dismissed it as an overreaction. There's a chance your partner at the time suspected something between you two, leading to a sudden end to the relationship [Although, I don't think there was anything actually happening.] They might have harbored resentment for a while. But fear not, your future partner comes to the rescue. Whether they witness the breakup or support you afterward, you'll come to realize that your true feelings lay with them all along, but you were blinded by the allure of another. With too many choices before, you failed to think clearly and see what was right in front of you.

Like That : Jack and Jack. | Somewhere Only We Know : Keane. | Little Person : Matt Maltese.

#metaphysical #occult #tarot #tarot reading #tarot readings #tarot reader #tarot cards #divination #divination reading #oracle #oracle cards #oracle deck #oracle reading #spiritual #spirit #spirituality #pick a card #witch #pac #tarot deck #advice #manifestation #tarot community #rainerioun #romance #friendship #general reading #future spouse #future spouse reading #future spouse pac

[sirgwaines]

I deeply relate to John Granby and Henry Ferris because I too would immediately develop a crush on Will Laurence because he's hot and then fall in love with him because he's a good person, and I'd be just as weird about it

#*Granby voice* yes SIR anything you say SIR you have beautiful eyes SIR #*Ferris voice* um... my mom said you could spend the night if you wanted to Mr. Captain Laurence sir #temeraire #john granby #henry ferris #granby #ferris #will laurence #william laurence #I'm in the middle of rereading the second book so we haven't met Ferris yet #but I loved him the first time so here we go #thinking about granby again #whats new #and how in the first book there's that scene when temeraire's harness straps are badly cut #and Laurence basically launches himself over temeraire's shoulder to reattach them #and hes hanging in mid air and granby bodily pulls him back up and laurence hooks his harness onto granby's #and they are smooshed face to face basically hugging both covered in sweat and dragon blood and totally reliant on each other #its the moment when they both realize they can trust each other person to person and not just captain to lieutenant #I just know thats the moment when granby starts letting himself fall in love #ferris on the other hand has what is basically a crush on laurence until he gets kicked out of the aerial corps for treason #and then they reconcile later and ferris is pissed but he knows that laurence did the right thing #and he can't really be mad at laurence because he saved hundreds of dragon lives at great personal cost #and the crush blossoms from puppy love to a deep admiration for laurence as a man #many thoughts on the subject #his majesty's dragon

[emilicious0]

Oooh, I got a request!

Can I get a Lucifer X reader headcanons or fic where reader is like fascinated with his wings? Bc let's be honest, it angels were real, I definitely would be fascinated with their wings and he got three pairs of them!

lucifer x gn! reader

pt.2 !!!

after rebuilding the hotel, charlie's dad, lucifer himself, decided to stay with his daughter. done with living alone for so long, he started to create a bond with all of the residents (except alastor). with you, however, he finally found a true friend.

your friendship began when he visited the hotel before the battle, and charlie introduced you as one of the sinners looking for redemption. you were one of the first ones to ever believe in charlie's idea, and seeing how you supported her made him respect you. after the battle with the extermination army, he saw you protecting his daughter, which led to you two officially becoming friends.

of course, there is more to your friendship than just love for charlotte. you shared many similar interests. you were always interested in art and all of its aspects, which lucifer gladly discussed with you (he was amazed by different kind of art aspects that humans created). also, you happened to be a good listener, so the king of hell used you as his personal problem dump (not that you minded).

you were surprised by how well you two got along but weren't complaining about this newfound relationship whatsoever. lucifer was kind, protective, and someone to trust.

this evening was surprisingly peaceful by hell standards, and you decided to spend your time on the balcony, reading. you don't get many chances to do that peacefully in a place like this, so you were making the most of it.

while sitting there, you heard the flapping of wings, which made you tense up for a second, only to hear a familiar voice:

“well, look who it is!”

you looked up and couldn't hide the fascination forming on your face. lucifer landed on your balcony with three pairs of his beautiful wings behind his back.

when he landed, he did not hide them, noticing your shocked expression. you stared at him, which made the man blush a little. he loved it when you gave all your attention to him.

“y/n?” he asked, and you snapped out of your shocked state.

“can I touch your wings?”

you slammed your hands over your mouth, embarrassed and worried that this question was too rude.

lucifer got more flustered but smiled rather shyly and came closer to you.

with a low whisper, he said: “you can.”

you stood up and carefully put your hand on his shoulder, then on his right top wing. lucifer gasped quietly but stood still.

meanwhile, your hand moved across the wing, then lower to the second one. you carefully touched his feathers, shocked by the softness.

the man was melting at the feeling of your touch, loving how your fingers brushed his wings. he never really wanted that moment to end.

for this one moment, you both looked into each other's eyes, and sparks flew between you.

both of you wanted to say something, but words stuck in your tongue. you felt lucifer's hand on your waist and sensed your cheeks warming up.

your hands moved to his shoulders, and you both came closer to each other, somehow enchanted by one another.

“dad!” charlie's voice came from behind you, and you jumped away from each other. “there you are! I need your help! y/n, come with us too!”

“y-yeah, char, coming!” you said and followed the princess, but stopped to look at lucifer. “you coming?”

he, red in the cheeks, nodded and slowly followed both of you.

today, you two realized your feelings.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

#poll #finals #sakura haruno #naruto #misa amane #misa misa #death note

[tonkatsubowl]

man's best friend.

how would the xianzhou boys react to you bringing home a dog?

cat version here.

"we aren't keeping it." dan heng stared at you with disbelief, given the immediate response as he saw you holding a puppy in your hands the moment he got home. pinching the bridge of his nose, you could hear the puppy whine, wiggling its tiny feet as a desperate attempt to escape to go up to dan heng.

...the attempt was a success, actually, and there would be a tiny little furball waddling up to the man who supposedly didn't want to take care of a puppy.

"wha— but why not? it clearly likes you!" now you were giving him the puppy eyes.

dan heng sighed, still learning on trying to resist that cute little face of yours. he watched as the puppy whine at him, pawing as his ankles as it desperately was begging for his attention.

"do you realize how responsible and attentive we'd have to be when it comes to raising a puppy, y/n? they are very high maintenance animals." dan heng gave you a stern look as he folded his arms over his chest, raising a brow at you.

"i'm not that stupid. i'm fully well aware how hard it is to take a puppy, but can't you just resist those (my) cute little eyes of it? please, pleaaase! i'll be fully responsible for it too!"

he really couldn't resist those puppy eyes of yours. it was working though. that was when he sighed with defeat, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his cranium.

"fine. as long as you're the one taking all the responsibility... we already have enough on our plate as it is, especially when we have missions to do."

you smile, almost wanting to squeal with happiness. "oh, great! thank you!"

it wasn't long until dan heng would begin to help you with raising a puppy. you knew this would happen too. it also wouldn't take long that dan heng would eventually take a liking to it.

"..." blade stared at you with a dumbfounded expression as you held the puppy up to his face, allowing it to playfully and timidly lick at his nose. he just came back from a mission with the stellaron hunters...and assuming he'd come home and rest immediately, he would be greeted by the sight of a "wild beast" in your home.

not surprisingly enough, blade was more of a cat person. he stared in silence still, watching as you and the puppy shared similar expressions.

"please, blade..." you murmured, watching as the puppy wiggled around in your grasp, whining a bit as though to beg your significant other to keep it.

you could hear him exhale, his shoulders slumping as he continued to look at the animal...and you.

"...fine. but i'm not picking up after him."

your lips immediately tugged to a smile as you almost squealed with joy, inclining yourself upon toes and giving blade a kiss on the cheek. worth it.

"thank you!"

it wasn't long until blade grew a liking to your new dog. he was hoping it would protect you one day while he was gone on missions. he'd probably have to train it too.

"ooh," jing yuan cooed, "don't let mimi see it. she'll get jealous."

luckily for the both of you...well, three of you, the lion of xianzhou wasn't around at the moment. she was taking a nap elsewhere, unaware of the monstrosity you call a 'puppy' home.

"i think it's a good thing that it's still a puppy. do you think she'll take care of it?" you ask, watching as the general extended a hand to pet the puppy on the head.

you hear him chuckle as he was brushing his thumb against the puppy's head, rubbing its ear with slow and gentle movements.

"perhaps. she'll be territorial of it at first, but i trust that we can keep the both of them safe from each other."

you blink. "we?"

jing yuan blinked too. "...of course, y/n. you brought home a puppy, no? we'd have to be responsible and take care of it but of course, i just hope you don't bring home an entire zoo."

you smile warmly as the puppy was now slowly being transferred over to jing yuan's grasp, allowing the little one to lick his face.

"what shall we name it? do you have any name suggestions? i suppose i'd have to redo a bit of my schedule to assist you raising this puppy."

you couldn't help but that smile of yours turn into a grin, excited that you were ready to raise a puppy with your other half! you snuggle up against the general as he laughed, letting the puppy play with the fluffiness of his hair.

"i'm not sure! i'll let you handle the names!" you exclaimed as jing yuan was holding up the puppy as though he was referencing a particular children's movie fixated on lions.

"ahaha, alright. now where should we potty train it...?"

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng #honkai star rail blade #hsr blade #hsr dan heng #jing yuan #blade x reader #honkai star rail dan heng #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail jing yuan

[wonijin]

INHIBITIONS

you and your leader have never made it past the co-worker stage. until, one incident turned both of your worlds upside down.

TAGS: kim chaewon/fem!reader. a three-in-one combo of angst and smut and fluff. 2.3k words.

WARNINGS: sexual themes. kinda red-flag chaewon

it happened when the other members left the dorm to do their own thing. only you and chaewon warm the enormous dorm. usually, it would be filled with thundering laughter or silent bustling. but today, it was enveloped in warm silence.

‘awkward’ was how you’d describe the dorms right now.

you and your leader have never been close. its not that you have anything against her. in fact, you held such high respect for her. and as far as you know, she bears no resentment towards you either. its just you’ve never had the chance to connect with her.

‘it takes time’ you thought. deep connections aren’t made in a blink of an eye. and you have just been members. its reasonable that you both consider each other co-workers right now.

you walked around the dorms aimlessly, trying to find something to ease your boredom. your eyes fell to the door leading to your leader’s room.

maybe the best way to spend your hours is by building long-lasting and pure friendships.

your feet led you closer before your mind can convince to turn away. as you come face to face with the wooden door, you paused. it would be better if you bring a peace offering. maybe fruits from the fridge or a cup of tea. is she a coffee person?

ideas arise at the top of your head one after the other until it was shattered by a series of loud sounds. you come back to reality and focused to hear the noises better.

no, not noises. moans. your body stilled, face feeling hot at the realization.

you should’ve turned away. you should’ve known better than to spend a second longer at her doorstep. after all, co-workers weren’t suppose to lean their ear on to their colleague’s room door. but you did.

indeed it was chaewon’s voice. you spent countless hours of vocal practice to recording sessions with her to recognize it anywhere.

you wondered if she invited someone over without your knowledge. the image of your leader making love with someone seared hot on your brain for a moment. you pressed your ears impossibly closer to the cold hard door. no other voice emerged. the sounds were undoubtedly hers alone.

the sounds she made tickle your ear through the thick wood and you couldn’t help but imagine her on the other side, pleasuring herself desperately with her fingers. your mind reeled at the thought.

before you could do something stupid, you walked away and into the confinements of your own room. where you trusted the walls would not betray the sounds you made that day.

a week later, a similar incident happened. this time, chaewon was walking around in very short shorts and a tank top. she was quite exposed, from her luscious neck to her eminent collarbone to her soft thighs. everything laid ripe for you to take.

but you pride yourself in self-control. something within your reach shouldn’t be taken just because you can. you’re better than losing to your own carnal desires.

yet, chaewon was bending in front of you. her hips sways when she walks, and the layer of sweat that clings to her. it all drives you insane.

you knew this wasn’t anything new. she had worn more revealing outfits in the past. and you’ve noticed her then of course. but this time was different. you didn’t know what melodies she made when pleasured then.

now, you do. and your nerves were bristling today. tired and battered from the pressures of your job, as taxing as it was rewarding. you desperately needed an outlet. a consolation.

the last straw was when you hear her again in her room. much louder and much clearer than the last time, lust drips prominently from her angelic voice. you press your ears again with less hesitation than the last time. because maybe its time you both graduate from being co-workers.

you open the door, fast enough to alert her of your presence but slow enough to not be labeled as “barging in”. the smell of sex poisons your senses until you were high with lust.

chaewon paused at the sight of you in her doorway. she was already red and sweaty but the embarrassment was well-pronounced on her face. ‘well, what did you expect?’ even chaewon herself was aware that she was moaning like a bitch in heat.

“please. don’t stop on my account,” you say after swallowing your saliva.

what was done was already done. you were already here and chaewon is too deep in her thirst for a release to stop now. chaewon might as well enjoy the consequences.

chaewon continued. she had the audacity to open her legs wider. her fingers reach for her mouth, sucking on them before aiming downwards. you watch every movement, wanting every moment to be burned on to your brain.

she locks eyes with you as she rubs circles on her clit. her other hand clutches the sheets tightly.

you close the door behind you and walk towards her. “may i?” you ask. she kisses you in response, whispering a small “yes” against your lips.

your eyes met hers again as you pull away. a silent conversation exchanged wordlessly.

‘there was no going back on what you were both about to do.’

you could’ve thought about how having sex with your leader would not only change your dynamic but the entire group’s as well but you didn’t. your entire focus was on her body. your pleasure and hers. the repercussions could wait. what lays before you should come first.

you stare hard into her eyes, she stared back with just as much fire. it was a challenge, if you had the guts to move. to move forward or to back down, each would take equally as much will.

so, you kiss her. because you were born with tenacity. going for something you want had never been easier.

you both moved swiftly before regret can crash over both of you , grabbing every piece of clothing and removing it.

“fuck. you don’t know how long i dreamt of this,” you kiss every part of her your lips can reach, convincing yourselves the pleasure was worth the punishment.

it is. for she moans sweetly in your ear, her nails digging through your bare back. the bitter pain pushing you to pleasure her further. you suck at every inch of her soft skin. lower and lower until you reach her breast. your hands fondle her soft skin while your mouth sucks and bites.

her other hand fists your hair. “more.”

her pink nipples swell at the attention, and you don’t stop until she begs for you to go further.

“i need you,” she breathes out as she tugs at your scalp, forcing you to face her bare core. her smell wafts through your nose, intoxicating you. if you weren’t blinded by lust earlier, you were now.

you kiss her inner thighs, biting lightly at the supple flesh. “god. come on, just fuck me already,” your laughs sent a wave of air through her womanhood and you feel chaewon jolt under you hold.

having enough of playing with your meal, you gave it small licks. chaewon grits her teeth, she wasn’t known for her patience and you know that. she grabs your head and shoved it into her pussy, forcing and end to your teasing.

your tongue drew circles at her clit while your thumb glides at her entrance. “that’s it. i always knew your mouth can do other things than just sing,” chaewon encourages above you. her half lidded eyes enjoying the view of you eating her out.

then, you switch your mouth with your fingers. your tongue slide at her dripping hole, tracing its entrance but never daring to enter.

you bring her to the edge until you removed your fingers from her clit to enter a digit inside her. your lips reach out to kiss her, giving her a taste. you proceeded lower to suck on her nipples, swirling and flicking your tongue once more.

you enter a second finger, picking up the pace. you feel her nails scratch your back harder as you feel her walls lock onto your fingers. “close, im so close. harder”

you grant her wish, exerting all your force into every thrust. your lips found its way to her clitoris again. the combination sending chaewon into a fit of moans. her soft voice were light and silent but loud enough to bless your ears. they grew in volume as she comes close to her climax, serving as motivation to you.

with one last stroke, she comes undone at your fingertips. the electricity of her high making her buck her hips in the air and clutch your head for support.

you don’t stop sucking her clit, helping her ride her high. she weakly pushes your head away from her pussy. you pull away woth one last lick making her sigh in fading pleasure.

you plopped beside her. her bed could barely fit the two of you but it embraced your sweaty body enough. after a moment’s breath, you grabbed your closed and walked out of the room.

chaewon didn’t bother to say anything as you prepared leave. words could wait. she only stared at her ceiling, wondering what in the world just happened. a million thoughts ran through her mind, all blurry and fast. but only one managed to come out her mouth when you walked in holding towels and a glass of water.

you hand it to her, as your mind registers the look on her face: regret. you felt a stone dropping onto your stomach.

“this is the first and last time of this.” chaewon says quietly before bringing the glass to her plump, swollen lips. is it wrong to want to kiss them again?

“yeah. i know.” you nod at her. the price of what you both had done is already being paid and you feel its effects. you feel like a rock, out of place and cold. so you got dressed silently, chaewon watching your every move as she sips at her water.

you were halfway out the door when chaewon called your name. “i had fun, you know.” *thank you* is what she meant. but you already know that so you nod your head and closed the door behind you.

you left chaewon’s room with more worries than when you entered.

the first to notice the shift in you and chaewon was naturally your members. they fell victims to the unbearable awkwardness when both of you are in the same space. they were also quick to notice how you turn stiff at the mention of your leader’s name. or how chaewon avoids uttering your name altogether. it was amusing as it was frustrating for the four members.

the fans speculated after. after all, nothing escapes a fan’s eye, small or big, irrelevant or otherwise. there were thousands of posts on the internet on how chaewon and you are never on the same frame. even if you were, you were both on to two ends of the screen.

did a fight broke out? a prank? not just the fans but the members were also dying to know what juicy revelation happened.

the next time you and chaewon were left alone in the dorm again was two weeks after the incident. the perfect time to properly talk.

you sit crosslegged at your bed, eyes burning holes through the door. you either go out of your room or she comes in. which one would it be? you wonder if she’s doing the exact thing as you right now in her own room. maybe she’s not worrying excessively like you.

as if manifesting her existence before you, you her a knock on the door. chaewon opened the door before you could get up and answer. she closes the door behind her, “you know why im here.”

she’s a leader. of course, she’d think of setting things straight.

chaewon copies you as she sits after you gesture to the empty space in front of you.

“this.” chaewon gestures between the two of you. “whatever tension we have has to end. it’s taking a toll on everybody.” chaewon was never one to beat around the bush.

“of course. you have any suggestions what we should do, leader?” you agree with her. you both knew the price of what you did and you paid enough already.

pink paints chaewon’s cheek at the nickname. your lips turned upward, looking at her pretty face.

“i dont know,” she breaths with a sigh. “we could get to know each other?” her voice raise lightly, her face showing her own uncertainty.

“how cheesy, kim chaewon.” you laugh lightly at her suggestion, but you made no protest. you agreed it was a great way to break the ice. “shut up.” chaewon smacks your shoulder.

“so you’d take me out on dinner?” you ask her playfully but it took a whole second for chaewon to understand the joke. and when she did, the color pink came back on her face.

“why go out when i can get to know you right here?” chaewon realized how her words could be taken right after it left her mouth. you cackle at her, while the pinkness in her cheeks turned red.

you watch her smile and you thought that maybe your mistake led you to something beautiful after all. chaewon wouldn’t be laughing in your room roght now if it weren’t for the incident.

you never would’ve guessed sex would be the answer to you and chaewon finally being close. yet, here you were laughing at her lame jokes.

#chaewon x reader #le sserafim x reader #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon imagines #chaewon imagines #chaewon imagine #chaewon x you #le sserafim #le sserafim x you #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim imagine

[writerquil]

Spoilers!

TW! A rant. Mentions of S@ and Abuse

AHEM! Alastor apologist (and apparently now partial defender) to the rescue!

This post is for anyone switching up on my guy after the newest episode. And the switch up originates from that one scene, you know, the scene below.

(EDIT: Sorry for the random censoring lol, I don't feel like going back to edit it and its an old habit of mine).

Yeah, we all know this scene. Basically the one where Alastor lashes out at Husk.

Immediately after seeing this scene I had TWO different reactions, in which consisted of “wow that was cool” and “people are going to twist this, aren’t they?”

And people did! So here I am!

I’m basically going to show a bunch of reactions and concerns to said scene that I disagree with and then I’ll say why!

1. “Alastor is like Valentino!”

Don’t even say that. PLEASE NO.

I like to think that I’m pretty good at letting my liking for characters go the moment that I realize they’re wretched in specific ways, but this never occurred for Alastor.

You wanna know why? Because he is NOTHING like Valentino apart from the fact that they’re both overlords who carry soul contracts. I don’t think I really need to pick apart their personalities because we can already tell how different they are.

The only reason why the two were “grouped” together was because Husk and Angel were stuck in situations both caused by soul contracts and an overlord which caused the two to be mentioned alongside each other.

2. “Husk’s relationship to Alastor is EXACTLY the same as Angel and Valentino’s!”

Nope. Both relationships, admittedly suck, trust me, I’m not discounting either relationship or saying “ok well one has it worse than the other”.

But come on guys, the relationships are not the same. Alastor sucks to Husk, obviously, considering he is forced to do his bidding for who knows how long? But there’s obviously a fine line between the two relationships.

There’s parallels of course, with the chains and the soul dealing. The situations aren’t completely the same but they have similar sources so parallels are bound to occur.

Valentino is an abusive ass whom frequently physically and emotionally abused Angel and Alastor (from what we’ve all seen) can be a jerk who drags Husk into clearly many “favours” such as working at the hotel and possibly many more considering he’s clearly met more of Alastor’s colleagues and friends before.

They’re both forced into things and with their souls under contract, they can’t do much about it. But the things they’re forced to do are significantly different. Once again, this isn’t me saying anyone has it better, because it’s not a competition.

But the relationships are not the same. The two are brought in for significantly different things. Do you really think Alastor is s3Xua!!y abusing Husk whenever he’s brought in? Yeah, no, me neither.

Do you think he’s mentally abusing him too, or that a situation like what was displayed occurs often whenever Husk does come in? Because no. Didn’t you see how startled Husk was? This clearly wasn’t just an average event that happened between the two frequently and the fact that Husk was willing to push Alastor’s buttons a bunch in the first place just shows that he wasn’t expecting it to happen either.

And for the people so insistent on Alastor abusing him like that. I suggest you hide your weird k!nks better.

3. “Alastor tortures Husk frequently!”

Okay and what gave you that idea? Was it the way that Alastor lashed out? Because he didn’t lash out of the blue as you may think.

Husk pushed his buttons and Alastor got angry. Trust me, I love Husk but he played a stupid game and got surprised when he won a stupid prize.

Considering Alastor abusive after pulling Husk to the floor is strange. Trust me, if he was supposed to be abusive, it would be explicitly showed throughout the episodes. And before you say “well it was implied”, I really don’t think so.

And once again, Husk was clearly extremely startled, which means this probably doesn’t happen very often. Which also discounts you all considering him to be similar to Valentino, who displayed hurting behaviour frequently.

Like the most we’d even seen interaction between the two was in the pilot and the recent episode. I think we’d get more display if there was more violence occurring in the relationship.

4. “I used to like Alastor before…”

Then what? You realized he was evil and did evil things? YEAH, he’s bound to threaten someone here and there.

Like if you don’t like him after witnessing his literal evilness then sorry to say, you never liked him in the first place.

I’m sorry for this guys but seriously. You can’t switch up on an evil character for doing evil things. He’s going to threaten people. Just know that when he does, it doesn’t signify he’s abusive or assaults Husk on a daily basis.

#hazbin hotel episode 5 #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor haters are gonna make me cry #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin alastor #rant #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin husk

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

#miles morales #42 miles morales #42 miles morales x reader #astv x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #astv miles #astv x reader #astv x y/n #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 prowler #earth 42 miles morales x female reader #earth 42 miles fluff #astv #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales prowler #miles morales x y/n #prowler miles #miles morales 1610 #d

[lex-the-flex]

Astarion Showing His Scars

A/N: It's about time I wrote something sweet for my favorite vampire! I'm playing through BG3 and can't wait to romance this man.

The evening grew incredibly boring as it seemed there was nothing to do. There was no big fight to take part in, no heroic quest to seek out, the day was just calm. So your crew decided that the best thing to pass the time would be to officially clean the campsite and discard any items that were cluttering the storage chests including taking inventory of Cazador’s Palace. After a long day of taking stock of food supplies, articles or clothing, weapons, and other items you may need, the sun began to set, filling the sky with its beautiful colors of pink and orange. 

Ascending the Palace’s stone steps, both Shadowheart and Gale proposed that you all retreat to your respective rooms after finishing your hot meals and baths when the three of you noticed that Astarion was nowhere in sight. Wandering around the empty halls, the only sound to occupy the silent space was a series of frustrated grunts and sighs from your vampire lover. Opening the door to his grand room, an unexpected sight nearly makes your knees wobble: Astarion stands in the dim light of his room towards the balcony tracing his muscular back with his fingertips, trying to figure out what each of the scribbles mean. 

“What the hell is this? Is it an ‘S,’ or perhaps an ‘E’?” He asks to himself. 

After a moment of silence, Astarion notices you in his peripheral vision, and he turns around in shock. 

“What are you doing?!” He frantically asks, startled by your presence. 

“I- I’m just here to bring you dinner.” You mumble.

Placing down two goblets of blood wine, you cautiously fold your hands over your stomach, trying to ease the sudden wave of nausea. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the Palace tonight.” Astarion replies. 

Taking a long chug from the first glass, Astarion exhales at the liquid's delight before turning to you. Gently holding his shoulder, you try to turn Astarion around to see what he was tracing but you only get so far. 

“What are these? How did–?” You begin, briefly touching the freshly-looking scars. 

Suddenly, Astarion whips around, grabbing your wrist. Scrunching his brows in surprise, Astarion realizes what he’s done, and he lets go of your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, darling. So sorry.” He says, pressing a loving kiss to your knuckles, silently apologizing. 

“It’s alright, Astarion. You didn’t mean it.” You reply. 

After a quick pause, the warmth of your hands slowly calms Astarion down. Giving him room to breathe, you quietly step back not wanting to invade his personal bubble.

“I’ve been trying to trace the scars for some time now. Unfortunately I haven’t had the best luck, Y/N. Even in death, Cazador continues to haunt me.” Astarion admits, leaning over the desk chair.

Collapsing against the wooden desk, Astarion crumbles into a fit of despair, questioning whether he’d ever translate the damn scars. Walking over to his side, you hesitantly glide your fingertips on the back of Astarion’s neck, fighting your own forming wave of tears.

“Come here.” You offer.

Opening your arms to the man before you, he sinks down to his knees and hugs your waist. Sobbing into your pair of trousers, all you can do is run your fingers through Astarion’s white curls hoping to cheer him up.

“I’ve never shown my scars to anyone, Y/N. You’re the first to see them in over two centuries and hopefully you won’t be the last. I trust you with all of my heart and soul. I hope that this didn’t come as a shock to you, darling.” Astarion explains.

“What, of course not, Star. Well, it did, but regardless of the scars as well as your old master; they made you who you are. Even if you are a gorgeous vampire who’s afraid of the sun.” You tease, pulling Astarion to stand up.

“Now you’re just being naughty.” He replies with a smile.

Wiping away his tears, Astarion leans his forehead on yours, and softly hums. Pulling you in closer to his body, Astarion presses his lips against yours, knowing that he is truly loved by you.

taglist ~

@dreamliners

@violetthecreator

@bitten-by-astarion

@loveandfictionforall

@tripleyeeet

@macabre-mangled

@demigoddessqueens

@oooriana

@local-trans-witch

@kittenkiryu

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

@squashfics

@notrattus

@mishwanders

@worryknotdear

@casperbunn

@night-n-sky

@xplore-the-unknwn

@writing-fanics

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion fluff #astarion headcanons #astarion hc #astarion angst #astarion my beloved #baulder’s gate 3 #bg3 #neil newbon

[sprout-fics]

Ghost and Gaz have barely any interaction in MW2022, and it makes me curious about what the relationship is like between them. They’re both part of the same taskforce, and based on the way Ghost immediately recognized Gaz, they’ve met at least once before. Based on the missions in the game, it’s possible that they’re almost never worked together before. Still, I like to imagine how they might interact off-screen or in a more casual setting. This is a bit of my interpretation of these two.

Personally, I think Gaz heard about ‘The Ghost’ long before he signed on with Price. The rumors about Ghost were often exaggerated, and Gaz could tell that. As a result, he probably dismissed Ghost at first as some type of arrogant prick or a gritty edgelord. To his surprise, Ghost was neither of those when they met. Instead he was this huge, silent, lurking man with a clear respect for Price and a cold, leveled stare for Gaz. Quiet, abrasive when he talked, but incredibly skilled and dangerous.

Still, I imagine that Gaz, perceptive as I like to imagine him, had a moment where he and Ghost met eyes for the first time. It was then that Gaz realizes those rumors weren’t just fiction. The cold, unflinching weight of Ghost’s stare on him, devoid of life and yet promising a distant, imminent end has a shudder running up his spine. 

Bloody hell. He thinks. He’s actually dead.

It may not have been the case canonically, but I like to think Ghost and Gaz ran a few missions together pre Las Almas. Same with Soap, though that’s a different story. It was through these missions that Gaz was able to witness Ghost truly in action and see the full, lethal effect of him in action. The man uses a blade like a butter knife, doesn’t flinch under fire, can snap a man’s neck like twisting a bottle cap. I think it both startles Gaz to see, but damn if it doesn’t instill a healthy amount of respect (and fear) in the sergeant. 

On Ghost’s end, I imagine he sniffs at Gaz at first the same way he does with Soap. A young, lucky, upstart sergeant that has some experience under his belt but has yet to see the full and startling scope of war that he and Price have. He’s seen the man’s file though, and the fact alone that Price trusts him to such an extent is good enough for him. Besides, on those first few missions Gaz does more than haul his weight. He demonstrates his aim, shows his clean, practiced maneuvers, obeys orders with little question, drags a marine from the line of fire and compresses down on his wound, and tosses a frag grenade right back to its sender.

Yet it’s after the successful mission that Ghost sees Gaz bump against Price with that big, pleased grin that Ghost gets it. While Price was the one to drag him back, to help Simon put himself together again into something mildly resembling human, it isn’t the same. There’s a warmth between Gaz and Price that he feels almost like he’s intruding upon, a bond that goes beyond mentor and mentee and easily passes into the realm of friendship. The more Ghost looks at it, the more he sees what Price sees in Gaz. Intelligence, drive, dedication, but above all loyalty. 

It’s something Ghost wishes he had more experience receiving. 

Ghost goes off on a number of solo missions, Gaz continues working with Price. 

Then there’s the missiles. Hassan. Las Almas. Shepherd. Graves. The mask. Chicago. 

When the dust settles, there’s Makarov. 

I don’t know how all of the team recognizes Makarov, and honestly I think it’ll be more interesting to see how that happens. I do like to think the team starts working a little more closely in the months that follow in-game. Ghost and Gaz start getting used to each other, start learning each other’s habits. 

Ghost knows that Gaz is an early riser, that he likes his coffee black. Gaz knows Ghost likes to have his meals in his room where he can not only eat in peace, but without others staring at the litany of scars that snake from his jaw up to his eyes. Ghost learns to take Gaz’s needling jokes, and Gaz gets easier at offering them. Gaz learns Ghost hates certain foods, and realizes it’s because they all have the same kind of grainy, sandy texture that brings back bad memories. Ghost helps patch things over with Price when he and Gaz have a disagreement, and Gaz recognizes when Ghost is slipping back into old, bad habits that drag him down into something rotted inside him. 

They start leaning on each other more often. Ghost patches Gaz up after Gaz takes a bullet to the thigh on a mission, and easily tosses him over his shoulder to carry him to safety. Gaz gets better at seeing the fractures that belong less to Ghost and more to Simon, and begins to understand the man underneath the mask. He learns to recognize Ghost’s silent and dangerously subtle ups and downs, and knows better than to show his surprise when Ghost starts wearing his mask less often just around the team.

Gaz gets Ghost Kentucky bourbon for his birthday, giving him space on the anniversary of his family’s death. Ghost learns about Gaz’s family, his two nagging older sisters and his dad, retired from the military. He sees Gaz’s smile when he talks about the people waiting for him when he gets home, and Ghost silently vows to himself to make sure he gets Gaz back safely. The bond there never runs as deep as Gaz has with Price, or Ghost has with Soap, but there is trust there built on oaths, brotherhoods, bonds, and the same loyalty Ghost always craved from the people around him. 

Gaz learns to recognize when Ghost smiles under the mask.

#simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #mw22 #cod mw22 #ghost/gaz #drabbles #headcanons #and scene #I could say more but honestly this is probably enough for now

[itsphoenix0724]

Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x Reader)~ Chapter 1

Summary: You and Lucien Vanserra have been skating together since you were children, but when he has an accident that takes him out right before championships you turn to your brother and his hockey team to fill the position. His best friend Azriel has lethal grace on the ice and owes your brother a favor, which seems like a match made in heaven, except you can’t stand each other. Can you and Azriel pull a routine together in time for your competition, or will it all spiral out of control?

MMOTI masterlist

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy December, my final exams are over so I'm so excited to get back into writing! As you all know I've been planning this for a while, so I hope you're all as excited as I am!!

DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!

Figure skating is a lot more thrilling than people give it credit for. Only a few people are willing to be thrown 5 feet in the air at 20 miles an hour and completely trust the other person to catch them. 

The ice was always your happy place. The biting chill against your skin, the feel of gliding across the rink faster than light. It was thrilling, to say the least. You and Lucien had worked so hard this season to advance this far, and you only had a couple of competitions left before the both of you graduated from university. The two of you were on a winning streak, and this competition looked like it would turn out no different. Your coach smiled from the sidelines as the two of you performed in perfect sync, his hands around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into the air before resting you safely back on your skates. It was time for the big finish, you sped in a circle around the rink executing a triple toe and Lucien built up his momentum to launch his axel. Your eyes dart to the judges' impressed faces before you whip your head back to him and- 

Something’s wrong. 

The angel– the spin, is all out of balance, and in the blink of an eye, Lucien hits the ice. His head makes a sickening crack on the ground as red floods around him, and his right leg is twisted in the wrong way. The scream you let out doesn’t even sound like yours as you race over to him, the sounds of the crowd echoing around you in a sick symphony. 

“Oh my god” 

“Someone call an ambulance!” 

“Get him off the ice quick!” 

You don’t hear any of them too busy trying to shake Lucien awake with tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s knocked out cold. A blur of red is next to you and it takes you a moment before you realize it’s Lucien’s mother. It’s another gut-wrenching eternity of trying your best to hold a towel against his head to stop the bleeding, Lucien still unresponsive, before the gentle hands of a paramedic ease you away from your best friend. You watch with abject horror as they load him onto a stretcher, and carry him out of the rink. Helping Lucien’s mother off of the ice, she follows them outside. The ringing in your ears still hasn’t stopped, not even when your own mother and father come racing down the arena steps, a hand coming out to hold your jaw, and another wrapping your coat around your shoulders. Before you blink again they’re ushering you out of the rink and into the car. 

It’s two days before you can see Lucien in the hospital. 

You had driven in complete silence, anxiety coiled like a viper in the pit of your stomach. Parking your car in the visitor lot you look at the teddy bear you buckled safely into your passenger seat, its soft brown hands clutching a heart with cursive writing spelling Get Well Soon.  It had been dumb and cheesy, but you snagged it at the grocery store while picking up some of Lucien’s favorite snacks and couldn’t resist. 

Hopefully, it would make him laugh at least.

The nurse at the desk smiles at you kindly before pointing you in the right direction of his room. The atmosphere of the hospital weighs painfully on your shoulders as the elevator ride seems to stretch on for decades. You thankfully find Lucien’s room easily enough, his russet eyes light up at the sight of you even with the angry red stitches that run through his hair. 

“There she is!” He bellows, eyeing the bear and the bag of treats with interest. You set them on his bed and he laughs a joyous sound as he props the bear next to him on the bed, declaring it his new best friend. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask tentatively, settling into a chair next to his bed. His leg is in a cast, elevated, and you run your bottom lip between your teeth with worry. 

“I’m alright, all things considered.” He promises rifling through the bag to dig out the pack of spicy chips, “I’ve got a concussion, and my legs broken so bad I’ll be in physical therapy for months.” Lucien meets your eyes mournfully, looking as if you’d just punched him in the face. “I won’t be able to skate for the rest of the season. I’m so sorry.” He dips his eyes averting his gaze to the broken leg, like glaring at it hard enough will force it back together again. You feel your heart sink to your feet, but you refuse to let it show, trying to keep a happy smile on your face. 

“None of that matters, all I care about is that you’re okay.” You reach out to grip his hand, and his warm palms engulf your own.

“You can find another partner to finish the season,” He urges,  Lucien’s other hand comes up to cup your cheek, wiping away the silver trying to fight its way out of your eyes despite your best efforts. You had already registered in the partner skate division, so it was too late to switch now. But even thought makes your stomach turn.

“No one could ever replace you,” You promise, leaning into his warmth. It’s the truth. You had been skating with Lucien since you were small, and now you’re about to graduate from university. There could be no one else. No one else that, without fail, had such a warm touch even on the ice rink. No one else you could trust to catch you every time, even if it means sacrificing his safety. 

You had tried to skate with one other partner, once, in freshman year when Lucien caught the flu so bad he was puking for weeks. It hadn’t ended well and you hadn’t trusted anyone since. 

“You should skate your last season. Even if this new guy will never be as good as me.” It’s a lighthearted attempt at a joke, and you accept the crutch of humor, chest rising with a breath of laughter. “You could ask Rhys, maybe he’d do it? He used to skate before he switched to hockey right?” That was true, but he switched to hockey right before middle school to play with his friends, maybe he’d consider it if it didn’t conflict too much with his schedule. 

“I’ll think about it, let's focus on tearing through these snacks in the meantime,” You snag the peanut butter cups out of his bag despite Lucien’s vehement protests and turn the staticky hospital tv to shitty afternoon cartoons. 

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You held your tears in successfully until you got home. You didn’t want Luicen to feel guilty, didn’t want him to see you cry, so here you were curled in a ball under your covers. Hiding from your problems like a child, hoping if you just ignored them long enough they would magically solve themselves. You had asked Rhys earlier about possibly skating with you, but between learning to take over your father’s business, university, and hockey he understandably regretfully declined. The bedroom door creaks open, hearing the delicate tread of Rhys’s footsteps before he settles next to you on the bed, rubbing a soothing hand along your curved form. 

“It’ll be alright I promise,” Rhys mutters. “I think I might have a solution, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” You rise from your chosen shelter, raising a brow and wiping at your tear-stained cheek. 

“What is it?” You question, and Rhys almost flinches. “I’ll do almost anything to skate again.” He must see the desperation and he carries on anyway. 

“Azriel is still suspended from the team at the moment, and he owes me a favor…” Rhys watches your eyes catch up to his words, the disgust flashing in them. Both of Rhys’s best friends had couched surfed at your house at one time or another, and you and Azriel had never gotten along. Not like sunshiney Cassian, who may be viscous on the ice but was one of the most gentle people you knew. Cas was the one who made an effort to include you in activities, who playfully tossed you in the pool in the summer, and took you for long drives when you were upset. Azriel spent those summers by the pool brooding in the shade until you left, and was currently suspended from the Velaris University hockey team for throwing another player so hard into the glass he was concussed. “You said you would do almost anything to skate again,” Rhys raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes. 

“What about Cassian?” you offer. He would probably do it for you, but Cas wasn’t suited for figure skating. His style was too brutish, it was nothing against him, he just wouldn’t pick up the flow and patience you needed to skate with the music fast enough in time for the competition. As much as you hated to admit it, Azriel moved across the ice like smoke, flowing and ebbing with a lethal grace you couldn’t help but admire. 

“Cas is too busy with school and hockey,” Rhys had clearly already run through the option. You knew that if you begged Cassian he probably would, but his stance at the school depended entirely on his grades and his performance in hockey. You wouldn’t give him any chance to mess up his scholarship.  “Please just talk to Az with me tomorrow.” 

“Fine.” You relent, perhaps with a little more attitude than necessary. So you correct yourself, Rhys is going out of his way to help you. “Thank you.” He gives you a small smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room. 

So that was how you found yourself bundled up at the rink, at six in the fucking morning, with Rhy watching Azriel practice. He moved like a panther, prowling around the ice and slapping the puck with such ferocity the crack makes you flinch. He tears off his helmet, skating over with a mop of sweat-soaked hair. Az’s hazel eyes flick over you once in distaste before dismissing you completely and turning his attention to Rhys, which makes your temper rise to a heated spark of fury. Your brother clears his throat, nudging you on the back to speak. Azriel turns back to you and raises a cold dark brow.  

“Would you please consider being my skating partner for my last few competitions this season? Please” you choke out, trying your best to send him a pleasant smile. Then, Azriel actually has the balls to laugh at you. 

“Yeah, I heard about what happened to Vanserra. What makes you think I would ever want to do that?” Azriel chuckles out, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re about to agree, call this whole mess off, and return to the comfort of your bed when Rhys cuts in. 

“Because you owe me,” The two of them have some silent stare-down that you wish you could be privy to. Whatever Rhys had done for Azriel in the past it must have been big because after a moment Azriel fixes those molten eyes on you again. 

“Fine, I’ll do it. Be here tomorrow at five so we can try to figure out this shitshow.” He tucks his helmet back over his head and prowls back around to the ice. You guess you’ll be meeting him here tomorrow night and you find yourself agreeing with the sentiment that this will be a shit show indeed.   

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #acotar au #Meet Me On The Ice

[jazzyblusnowflake]

I saw your post about your Nuzi headcanons and I have to say THEY ARE ADORABLE!

But it got me thinking, do you have any Vuzi headcanons?

I don't why but I've become obsessed with them in the past while and I wanted to know if you had any ideas for them since you made that incredible Vuzi comic a while back.

oh jeesums, i didn't really expect people to like my HCs enough for it to get over a hundred likes 😭😭😭💕

but yesss id love to take a swing at writing down my subconsciously decided vuzi headcanons too XD so lessee-

Some Vuzi Headcanons i got òvó:

[once again only the drone version ones and as sfw as i can manage lmao sorry asddjfkdfl-]

This version being for AFTER everything is over with and V is ALIVE //or I'm going for Liam's neck personally//- but whether she's with N too or not is for your own interpretation, cuz for ME personally she gets with Uzi AFTER N and Uzi were already a thing together-

Starting a bit similar to the previous HCs, unlike with N, Uzi and V looooooooooooove calling eachother names- ranging from pet names to petty insults, they very hardly call each other their actual names lmao; and Uzi is probably the ONLY person that could get to call V pet names or flirt with her and get away unscathed- V has very little tolerance for anyone else. when actually trying to be intimate or flirty- Uzi loves calling V "Kitty" [cliche i know] and its one of the more acceptable pet names that V allows, but sometimes Uzi goes for pet names to actually make V blush and feel flustered, and those are usually from Uzis more compassionate side since V is allergic to romance apparently 🙄. calling V things like "my pretty", "gorgeous", "you wild thing"- drives V up the wall and she's stuck between wanting to bite Uzi's face off or rip her own off- and likewise when V wants to fluster Uzi she has her own range of heat fueled pet names like "baby bat/batsy", "cutie", "my little snacc"- and overall their job is to try and drive eachother insane lmao. less romantic names on both their sides would be=> [Uzi]: fatty, insufferable nutcase, dumb boob// [V]: shorty, edgy toaster, lil freakshow- and etc etc. TLDR: names.... they call eachother alot of names. that's it lmao.

They have a more avoidant relationship, where N and Uzi would seek comfort in one another, Uzi and V realize when the other isn't feeling well they need space to let off steam and trust one another enough that the other will come to them when they are ready. this isn't the most perfect way to deal with things given they are usually on a time crunch and need to get over their traumas quickly, but in the end they both know they are there for eachother when it matters the most.

teasing.... they do alot of that- although one would argue that V is the only one winning here 😭. V would not let the subject of Uzi being short go- if there's any moment that she could make the joke, she will not let the opportunity pass- anything relating to flustering or embarrassing Uzi absolutely goes- its not uncommon for N to walk in on the two fighting while V is just laughing and cooing at the other that she's just a cute lil baby while Uzi is trying her best to strangle the other without actually harming her. but then Uzi says that V is just a big dumb boob cuz that's all she could see from her pov and N is desperately trying to keep himself from laughing in the background-

V loves picking up Uzi.... that's it... she would never admit it out loud, but holding Uzi up, whether on her back or holding her from the front and feeling Uzi cling to her for support gives her immense internal joy, even if she doesn't show it in her expression. she often prefers picking Uzi up when they make out and this works in both their favors too cuz Uzi loves being taller lmao.

V wouldn't admit it but she is terrified of Uzi getting angry. like actually, genuinely, furiously LIVID level of angry Uzi is enough to make V curl her tail between her legs and just step away slowly. and Uzi.... when Uzi is mad, she talks sickeningly sweet to V. that's how V knows its time to fucking RUN or PERISH.

V is a lot more traumatized than N from Cyn's influence. during her comatosed state she can still vividly remember all the things Cyn had done to her in her mindspace, the same way N got to see all of his own mangled bodies in his own headspace, but unlike N she remembered all of it, hence why she turned into a neurological murder bot. So while she is with the others shes often scared opening up emotionally, and to fix this Uzi tries to force her for some cuddle times. don't get me wrong sometimes both N and Uzi have to literally WRESTLE V til she no longer has energy to fight back just to drag her in the cuddle pile. she usually doesn't talk much and even more rarely breaks down into crying but she's secretly grateful of having Uzi to sometimes force her into things she should do more often in order to heal, and one of those is learning to trust again.

V and Uzi have sparring sessions every now and then- tho sometimes V fights dirty- if you catch my drift lmao- and Uzi is weak for that shit, sadly 😔 Uzi finds herself contemplating her life choices when V is constantly giving her new kinks to consider smhhhh. it doesnt help that V doesnt treat Uzi as weak or breakable, she goes all out and Uzi is thankful to her about it. tho N would not touch this particular catfight between two wild ladies with a 100ft pole- [which would probably be the distance he's standing and watching from...just in case...]

funny enough most of their arguments end with makeout sessions. N cant tell if this is their way of flirting from the start or their way of making up after a fight....

V is secretly protective of Uzi, not interfering when Uzi is dealing with someone but standing a few steps behind her, brandishing her claws just in case, to send an obvious message.

V is absolutely rough when trying to be intimate. Uzi needs lots of energy to heal from bite marks but they always make sure the other is comfortable about it. but when Uzi is soft and gentle with her and focuses on being reassuring and loving towards her, V's a flustered incoherent mess-

despite being the more avoidant one, V is usually the one who initiates any intimacy- [mostly because Uzi is too short or busy or embarrassed to do so 🙄] and when she gets needy, Uzi feels internally giddy as though a cat has chosen her or something-

Uzi likes to ask V sometimes of any HAPPY memories she had back at the mansion.

OKAY- damn that was LOOOOOONG- hope these are good enough- i had a lot of fun writing them :D

once again, left out any nsfw hcs 😇 enjoy the dumpster fire lesbiams-

i also tried my best to leave out the N x Uzi x V headcanons so it would seem more specifically for Vuzi :"3

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation v #serial designation n #vuzi #nuziv #vuzin #violetviolence #violentbitingbiscuits #snowballflo #snow rambles #took 3 hours this time #i love writing but DAMN it takes so much time smhhh

[worstghost]

König headcanons part 2 (it turned into sub!könig stuff at the bottom whoops)

♡Along with ADHD, he has severe anxiety, he struggles with connecting to other people. No matter how we'll liked he is, or how good he is at his job, there will always be fear that they're all faking it. That it's some inside joke everyone is in on except for him.

♡He especially feels that way with you at first, and though he doesn't mean to come off as aggressive, he really can't trust that you have good intentions. It takes a long long time for him to believe that you could be friends, let alone lovers.

♡He talks too fast, too loud, when he does. He can't regulate the volume of his voice and though everyone bears with him kindly, he's always embarrassed about it. He has trouble debating whether or not to chime into a conversation and will dwell on it so long that his chance to speak has already passed.

♡In his room alone, he can work himself up so bad that he chews his lips and the inside of his cheeks until they bleed. Or he'll pull his gloves off and bite his nails. If you catch him stressed enough you can see the scratch marks across his forearms from compulsive clawing. He doesn't realize it burns until its too late.

♡König loves being in the field because he knows he's good at what he does, and it helps him feel confident in himself. It's a good release of energy, he gets so excited that for a moment when he sees you he's nearly speaking gibberish his words are so jumbled. You let him speak, you don't dare interrupt when he's so happy.

♡NSFW♡

♡He does have an incredibly high sex drive and he's always a giver, very rarely will he let you return the favor. Being touched for too long will overwhelm him.

♡Some nights though, your favorite nights, he craves nothing but your touch. He'll beg you to kiss him, hold him, wrap your small hand around his throat and ride him. He loves when you're in control (even though you both know you are very much not).

♡Embarrassed of his size, until he catches you ogling him as he strips off his gear. That confidence boost lasts him weeks, and he definitely uses it to his advantage, knowing that you love when he manhandles you.

♡Loves having you on top, whether you're on his thigh, his cock, or his mouth.

♡One time you snapped at him, you had an awful day, you were overwhelmed and just wanted to shower and sleep, he was so clingy.

"König, sit the hell down and give me a second. Please." Your eyes were blazing, and you knew you'd feel guilty later, but you were so frustrated in the moment.

His eyes dropped, he was lightheaded. All of the blood rushed to his cock, you had never snapped at him before. Any other person, any other time, he would be so hurt, so embarrassed. But you, now, hair a mess, sweaty, eyes wide and teeth gritted.

He flopped back onto the bed, swallowing a whimper.

He was so hard it was painful.

You noticed.

"Oh, baby." You sighed and moved toward him, placing your hands on each of his massive thighs.

He fucking whined.

Fuck.

♡You invited him to join you in the shower, letting him wash your hair, he was so gentle, you told him what a good boy he was being for you, and apologized for snapping. He was hard the entire time, flushed red.

♡When you got out he begged you to suck his cock. He only lasted a few minutes, thanking you, the slight trail of tears running down his cheeks.

♡After though, he loves being the big spoon. He wants to feel how small you are next to him, on top of him. He'll run his fingers through your hair and praise you.

#cod #könig cod #x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #imagine #konig #mw2 #konig x reader #konig x you #cod imagine

[yournameloveskpop]

Hair

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Style: romance, friendship, appreciation, fluff

Word count: 733

Y/N was mesmerized, as always, by Hyunjin's hair. The wolf cut, neither too long nor too short, was perfect in her eyes. She found herself often lost in thoughts about his silky strands, especially when she braided them or tied them up in playful ponytails.

One lazy afternoon, as they lounged on the couch, Hyunjin was deeply engrossed in a movie. Y/N, sitting beside him, couldn't resist the urge. She reached out, her fingers gently caressing his hair, feeling its softness.

"Your hair is so soft, Hyunjin," she murmured, almost to herself.

Hyunjin turned his head slightly, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Do you like it that much?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"More than you can imagine," Y/N replied, her fingers skillfully beginning to weave a small braid. "It's just so... perfect."

Hyunjin chuckled, "I keep it this way just for you." He paused the movie, turning to give her his full attention. "You always seem so happy when you're playing with it."

Y/N blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed but pleased by his words. "Well, it's not just the hair," she confessed. "It's also the person who wears it."

Their eyes met, and a moment of silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken words and emotions.

Breaking the silence, Hyunjin said, "How about you try something new with it today? Maybe a different style?"

Y/N's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? Can I?" she asked eagerly.

"Of course," Hyunjin agreed, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I trust you."

With renewed enthusiasm, Y/N began to work on his hair, trying out a new style she had recently learned. As she worked, Hyunjin watched her, his gaze soft and adoring.

"You know," he started, "I never thought I'd like someone playing with my hair this much."

Y/N laughed softly. "Well, you better get used to it because I'm not stopping anytime soon."

They fell into a comfortable silence, with Y/N focused on her task and Hyunjin enjoying the gentle touches. Once she finished, Y/N proudly presented her work, a stylish twist that suited Hyunjin's features perfectly.

"Wow," Hyunjin exclaimed, feeling the hairstyle. "This is amazing. You're really talented, Y/N."

Her heart swelled with happiness at his compliment. "Thank you, Hyunjin. I'm glad you like it."

They resumed watching the movie, but Y/N's mind was elsewhere, filled with thoughts of Hyunjin and his beautiful hair. She realized how much these small moments meant to her, how they brought them closer in a unique way.

As the movie ended, Hyunjin turned to Y/N, his expression serious yet tender. "Y/N, you know, it's not just about my hair that I care. It's about us, about what we have together."

Y/N nodded, understanding his sentiment. "I feel the same, Hyunjin. It's these little things, these moments, that make everything so special."

Hyunjin reached out, taking her hand in his. "I'm grateful for every moment with you, Y/N. You've brought so much joy into my life."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart overflowing with love. "And you've brought so much into mine, Hyunjin. I can't imagine my life without you and your lovely hair."

They both laughed, the sound echoing in the room, filling it with warmth and love.

As the day turned into evening, they remained together, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. Y/N realized that these moments with Hyunjin were precious, a beautiful part of her life that she cherished deeply.

As they prepared to retire for the night, Hyunjin stopped Y/N with a gentle touch. "Before we sleep, can you do one more thing?"

Y/N looked at him, curious. "What is it?"

"Can you braid my hair one more time?" Hyunjin asked, a hopeful look in his eyes. "I sleep better when you do it."

Y/N smiled, touched by his request. "Of course, Hyunjin. Anything for you."

As she braided his hair, Y/N felt a profound sense of peace and contentment. In that moment, she knew that no matter what the future held, their bond, strengthened by these simple acts of love, would always remain strong.

With the braid complete, they settled down to sleep, Hyunjin's head resting comfortably on her shoulder. Y/N whispered softly, "Goodnight, Hyunjin."

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replied, his voice filled with love and affection.

#fanfic #fanfiction #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids #skz #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin skz #tomorrow x together #skz x female reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #hyunjin x female reader

[mvjerbs]

Beyond the Wall au

Before the events of the story:

Same thing happened, queen gets killed and ballister gets framed for it.

Ballister eventually finds out that the director was the one who framed him and he spent months trying to prove his innocence but fails each time.

With no other choice he leaves the kingdom and travelled beyond the wall(hehe) where he eventually stumbled upon a village.

Surprised by the fact that a village exists outside the wall, he believed that there was no monster at all and lived in that village.

People were welcoming, very welcoming, maybe a little too welcoming. But Ballister won't mind, because he never felt accepted or welcomed in his whole life(other than ambrosius and the queen of course)

Ballister was having a great time with the people in the village, he doesn't have to hide and he does have the pressure of people watching and expecting a mistake being done by him. Everything was great for him.

And then the day came when everything went down for him.

He noticed the people in the village are either sad, anxious, or more serious than they usually are. The change of atmosphere disturbed him so he decided to confront the village chief about the happenings.

"oh don't worry about that my friend. it's just that- it's someone's last day today."

"o-oh, did someone die today?"

"oh no no no, they are still alive. It's just that people are aware it's their last day."

"so that explains the different atmosphere"

With that, Ballister turned to leave. Only to turn around and get knocked out before he can reach the door.

Ballister eventually woke up and found himself being tied. Panic and confusion rushing into him as he sees the villagers and the chief watching him and another person being tied up not too far from him.

They were screaming. Ranging from accusations, to apologies, and eventually begs.

It was here that the chief revealed everything.

He told Ballister that the kingdom was right and that there is a monster. The reason why their village survived was because they found a way to keep the monster from attacking and that is to sacrifice. Since they are the only ones there, they have no other choice but to sacrifice each other or depending on who the village vote. They don't tell the sacrifice that they were voted, they would just go to their house, knock them out and sacrifice. That was the village's tradition.

Then Ballister came. They had planned to sacrifice him the moment he arrived.

Ballister have been betrayed again, he wanted to say something to them when he suddenly hears a chilling sound.

The monster had arrived. And everyone, except for the chief, left to hide. The chief stayed to make sure that the monster eats both of their sacrifices.

Unfortunately for the chief, Ballister managed to escape from his bounds and escape.

Ballister ran and hid in a house that was close by and strangely empty. He shut he door and hid in the corner of the room, unfortunately for him that only dark corner was close to the window.

When the monster arrived, Ballister covered his mouth. Trying to silence his cries as he sees the monster peering through the window and placing its hand on the glass. Fortunately, it didn't see him, and it went away. (The scene i drew before)

With him being alone in the shop, he thought about the events that had just transpired. Seeing the people whom he trusted and believed were kind turn away from him hurts, but something else was brewing inside. It was small but it was there, it was anger. He felt anger towards them, towards the people he trusted, towards the people he believed in, and pretty soon that small anger turned to hatred.

He was so consumed in his anger that he didn't realize the things that happened. The chief finding him, trying to kill him for the sacrifice, and him fighting back. He came back to his senses when he realized what he had done.

His first real murder.

He had expected to regret what he had done, but instead he felt great. He stood there looking at the body, feeling satisfied of the demise that he had brought on the chief.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he hears the monster again. Instead of panicking, he simply looks at the body before dragging it out to meet the monster to feed it.

Time skip (I'm getting impatient), Ballister imprisoned everyone in the village and use them as food for the monster who he had now named Nimona.

Because of what Ballister does for Nimona, it sees him as an ally or a parent of some sort, which Ballister was happy about. They gave him a mark to show that he is under their protection. It's a bite mark that's located just below his nape.

Ballister also taught her to call him dad, because nimona can't really talk so Ballister teaches her.

Since the numbers of his prisoners are slowly going down, Ballister had no other choice but to hunt for Nimona's food.

Where would he find food? The kingdom of course. He goes in through the same hole that he escaped through and kidnaps people.

His crimes didn't go unnoticed by the institute or by the people, and so the investigation of hunting down the killer, which the people believed to be the monster, begun.

It didn't take too long to find where the killer usually goes and where he usually stalks and it's all thanks to the kingdom's security cameras.

Upon finding out where the killer goes, Ambrosius planned to ambush the killer in the place where he enters, Todd on the other hand wanted to do something on his own and planned to go after the killer instead. Ambrosius warned him about it but Todd being Todd ignored it.

Todd gathered his own group of knights and went out of the kingdom with out letting Ambrosius know at all. He eventually finds out and gets pissed, so Ambrosius followed after Todd to get him back. He only took about 3 knights with him since it was just a fetching mission.

An Hour after Ambrosius wet beyond the wall to search for Todd, his(Todd) party literally went back to the kingdom since they didn't found anything.

Little did they know both parties went to different directions. While Todd's party went to search in the east, Ambrosius' party went north west which was the direction of the village which Ballister lived in.

Little time skip, Ambrosius's group ran into Nimona and died except for Ambrosius, who was badly injured and cornered by Nimona.

But before Nimona could eat Ambrosius, a familiar voice called out to her causing Nimona to pause and turn towards the direction where the voice came. Meanwhile, Ambrosius was surprised since he recognized the voice.

The second time Nimona was called, she dropped Ambrosius and rushed towards the person who was calling her. Ambrosius took the chance and turned to run when the same voice called out his name, and he turned.

There he sees Ballister, standing a few feet away from Ambrosius with a face that stared back at him in shock before turning into a gentle smile. The angle that Ambrosius was made the moon shine upon Ballister, the sight would have made Ambrosius melt if it wasn't for the monster standing behind him.

Ambrosius sense the change in Ballister, and confirming that change only made it worse for him. Ballister approached him in the same way he had always done before everything.

Ballister still loves and truly missed Ambrosius, so he asked Ambrosius to stay with him outside the wall. Ambrosius refused because 1) the monster is real and he wats go back to the kingdom so he can be safe, and 2) he's expected to return and protect the kingdom as gloreth's descendant

Ballister resorts to manipulating Ambrosius and convincing him to stay with him outside of the kingdom's castle.

How did Ballister manipulate him? Well he told Ambrosius how he felt when Ambrosius cut his arm off, how he felt when Ambrosius chose to capture him instead of helping him, making him feel so alone, almost being sacrificed, and that his whole life has been miserable ever since his arm was cut off.

Ambrosius, now being consumed with guilt, gives in and stayed, and he gained a mark from Nimona. (it looked much scarier in my head might animate soon). The post is getting too long, I'll be making a part two instead.

#ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #nimona #ballister boldheart #nimona movie #Beyond the wall au #lowkey getting impatient of my own explanation

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Good time of day. I would like to make a request about Navia and share an umbrella

Sharing an umbrella with Navia

Characters: Navia x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: This post is part of my 1500 Follower event, if you want to read more or want to request a prompt yourself, you can find it here.

If I got some of her personality wrong, I'm sorry, I'm still trying to get a good feel for the Fontaine characters.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

The moment you stepped outside of the Cafe, you were instantly greeted by the downpouring rain, strong enough for you to get completely drenched in but a moment's notice, the last thing separating you from the sky, the buildings canopy, a structure that you were glad existed. 

You wished for nothing more than to just turn around and return to your comfortable seat in the cafe, yet you knew better than to keep your roommate waiting any longer. As while they loved to sarcastically joke about all the room they’d have for themselves once you were gone, they were the first to get worried about you, especially during such a storm.

However, just as you were about to step out of your cover, fully accepting your fate while praying that you wouldn’t fall sick in the next couple of days, a familiar voice called out to you, stopping you in your tracks. When you turned towards its source, you were greeted by the sight of Navia hurriedly running towards you, her umbrella protecting her from getting completely soaked, although there was only so much it could cover.

When she finally arrived in front of you, obviously out of breath from running while trying her best to cover her exhaustion with a smile, Navia struck a casual pose before finally speaking up. “Hey partner, looks like you forgot your umbrella. Want to share one?”

And while she didn’t have to ask you a second time, you agreeing almost immediately before taking your place under her umbrella, it didn’t take long for your conversation to die down, silence engulfing the both of you until the only sounds your ears processed were the sounds of the rain hitting the ground and your ever louder growing heartbeat.

Latter of which only grew louder when you felt Navia squeezing closer towards you, causing your head to snap in her direction, only to be greeted by her smile. “The Umbrella isn’t exactly big enough for two people, so we’ll have to stick a bit closer, nothing wrong with that right?” Her explanation made sense, although you couldn’t help but notice how she seemed to have more than enough space for herself already, neither of your shoulders wet in the slightest.

When Navia noticed you stare however, her smile turned a little more mischievous. “What’s wrong? Scared I’ll bite? And here I was thinking we knew each other long enough for you to trust me”, she joked, only for you to suddenly stop in your tracks, causing her to quickly follow suit before turning towards you.

“I was only joking, if you’re uncomfortable with me being so close, I can-”, Navia spoke in a hurry, only to cut herself off when she followed your gaze, suddenly realizing what you were worried about. 

You had mentioned how the drain on your street needed to be repaired, but even then she hadn’t expected to see the water rise up to a point until it was high enough to go up to her ankles.

“Thanks for sharing your umbrella with me until now, I would have been completely soaked if it weren’t for you, but I can make this last stretch on my own”, you thanked her with the brightest smile you could muster, not wanting her clothes to get unnecessarily dirty, before once again looking at the entrance to your apartment and taking a deep breath in preparation for the dash you were about to make, only to once again be stopped by Navia in the last moment.

“I don’t mind getting dirty if it means I can help you, but considering I doubt I’d be able to convince you to let me accompany you, the least I can do is give you this”, the blonde spoke after letting out a sigh, handing you a second, folded, umbrella.

“You never mentioned you had two umbrellas with you”, you plainly stated, only for Navia to shrug her shoulders.

“You never asked. So I thought I might as well have a little fun”, she responded with a smile speaking up once more after seeing you open the umbrella. 

“Oh, and no running. You have an umbrella so there’s no need to hurry. I don’t want to hear you slipped on the wet floor, understood?”

#1500 simps event #navia #navia x reader #navia x y/n #navia x you #genshin navia #genshin impact #genshin x reader